tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-307478402024-03-07T05:18:26.324-01:00Diary Of A Trapped God...Elevate. Nurture. Dare. Inspire.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-87303311950438345552011-11-15T08:37:00.000-01:002011-11-15T08:37:15.124-01:00TOP Sex Mistakes Women Make, Articles | THISDAY LIVE<a href="http://www.thisdaylive.com/articles/top-sex-mistakes-women-make/102615/#.TsIynZUh1R8.blogger">TOP Sex Mistakes Women Make, Articles | THISDAY LIVE</a>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-71920442480007578932011-09-27T11:45:00.000-01:002011-09-27T11:45:25.457-01:00The Lies Behind the West's War on Libya : Information Clearing House: ICH<a href="http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article27936.htm#IDCommentIDComment144868651">The Lies Behind the West's War on Libya : Information Clearing House: ICH</a>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-51845735062048495392011-08-13T13:59:00.000-01:002011-08-13T13:59:55.850-01:00ON WATCH: Corruption … again<a href="http://234next.com/csp/cms/sites/Next/Home/5738702-146/story.csp">ON WATCH: Corruption … again</a>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-80073388125598066952011-07-26T17:04:00.002-01:002011-07-26T17:27:31.112-01:00DEFICITSHe itches to write<br />
For in the days of yore<br />
Redemption had come this way<br />
But the battle within drains him<br />
And his words live as stones<br />
<br />
He had walked this way<br />
He knows the marks, old footsteps<br />
The caked path, rotting twigs<br />
This path ends soon the winds whisper<br />
But the bogs grow thicker with each step<br />
<br />
These are the days of blue<br />
Sunken eyes, unshaven sideburns<br />
Of drifting in the wilderness<br />
Of hollow and guttural laughter, then nauseating bitterness<br />
These are the days of shrouded pain<br />
<br />
His soul burns as the life in him shrinks<br />
Life is lived in gusts and busts<br />
Pleasure lives as phantoms, as she<br />
In a slumber<br />
He ne’er wakes from.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNKnNTjt3mn-0fV5kSiykVRElWmHsSVuPEUV9N4rjgTck20bveE6rAc-q-tvWVYTeUrTsSF0KTc7z6uaE0bYuPeUreD08OoGUGPj2USnmIcDZu8yuZAK4jfnqChiSuDXejbifjQ/s1600/sadness_by_rockthenations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="299" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNKnNTjt3mn-0fV5kSiykVRElWmHsSVuPEUV9N4rjgTck20bveE6rAc-q-tvWVYTeUrTsSF0KTc7z6uaE0bYuPeUreD08OoGUGPj2USnmIcDZu8yuZAK4jfnqChiSuDXejbifjQ/s320/sadness_by_rockthenations.jpg" /></a></div>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-31463259726182632552011-07-12T13:00:00.000-01:002011-07-12T13:00:34.456-01:00Keeping it to yourselfI was restless last night. Normally, I would turn to the small SW Radio I keep by the side of the pillow or tune into al Jazeera or Euronews on the TV, but it seems like none of them was ready to provide the emergency respite i so needed.I was just restless... tick tock tick... 2 a.m. still no sleep. Panic sets in; I really have to leave home before six. <br />
<br />
Then I thought, she shouldn't have told me that... she shouldn't have.<br />
<br />
But it's been 3 years now, and I have 'forgiven'...<br />
<br />
I turned, sighed and made another futile attempt at getting some sleep...Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-8075834510000774942011-06-29T13:01:00.001-01:002011-07-11T16:04:33.816-01:00The Sounds Moving Me...The Sounds Moving Me… <br />
<br />
I love my music. And I love it mostly loud. Yea, I perfectly understand the implications of ‘listening’ to deafening decibels via 12-inch direct radiating Klipsch Heresy III speakers or clasping its kid brother; the 110dB Image One enhanced bass audio headsets to your ears. Don’t worry, I’m not getting deaf soon, sorry to disappoint you. Of course, I can’t be loud at all times of the day for very obvious reasons and also for the fact that not all genres of music can actually be enjoyed loud. If I had my way though, I would be playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on 8- ohm 5000 watts Titan Moon audio system speakers; at least that would make up for my not being able to witness a live orchestra. But then, that won’t be possible too since the Devil himself fixed the prices of those twins, (a whopping $500, 000). What’s the sum in naira? Erm… I’ll convert that later.<br />
My music does not live in a box and does not belong to a single voice. Oftentimes, after being lost in a particular tune, I sit back and laugh at the ‘strangeness’ of actually enjoying that kind of music. But then that’s me and I’ve never ceased to surprise myself. I grew up listening to phonographs of Skeeter Davies, Willie Nelson, Eric Donaldson and good old Kenny Rogers and the homegrown tastes of Victor Uwaifo, Rex Jim Lawson and Prince Nico Mbarga. Then, I remember angling for a chance to hear some of Sting’s Fields Of Gold and also some of The Police, The Commodores, Madonna and much later, The Mandators. On my way to school, I hummed Marley’s Redemption Song and drifted to Eric Donaldson’s What You’ve Done on my way back. Alpha Blondy came in when I needed some distraction from my homework and yes, Ras Kimono took over when I’ve totally lost any interest in doing any academic work afterwards.<br />
<br />
I remember buying tapes of Chris Okotie, his sister Lorraine and Blackky from my pocket money. In those days, the radio talked way too much and I hated all that talk of what government would do and not do. I hated the dry classicals NTA Channel 6 belched on Sunday afternoons; that never ending drone could kill a poor soul. Nowadays, when I look at my CDs of Tchaikovsky, Albinoni, Mozart, Brahms, and Chopin, I ponder on how some things could change drastically once one is still alive. I couldn’t have imagined Verdi’s Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves caressing me to sleep 24 or so years after. Then it was Oliver De Coque, Ebenezer Obey and Osadebe on Sunday evenings, but never Pericomo Okoye’s Ikeji Music. It’s still not it.<br />
<br />
Today, you’ll find me waking up to a Darlene Zchesch CD, a Sade, Jennifer Hudson or Madonna after the news at 7 and Usher Raymond/Jeremih/Lemar just before lunch. You might see me do a jig to remixes of Kelly Rowland’s Motivation (ah, I love that song) or nod slowly to Nas and Marley’s Patience while tackling a fat wrap of Bole and Croaker. If you’ll remain patient enough, you might still catch me waltzing to Ricky Martin’s latino beat or mime a Kanye West/ Lil’ Wayne verse.<br />
<br />
The other day, I tactfully avoided the fight that would follow her “why do you Igbos always play these songs” after she had obviously endured my putting Joe Nez’s Business Trip on repeat for 2 straight hours. The other day it had been Osadebe’s Ije Awele. In appeasement this time, I simply slotted in a copy of Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday; win-win, I equally enjoy that too.<br />
<br />
I love new music. I love Barbie Girl. I love Weezy (heard he calls himself Lil’ Tuneche these days). I love Chrisette Michele. Yea, I love the whole of the Young Money Cash Money Billionaires. Give me Drake, Jay Sean, Gucci Mane, James Fauntleroy, Travie McCoy, Bruno Mars, Lupe Fiasco, T. I (whenever he can afford to stay out of prison), Jay Z, Jessie J., Sugarland, Pussy Cat Dolls, Ludacris, Nas, Bey, Riri and Ye, and you’ll get a fat thank you. Of course, I still have my MC Hammer, Coolio, Dr. Dre, 2 Pac, Eminem songs and will also dance to my Nigerian P Square, Tu Face, Dr. Sid, Ice Prince, Timaya, Naeto C. and the best of them all, M.I.<br />
<br />
It doesn’t end there. I believe I might be one of the very few who actually listen to rock…well, alternative rock and pure pop in this country. I have CDs of Linkin Park, Evanescence, Breaking Benjamin, Nickleback and collections with songs of Kings of Leon, One Republic, Savage Garden, Coldplay, Artic Monkeys, Greenday, Tribal Ink, Maroon 5 and of course the lords of the ring, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones (the last two largely as some form of connoisseur). You’ll also catch me listening to stuff from bands with some strange names like Arcade Fire, Alice in Chains, Age of Chance, 30 Seconds to Mars, Bedhead, The Melvins, Foo Fighters, The Bluebells, Slipknot and The Home Of Love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyej5PVcZYYBjLs7MQE2th7UJQFMEtNPdlD5R1Ejx-qLpynaJXsiYZ8lbXxqim_cb-FmexNq6UwXTBBc4w7f2uE4HzsISmwFDuAuF1SWSBTzv_-UkI2Y1ct4tFCAaRpucndPBeSQ/s1600/slipknot_myspace_header5b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyej5PVcZYYBjLs7MQE2th7UJQFMEtNPdlD5R1Ejx-qLpynaJXsiYZ8lbXxqim_cb-FmexNq6UwXTBBc4w7f2uE4HzsISmwFDuAuF1SWSBTzv_-UkI2Y1ct4tFCAaRpucndPBeSQ/s320/slipknot_myspace_header5b.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
However, there are times the body and soul seeks greater peace and an urge to engage in some form of music inspired dialogue with its Maker. Then, I seek to be one with the Brooklyn Tabernacle Mass Choir or the soul lifting crooning of a Shirley Ceasar, Fred Hammond and Bishop Clarence McCledon. Add that to the comtemporary stomping sounds of Kirk Franklin (picked that in the University), the voices of Nicole C. Mullen, Mary Mary (wonder what’s happening to them), Winans Phase II (wish they had another album after that classic first), Israel Houghton, Yolanda Adams, Kierra Sheard, and good old inspirator-in-chief Don Moen. True confession, only recently did Jadiel, Frank Edwards and Sinach strongly stir my interest (I know am not alone) in the local gospel scene, even though I’ve had CDs of Paul Nwokocha and Njideka Okeke; I believe tapes of Voice Of the Cross and Agape Love Band are still lying around somewhere. Maybe, I’ve not built a steady interest over the years because that’s one genre I think is relatively static and grossly plagiaristic. Maybe, because oyibo been dey too enter ma mouth… not sure which one.<br />
<br />
Right now, musical tastes can be like the sea before a storm; all calm and peaceful then, suddenly so chaotic. Currently, I’m listening to some Angolan music I found and copied from a friend’s PC. The artiste bar says it’s by Lulas da Paixao. I don’t think I’d be listening to it again; that album by Irmaos Almeida is enough torture already. Crazy head I think I am. Did I say Crazyhead? That would make a good name for a rock band… Weird.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-61987280219040753092011-06-29T12:32:00.002-01:002011-06-29T12:39:52.307-01:00Of men, women and claw hammers…And there it goes again! “Giggs brother went after him with a claw hammer”<a href="http://www.mirrorfootball.co.uk/news/Manchester-United-news-Ryan-Giggs-brother-Rhodri-went-after-him-with-hammer-over-alleged-affair-with-his-girlfriend-it-has-been-claimed-article745703.html"></a>. I took a long hard stare at the monitor after I read details of the Manchester United football star’s sexcapades come to the surface. With more revelations that Ryan Giggs even went after his<strike> girlfriend’s</strike> brother’s girlfriend’s 49 year old mother , the case involving former IMF head Dominique Strauss-Kahn and recently that of US Senator David Vitter; I just couldn’t help but wonder what is it on earth is the problem between men and women.<br />
<br />
In trying to make sense of it all, I tried relating it to why young males piss in the hallways, older males join them in pissing beneath the footbridge (and everywhere there’s a pillar) and why men engage in extra-marital liaisons. <br />
Those days in the University, I often wondered why most guys who could have easily had a bevy of willing ‘chicks’ to choose from would still want to go pick a lady of the night… well, for the night. Now, he might have a girlfriend who is probably shivering form cold as he rams away for a fee. I wondered why agile young teens had to go competing with some semi-senile old men in the night marauding adventure. Why these mostly rich and powerful guys do even had to hustle and pay for sex when most times all it would have cost is a knowing wink and a business card? Then I thought these men were stupid and simply pathetic based on the reasoning that it is useless paying for what you can get free! I thought; why pay for an MTN Fastlink modem when you can use St. James wi-fi hotspot for free? Why buy a CD when you can go to thousand of free MP3 download sites and get the same content, plus… ah, the remixes, without any cost at all? And to think of your doing this over the freebie internet network linkup… Hahaha, good bargain. So why would DSK risk his reputation for something a lady would be glad it was you she gave it to? Why even pay for it?<br />
Recently, in my quest to find a rationale behind every so-called stupid act, I have arrived at the logic that what drives men into soliciting for and paying for sex goes beyond the act itself and deep into other facets of male life itself. Imagine if DSK had paid a lady of pleasure (yea, I know about the Gov. Elliot Spitzer incident and the potential for disastrous consequences, but most high profile comfort women don’t squeal)? The case of Spitzer, Vitter and Weiner<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/richard-adams-blog/2011/jun/06/anthony-weiner-photo-scandal-live"></a> even made bigger news because of the hypocrisy of the men involved – Gov. Spitzer and Sen. Vitter worked to make prostitution illegal. If a politician stands for ‘family values’ in parliament and elsewhere while frequenting bordellos or getting married to 13 year olds like Sen. Yerima reportedly did, then that presents a moral debacle and the scandal in a highly moralistic society can be simply catastrophic. Now, talking about political hypocrisy, don’t ask me which politician is actually an advocate of adultery. Lol! So back to where I was before I digressed: Imagined if DSK had ‘cooled’ himself off with paid ‘service’? And that’s the point! Most prostitutes don’t even know the real identity of their ‘customers’. They don’t squeal afterwards. You don’t father love children with them. They don’t call you when they missed their periods. They don’t ask you for that watch they saw at the Mall. They don’t ask for school fees or sleeping fees. They just let you be! They would have just let DSK be! By now he probably would have been trying to negotiating a bailout for Boko Haram infested Borno State after tying up the newest Greek economic rescue package. Stingy ass didn’t wanna pay until he ran into hot Ukazi soup; now look what he’s got himself into….Hahahahahaha.<br />
<br />
Seriously now, you see, when you are younger, you don’t want to pay for a lot of things. You don’t have a lot of money, but you have a lot of time. You can walk 3 kilometres to the dirt patch behind St. James to sit on a rough slab, just to browse free. You can sit back and watch the bytes trickle in as you download a 9.2 mb Kelly Rowland Motivation. You can hang around you girl target’s neighborhood for hours on end because you have the hope you might be rewarded handsomely after some more hours of sugartalk. These men of power – million pounds earning footballers, governors, lawmakers, captains of industries – they don’t have time for trysts. So they are left with the harrowing experience of lusting after their secretaries (and/or indulging in a potentially damaging affair with a Monica Lewinksy wannabe) or again, putting a call across to the girl simply known as Sweet Pea. So when you are an adult and averagely successful, foregoing the sweet talk and throwing some woman some change isn’t much of a sacrifice at all. You can have the taste of Egusi, far away from the Okra at home and lalala… life goes on. Of course, all these would be if the rein of personal morality and religion does not do much work in holding you down.<br />
<br />
I still do find it difficult understanding why a Giggs would have an affair with his brother’s wife, his brother’s girlfriend and his brother’s girlfriend’s 49 year old ma. Impressive randyness, I’d say. I also can’t understand why a Strauss – Kahn would want to shove his er… LGA Chairman into the buccal cavity of a very reluctant and unwilling Nafissatou Diallo know too well he could get a life threatening bite the next instant (with his ‘eyes wide shut’ of course). I’ve wondered about how he got her ‘struggling’ mouth open… dang! He had a gun with him or he pulled off some life threatening slaps – the kind that immediately initiates you into cosmic travelling? How come DSK’s semen was already on her dress when it’s still ‘attempted rape’? So much questions, so few answers. For sure, this is one case I’ll be following closely.<br />
<br />
So it’s crazy; this thing that pushes and tugs at men when it comes to women. But if it’s got something to do with our default settings, then maybe we’ve got some serious customizations to do. Its high time people stop going after other people with claw hammers, mehn… that’s one dangerous tool!Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-10980407652468710412011-06-04T18:13:00.001-01:002011-06-04T18:13:45.430-01:00Just do me, dammit!<span xmlns=''><p>Okay, I know I should have the word fcuk in the title, but then you should equally understand that normally I don't do this… that is, post NSFW material… but then, this is an exception. Maybe it's the benumbing explicitness of the post or the sheer honesty of it, but it's something that offers a disarming insight into the world of the female as regards what she in the depths of her mind wants the male to do to her in bed. Sounds like it came from the mouth of a 'hood-rat', but I believe all men should read this… and of course women too. I culled it verbatim from Craigslist. It's allowed to squirm if you feel like it... Enjoy.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>"Dear Men of Craigslist,<br/><br/>Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.<br/><br/>But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.<br/><br/>When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want.<br/><br/>OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:<br/><br/>1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one.<br/><br/>2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.<br/><br/>3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.<br/><br/>4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip. <br/><br/>5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried.<br/><br/>6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:<br/><br/>"Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight."<br/>"You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?"<br/>"I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.<br/><br/>If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.<br/><br/>6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.<br/><br/>7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load.<br/><br/>8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles.<br/><br/>In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who. <br /></p><p><br/>*New point of clarification - some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don't mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don't like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you're in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don't be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don't ever do something you don't want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous."<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>Umph!<br/><br/></p></span>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-70791278635525947872010-11-03T11:12:00.000-01:002010-11-03T11:12:03.621-01:00ResolutionsI don’t think I’d want to make resolutions anymore. Yes, I know that, ‘he who fails to plan, plans to fail’, but that depends on how much you attach to resolutions as a critical element of plans. And now that I think of it, if resolutions are an integral aspect of successful living, then why am I still here? Okay, maybe you’d say am not ‘successful’ yet since I shy away from them resolutions… <strike>but hey! You don’t know me, do you? Lol!!<br />
</strike><br />
<br />
The last time I came around here, I made a ‘resolution’ to update this blog at least weekly…but something seem to be keeping me from doing just that. I’d log into Blogger every now and… I had even left the compose page on in a minimized window for a day but still no post. It wasn’t as if I had nothing to say; actually I’ve been choked by things I’d want to say, but haven’t said. I had always wanted to come around here and purge myself of the junk thoughts… those that keep you soliloquizing on end. Blogger offers me that conduit and space, only a journal offers and I love it… but still I just won’t write!<br />
<br />
On penultimate New Year’s Eve, I made a resolution not to make resolutions again and I’ve wholly kept with that until this. Now everything is gone… entwined in this humdum of a new post and whatever the essence is.<br />
<br />
But now, I’m back again and I want to keep doing this again, probably every week… but the problem is; Does this decision equal another resolution? I hope I’m wrong, ‘cos if I’m right…then I’m afraid this new resolution might have already become an obstacle to itself. A stillbirth of sorts.<br />
<br />
Maybe, am just a spontaneous person. Maybe.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-17422982213001569612010-07-28T08:34:00.000-01:002010-07-28T08:34:37.234-01:00Light hearted...A contour and a crease<br />
Is it gonna be a smile or a sneeze<br />
I froze the sneeze just in time<br />
To give a smile to this kid...<br />
<br />
Out hunting today... for goodies.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-86384258317385910752010-07-19T13:56:00.002-01:002010-07-19T13:56:44.984-01:00UntitledThere’s grief around the edges<br />
No letters on these pages<br />
My anguish are my wages<br />
The say its murder, mother.<br />
<br />
No, I just can’t cope<br />
Can’t wait for hope<br />
I fret the walk<br />
And live as the bug<br />
<br />
Tiny things stuck in my head<br />
Kaboom<br />
As the mines in some fertile plain<br />
Its noise in my veins; silence in my head<br />
<br />
Like lonely footfalls in temple’s stead<br />
Did I buy this ticket to my demise?<br />
A roller-coaster to Hades?<br />
Like sunk in ruin’s sea.<br />
<br />
Couldn’t they say it’s another, mother?<br />
Won’t they take the shroud of soot from me?<br />
Would they let the noose soothe me?<br />
And bring my age to shame?<br />
<br />
Agwoturumbe and the law, never denied<br />
I told it, it was us<br />
I, she. Our blood curd<br />
Our red killed us.<br />
<br />
I await grief’s hood<br />
As my night comes in knots<br />
It will get uglier soon, they say<br />
When my sorrow takes the colour of my pain.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-82240580849155072902010-07-13T15:38:00.000-01:002010-07-13T15:38:52.699-01:00Getting my life back...Now when I get to think of it,....I feel something not quite crazy or well, stupid, but some parts of my mind seem to support that notion; that I’ve wasted my time seeing the World Cup. Not that I went to South Africa per se, but the fact that I had to hurry home because I wanted to "make sure" Rooney doesn't score for England gave me a quixotic feel of influencing and conjuring up results in the faraway land. At a point I felt like that Octopus thing Paul....did I say I hate jellyfishes and octopuses? I'd stray for a second. You see, I grew up swimming in sea creatures infested brackish waters and I dreaded a jellyfish getting stuck on me. So predicting matches like an Octopus wasn’t that much fun because a supposedly inferior and slimy creature was doing it. But then, I hate having to question things I did for fun because I believed they served to make the mo worth its while. Unfortunately, am not experiencing the hangover that is supposed to come in the immediate aftermath of such a gargantuan event. Maybe it’s due to the anti climax that came from ‘my team’ (not Nigeria, of course) not winning the event despite getting to the finals. Yes, I prefer a virgin nation carting home the trophy and never quite had serious issues with Spain doing that, but well allegiances will remain……allegiances. And for now, they’ll still remain with the land of the Dutch.<br />
<br />
Okay, now add the feelings of being in a league with octopuses and knowing that my country failed woefully,…and my preferred nation not going home with the trophy, you can see why it was as if the whole party just didn’t fly for me in the end. I don’t want to think of the things I would’ve done while I was seeing the matches…I don’t want to go there, really. Those would make me miserable. …they already seem to be doing, so I’d stop this little ‘confession’ now.<br />
<br />
Well, I’m glad for just one thing right now. I’ve got my life back.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-16310222710610427152010-07-09T13:07:00.002-01:002010-07-09T13:07:21.130-01:00A Hiding PlaceI'm back here once again in the quest for a place where the sun doesn't pour its radiance on...where i can sit back and pour my thoughts out in a dish and slowly savour the exoticness or well, the deviant triviality of it. So am back in Blogger...away from the rowdiness and busybody-ing of Facebook, Twitter, MySpace and Buzz. I will remain in love with Facebook...that’s for sure, but I’m seriously thinking of re-uniting with my first love. I remember the peace reading blogs upon blogs conferred on me in those heady days of Blogger; when you are sure to find a page filled with a very rich feast of knowledge, adventure and fun just by clicking on 'next blog'. <br />
<br />
I remember the days when I wrote and I relished the idea of coming back tomorrow to write again, not because anybody gets to read and make comments but because i log into Stat Counter and I see figures of hundreds stumbling on or visiting my page.... You know, the odd mention once in a while in Global Voices and the idea you are finally doing something, even though you weren't doing it as well as you'd love to... those seemed inspiring. I remember having a page where all my links were, my community so to say. I could remember tweaking my template and loving how well it looked; then tweaking again and losing all that made the entire idea appeal to me. I lost the links, most of the posts and everything that made a little sense. I think it was the despair that made me run away...and stayed away for three whole years. But then, that wasn't entirely responsible for it. That miserable firm i worked for contributed too, well, like I said in the post preceding this,it was a hell hole, a prison of sorts. Then I had to live my online life in a mobile device and blogger wasn't on mobile or maybe i hadn't discovered how to make it work on mobile... But thing is, i blanked out around here... and in came Facebook, the then crown prince of the mobile web. I lived my life on the go, so i had to embrace Yahoo Go and Gmail for Mobiles for mails, eBuddy and Nimbuzz for chats and of course Facebook and Twitter for pumping a little air into my crowded mine. MySpace woke up after the train had left the station, so i had to throw away the ticket i got for that. But then again, regardless of the incessant privacy updates’ form Mark Zukerberg's people, Facebook still made it seems as if the whole world was peering at you from under your behind..., and at times you can never be too sure you didn't leave a piece of brown smelly stuff around …and on you. Yea, I know, you're clean. We all are, aren’t we? But you still have to keep your hands out of your pocket when moving around the men in shades. Not just the men in black (those are not the actual threat anyway), but those who would come after you because you had uploaded a picture of yourself beside a borrowed Limo. <br />
<br />
Someone once had this theory that the more friends you have on Facebook, the more confused you are...and yes, the fewer comments you get. That's if you are the comments type. The comments types are in love with comments and they easily get disillusioned when they seldom see them. The next time they answer Facebook's "What’s on your mind" question would probably when they've been so bored and they look towards Poor Zuck for help. 'The non comments' type trudge ahead for months on end after making status updates’ without comments. For them, i think it's about listening to what people around you are saying more than running your mouth out. Then, maybe not. It's never too sure in the world.<br />
<br />
The lights are gone now and with it always goes the thinking part of my brain that's not too friendly with hot spaces. Unfortunately, that's the part that is doing the writing now... In a little while, the beep sound would come on, so I’m wrapping this up sooner than I’d love to. I'll back to do it again whenever the retards at PHCN get their 2 plus 2 right.<br />
<br />
Well... well. So am thinking again, should I quit Facebook entirely? Or visit my old love under the cover of darkness, while living the life of Facebook? Infidelity calls. And where best to answer its call than here in my hiding space.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-38352659497259467442010-07-08T11:36:00.001-01:002014-12-28T08:09:11.283-01:00Seeking a hiding place...<p dir="ltr">I'm back here once again in the quest for a place where the sun doesn't pour its radiance on...where I can sit back and pour my thoughts out in a dish and slowly savour the exoticness or well, the deviant triviality of it. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So am back on Blogger...away from the rowdiness and busybody-ing of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Google +. I will remain in love with Facebook...but i'm seriously thinking of re-uniting with my first love. I remember the peace reading blog after <u>blog</u> conferred on me in those heady days of Blogger; when you are sure to find a page filled with a very rich feast of knowledge, adventure and fun just by clicking on 'next blog'. I remember the days I wrote and relished the idea of coming back tomorrow to write again, not because anybody gets to read and make comments but because I log onto StatCounter to see figures of thousands stumbling on or visiting my page daily.... You know, the odd mention once in a while in Global Voices and the idea you are finally doing something, even though you weren't doing it as well as you'd love to... those seemed inspiring. I remember having a page where all my links were, my community so to say. I could remember tweaking my template and loving how good it looked; then tweaking again and losing all that made the entire idea appeal to me. I lost the links, most of the posts and everything that made a little sense. I think it was the despair that made me run away... and stayed away for three whole years. But then, that wasn't entirely responsible for it. That miserable job I had contributed too and like I said in a post sometime, that place...well, it was a hell hole, a prison of sorts. Funny, I ran the hole. I was chief warden. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Then I had to live my online life in a mobile device and blogger wasn't on mobile or maybe I hadn't discovered how to make it work on mobile... But thing is, I blanked out around here... and in came Facebook, the crown prince of the mobile web and social media. I lived my life on the go, so I had to embrace Yahoo Go and Gmail for Mobiles for mails, eBuddy and Nimbuzz for chats and of course Facebook and Twitter for pumping a little air into my crowded mine. MySpace woke up after the train had left the station, so I had to throw away the ticket I got for that. But then again, regardless of the incessant privacy updates form Mark Zukerberg's people, Facebook still made it seem as if the whole world was peering at you from under your behind... and at times you can never be too sure you didn't leave a piece of brown smelly stuff around and on you.Yea, I know, you're clean. We all are, ain't we? But you still have to keep your hands out of your pocket when moving around the men in shades. Not just the men in black (those aren't the actual threat anyway), but those who would come after you because you had uploaded a picture of yourself beside a borrowed Limo. Someone once had this theory that the more friends you have on Facebook, the more confused you are...and yes, the fewer comments you get. That's if you are the comments type. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The comments types are in love with comments and they easily gets disillusioned when they seldom see them. Thus, after a while the only time they answer Facebook's "Whats on Your mind"s question would probably be when they've been so bored and they look towards Poor Zuck for help. 'The non comments' type trudge ahead for months on end after making status upadates without comments. For them, I think it's about listening to what people around you are saying more than plaining running your mouth. Then, maybe not. It's never too sure in the world.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The lights are gone now and with it always goes the thinking part of my brain that's not too friendly with hot places. Unfortunately, that's the part that is writing now... In a little, the beep sound would be on, so I'm wrapping this up sooner than I'd love to. I'll back to do it again whenever.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So what was I saying? Should I quit Facebook entirely? Or visit my old love under the cover of darkness, while living the life of Facebook? Infidelity calls. And where best to answer it's call than here in my hiding space.</p>
Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-30512298716493065612009-12-25T12:39:00.001-01:002009-12-25T12:39:08.108-01:00Two years after.Two years after... <br /><br />I tried tweaking my template, and lost most of what i felt made the porridge thick. <br /><br />I got a job that pays to keep you in prison. That leaves me with zero time for blogging, scrabble, Ruchi and created more enemies than friends for me. <br /><br />The world got an Obama and lost a Jackson... Leaving me wondering what really the fuss about these men were.... Was it just about being black? <br /><br />Saw the rise of Facebook and Twitter, and the fall of Myspace and the Blogger..<br /><br />I look back at some piece i wrote and wonder, 'how could you have posted such trash'? <br /><br />Memories. Some are like shadows stabbing you in the back. Others , apparitions beckoning you forward. <br /><br />I've grown to be a nut. A harder nut. Priorities got new meanings. And a trip to Nwanyi Mbammiri wasn't one of them. <br /><br />I have to let the twinkle in my eye die right in front of her. Not because she wasn't charming, but because well, ... it wasn't Priority. <br /><br />I've wrote little junk. Read more junk. And wondered why it's junk everywhere. <br /><br />Saw Chxta go, Tayo too. Even Santa grew ever smaller. At least i can now sleep through through my December 25ths. <br /><br />T9 made more sense. Cap'n Thumb became the captain of this team and i've done more business with Opera and Bolt. Why wasn't Explorer fighting? <br /><br />Am still not doing Okporoko, Eba & Egusi. They still wonder how i'd managed... But Isiewu and that cold green bottle was there when i needed them most.<br /><br />I'm still loving Scooby Doo, wont take breakfast until am done with Kaakaki... and yes, i grin all day when Dr. Dre calls it Decision Collision. Funny, this young lady here doesn't get it when i get Tribal Ink, Linkin Park and Ginger Williams in the mix.Did i mention Cloud 7?<br /><br />Wish it could still be House of Grace.<br /><br />I dread not being young...but then i have to keep at getting old. But i know 20 years from now, i'd still listen to Maroon 5, Jesse McCartney, Banky W and M.I and just as I borrowed Joe Nez & Sweet Breeze from them, they'd still let me keep my memories. <br /><br />I knew i'd still be loving bachelorhood. It shelters my nuances and eccentricities. <br /><br />Life is just this. To be continued.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-83158969480998719342008-02-28T17:12:00.002-01:002008-02-28T17:38:11.475-01:00Coke: Proudly NigeriaAt times, i wonder for how much we've all sold our sensibilities for, that some white man or his copycat protege would think they are worth less than a penny. Imagine, the new Coca Cola billboard ad that "proudly" tells us that a canned Coke is "Now proudly Produced in Nigeria"! Okay! Lets say we have to flaunt it when we've got it, but what's the idea behind celebrating a soft drink that was already being put in cans by 1955, some 58 years before now. So we are now catching up, <em>abi</em>? Please Nigeria Bottling Company, stop offending my senses by either removing this "proudly" something (dont really mind the celebrating because they are guzzling can Coke)or getting this billboard off my Junction...<em>abeg!</em>. At least i wont have to be confronted by it every minute. Once again, <em>na beg i dey beg</em>.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-13817150515159283932008-02-25T17:17:00.004-01:002008-02-25T17:39:37.440-01:00That i live...Pt 1Confined in a metal egg<br />At a masters call<br />Life tastes of brine and rusted metal..<br />Then the bitterness of squashed hopes<br />This anvil pleads for respite<br />From this scorching comfort<br />As all fliuds inside of me remain in flux<br />Can i go home now,<br />Suga, can i come home?Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-87825022583988337922008-02-06T17:33:00.000-01:002014-12-28T07:29:20.305-01:00Rats, anyone?<div>I am looking for prospective investors in the Nigerian informal sector, i know a zillion places where we can strike gold hunting rats-Chinese, Belgium, and even Thai rats for export....yea, they are export quality. We are looking at big dollars by exporting to Thailand. Doubt if they need it, read this culled news from bbcnews.com. You are interested? Holla. I know dey joke oo!<br /><a name="startcontent"></a><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Thai diners show appetite for rat<br /></strong><br /><em>Rats have long been eaten in poorer regions of ThailandThai fast food sellers are enjoying a boom in rat sales, as people learn to love the taste of the rodent. </em></div><em><br /><div><br />While rat has long been eaten in Thailand's poorer northern regions, a growing number of the country's roadside vendors are now serving it up. </div><br /><div><br />The rats are drowned and sold uncooked or ready to eat, with happy customers purchasing rat meat for as much as 150 baht ($4.82; £2.30) a kilogram. </div><br /><div><br />"It's better than chicken," one customer told the AP news agency.<br />'Nothing can compete' </div><br /><div><br />"It all depends what you like, but it's a normal meat like any other," added Thongyu Roruchit.<br />They are definitely clean </div><br /><div><br />Rat vendor Sala Prompim<br />One rat seller, Sala Prompim, said that the hip and liver were the best cuts.<br />"It's tastier than other meats - nothing can compete with rat," he added.<br />Mr Prompim said he only used rats caught from rice fields, and not those found in towns or cities.<br />"They are definitely clean," he said. </div><br /><div><br />The animals are killed by drowning, before being skinned ready for cooking - poached, fried, grilled or baked.<br />Mr Prompim says he sells as much as 100kg of rat meat on some days. </em></div>Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-3609342235033833022008-01-08T17:42:00.000-01:002008-01-08T17:57:43.974-01:00Wetin dey happen?For the while i decided to stay off the blogosphere, its been like walking feeling lonely in a crowded room. I'm glad to be back, though not fully, but back anyway..at least in my mind.<br /><br />So i will start with my favourite topic. "Polls, Politics, Politricks and Politicians" . You will all have to forgive, maybe next time i will blog about something less boring...<br /><br />Now this is my post for the moment ; "Wetin be our president agenda sef?"..Anti corruption, fixing infrastructure, eco-management...etc. I dey ask because i no actaully dey see wetin dey happen. I know, forget about the seven point blah blah... you neva ask yoursef this question? Till i come around again. Ciao.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-6636334347447437782007-12-17T17:48:00.000-01:002007-12-17T17:53:26.899-01:00Matchday ZeroMatchday Zero. Arsenal 1 Chelsea 0. Hmm, whooping Chelsea's A**. Exhiriating.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-15636533390511991852007-09-10T17:21:00.000-01:002007-09-10T17:47:52.255-01:00Ondo Dog eatingHmm, interesting times are coming.I am facing the dilenma of how to view the unfolding events in Ondo State. Whether wrong or right, considering that the issue at stake is an inherent illegality, at least by name. Just heard on BBC's Focus on Africa programme that 11 PDP members were abducted in a meeting. The abductors ( i prefer that to kidnappers) were requesting payment for helping the PDP out rig the other parties, notably the Labour Party in last April polls.Well, i dont and wont sanction illegality, but when illegality begets illegality and both of them cancel each other out, what do you say?<br /><br />The point is this actually. Kidnappers, abductors, criminals, whatever we call them should let us ordinary folks be and face those who sent them in the first place, in a classic case of dog eat dog... (unless, of course the Labour Party is stage managing this).<br /><br />So now the dogs are barking at or better still eating the dogs.And if THIS is happening , it cant be wrong, or can it? The chickens will definitely come home to roost.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-90228209362073394942007-08-14T11:28:00.000-01:002007-08-14T13:12:39.106-01:00Port Harcourt : A State of EmergencyI was already late. So after waiting a while for a taxi and seeing none, I "climbed" on an Okada to the park where I was to join a bus to Owerri. But I couldn’t make it to the park. A series of sporadic and close-sounding gunshots make sure of that! Preferring not to be the subject of a tragedy, i quickly scanned the surroundings for a concrete post or wall. Not finding any, i hugged the murky ground at my feet and with this action went my precious white shirt and my traveling to Owerri that morning. Everything happened in a split second; in emergency mode.<br /><br />That’s the nature of living in Port Harcourt these days. You can encounter danger in the next minute and equally lose you life if your chi is not awake. The city is now a state (city) of emergency. Though everyone still pretends it’s not. But when I think of it now, I ask myself, when has the city not been tethering on the brink of strife since I grew conscious enough to make my choices. Back then it used to be one of the numerous inter-ethnic conflicts: Andoni –Ogoni, Ijaw – Okirika, Ogoni –Andoni etc.<br /><br />It’s only enjoying attention because it now involves the kidnapping of expatriates and the direct threatening of governance. When it happened only at the “watersides” – the slums, nobody paid any attention or when attention was paid, it was out of political expediency. Now all those who killed and maimed in the name of ethnic conflict has drank the concoction of penury, vengeance, criminality and of course, courage. They are attacking the larger community. Its just an example of what happens when politics is played with just about everything, from checking religious fanatism to tackling poverty. Peace takes a walk when this happens, and unfortunately with it my precious white shirt. But I am too glad it was only my shirt.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-63008627024016115402007-08-06T12:51:00.001-01:002007-08-07T16:57:06.855-01:00HIV TESTS IN COVENANT UNIVERSITY: THE BURDEN OF JUDGESHIP<strong>HIV TESTS IN COVENANT UNIVERSITY: THE BURDEN OF JUDGESHIP</strong><br /><br />I’ve been off the blogging circuit for a while and though I’ve been itching to lend my voice to issues, somehow, I’ve been cocooned off by constraints. But when this issue of subjecting would be graduands of Covenant University to compulsory HIV screening before the award of degrees to them came up, it also drove up a couple of latent questions from the depths of my mind.<br /><br />Not to bore you much, I helped myself to the answer to one of the questions that plagued my mind. It’s about Character. What’s Character? The dictionary says that character is “all the qualities and features that makes a person, a group or a place different from others”. Character is the reason Covenant University is doing what it’s doing. We all know that an awardee has to be found “worthy” in “learning and character” before a degree is awarded him. But that is where my dilemma steps in. What constitutes Character? …all the qualities? Tallness, Thinness, HIV status? What? So my questions began.<br /><br />Does the health status of anyone contribute to character when viewed in the light of the education environment? If a person is dying, and insists on acquiring formal education, does anybody have the right to deprive them of such? Where the persons health status (You might want to read “HIV status”) does not affect their physical, mental and emotional strengths, does that state of health merit being used as a tool as against such individuals in their pursuit of academic glory?<br /><br />Who has the absolute right to condemn someone by such standards and thus deprive the person? The Chancellor, Registrar, Senate….? Who? Does it mean that if somebody makes straight As or a First Class, the person would not be given a certificate, just because of their HIV status? Please.<br /><br />Probably, the University authorities believe that whosoever got the virus had it as a result of the sexual promiscuity while forgetting there are tens of ways through which the virus can be contracted. I ask again, within whose purview does the right to administer spiritual cleansing fall? Chancellor Oyedepo or God through Christ (when you sincerely seek His face). So whats the news that they would not be allowed to graduate except they undergo spiritual cleansing about? To me it sounds like info straight out of Gulu, Uganda (apologies to the people of Gulu ).Christ! Even Christ didn’t discriminate!<br /><br />A persons HIV status does not stop them from contributing positively to society. Rather by depriving someone who has studied for 4 years of their right to a certificate, you would be encouraging them to become bitter and vengeful. They might even want to spread the virus around in order to spite the earth that treated them badly.<br /><br />A judge, administrator or someone with the responsibility to make decisions that drastically affect peoples lives has to look at the bigger picture, and in an instance where such a person is a minister, he has to be careful not to sin and be seen to sin! Deprivation of civil liberties under whatever guise is a very sensitive issue especially when such deprivation inspires one to criminality and hate. In more radical societies, The Covenant University authorities could easily be in trouble.<br /><br />I implore them to show the students all the Love they can and stop this issue about HIV screening before graduation. I wonder what it’s meant to achieve, anyway, because the positive still moves into the wider society, screening or no screening. It’s Ok to screen before you admit, though. That in my opinion can help save the lives of the other students. Somehow.<br /><br />Mr. Nathaniel (I think that’s his name) the Registrar was on TV last night dousing the flames of this controversial issue, but Sir, am sorry to say this. You did not convince me of the rightness of your cause. And oh, for the denials, there is surely no smoke without fire! My constraints are still here, so I will rest my case for now.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-11811519388264874452007-06-28T14:40:00.000-01:002007-06-28T14:50:26.905-01:00Till sometime soon!Due to some unavoidable circumstances, i'll have to curb what i really love doing-blogging.But i just have to go away for a couple of weeks....and will soon be back as i'm midway into my "unavoidable circumstances". Even when you visit and didn't find a new post, be rest assured i've been reading yours...My dear brothers and sisters, may your toes never break from kicking a**es.Its your duty to speak out. And oh!, may you never tire to commend too.Till sometime soon.Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30747840.post-85232679199963830842007-06-06T16:54:00.000-01:002007-06-06T17:22:53.885-01:00New Nigerian Anthem<em></em><strong>Claws from the Past</strong><br /><em></em><br /><em>Bring it! </em><br /><em>What?</em><br /><em>We right here</em><br /><em>We're not goin anywhere</em><br /><em>We right here</em><br /><em>This is ours and we don't share</em><br /><em>We right here</em><br /><em>Bring your crew cuz we don't care</em><br /><em>We right here</em><br /><em>Uh, uh, uh..</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Chorus of Rapstar DMX's song "We right Here".</em><br /><br />For sometime now, i've not been frequent on Blogland. I'd say why next time. But i couln't resist sharing the new PDP anthem with us.This is most intended for those who are seeing a new dawn where there is actually none.Its still the reign of the leeches. Doubt it? Read your lecture notes on LEG 101 (Course Title : Politics of (s)election in the 6th Nigerian Senate) .....Obviously,<br />the leprous claws from the dark not too distant past still pulls the strings. GOD HELP US!Endihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11851364279196812788noreply@blogger.com0