Category Archives: Notes From An Idle Mind

abidjan

Notes From An Idle Mind | notes from another idle mind

I was under the impression that Nigerian scammers had collectively decided to put my email address in an envelope and stick said envelope up a camel’s arse. The message here would be that they are not without a sense of humour and would see that as fair retaliation to me constantly responding with “I don’t give a shit” whenever a new despot was killed and had money lying around looking for a new home. “Now you gon give a shit-oh”

In not so many words, what I’m trying to relay here is that 2Face’s cousins managed to retrieve my email address, no doubt, from some carcass lying in a desert some place and thought now would be a good time for some random widow to ask me whether my bank account needed company.

FROM DENNIS AND GLORY KABBA.
REPUBLIC OF COTE-D’IVOIRE

Greetings ,

We are Dennis and Glory the children of Late General Ernest Kabba the
former Director of military intelligence and special acting General
Manager of the Sierra Leone Diamond mining cooperation( SLDMC ).

You’d sorta think that kids belonging to such an affluent family would have invested in separate email addresses, but what do I know? I’ve never been to Cote-D’Ivoire, for all I care there’s a one email address per family thing going on and I have no business making fun of the situation.

We are contacting you to seek your good assistance to transfer and invest USD
14.5 million U.S dollars belonging to our late father which is deposited
in a bank here in Abidjan.

Wouldn’t it, and this is just me guessing, I’m not a financial analyst, so this could be way off… but wouldn’t it make more sense for you guys to take some of that money to an internet café and ask the attendant to open up a new account for whichever one of you seems to be dealing with dependency issues. Actually, before you do that, you may want to pay someone to falsify documents so that you don’t share the same last name and can effectively avoid breaking the law…

This money is revenues from solid minerals and diamonds sales which were
under my fathers possession before the civil war broke out. Following the
break out of the war, almost all government offices,cooperations and
parastatals were attacked and vandalized.

Revenues? Come on you guys, with a dad that loaded, surely at least one of you could have gone to school. . .or bought a dictionary. Also, you guys think you have it tough, there’s a family in Libya that had the patriarch killed, gutted, beaten, probed by a gun… not necessarily in that order. At least all you guys have had to endure are a couple of vandalized offices. Suck it up.

Regrettably, our father was captured and murdered along with his brother in cool blood…

Ah, nuts!

….during a mid-night rebel shoot-out when our official residence in Freetown

was ambushed by Fordey Sanko the notorious rebel leader. Our mother
sustained very sever bullet injuries which resulted to her untimely and
painful death in a private hospital here in Ivory Coast.

 I’m sorry for you and I’m gonna let you finish, but which heartless bastard had the nerve to actually look at the time this shoot out took place? How exactly does this work?

“It’s Midnight and your Daddy and uncle have been killed… in cool blood. We now return to the new song by Jay Z and Kanye West.”

Actually, I’ll even let the whole “cool blood” thing slide. Everybody knows that Africa’s hot as **** so we are unfamiliar with the whole concept of ‘cold blood’. We also live in trees, but that’s a story for some other time.

Now we are alone in a totally strange country without parents, relatives
or any body to care for us at our tender ages.

Now you’re just being modest. You’re clearly old enough to use the internet. . . and record the time of death of your loved ones. That makes you legal…and heartless…but mostly legal.

Before our mother died, she
told us that our father deposited some money which he made from diamond
sales and contracts in a bank here in Ivory Coast and that we should pray
and find a trust worthy foreign business partner who would help us to
transfer and invest this money in profitable business venture overseas.

She told us to do this quickly so that we can leave Ivory Coast and then
settle down abroad.

Hehe, and you chose Uganda… instead of the land of milk and honey, you picked darkness and no sugar. Your mum would be so proud.

My mother died after wards. May her spirit rest in perfect peace.

Crap. I can’t catch a break, can I…

Some spiel about approaching a bank Manager in these harsh times who is game with transferring the money to wherever it wants to go… but there’s a catch;

However, the manager is very concerned because of
our age, and advised that we should look for a matured person that will
represent me at the bank.

What the hell… you don’t know me like that. I’m not THAT mature. May be I don’t want to help you anymore.

Please note that we will offer you 10% of the total money as

compensation for your noble assistance in accordance with my mothers
advise.

Wait… is it too late for me to pray that your mum rests in peace. Coz I mean it, Bless her heart! Now, let’s talk money…

Please there is urgent need for the money to be transferred to your

account because of the political crises they are having in Cote d’Ivoire
now.

You certainly chose the right place then. All we have is loadshedding riots, walk to work riots, riots for the sake of riots and The Onion.

I am interested in any profitable commercial venture which you

consider very good in your country

 Crikey, what luck. I think I could set up something in real estate and then… I mean, WE… we could set something up in real estate and make lots of crazy sick money. I’m talking so sick, you won’t know what to do with it. We could make it rain in nightclubs, buy people cars, get boob jobs. I’m telling you dude and dude’s sister, these are the big leagues.

Please for the security of I and my sister here, keep this transaction
very confidential.

Yes, yes. I agree. Let’s keep this stuff on the low. Using aliases is important. In fact, going forward, just call me Bad Black….

ledger

Notes From An Idle Mind | Now with a Man On A Ledge

I was watching the trailer for some movie with a chap on a ledge. It didn’t even have one of those complex names that try not to give away too much about the movie… you know the kind, like say, er… hang on, I’m sitting here trying to figure out which flick has a name that’s not a spoiler on it’s own and I’m drawing blanks. Crap, talk about messing up an intro… let’s try this again…

I was watching the trailer for some movie with a chap on a ledge. It didn’t even have one of those {hang on, this is not an exact replica of the first paragraph… this one even has curly brackets} complex names that try not to give away too much about the movie. Damn movie is called Man On A Ledge.

Kriss Kross Gonna make you...

That’s right some marketing chaps sat there, ordered expensive meals, bought massive chalkboards, drew graphs and figured the audience would be suckered into watching a movie with a name so obvious, even the chap at the box office would look at you like, “seriously?”

But this is not about the trailer…and how they successfully took the piss. This is about Uganda and how exactly we would respond if something like that happened here. No, not the obvious movie titles {Who REALLY Killed Captain Alex}, but rather,  how would a typical suicide attempt play out…

ON that show they call The Breakfast News

We have breaking news that there’s a guy standing on a ledge threatening to jump. This doesn’t really make sense because people are usually too preoccupied to give a shit about the news in the morning, what with morning wood and the ‘walk of shame’. Actually, now that we think about it, more often than not, with the exception of one or two very important government workers…and the president sometimes, only kids have time to watch the news at that time in the morning.

Which means, the press review and the raging debate over whether Pastor Kayanja will turn the other cheek and let the guys accusing him of sodomy go, is being taken in by junior. {did you see what I did back there?}

But I digress, we are informed that the person who we shall refer to as “Jumper” is prepared to issue his demands…

On the street

“demands?” What the heck for? Let him die… shya, will he be the first person? We will also die, what makes him think he is so special? Let him jump! Gwe, Jumper, I dare you! Jump if you’re a man”….

Well, at least I reckon that’s what someone down below would say.

We are born to be haters, so there’s little doubt that a chunk of the people looking up at a guy would be there to offer a shoulder to cry on. If you’re going to sit there and doubt me, ask yourself why this line suddenly made sense when I wrapped it up with Bad Black.

So anyway, we’ve got a chap on a ledge and he is not going anywhere. This is Uganda and we are not affected by the economy, so we’re going to watch him instead of chilling back at our offices in front of our PCs checking out facebook.

In the movies, you’ve got the film maker will try to convince you that in the developed world the cops actually do more than beat up black people. They studied counseling and are experts when it comes to convincing people that life does go on.

But here…

You will approach a cop and tell him there’s a dude trying to fall off a building, but there’s a crowd in the way.

Cop:  Is it a guy or a girl?

You:  Does it matter?

Cop:  Neda, anti omanyi… well, what is the person wearing?

You:  Clothes. Now, please, we have to help this person…

Cop:  First sign these forms… and bring me a photocopy… because I can’t stand seeing blue ink. That shit messes with my eyes.

You: Can I just sign the form in black ink, a person could die!!!

After haggling a little, you arrive at the scene of the prospective crime

Cop:  Wewe, how much do you have? Come down and give me transport…

Meanwhile, on the ledge

Man on a Ledge {not to be confused with the movie by the same name}

OMG, I’ve got fans… is this what they call Killer Swag? I should send shout outs to…

Back in the offices of Urban Legend

To give you a rough idea of just how different the prospect of a jumper is back here versus back there in outside countries;

Here we will hear about it and move on.

Back there, they’ll hear about it and do a song about the subject and win an award and make crazy Bad Black money.

Here, it will make the news in the morning or late at night.

Back there, it will be the news from when you get up till when you go back to sleep, till when you get up again.

Back there, some idiot will set up a facebook page about it.

Here, some idiot will type out a 877 word article on the subject and end just like that.

Notes From An Idle Mind | The Bieber Edition

Justin Bieber is going to be a daddy. Well, it may not be because of the chic alleging that she defiled him {but that arrangement is pretty cool, right? Groupie love and all that}, but he will be a dad. In the face of all his denials, the question is not so much, “is he saying he is not the baby daddy” or “is he claiming that he was not defiled”… this is way too intense.

One of the Legends went ahead and interviewed Bieber yesterday, so I’ve been left to pick up the pieces and interview Justin Bieber’s discography.

UL: The web has been filled with what we in the third world call bollocks regarding your shall we say, owner. What do you have to say about that?

Bieber’s Discography:  It started out with a desire to find “Somebody to love”. When he sang that, everyone thought, ‘Oh cute, this little chap with a helmet is singing about things before his time”. Understandably, he was not going to let people treat him like a child…

UL: I see, so that would explain why he went ahead and dropped another clue…

BD: Exactly. We were just there, when fwaaah, he starts singing about his private parts.

UL: You are referring to the song “baby” then?

BD: No, you idiot, I mean “Eenie Meenie” Baby was sang to foreshadow this current mess…which you shouldn’t believe because the Biebz is yet to have a wet dream…or an erection…

UL: So you’re suggesting that the woman in the media is full of it? That she is just a girl who thinks he is the one, but the child is not his son?

MJ’s Discography: WTF??

BD: Something like that, but in the event that it were true, which it isn’t, we can see that she’s clearly “One Less Lonely Girl”.

UL: How about Silina Gomesi?

BD: Selena Gomez is his “Favourite Girl” and that’s all we can say…Well, we can also say that Miley Cyrus is the offspring of Chucky from Child’s Play, but it may take away the goodwill and credibility we’ve since established.

UL: We have seen a great deal of furor online from fans, teachers and his babysitter, we haven’t heard much from the Bib, what’s up with that?

BD: You know what, he has really matured. One Time, he would have come out and made noise, but now he is quiet, you even want to ask him, “Where are you now?”. Then you remember the fans and you “Smile” and “Pray” that none of them does something nasty or goes “Overboard”. So far they are limiting it to just “Tweets”

UL: I’m sure the fans would like to know, will he be “Home this Christmas” or hidden away in “His World” and never return…

BD: er, Never say never…

 

Notes from an Idle Mind; The one without Bad Black

Ideally I’d be doing notes from an idle mind… or notes from the corridors of power, but our editor insists that we cover Bad Black. Unfortunately, with two legends going after her, prison officials were cagey about allowing another English speaking visitor to, er, access her… I believe we were being accused of trying to ‘upgrade’ her. So, with no luck and without any Bad Black, I had to settle for the next available interviewee: Nandutu’s Thighs.

ULK: Can I just say, thanks for taking time out of your hectic schedule and putting in an appearance. You are probably the hardest working thighs in the business, so this, for us is an honour…I must say, though, you look bigger in person.

NT: We wouldn’t have missed this for anything in the world… perhaps the party on the 4th of November, but nothing else would have swayed us. And yes, you are not the first, possibly not the last to make that observation, but objects may be closer than they appear.

ULK: To be fair, no one has suggested that you lot are that close, but nonetheless, could you take us through your average day.

NT: Well, when we wake up we glance at each other to make sure that nothing untoward happened during the course of the night. You may take it for granted, but there’s something very unnerving about looking over and not seeing your familiar counterpart, but rather some other unfamiliar, can I say, structure, just being there…

ULK: I can’t say that I relate, but please go on.

NT: So anyway, after that we go through the rigors of the day, a shower, some oiling and we are good to go.

ULK: Don’t you dress up, you know, wear clothes?

NT: What are those?

ULK: Never mind. A certain publication recently had your owner say that you are her private parts, how do you feel about that?

NT: That’s a misrepresentation of the facts. You see, given that our owner possesses a more prominently public property, the rest don’t get our chance to shine. The voice gets all the glory, but the rest of us never get our chance to bask in the limelight. Sunlight, yes. Constantly, but no limelight for us.

ULK: We’ve heard that you’ve got numerous fans, how is this possible if you don’t do anything?

NT: We wouldn’t categorically say we do nothing, but you read the article nawe, you heard how we are restricted to just one fan.

ULK: I had wondered about that. I’m sure our readers would like to know, are you always this close?

NT: Of course not. That’s an unrealistic assumption. Which best friends have never parted ways? We have our differences, and to be fair there are times we rub each other the wrong way, but I think what matters in the end is that we get back together.

ULK: Alright, on to other things, how do you feel about Bad Black?

NT: We are not familiar with that drink…

ULK: It’s not a drink. It’s a type of celebrity. Popular known to frequent bars, but more recently known to be behind bars

NT: Is that the one with the name that sounds like a funny ringtone? Kengele or something? She must be the one. Well, we’ve heard that she hosts a night where people come and be naked. Plus, our eyes have it that she mistreats her thighs by constantly breaking them up using her hand as an accomplice. That’s messed up.

ULK: No, that’s hot. Anyway, is there anything else you want to tell us? Future plans, what what, those things, what?

NT: Well, we are looking forward to experiencing these ‘clothes’ things you mentioned earlier, may be a bit, may be a full full condition, whatever life offers, really. Then we also hope our owner would be so kind as to introduce us to more people from time to time. That would be nice. We also hope people would stop looking at us and saying things like ‘Thailand’. Contrary to what you may think, we haven’t experienced Bangkok.

 

toilet

Notes From an Idle Mind; The Toilet Edition

Oba how many hits will that title give us;

It has often been suggested that the loo is a great place to gather your thoughts from. I don’t know where the idea came from that when someone is on the crapper, things just come together. Maybe it was because of this guy…

oh s**t! oh s**t!!

Nonetheless, whoever came up with this idea may have been on to something. You see, I was wandering about the house the other day and came across the second loo. Just like that. It was sitting there, probably minding it’s business, not giving a shit or waiting to be discovered, and then wham!

Now, it’s not that toilets fascinate me. They are sufficiently comfy, sure, but this one caught my eye because of the sticker it had on it. It was choke-full of marketing speak, offering heaven and many colors and also promised that it was weather proof. Weather proof! How does that even work?

Does the sales guy pull you aside and, “Sir, I wasn’t going to say this, but that’s a good deal right there! First of all, this loo has had only one previous owner, plus you can use that thing even when it’s raining…whenever!”

I sort of got the impression that all toilets are like that, but this sticker put shi… put stuff in perspective. For a brief moment I thought, ‘dang, what were our grandparents loos like? What did they have to go through…”

back in 1953

“Sorry Joseph. You can’t use the loo right now…it’s raining”

“Yes Sylvia, I can see you’re doing the deadly pee dance, but you know how it is, no using the toilet when the sun’s out”

Back to the present day

So, looking at this loo that was sitting there trying to whore itself, I found myself wondering, what makes for an ideal toilet? Why was this one trying too hard… would anyone actually read an article about toilets?

Colors of the wind

This toilet says it comes in a variety of colours. Is that really a thing? Do you walk into the bathroom, unzip your fly/drop your skirt and then as you get set, think to yourself… “Wait a sec. What am I thinking… This is the wrong set of blue! I can’t do this! What will people say…” then promptly zip up/skirt up and walk away with your bladder screaming, “MURDER!”

Comfort and Joy

The loo sat there dryly telling me that unlike other loos, I will feel comfortable if I used it. How does that even work? If I happen to be one of those people prone to standing on toilet seats, will it offer better grip? Or if I have a skinny bottom, will it automatically pick that up and provide cushioning? Will it generate some warmth on a rainy day? Actually, scratch that, does it come with a lady’s voice complimenting me every time I drop my pants? What makes you so special, toilet? How do I know you won’t riddle me with butt-Do you have Bluetooth?

Easy to use

It’s possible that I’ve embellished a little here, but I kid you not, this loo was vibing me. Let’s, for the sake of argument, assume that it is in fact easy to use. Does that not describe just about every single loo after squatters {latrine or hole in the floor). Or will it automatically configure itself to suit my needs. “welcome sir, I trust you will be requiring the magazine and lube again…oh, hang on a minute, you’re not Malcolm. Crap, here’s a psp, let’s pretend this never happened, bye…whoa. Kapapala!”

Mega-Flush

My water bill just came in. Well, not now now as I was typing, that would be a bit overzealous on National Water’s part don’t you think? But anyway, the bill is ridiculous and also suggests that water costs more than electricity. I won’t make the ‘joke’ that it’s because water is the mother of elec and as such has the power. It’s not funny.

So anyway, my bill suggests that my toilet, without my knowledge, entered itself into a competition with the intention of winning a prize for consuming the most water. Looking at my bill, I’d be disappointed if my loo lost. It’s clearly given this thing its all.

So that’s where I am. Second-guessing myself and wondering whether these toilets I use are truly the best a man can get.

toe shoes

Notes From An Idle Mind; Put a foot In It!

I have electricity this time, so I’m not going to bitch, but I also happen to be at the office at 7:30pm, which is not cool. Occupational hazards really, so let’s not make this your problem.

Of course, seeing as one’s productivity wears out as the day progresses and by the time you hit hours such as this you’re really of no use in any constructive discourse, my thoughts will likely start wandering.  Actually, if I was certain my boss wasn’t going to read this, I’d be able to pinpoint the exact time my sensibility took flight and random thoughts stepped in. Thoughts about shoes for instance.

Oh yeah, baby. You know I just wanna slide it in...what, I meant my foot!

There’s a particularly offensive pair of sneakers that seem to be making the rounds around (is that even grammatically correct) town. The first time I saw them the offender looked like one of those holiday makers that you would likely find stealing your drink in the club.

I have no serious expectations of that kind and as such I sort of feel I’d have no one to blame for the resultant ulcer borne of my disgust. I should have known better. You see, if I had walked over to this perp and wagged a stern finger his way whilst saying, “don’t do it again”, maybe he would have told his friends to avoid these shoes. Unfortunately, I didn’t do that and I suspect the conversation he had with his peers went thus;

A Red Sole Exhibitor: Lookit!

Happy OnLooker Excitedly: Some shoes!

Hater: Some ‘vupping’ traffic lights!

Traffic man, officer...

And like that he didn’t see anything wrong with what he was doing and now there’s a pair on every street. Just because I screwed up doesn’t mean you can’t make a difference. You can stop this. Wag a finger; fire off a couple of shots. Do whatever it takes to put an end to this madness.

Of course some things you have to make your peace with. Like gladiators. I don’t get why they are such a hit, but then again, it’s not really my place to understand these things. . .but seriously, even on Venus, such stuff has been relegated to the days of ancient Rome.

Ladies, have you considered what you are doing to people with foot fetishes? Think of all the guys looking at your feet and thinking, “yeah, I’d hit that…if I could see it” You’re being selfish…and I’m almost certain it is well documented some place that ankles need air. There is certain to be a medical journal that documents that fact…or a proverb that alludes to it. It’s like sleeping with underwear. That shit can mess you up.

When in Rome, I suppose... in Ancient Rome, that is.

Is it possible to wear this offensive footwear and still look good? Yes, but in small amounts. Minimalism is key. Case in point, if a lady decides to apply highlights to her hair; a streak of blue here, a streak of red… fine. A few heads will turn, life will go on, but when you decide to apply the full rainbow range…and you have no intention of announcing the onslaught of some local music video, you’re just being heartless.

Don’t come at me with the pitchforks, I already said I’ve made my peace with these things, however, I’d like to go on record as having said that you don’t know what you are getting yourself into.

Like the guys and gals who wear crocs.

.... Like a styled up local artiste

What is your deal? I’ve heard defenders of the crocs movement saying that they are so comfortable…you know what else is comfortable? Walking in the nude, but you don’t see that happening too often. Well, okay, there’s the mad guy on that road in that place, but notice how not everyone is doing that? I’m not going to hate on them all out seeing as they do have a major benefit that not many forms of footwear can claim, ventilation. It would take a certain amount of skill to accumulate carbon in those things.

But of course, things could get worse…

Yep, someone just did it

Notes From An Idle Mind: The Blackout Edition

I’m beginning to think there may actually be a part of me that’s wired to the electricity grid.  Seriously. Any time power decides to retire from active service, my productivity levels fall. Except when I’m hanging out.

Then, I suspect, I’m powered by the same liquid coursing through a randy campuser trying to bench a chick that is clearly only hanging with him because his bank balance has the flamboyance of a gay French painter.

Any discerning reader at this point should be able to tell that I’m typing this out under the influence of Umeme. To say that I’m bright whilst there’s elec would be selling myself short, I’m actually on fire.

Now, I find myself wondering whether there’s any pool table near my place. It’s a thought my grey matter has worked tirelessly to cultivate owing to my current surroundings being associated with possessing great pork and (of all things) weed.

You know something is up when you’re trying to give a boda boda guy directions to your place of abode and he identifies it as “wali owa Bobi Wine”.

Incidentally, am I the only one that thinks that with the whole ghetto rep that this dude has built himself, a fitting honeymoon location would be anywhere outside of the ghetto? No high expectations there, “Bobi ne Barbie bagenze ku honeymoon wali mu Bugolobi Flats”

Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t help but wonder whether an impromptu weed sting these ends would be greeted with rage or fire. It would certainly be nice to go to work, blood shot eyes giddily dancing in your skull and assuring your boss that you just narrowly survived an introduction ceremony involving riot police and a tear gas canister… that was suspiciously flavored with some weed.

Sadly, pork is pork. No one ever gains sympathy where swine are concerned. Not even the chap who claims he was run over by the half burnt carcass of a pig that paused briefly over his mouth, had bits of itself fall in and then went on in the pursuit of greener pastures…do pigs give a shit about pastures?

Wouldn’t it be great if the power company took the time to send out text messages when your power came back? I mean, they are quick to tell you when it will be off, common courtesy would dictate that they also tell you when it’s back. I don’t want to come across as greedy by suggesting that they should call you and inform you about the triumphant albeit short-lived return.

I’ve spoken to some customer service guys here there and truth be told I’d much rather have a conversation with a pair of mismatched slippers suffering from an identity crisis. I’m pissed off as it is, the last thing I want to listen to on the other end of a conversation is the call center theme music followed by someone droning on and on about how my patience has put his kids through school. I’ll have you know that his malicious activities may determine whether I have any kids to put through school to begin with. “Sorry darling, we can’t do it in the dark, what if you miss?”

In my opinion, the most nerve wrecking thing about blackouts is that I find myself actually looking forward to going to the office. That has got to be the freakiest thing ever.

I can’t, for the life of me, imagine anyone that may have such zeal for work aside from say the guys that host Top Gear or the dude that samples the wares of a brothel to make sure that they are fit for consumption.

Don’t turn your nose up at me, what you’ve been seeing can’t be classified as brothel material. It’s homegrown produce with an affinity for smelling like cheap washing soap.

I digress. The last thing I want to be thinking about after a long day of work is WORK and yet that’s where my thoughts dart off to whilst I lay in the dark wondering what the Offer of Employment letter for the load shedding dude looks like.

What’s with that anyway? Do they actually say from time to time you will be expected to cause untold/copious amounts of grief to your fellow countrymen? Also, what does he do all day while he waits for the appointed hour(s)? Does he actually chill on facebook poking people and leaving silly comments on their photos, “OMG U R DA BOMB, BAMBI LOL :)”? {why isn’t Microsoft Word trying to correct the spellings in that last line?}

Does he leave inappropriate LIKES lying around?

You know the ones. Where you write something gut wrenching and deserving of a pat on the back and the promise that the sun will come out tomorrow then some idiot comes along and likes it.

“Boniface is miserable because his pet cat, Sarajevo, that fed him when he was on the verge of starving to death, has been run over by a truck from National Water and Sewerage Corporation” then, in the midst of the consolation messages, some idiot comes along and hits LIKE. What’s up with that?

Wouldn’t you know it, no elec and way too many words for a post. I ought to start seeking that ganja flavored pork over a game of pool.

 

What's your deal

What’s your deal: Security Officers

We had bombs go off last year and in the aftermath, the security sector, if you can call it that, has rushed to make itself relevant. I’d love to commend them for their work… their attempt at being thorough and all, but come on, we all know there are some questions that need to be asked, observations made… piss to be taken, you get the idea.

For one thing, there’s the odd sense of entitlement that seems to have crept into their lives. “Oh look at me, I’m a uniform, I can do whatever I want…” Sod that. The only reason you can do whatever you want is because you’re totting a freakin’ AK47. That sir, is why no one is going to say jack when you stop them like they owe you an explanation for their retake or failure to get it up.

Also, would it kill you to ask for permission before you thrust your hand through the window as it makes its way to the glove compartment? There’s something a little unnerving about having a guy with red eyes and limited linguistic capabilities sticking his hand into your car and wordlessly popping open the glove compartment. Heck, if I had a gun you wouldn’t make it that far.

Plus, we also have things to do. Is it too much to ask you to do your job expediently. Just because I sat through Black Swan and The King’s Speech that doesn’t give you any reason to believe that I have all the time in the world. Quit taking your sweet time as you rummage through the logbook, spare phone battery and handcuffs. Get in, get out. There are women of the night that don’t spend as much time as you do when they’re working.

Please be a little consistent. You can not frisk me with gusto one day and then let me through the next. What are we, dating? I get the feeling that there’s a certain familiarity you seem to have picked up, but that’s really no reason to stop it. Just don’t be overzealous while you’re at it and attempt to give me a vasectomy. I’m looking at you, dude at Steak Out!

FYI, people lie. Don’t you watch House? What are the odds you will ask a terrorist whether he is armed and he’ll say, “oh yeah, sure. I’m set to go off like fireworks on New Year’s Day…and that’s just what I’m carrying in my shoes…” I appreciate the effort at being polite and trusting, but dude. You did not wake up this morning to trust people!

True story, I walked into a popular hang-out spot with a massive wig. I could have hidden just about anything in there….including a rabied puppy. Did they check the hair? No! I can’t imagine why seeing as there’s no documented episode involving Straka asking people to layoff her nest. Why aren’t you checking hair?

Then again, dude at Fuegos in Muyenga had suggested that I frisk my friend and have my friend frisk me. Friend was a female, so I guess this security thing may have its perks…only if the security personnel happen to be a bunch of voyeurs…and NO, we did not browse each other.

I suppose what I’m asking here is;

What's your deal