Bubbles is pretty neat on Wedn…
Bubbles is pretty neat on Wednesdays. Why didn’t anyone tell me? Wednesday is the new IT day!
where i write my wrongs
6 keys from the edge…
Archive for the ‘ Uncategorized ’ Category
Graduated Tasks
Hey, I’m really sorry I haven’t been around for a bit. There was a wedding I was actively involved in (planning, not marrying), then I had to sort out my Graduation.
Yeah, that’s right, I graduated! A day after Barry Hussein got inaugurated. Both of us got congratulated. Any more of this rhyming and I’ma get discombobulated… anyway,the plan was to put something up related to the whole graduation process, but my editor offered me a chance to hate on the institution on a larger scale, so I acquiesced.
Truths about graduation;
No matter when you get through it, you will not be the last of your friends to don the gown and shit. There’s always someone from your year.
You are never the oldest guy in the room. There will always be some other cat with a greyer beard or, if you will, wrinkles around the…mouth.
You may think you are the happiest person during the ceremony. You are not. Your folks will always be happier. Your friends will be happier.
Your folks will be glad that you are closer to leaving the house. Your friends will figure you’re going to throw a party and offer free drinks.
The day will be a bitch in one way or another. Either it will be too hot, or too cold.
There will be traffic.
When you go to the studio, and you probably will. The guy or girl taking pictures will be happier than you are.
Someone, despite of the obvious nature of your clothing will feel the need to ask, “so…you graduated?”
You will not tell that person, “no, sunshine, my laundry doesn’t get back till next week so I just threw some stuff together”
and in case you missed it on Sunday, here’s that grad piece from the Sunday paper.
__________________________________
Education is a cruel beast. A monster even. People say campus is the final frontier. After you are done with that, your life finally begins. Everyone claims that the campus experience is the best you will ever have. Everyone lies.
See, getting through campus is a most tedious process. No one tells you that there will almost always be a lecturer that has it in for you. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you are just paranoid, you can’t ignore the fact that it’s only your name on that hideous sheet of paper on the notice board with three letters that
suggest you will be sitting in that lecture theatre for another year. RTK!
The Retake is meant to give you a firmer grasp on a subject that you have already indicated you have no interest in. Case in point;
Humphrey has stressed to his lecturer time and again that he feels nothing for the intricacies involved when the drone gets it on with the queen bee thereby sealing his fate. He has communicated his disdain by flunking his courseworks, tests and finally, in a final act of defiance, his examinations.
His lecturer doesn’t get the message and decides that Humphrey didn’t get the joke the first time round so he gives him another opportunity to grasp it. Humphrey sees that the only way out is to pretend that he does in fact think that bees shagging is a phenomenal concept so he studies and passes. Waiting for his graduation.
The campus process is the offspring of the education system that we already established is a cruel beast. The process of getting round to graduating is, it has been suggested, a nightmare.
And with good reason too.
You see, you don’t just graduate. That would be way too easy, and if there’s anything the university isn’t, that would be it! Okay, that last statement didn’t make sense to me either. Then again, when you are dealing with matters involving campus, nothing does. For instance, why on earth would you have to go and ‘clear’ with the library, knowing full well you’ve never been there?
Is this for someone else’s benefit? I think somewhere in the bowels of the library lives a troll that so badly needs to see everyone’s registration number and will not rest until everybody has been cleared. It’s all well and good, really. I get it. After screwing you over for so long, the university would not appreciate you screwing it over by stealing its books.
That would be pretty messed up. So by all means, go and show the university that you didn’t take their books to Kampala road and sell them off for a rolex.
Granted there are other departments that give you the run around, but these actually have the capacity to mess up my life so I will not be taking cheap shots at the university police or the University Hospital. Those are in the box labeled handle with care IF you must!
So, having ‘cleared’ with the various departments, all you have to do now is saunter into a room over at Senate building and drop off your files. However, as is the practice with everything at the university, you need to make copies of your documents. No institution in the world has as many Xerox machines as campus (it would be a shame if after all these years there I failed to call an educating spoon a spoon; Makerere) and it irks me no end that the prices for ‘making copies’ are never hiked. The economy is doing badly, boda boda charges are going through the roof, Mama Solome is charging more for her food, but the guy at the copy machine still charges shs.50. Where is your
business acumen?
Fine, so you hand in your stuff. Then a couple of weeks later, they announce that the list of guys and gals graduating is out. You go to the university and warily look it over. Is campus that tired of you? Yes it is. You can now buy a gown. And the mortar board and the hood.
D-day is here. You are going to sit in a tent. It will be hot as heck inside there and you will be surrounded by people you will likely never see again. And that’s why you will smile. You will smile because you know, deep down that you will not have to do this ever again. Some other hapless soul will suffer as you have. Through the education system.
Through lecturers of the unfunny persuasion. Through the fumes emitted by ‘photocopy machines’. Smile. You just excelled in graduation tasks!
New Year Thoughts
I promised myself I wouldn’t milk the whole “Happy New Year” message for its worth, but yesterday I found myself telling someone I hadn’t seen him since last year. He thought it was funny. I hated myself for it. It is, in my opinion, in the same place with “Happy Christmas, Merry New Year”…the 70’s.
In these trying times, people still have the gall to deposit coins in the offertory basket. I would know. I’m one of them. How do we expect the priest to do the Lord’s work if we are dropping coins. 500shs won’t buy fuel for his car. What do you think he is driving? A lawn mower? I think some practical steps should be taken to put an end to this sort of behavior. We should have ATMs in the church.
I’ve been down with writer’s block. And you can tell it’s the real thing seeing as I couldn’t even bring myself to write that I had writer’s block. I didn’t know how I’d phrase it.
Isn’t local music the best thing ever? I mean you don’t even have to know what the artist is singing about to enjoy it…that said, when is Bobi Wine going to run out of juice. I’m not being a hater, but dude’s all over the place. Akon did that shit last year and to be honest I was waiting for him to pop up in one of Mesach Ssemakula’s songs, however he has cut down. Bobi is still going strong. It’s gotten to the point that I pray the song I’m listening to and loving is NOT by Mr. Wine. I hate myself for liking that song where he tells his woman he would do all sorts of cool things for her if he had the money. Sell one of your Escalade’s car tyres you jerk!
I’ve got a couple of posters on the walls in the room I type this stuff out from, and my sister figured she’d pitch in. The latest addition to the wall is a ‘Panic At The Disco’ poster. Yes, the thought does count for something, but the poster kills the whole testosterone thing that was going on. I don’t have naked women on the walls, but the collection includes;
- A murderous barber (Sweeney Todd)
- A pissed off spartan warrior (Kratos: God Of War)
- A dead rapper (Tupac)
- A basketball player (Shawn Kemp)
Then when you look at the right side of the room, we have a group of lads with eye shadow or eye liner or whatever makeup is used to create the impression that you just left a fight with an opponent whose main focus was dealing damage to your eye. Then again, I suppose it makes the room a little more habitable for members of the fairer sex.
What is it about graduations that gets people so excited. Sure there’s food and drinks en masse, but why should I be dying to wear the gown? Isn’t it like some ugly dress? When did it become cool for guys to wear dresses. And it comes with a sash thingy. And a cute little hat! Come on, you guys (yes, specifically the guys!) why is this super exciting?
I’ve been told it’s the ceremony that is exciting. Let’s think about that for a moment. there’s lots of insane traffic. You need to wake up early. You have to dress to the nines. You have to sit next to some random stranger for about four hours while some old fart goes on and on about how you have achieved the unachievable. How life can be difficult. How he too graduated at some point in his life… and then Mr. Sun graces the occasion knowing full well that your clothing is not conducive for his effort! Why is this supposed to be the best.day.ever?
I was browsing the web the other day and came across “vegetarian shoes”. Go to the skechers site, you’ll see. How did that happen? How did Vegetarians manage to get custom shoes? Did someone walk into a shoe shop one day and say, “I can’t wear that, do you know what they do to the animal so you can get that shoe? Do you care?”
A teacher somewhere is banging his head on the blackboard because he can’t argue with the kid at the back of the class who, when asked what shoes are made out of, answered, “cabbage”
Have a great week. . .
Dear God
It’s been a while since we spoke.
Well, yeah, sure, you and I, we talk.
I mean spoke heart to heart,
me baring my all,
opening up my soul.
I don’t know why it’s taken me so long, and I…
I won’t make any excuses. I…
just want to say I know I’ve been a bit distant lately and I…
I’m sorry.
I’m also grateful…and thankful for the year you’ve given me, see
I’ve managed to grow, mentally, physically, emotionally, see
I’ve known happiness,
I’ve known sadness,
But I’ve known and accepted that things are as they are because
You have a plan for me…a plan for we…Yeah… I am grateful for she.
So here I am, saying thank You,
Laying my life before You,
Acknowledging that I can’t go it on my own,
Accepting that I am far from perfect,
Saying, I’m done driving, I’m in the back seat,
I’ll let you take the wheel,
Take me where you want me to go
Don’t know how else to say this,
Take me, Guide Me, I’m yours
And to all that have cast a glance at the words on this blog,
For those that have managed to decipher some sense out of the fog…which has been known to clog,
A post, A story, A tale…
Those, to whom I have played host,
A Happy New Year I wish thee,
Gratitude I express
For taking this ride with me.
a commercial break. Native’s Nativity Story
A story is told of a time long ago, when a carpenter and his wife brought to the fold, a young one that was to be the savior, the Messiah, if you will. The stories is eons old, but sadly that is not the story you are about to behold.
A few months before December 25th, a young lady met a man.
He had a message for her, our dear lady Marie. It was one that her man Joseph would not be pleased to hear. Come to think of it, even she was skeptical and she let him know as much.
“What do you mean I’m pregnant? I’m a virgin. I am a member of the True Love Waits club, even Pastor Ssempa can vouch for me!”
“Calm down,” said he, “it will come to be. Just let Joe know. I will also tell him. That way, when he hears the same thing twice, it won’t be such a big deal. It’s like when you heard that Boyz II Men were not coming.”
So that’s exactly what happened, Joe was hanging out, trying to make a buck, make ends meet, when suddenly, he received a message from a number that wasn’t saved in his Nokia’s phonebook, “Jo. I’m going 2 hv a kid. It’s nt yrs. L8r.”
Joe Michaels Musisi was gripped by panic. So he sent a message of his own, “Who dis?” and awaited a reply.
He didn’t have to wait long, “Sry, wrng number. LOL!”
Elsewhere a gentleman called Jose was forced to buy a newspaper by an aggressive vendor with no change. He chanced upon a headline which, seemingly proud of itself, declared, “CARPENTER’S WIFE PREGNANT”. It seemed an odd place to put such a story. Such things are usually the fodder of the Red Pepper, he thought to himself. Then he read the story that followed and realized that it actually had substance.
Then a guy flagged him down. Thinking he was a traffic officer who had opted to dress up casually, Jose acquiesced.
“Man! I am so glad I caught up with you. I’ve been trying to reach you, but some lady kept picking up and saying you were not available at the moment, please try again later. Her politeness notwithstanding, I find it appalling that she kept referring to you as ‘the subscriber’.
Jose could not understand what this had to do with his driving, so he let him know.
“Oh, sorry. I am not a traffic cop. Do you see me wearing those cream uniforms?”
Jose felt compelled to point out that the uniforms were white, but he had more pressing issues to deal with. The lady in the picture that accompanied the carpenter story looked a lot like his woman.
“Yeah, anyway,” not a traffic cop continued, “Marie is pregnant!”
Jose was, as you would expect, taken aback. How did this plain clothed traffic officer know his woman’s name? And did he just say she was pregnant?
“Oh man! She hasn’t told you yet? This is awkward. Tell you what. Beep me when you get home. Actually, an hour after you get there. Peace!”
And like that, he was gone.
So too, is the rest of this story.
Chapter IV: The Continuation
In a security office somewhere in Bethlehem
“Sign up! They said! It will be a great way to channel your aggression! A lot of good that did me!”
“I know what you mean Brother Nathaniel, why just the other day I was asked to deal with an 818. Can you believe that? After all that training, I am reduced to dealing with shepherds. And then they are let off with not guilty on grounds of insanity. Turns out they were “following a star”. There’s been a lot of that astro fascination going around lately. Just the other day Jupiter and Venus were so close to the moon, it looked like a smile.”
“A smile? What foolishness is that you speak of Herman?”
“You know, when you turn your er, frown upside down. Like this. Any way, point is, my brother says that sort of thing will never happen again. Not even in 2008 years!”
“That is oddly specific”
“Tell me about it. Then get this. He says there will be a bright star that will herald the birth of the Mess…”
The intercom on the desk cackles to life!
“Code IV! Repeat! Code IV! Security!! Come to reception now. Hey, I love these upside down ‘i’ thingies. Do you think they will catch on in the future? Is this thing still on?”
*click*
Nathaniel looks at Herman. A gleam of excitement in his eyes, “ A code IV! Do you know what that means? I can barely contain myself!”
“By the roman gods that we suspect are pagan! A code IV is unprecendented. We are not equipped to deal with this sort of thing. This could change the very fabric of history itself. And yet, someone must take care of things. Quick! To the hotel!”
As they make haste, our heroes are derailed by three odd looking characters with crowns on their heads. They look suspiciously like kings.
“We ARE kings!” Says one.
“Hang on. Brother Nathaniel. Did this gentleman just cut into the narrative of the tale? Can we do that?”
“ I don’t know Brother Herman. These kings of the Orient possess a certain mysticism that is enigmatic in nature. I know not whether we want to deal with this now. But wait! What’s in the bags?”
“Er, gifts?”
“ I thought as much. Very well, on your way!”
“But Nathaniel, are you not being lenient?”
“ My dear Herman, what would you have me do? Write them a parking ticket? Those things have not even been invented and for the life of me, I don’t know where I pulled that phrase out of!”
Minutes later at the Hotel
“Right what seems to be the problem? I just found out that Usher is in town and we must deal with this ASAP”
“It’s a Code IV!”
“ So you say, but we don’t see…By the unborn God! Is that lady pregnant! And is that what I think it is in the bag! This Code IV is unlike any other. It’s a sequel!”
“Yes. An evacuation order is in. er, order! Right this way madam, sir!”
“Really Joseph, you chose a fine time not to ask for directions!”
“Calm down Mary. I have faith. Something good will happen!”
The couple is promptly shown the door.
“What is that?”
“It appears to be a door type thing. Do you think we should open it and walk through?”
“Seems to be the only way this story will move on”
And so it comes to pass, they walk through and seek accommodation on the other side of this ‘door’ thing.
A couple of houses later. “Yeah. Okay look its not you, it’s me. I have no problem giving you guys accommodation, but this whole credit crunch thing has kinda thrown me off!”
Joseph and Mary look at each other. Inquires Joseph of Mary, “you think this is foreshadowing something in the not so distant future?”
Says the inn keeper, “Nonsense! This crunch thing can not, will NOT happen ever again, not even in 2008 years! But to show you I mean you no ill will. I will let you spend the night out back. I have a good feeling about you!”
“Thank you kind sir! May the lord shower blessings upon you!”
“er, yes. Now come, let me show you your quarters before those census people come back and do a recount. Where do they think we are? Florida?”
The Manger
“Well, I guess I’ve seen worse…”
“Really! What have you seen that could possibly be worse than this?”
“Remember that African edition of MTV Cribs?”
“Oh, oh. Joseph…”
“What is it Mary? What’s wrong?”
“Joseph. It is time. I think ….”
Elsewhere
“So I sez to Billy Ray, you better give that daughter of yours some food.other wise she gonna grow up all skinny like!”
“I know what you mean Frenchie! He always seems to give Priscilla meager portions!Dang! Do you hear that? In the distance…. It sounds like…”
Another Elsewhere
“Chad Wiseman! I notice your contraption is blinking like a little star twinkling up above the world so high like a diamond in the sky. How I wonder what it is! What says it?”
“Yes Chuck. It doth glimmer! Gentlemen. The moment is upon us…”
The post with no name yet. . .
From the bright light a sound emerges, kinda loud kinda booming, like those priests in your churches.
"Greetings earthlings. We mean you no harm. We come with news that will later be the inspiration for your descendants’ songs!"
"Bobo come quick. It’s one of them X-Files. It’s so clear. Hi-Def ain’t got nothing on this. Come quick I say, and while you’re at it, drop that sheep"
*baaaaa*
"We bring you news of a saviour that’s about to be born. We need to be sure, but if you leave now, you should get there after the drama! Peace homies! And what’s that guy doing with that sheep?"
"Artie. I don’t know about you, but this has got to be the most surreal thing ever! And I gotta tell you. I have seen quite a few surreal things in my life. Like the wig on that lady’s head. What are you doing? And what’s that do-hicky in your hands for?"
" I’m sending ze, how you say, text to my comrade Chuck Wiseman of ze Wiseman Brothers. Does it bother you?"
"Not as much as that pathetic excuse for a French accent. So are we doing this?"
"Tha’ sounds lyk a might fine plan, but how do we get therrr?"
" Look up there! There’s a bright glowin thingy in tha sky! Can it be, Dare I believe my one working eye!"
"Yes, Bobo, the power company slipped up and restored the electricity in that internet café. Come, we must make haste and use google maps!"
One sheep looks at another, "I don’t know about you, but something doesn’t quite feel right about that dude. And why do you suddenly have such sharp teeth?"
" Er, all the better to eat you with?"
" Nigger please!"
Not so far away.
"Hey, any of you hear that? I could have sworn one of them sheep just said nigger! That one right there. Next to the wolf in sheep’s clothing"
Uncomfortable silence.
"To the café!"
Chapter III
*Beep!"
"I say my good man, did you just receive a short message off your gadget?"
"Indeed I did. I Chuck Wiseman the third, did receive a message of cellular origin on my mobile. I shall now proceed to read it out loud.
"Dear Cousin. We heading out 2 c the messiah! Holla!"
Random Notes: WORLD AIDS DAY EDITION
{Header}
I don’t mean to be way too presumptuous, but I’d like to think you’ve all heard that song…at least Baz has.
To tell the truth, it actually sounds nice, but after a few listens (usually in the company of a beverage of your choice) you start to notice certain things. I’ll assume that you are new to this whole Paul Simon business and reproduce the lyrics. I will also try to embed the video, just to be safe.
In the song ( Call me Al), Paul Simon sings;
If you’ll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you betty
And betty when you call me
You can call me Al
I’m fine with him beginning his verses with “A Man Walks Down The Street” like he is going to crack a joke, but what’s the deal with the chorus? I mean. Seriously! What sort of deal is that? You don’t approach a bouncer with that shit. Hell, you don’t approach anyone with an offer like that.
Let’s assume for one second that I’m overreacting. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that there is in fact someone that is okay with this buddy for bodyguard trade off. In fact, let’s call this person Baz. There is absolutely NO WAY that anyone will agree to be called BETTY. That’s some messed up shit there. What gives? How dare you suggest a name like that? I’m not saying the name Betty is not nice. On the contrary, it’s a wonderful name. It is generally not a name that bodyguards have. It is also not a name that is offered with glee.
Conclusion: Paul Simon has it in for you and won’t stop dissing you any time soon.
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread
I’ve been meaning to blog about this, but I couldn’t find a way of introducing the subject. Seeing as this is a random post, I can come right out and say it. I think bakeries are getting lazy. I suppose I should have suspected it after my first encounter with Tip Top bread. Remember the sizes of the slices? Massive things those. If you were in boarding school and you were going through a rough patch, a slice of Tip Top would be enough to get you by for a while. If a girl told you she was trying to lose weight and to that end had limited herself to one slice of bread a day, you needed to ask whether it was Tip Top. No way will anyone lose weight that way. Logic suggests that to avoid the tedious process of slicing the bread into numerous small pieces, the guy with the electric knife made three cuts and called it a loaf.
Then we had Yummy bread. I know what you’re thinking, the guys that come up with these names are just about as creative as a monochromatic abacus. So, yeah, we had Yummy bread where I would assume someone sat down figured “I can make bread” but couldn’t be bothered to read the recipe and dumped as much sugar in the dough as he possibly could. Maybe, just maybe, this guy/ girl would look into the mixture and gleefully pour sugar in whilst gleefully saying, “its snowing! It’s snowing!!”
Anyway, lately it appears bakers are trying to outdo each other as far as messing up the bread experience goes. In two weeks I have successfully purchased bread that had a thread in it, tasted like paraffin and had funny particles of grain I can only hope was rogue sugar that refused to conform to the norm that dictates that sugar in bread is supposed to be had and not seen. The experience with the paraffin flavored bread left me traumatized and now I have a morbid fear of preparing toast lest the slices spontaneously combust and blow up in my face. How the heck do you expect people to feel sorry for you after they find out that the coroner’s report states that the cause of death was explosive bread?
I bet the PR people will release a statement laying the blame on the power company.
Of Public Holidays with Ribbons
It’s world AIDS day, and as you may or may not be aware, it happens to be one of those days that has a ribbon. For a long time ribbons were maligned and nobody seemed to think they’d amount to much, but lately they enjoy widespread popularity and they come in a number of colours and flavours. What does this mean? Well, simply put, ribbons are now a fashion statement. Got no Cuff Links, wear the gold ribbon, Need to draw attention to your body? Wear a neon colored ribbon and place it in a strategic spot. Actually, you can just wear the ribbon and nothing else. Kinda like that fig leaf that covers naked ladies’ bodies in those paintings by dead artists.
In closing. . . .
{Footerwear}
Know how you hate wearing the same shoes as the next guy or girl? Well, there’s a solution. You can PIMP EM! Make ‘em look snazzy!
yeah? If you have a Facebook account look for the group sole addiction customs. If not… a blog will be opened soon and you will be able to see what else is on offer.
But here’s a sneak peak. . .
*Depending on where you are when you are wearing your tweaked shoes, background may vary.
hey, anyone seen the moon and it’s two friends tonight?
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