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For Satan’s Sake

Agh, don’t do it again you stupid laptop. Don’t crash, don’t crash…Oh for Satan’s sake!”

What did you just say?”

What?”

What you said just now.”

I said ‘you stupid laptop…’”

No after that!”

I asked ‘what?’”

No, before that and after that other thing. In the middle”

I…I don’t think I said anything in the middle. Empty spot right there. It was kind of a doughnut of a sentence really.”

You said, ‘Oh, for Satan’s sake’”

Did I?”

Yeah, I heard you!”

I really doubt it. I think I’d remember saying something like that. I probably said oh for SANTA’s sake, that makes more sense.”

It really doesn’t.”

No, like you have to make Santa feel good. You invoke his name, play on his pride, that’s just how you get presents. Everybody knows that.”

No, they don’t actually.”

This is why you don’t get presents at Christmas”

Kevin!”

Yes?”

Are you secretly a Satanist.”

“A SANTA-ist?”

A satanist! A devil worshipper.”

A…What? That accusation is ridiculous, absurd, insane, offensive -”

You always string on adjectives when you’re lying.”

Ok fine but it’s not what you think.”

Kevin, I just discovered you’re an undercover satanist…it would be an incredible feat if I actually had premade thoughts on the matter.”

I’m going to explain myself anyway.”

*

Listen. This is for all you people judging me right now. I’m not exactly a Satanist. I’m a token Satanist. You know those religious people who are only religious when it’s suitable to what they want to do or when they’re in trouble? Yeah, it’s like that. And I figure as long as you’re going to half ass a religion, you might as well pick one with advantages. Amirite? Somehow I doubt you’re cheering me on. But that’ll change.

Let me give you a quick lesson in Satanism (that you probably don’t want but are too curious to ignore). While some groups of people have something like say… the 10 commandments, we have the 11 Satanic rules. It’s our backbone, more or less. What are these rules?

Rule one: Do not give opinions or advice unless you are asked.

Right? How many times have you said this? I’m willing to bet it’s at least every damn week. You know why? Because you my friend are a Satanist at heart and you should embrace it. But I don’t expect you to rush into it. I know you’re still unconvinced. So…

Rule Two: Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them.

That hit a spot didn’t it? You want to tell half the people in your contacts this, don’t you? We Satanist get you. We’re really not as bad as you think. Two rules in and it’s like we read your mind (We didn’t…not really anyway).

Rule Three: When in another’s lair, show them respect or else do not go there.

You want to cheer but you won’t because you’re a good [insert appropriate religious affiliation here] but it’s really just common sense. Yeah, we’ll use words like Lair here and there but that’s just tradition. It’s nothing to think about. Our rules just make sense and it’s undeniable.

Now, you’re thinking, what’s the catch?

I won’t lie to you, there is one. We’re not hippies. We’re Satanist. That’s to say we actually do have a dark side. We have rules like:

Rule Four: If a guest in your lair annoys you, treat them cruelly and without mercy.

But think about it. It makes sense doesn’t it? You come to my house and annoy me and then EXPECT mercy? Come on. Not cool. You deserve what happens next. Respect. The. Lair. It’s not much to ask.

However, if you’re hedging because of that, remember:

Rule Five: Do not make sexual advances unless you are given the mating signal

Boom! You see that? Satanists for consent. No means no. Even we Satanists know that. It’s right there in our main rules.

Rule Six: Do not take that which does not belong to you, unless it is a burden to the other person and they cry out to be relieved.

Thy shall not steal unless that stealing will help the other person. Only steal your neighbours burdens. You see? We’re really nice once you get to know us.

Rule Seven: Acknowledge the power of magic if you have employed it successfully to obtain your desires. If you deny the power of magic after having called upon it with success, you will lose all you have obtained.

I mean, what kind of ass denies magic after using it to succeed at life? Who? Magic has feelings. Don’t be a dick. But, If magic screws you over then feel free to detest it and it’s users. (See Mr. Filch in Harry Potter).

Rule Eight: Do not complain about anything to which you need not subject yourself.

Are you getting convinced? I mean, he’s no saint but Motivational Speaker Lucifer knows what’s up. He get’s to the hard hitting issues with that bite of reality.

Rule Nine: Do not harm little children.

Yeah. You hear that you folks who don’t spare the rod? Hey kids. Convert your slipper wielding parents to Satanism. We don’t tolerate that crap.

Rule Ten: Do not kill non-human animals unless you are attacked or for your food.

Satanists against poaching.

Rule Eleven: When walking in open territory, bother no one. If someone bothers you, ask him to stop. If he does not stop, destroy him.

Satanists against street harassment.

I hope I have educated you on our ways and convinced you to join our ranks. We’re really nice. And we throw the best parties. No, really. You have no idea. You haven’t been to a party until you wake up and you’re not sure if that’s a hangover or you’re just possessed.

PS: The information and views set out in this publication are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the values of Do Not Feed The Bloggers.

This disclaimer exists largely because the Church of Satan has asked to be distanced from DNFTB as we are in their words “decadent, valueless and lacking even a shred of conscience.” They have requested we inform you that though their member has written for us, you should not assume that we have corrupted him to our lost ways. The Church of Satan is after all, a decent organization of fine standing, very unlike DNTFB. If you are a follower of the filth that is DNTFB, The Church of Satan would like you to know that they are willing to save your lost soul. All you need do is sign it away to the devil for safe keeping.

THE STRUGGLE OF THE WELL ENDOWED.

Hello there demented people of the world. It’s been quite a while since I last actively showed my angry presence in these parts. I take it that you have missed me because let’s face, you are obligated to. Fear not, however, I’m back.

Now, as expected of me, I am an avid browser of reddit. I go there every single day. It’s excellent for procrastination. Drafting legal documents can be quite the bore. I sometimes really ask myself why I chose to do this degree, but truthfully, it’s the only degree I actually could do, but I digress. (Un)fortunately, had to downgrade from 4chan. There can only be so many fucked-up-beyond-redemption writers here at a given time. (Also, my 4chan days were dark, dark times in my life. Second and Third years in law school weren’t kind to me).

One of my favourite subreddits to brows is BBP, or Big Boob Problems. It’s very comforting to know that there are other ladies out there who share the same every day struggles as I do: selling your whole family and mortgaging your parents’ house to buy a bra, having things lost in my boobs, underboob sweat, cringing as you walk down the stairs, every single top you buy having to be adjusted, OMG buttons refusing to close on shits, rants, etc etc. Kwanza wewe Olivia have you ever gone there? You really should. (They also provide great resources and great places to buy bras. If you’ll consider selling your grandma to buy a bra, it better be a goddamn fantastic bra).

Let me even tell you a story so that you can truly see how real this struggle is. Early last year I walked into a shop, which I won’t say to be polite (Woolworths Sarit) to look for a couple of bras. As in I hadn’t even lifted my hand to check out the sizes and the mama that was standing there just takes one look at me and says “I’m sorry, I don’t think we stalk your size”. I’m telling you I was so offended. This bitch didn’t even know what goddamn size I was and she already decided that they didn’t stock my size?! I couldn’t even bring myself to complain. I just walked out and went and ate greasy food. So fucking rude.
So yesterday evening, I came across a sub called BDP, aka Big Dick Problems. I was very amused, because this sub was kinda like BBP, but for men. I clicked on one of the links and it was about a well-endowed gentleman telling a story about how he was hospitalised and hospital gowns are not exactly…discreet. Another link was about a guy who saw bananas that could only have come from Uganda and was saying how big they were and even he felt a bit inadequate (tihihi). I even discovered a test. A test.

At this point I was grinning like a mongoloid because oh my God this test was just…very, very entertaining. It’s called the toilet paper roll test. How it works is, you take the roll and cut it at your insertiable length (I have no idea WTF that is) and I think you use how tight it fits around your cock as a representation of how thick you are. On average, the roll is about 5.5” girth apparently, and this dude (and other blokes on this sub) was (were? What is English?) bigger than that. They were even saying how they now respect women that give/had given them head.

So my mum walks in on me with my mouth agape and covered and I’m giggling like a school girl and she decides for the sake of her sanity its best she doesn’t ask. Ignoring the shade she was throwing, I told her what I’d discovered and she had a look of appalled confusion on her face as I continued gleefully browsing through BDP and kind of relating to the struggles these poor blokes go through. (Mum once told me she’s already feeling sorry for the poor bloke that’ll shackle his soul to me. Clearly she doesn’t know I’m friends with Aggrey). Poor guys have problems finding condoms that fit them, LOL. I think most of our West African brothers should sub to this sub.

To conclude, I strongly recommend this sub. It’s really weirdly educational. And entertaining. Please go look at it. Please. It’s worth it. I promise.

Establishing Dominance In The Workplace

Just like in prison, your hierarchy in the workplace can mean the difference between good living or spending your time as everyone’s doormat. This has little to do with your actual position, but everything to do with your place in the eyes of your fellow inmates/coworkers.
There is no magic formula that can guarantee alpha status but here at DNFTB, we are committed to giving our devout converts helpful hints that will set them on their way to successful brainwashing and joining of our cult happiness. In no particular order, they are:

Step 1: Always maintain eye contact.
This is very common advice, but the most common mistake is that people are too afraid to take it to the next level. Truly committing to maintaining constant eye contact is what it means to be top dog.
What does next level mean? It means staring directly into someone’s eyeholes while you’re both at the urinal. The fact that you can pee while still holding your coworker’s gaze shows your confidence in the control you have over your bodily functions and that you’re not ashamed of it, unlike most others. If you’re using the stalls, leave the door open so everyone can admire your excreting technique and learn that you have transcended the base concept of shame and are no longer under its power. When they see you seated on that throne, looking straight into the windows of their souls, the only feeling they’ll get (apart from nausea and after complete disgust) is a grudging respect for doing what they have no hope of ever pulling off.

Step 2: Constant nipple play and/or crotch massaging
Most people hate their jobs and all they want to do is suffer through the 8-9 hours of grinding slog to get back to their “real” lives. But for the alpha, pleasure in your work is a constant. And the pleasure is not just intellectual or emotional, it is also sexual. Constantly playing with your nipples while hard at work (pun intended) is a sign of above and beyond commitment to your job. If you’re still not feeling the connection, try rubbing your hand over your crotch for that extra sensual stimulation. Do this during meetings and when having conversations with your colleagues to display that extra level of engagement. Showing just how much you enjoy the work you’re doing is not only a great way to find enjoyment at the office, it is also a surefire way to impress your higher ups. Even they don’t enjoy their work that much, I can guarantee.

Step 3: Make your presence felt
Storm into board meetings demanding to see the quarterly reports. Barge into client presentations to vouch for the integrity of the sales team. Offer unsolicited advice whenever you come across people deep in conversation. Kiss everyone on the cheek (gotta be respectful), no matter how many times you run into them. Come into work on casual Fridays with a full suit, only bottomless. Whether you choose to wear your special lace panties or go commando is up to you. These are just a few ways to make sure you’re on everyone’s mind. The alpha’s presence in a room is always obvious, but there’s no harm in being blatant about it, just for the benefit of the few numbskulls who can’t take a hint. This also helps to reinforce your dominance with the rest of the pack. Show them that you’re the only cat in this rat race.

While definitely not comprehensive, applying these few steps to your daily professional life can lead a long way. It’s all about mixing them up and coming up with your own style of implementation that suits you. Ham fisted application will only lead you to rubbing people the wrong way. Whether it’s sexually harassing the janitor to show workplace enjoyment, or blackmailing your supervisor with pictures of him and his mistress to make your presence felt, make sure to put your own personal spin on it. Be the most stand out individual you can be. This is what being an alpha is all about. Success will follow naturally.

Ice Buckets and ALS: Part Deux

About a week ago (cue shmoney dance), Rigathi was dragged into the ALS Ice Bucket challenge and being the charitable bastard that he is, he decided to drag me down with him.

So here’s the video of me doing the challenge. 

NB: My pre-emptive defense for the little girl scream is “GODDAMN THAT WATER WAS COLD!” Do that challenge and see if you wouldn’t shriek.

N*ggas In Bookshops

“Girl I met a new man. Imagine he reads books! Awesome right?”

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard this line. A girlfriend excitedly calling me because she’s found a man who is actually literate. Like he’s read Game of Thrones and they’re talking about it now and speculating on what they’re going to do in season 5. This girl’s panties are dripping wet because she’s found a dildo with eyes. Oh my goodness I have been this person.

Let me tell you something ladies, we need to stop this shit right now.

It is great when you do find a man who reads. There are millions of articles about this, poetry even. Some of them are just so obviously written by some white woman in an obscure part of America who has blown up pictures from the Humans of New York Africa tour and stuck them on her wall “to remind her every day that she is so blessed.” Unless there’s some line about how “the first glimpse he caught of you was your Afya Centre-green thong as you bent to pick a book” I’m not sure we’re the target audience.  But you know its cute, right? Its an amazing thing to be able to discuss literature and writing styles with someone you’re really into, or even to walk into his room and find a bookshelf instead of a giant bottle of whisky that him and 8 of his friends share custody of.

However I’m telling you this is no longer an effective method of picking a mate. It may have been back then but now these men know. You google “why you should date a man who reads” and 1.3 billion results pop up. OF COURSE THEY ARE ONTO US. And I don’t know what’s more disappointing, how slick they think they are now that they know or how effective they are at convincing women that they are slick.

As an avid reader I am THRILLED that on almost every street corner there’s a book vendor these days. But as I have been taught on several occasions, men don’t like it when women have nice things. (No? Go ahead and a post a picture of any hot man on your social networks and just wait for every Mark from Masaku to hop into your mentions with a bottle of water like you asked for it. Who the fuck told you I needed your seal of approval on what I should lust over? Please, son be gone.)

you dont have permission

 

But I digress. So you’ve gone on your Tumblr and told your feminist friends how there’s nothing more you’d love than to stay indoors and have coffee with your boo as you talk about the themes in Paulo Coelho’s books (spoiler alert: the main theme in all of them is sleep and how fast you can achieve it) and Pinterested stealth shots of men reading books or browsing in book stores. I get all that, I do it too. But these men have eyes. They will hate on those books as much as they want but there are a lot of hot women just squatting and kneeling around in the CBD just looking for books. To be honest it gets a little bit obscene at times, just wiggly jiggly bits in the air! Its enough to get anyone confused.

So Mark from Masaku is back on duty, patrolling the streets for women to just say hi to what’s the big deal why you gotta be such a bitch you just smile back you’re much prettier when you smile harass and there you are with your face down and your ass up. Of course you do not notice this predator in your midst because you’re just looking for a good book to read. But somehow you look up and there’s this guy holding the last book you touched. Then he asks you if its any good and because all the men you have encountered were scraped from the bottom of the barrel, Mark is now Marcello, distinguished gentleman and book connoisseur.  You mean all he has to do is pick up a book? And you? What have you done? You’ve spent hours in the mirror plucking and pulling at your features because of this or that standard of beauty while all he did was buy a copy of the Stephen King novel you read in primary school? Then when you’re together you have to dumb yourself down to discuss his dull opinions on it?! No, madam. NO.

Bitch so what if he reads? WHAT is he reading? Not all books are good or worth your time. “But he reads manga though” might cut it with some of you and it could be the feminism talking but most of them are really just misogynistic garbage so I don’t count it as literature. That could be just me.

The fact that there is a guy in a bookshop should not be treated like its some Nat Geo event that must be documented for all of womankind to see. He has not come from outer space. He is just LITERATE. I understand that literacy is a privilege that I get to enjoy and maybe some of my opinions might not be all-inclusive to those who are dyslexic or any other reading disorders which I apologize for. However that’s like 17-20% of the population, meaning roughly 3 out of every 5 of you bastards have no excuse. Do not put that man on a pedestal unless he is one of those people who struggle every day with their disorders, and even then do not make him a god. Why are you settling? You have the power to bring nations to their knees but instead you’re texting your girls ALL DAY about a man who took 3 and a half weeks to read a 230 page book? Shut up.

 

 

 

 

 

Ice Buckets and ALS

As it turns out, I got roped into the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.

There’s been a lot of talk about wasting water in relation to this. I’ve seen it all over my TL and I think it’s a fair complaint. On the other hand, I don’t think this campaign could have been quite as succesful without the “gimmick.” So I tried to find some sort of middle ground.

I did my challenge next to a pool so most of the water would go back in anyway.  And I will be doing a double donation with one of those going to The Water Project: Wells for Kenya. 

Enough chit chat. Here’s the video

Late Night Decisions

If it’s past midnight, get off the internet. Take my word for it. Nothing good will come of being on the internet when the witching hour strikes. Only disaster awaits you. You have been warned.

I know this because last night I was on the internet at 3 AM. I was tired. So tired that the only real movements I was making were scrolling through OLX free classifieds which, when you think about it, is the only way to truly go window shopping at that hour. Why I thought late night window shopping, online or off, was a good idea is a concept whose root can easily be traced back to I WAS ON THE INTERNET PAST MIDNIGHT.

Lets compile the ingredients making up the “how did I get myself into this” recipe.

1. I was tired.

2. I’m impulsive and easily impressed when I’m sleepy.

3. The curse that strikes late night net denizens foolish enough to go against it.

Stir it together and let it simmer.

Long story short…I bought two rabbits.

One moment I was looking at electronics and then I blinked and found myself marveling at the idea of rabbits being sold online. Then looking at the prices and going, this is fairly affordable. I’ll take one. No no no i’ll take two, so the first one doesn’t get lonely. And then, worst of all, I was dialing a complete stranger and asking for my rabbits.

Well. Technically I didn’t buy them. I booked them. But if you wake someone up at 3 AM for a barely intelligible conversation demanding rabbits you’re honor bound to actually buy the damn things. I believe he would legally be allowed to kill me if I didn’t buy them after that. It’s in the constitution. No really. Read it. It’s surprisingly in depth about rabbit sale etiquette.

So I bought two rabbits.

You know what I’ve learnt from owning rabbits (that I don’t have yet.) It sucks being the only one with rabbits. So I shall challenge you all to buy your own.

Why would you do that you ask? So we can all train them and have a rabbit race (that I will crush you all in). You heard me. I’m saying my rabbits, Malcolm X (The black one) and Iggy Azelia (The.. this doesn’t actually need any clarification), can beat your rabbits.

If you feel threatened by this utterly meaningless challenge then GAME ON. You’re my kind of person. The rabbit race is on. Train the little bastards.

PS: If one of you has a tortoise bring it to the race. I want to test their supposed intelligence that we all heard so much about as kids.

Later Freaks

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