It feels good to be loved and knowing someone is always watching over you. That is protection.
I’m not yet rich or anything close to it so I use public transportation more often than required or advised. Part of the joys of public transportation is squishing yourself with food-related individuals, kids playing on your thigh not caring that your main tool of trade may be forever damaged, people eating all manner of garb and lots of other heavenly things.
One of the things I didn’t mention is radio. Radio is the echelon of public transportation. You have a choice of listening to the driver’s playlist or whatever local station he or she subscribes to. I choose to stare out the window and any mammary glands that challenge my ability to concentrate on a point. Yesterday however, there was nothing interesting outside the window and the lady seated next to me had nothing out of the ordinary going on till we got to the end of our journey. (I’ll remember to mention that later on)
As I’m thinking of how I’d be at the office if I was rich the radio switches to one of those boring daily discussions. I usually ignore but with nothing to divert my attention I had no option. What’s the topic? Contraceptives for school kids. Yeah, like those ashy little humans that wear uniforms and walk in packs. All of a sudden, the bus came to life. People were sneering, sharing opinions, murmuring while I was still looking for a pointed chest. I was taught to always focus on one goal.
I don’t know about you but I saw condoms at a very young age. They weren’t condoms then, at least to John they weren’t. John had come across this inflatable rubber in his brother’s pocket and came out to play with it. I thank God though that John was mean because he didn’t let anyone touch it. He blew it all by himself. I only came to find out later in life that I’d dodged a bullet.
I’m not a parent and by no means I’m I anywhere close to being one. So when parliamentarians earn an allowance to discuss how condoms and other contraceptives can be distributed in schools, I feel very proud to be a Kenyan. Which other government would let a ministry siphon billions and defend it but get time to sit in parliament and discuss how kids in schools need condoms? This is the government of the people.
Most high schools in Kenya are like public toilets, unisex. I’m picturing a scenario where there’s a condom dispenser in an all girls school. I know girls are a bit artistic but I still can’t picture what use they’d put a condom to. And not to mention the contraceptives. How will they access them? Will it be at the nurse’s office, at the tuck shop or will it be mixed in their morning tea? There are many possibilities.
A boy’s school. Now I can see what these rascals can do with a condom. In most cases, none of them have buckets and those government condoms can carry litres of water. Eureka! Water ferrying crisis solved. Or there’s a leaking tap and the school doesn’t want to get a plumber, boom! Problem fixed. The problem now arises when there’s a school of the opposite sex visiting.
Before, it would be really hard to convince a girl to have sex with you in school because the deal breaker would always be, “We have no protection.” G4S were there but apparently sperm is too fast for human interference. I say apparently because there is a reigning pull out champion in the bible who even God himself thought was taking it too far and had to deal with him.
With condoms in schools, what stops these kids from engaging in sex? Kim Kardashian was not a role model when I was in school and neither was Vera Sidika or Huddah. People looked up to Oprah Winfrey and people who were not necessarily physically appealing but had it all going for them. When Kim is your role model, there is only one way to success. You’ll be on your knees and prayer won’t be your agenda. I have nothing against socialites. Ok I do but it’s nothing personal.
Kids nowadays twerk during P.E and aren’t in the least bit cautious of their changing physiological features. The once dreaded fear of the fury fathers unleashed on their kids is fading away. Kid’s nowadays don’t fear pregnancies, let alone STIs (Not the Subaru. Only Njoki Chege fears those). It’s tantamount to serving alcohol at an AA meeting just to see if they’ve overcome their addiction. Putting contraceptives in schools is a recipe for disaster. And where will they dispose these condoms? I threw up in my mouth when I remembered I used to pick litter in school.
What stops sex pests (Not pubic lice) from taking advantage of the availability of contraceptives in these learning institutions? I’d personally like to know if there’ll be any form of tracking done on the condoms. Some teens in the UK manufactured condoms that change colour when in contact with an STI. Now that’s an invention that goes towards enhancing a better future. Though I’m not sure how many people would knowingly use them. If you’re just about to get laid and the colour changes, there’re instructions on the pack. “Slowly back up. Look at your partner with disdain, spit on the ground, look to at the ceiling, remove the condom and slap your partner with it on the face.”
If the contraceptive was able to track anyone that had slept with a minor, it’d be a marvelous step towards curbing under age sex. There are currently no condoms in public toilets and I think that should be an area of concern. Picture yourself clubbing in the CBD and getting this endangered lady (the horny ones) and she’s willing to go with you. It’s 2am, all shops are closed and you don’t want to go to those local vendors, what do you do? Run to the nearest public toilet before getting a ride home. You killed two birds with one (technically it’s two) stone.
I’m not a keen follower of most political side shows so when I found out this bill had made it to the second reading and MPs couldn’t sit down to figure out why corruption was bleeding Kenya dry, I cried. I cried not because I was hurt but simply because there’s this bug that had accidentally flew into my eye (It couldn’t have been intentional, could it?). This is the time these social activists should stand for something. If they support the motion they should carry lorries of condoms and dump them at the parliament building. All MPs should be able to distribute them to all schools in their constituencies.
If they are against it, they’ll probably still get the condoms and put them on pigs. I’m yet to grasp their fascination with swine. So back to this lady I was seated next to at the beginning of the post, the one without anything to look at eventually surprised me. I was definitely going to be the last to alight because of my position so I waited patiently for everyone to pretend they were in a hurry.
The lady stands up and I see playboy. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me because that was an elastic band. The kind you see on Fruit of the Loom boxers. I thought I had seen it all but then I could see the shoulders of her butt cheeks. That’s when I realized she actually had one of those boxer thongs. The kind that say I can hold my own but still need you to kill that spider in my kitchen. I wish I had a condom to cover her bare behind. Parliamentarians, that’s a hint,
They say a brave man faces his fears. What do you make Of Men and Bravery?
My first ever published article was on the meterosexual man. I won’t go back to discussing men who find it in their itineraries to visit nail salons and shave their legs on Saturday afternoons. That’s a personal decision and if there’s anything I learnt from being in a Christian university is tolerance, except for when you have to admit students who subscribe to a different religion.
I may not be the most politically correct person you’ll ever meet but I’m not the worst either. I have my good moments. I help the blind cross the road occasionally. I remind drank girls of their affection for dancing on table tops. I pet dogs and wave at cats. So from my life, you can see I do anything I can to give back to the community.
I haven’t received any recognition from any state organization but that won’t deter me from the cause. So I’ll proceed with uttermost caution because the last time I said I will not dance with a man I was given evil eyes and my soul had to sit by the corner with Judas’ soul. Bruce or Caitlyn (Spelled with a C not a K) Jenner is on your screen. I don’t know what the fuss is all about. A man, sorry, woman thought it would be great to let the world know he was struggling inside.
I think it was somewhat brave of him to come out of whatever furniture or corset he was hiding in. If I was in his shoes, his male shoes of course, I’d probably just chill there for a few more years and surprise everyone in heaven. As everyone walks in to the judgment hall, Jesus calms everyone down and I just walk on to the stage like, “What’s up snitches! No man stands alone. So I decided to be a woman and now I have the whole stage to myself.”
If I’ve lived as man for 65 years, a dozen kids and thousands of cumathons later, I’m not giving up my manhood to appear on any magazine cover or reality show. There’re plenty of reasons why. I don’t want to sit down when peeing! Who knows what Jane got from the last time she went to some bedbug ridden home. And who wants to remove every piece of clothing just because you want to pee?
I don’t think Bruce fully understood the responsibility of just walking around and being able to whip out your schlong and reassure the plants that hydration comes in many forms. The schlong is not only a relieving and pleasuring device but can also be used as a heating device. Many people that went to boarding schools and had morning preps knew the only assured source of heat was sticking one or both hands into your pants. I have no apologies for anyone I may have touched during this period. I was only performing induction.
What I consider brave is choosing to let go of the opportunity to have pre-mature ejaculation and blaming it on age. I don’t know what he decided to do with his schlong but he probably put in some glass and will show his grandkids what Olympians are all about. We also know white people keep things for a very long time.
He was a bit too clever about it though. The guy has been rich all along, what stopped him from living like a woman in 2000 before Kim choked on fame? One, he wanted to be a woman when he was well past menopause. Nobody wants cramps (I don’t know if you can fix a womb into a man but he played it safe) except for when you get stomach cramps from overfeeding.
Bruce did something bold but I don’t think it’s anything that needs worldwide recognition to the point of getting awards. Brave is dropping a troop of safari ants in your boxers and not flinching. Brave is letting out a fart in the elevator and blaming it on your crush. Brave is an animation, which I didn’t really understand. Heroes can be called brave. Soldiers who die at war, human rights activists and other people who put their lives and freedom on the line for the sake of other people are brave.
Bruce is confident and free after releasing himself from the shackles of manhood. I still don’t understand why anyone would want to lose their manhood just to be hit on by the random guy that sips on people’s drinks at the bar. In my eyes, which aren’t so good because of too much exposure, Bruce didn’t need to tell the whole world he wanted to be a woman if it was something person. People in Thailand do it all the time and they don’t do pre-reality shows and a billion interviews before going under the make-up.
The thing is most of us are quick to conform to anything the media portray. I’m not so sure I’d do everything the media communicates. Things like sex change are personal choices but just like death, sorrow, hatred, love and any other emotion or decision, only you can relate to it how you feel best. After seeing the Bruce thing I’ve made it a point to make sure everyone knows about every single decision I make. Today for example, I chose to take black coffee without sugar and gave a speech on how I got lost in a sugar farm as kid and don’t want to lose myself in sugar as an adult. I’m currently the Employee on the year because of my brave decision to face sugar.
I don’t know about you but I’ve made a choice to also come out and it feels great. The office was cold and the way the sun rays are reflecting on my Don Gorgon spectacles, I feel brave. Brave enough not to take a selfie. Embrace your bravery. Do something normal and make the world see it as the bravest thing a human can do. Take out the trash at night and don’t run back to the house. Don’t laugh at the funniest joke, it’s all in the little things we do. Be brave.
I was walking down the street and this guy in bright yellow pants, a luminous green vest and equally reflector like shoes walked by me. It got me wondering , are All men are the same?
I went for a wedding last year in August. Technically, that was the last wedding I attended due to lack of invites and the fact that I don’t like being in wedding committees. Who contributes to my courtship projects or who will dedicate their hard earned money to my success in getting someone’s daughter off her expensive linen?
This wedding was everything I had never looked for in a wedding. A couple that loved each other and had actually spent time together before deciding, “We want to make out in front of our parents and show them this is how it’s done.” I also liked the food (The simsim and groundnuts especially) and the view.
I don’t know why I mentioned the wedding because I actually wasn’t going to write anything about a wedding. From the moment I turned 18 and vowed to cause havoc and sleep till I was 23. In this period I’ve seen the number of girls I knew get knocked up so many times I don’t even congratulate them anymore.
I have nothing against pregnancy. It’s a beautiful thing. Who doesn’t want to see a lady wading on dry land? I have a lot of respect for the ladies that see their pregnancies through and even go as far as naming their children after months and vehicles. They deserve to be lauded and recognized as heroes.
Last evening I drank too much beer and had to stop after every five minutes to let off condensed moisture as I went home. This was coupled by a nasty hangover that didn’t even have the decency to put on some deo. I blamed my bar tender and currently have to tell the world about how bad bar tenders are.
I’ve seen a couple of bitter posts online from ladies concerning men. I would not understand what it feels like being left to care for a baby on your own and the donor is sipping mai tais somewhere in Kariobangi South. I personally haven’t gone through a heartbreak except for this one time a kitten I was in the process of adopting committed suicide in front of me out of the bureaucratic frustrations of the Feline Adoption Society.
Every individual needs to take responsibility for their actions and that includes every man that willingly or unwillingly engages in any activity that may lead to gene transfer. That should not even be a topic for discussion. The issue lies in what the once happily romping and now lactating ladies turn into. All men become bar tenders and are blamed for the action of one bar tender that served a vodka martini without the glass.
These wonderful ladies turn from “My man is the best in the world” to “All men are the same”. However, there are very many loopholes in the statement “All men are the same”. I’ll help you identify a couple. Believe it or not, we all have different DNAs. I was equally surprised by this discovery when I stole sugar and blamed it on my brother only for my dad, a man and a forensic scientist to test the jar and determine I was the culprit. Surprising, huh?
I also found out men have different penile sizes. This has made me halt my quest for equality until I find the root cause of this phenomenon. I almost suffered one of the most violent attacks on my grades last semester when I said Mahatma Gandhi, Adolf Hitler and Idi Amin were one and the same. When asked by my lecturer what I thought of thought of these men’s principles, I simply answered, “They are all same. My ex-girlfriend says all men are the same.” Everyone laughed and I had to spend the rest of the class from the window but I got the point.
I believe we all make wrong decisions at some point in our lives. Emotions have no logic and therefore, you may think you’ve found the one but you’ve just found the one to donate some Y chromosomes. The first wrong decision was engaging in guerrilla warfare. Protection comes in cheap and the government cares so much that they dish them out for free. The reason why you or I risk losing the joy of sleeping throughout the night because of an alarm that you barely know how to operate still baffles me.
I’m sure I can pick out a man from any office or higher education institution that has spent a fortune on a lady only to find out he was financing another man’s reality. I’d want to hear them say all ladies or women (Depending on how many times you’ve voted or witnessed elections) are the same. No two human beings are the same.
My mind can’t comprehend how one person can say all men are the same in reference to a man that made her pregnant and still say her father is her hero. If all men are the same, I’d think all fathers except for Caitlyn (RIP Bruce) would be in this category. It all lies in Sir Isaac Newton’s third law that states for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It’s not acceptable for a man to run away from his creation but it’s equally unacceptable to blame even the men you refused to sleep with.
In this time and age where people are losing their dads to oestrogen, blanket judgment shouldn’t even cross your mind. As much as any man that dodges the responsibility of their child is punishable by law, every lady should also know their wrong decisions cannot be pinned on people like Patrick Ngugi Njoroge who has been celibate for 54 years. (I need to see this man and learn from his ways)
To survive in this world and live happily, you need to learn how to separate issues. The ladies raising kids on their own as their lazy donors look for quick return sperm banks deserve respect. So do the men that raise other men’s children like their own. To the lazy donors, keep it up, your zip that is. Once we learn to treat every person as an individual, some of these unnecessary pains and blame games can be avoided. And you can also invite me for a wedding; I dress well and eat with cutlery.
It never clouded my judgement,
Never limited my movement,
Nothing was impossible.
The first shot,
Took me to the next level,
My first snort,
Brought me back to life,
I’d never been to heaven.
I thought it was the pills,
Or maybe it was just the thrill,
This was a new high,
Something of a psychedelic,
She’d just unearthed a relic.
Maybe I’m new to this,
But it feels different,
Like you’re on top of the world,
But with the world in your hands,
A feeling I never experienced.
She said it wasn’t love,
But she was in love,
She didn’t race through my mind,
She’d taken off with it,
A simple feeling of love.