Jidenna walks into conference room for a meeting with Mary, the video creative director.
Mary: Hi, Nice suit.
Jidenna: Thank you.
Mary: It looks familiar. It’s the one you wore to the BET awards isn’t it?
Jidenna: What? No. I threw that away. I wouldn’t wear a suit twice. Goodness me.
Mary: Wait, you’re trying to tell me you don’t ever ever repeat a suit?
Jidenna: Well…there’s the one I wear to funerals.
Mary: Really? That’s the one you don’t replace?
Jidenna: I mean…the people there are either dead or grieving. And it has to be black like everybody elses. They won’t be able to appreciate it.
Mary: I…You know what, let’s get down to business. We need to discuss the idea for Janelle’s Yoga video.
Jidenna: What have you got for me?
Mary: I was thinking we’re going full on with this yoga theme. You’ll be a yoga instructor and…
Jidenna: Wait, what do Yoga instructors wear?
Mary: T-shirts and yoga shorts or…
Jidenna: T shirts and Yoga Shorts? Is that like an ironic name for some kind of spring line-up? Sounds like something Canali or Tom Ford would do. “With the ‘T-shirts and Yoga shorts’ suits, feel lax but look immaculate”.
Mary: No just plain old t-shirts and yoga shorts. I’m sorry Jidenna…are you choking?
Jidenna: … Shorts?
Mary: Maybe not shorts, sweatpants maybe?
Jidenna: Good God…
Mary: Look Jidenna, the theme is yoga…
Jidenna: I will not do this! I reject this madness.
Mary: A track suit then
Jidenna: Just because it has suit in the title does not make it a suit!
Mary: Fine…fine. Maybe we can play around with it. A suit made out of that sweatpants material.
Jidenna: You’re trying to kill me.
Mary: Excuse me?
Jidenna: You were sent from Nigeria weren’t you? I should have known. They wouldn’t let a light skin get away this easily .
Mary: I don’t know what you’re talking about
Jidenna: Terrible fashion as a weapon. I never saw it coming. The cruelty. The inhumanity
Mary: Oh for the love of…ok, what do you suggest?
Jidenna: I’ll wear a suit…
Jidenna: But I’ll be in a diner.
Mary: I…what? What the hell does that have to do with Yoga?
Jidenna: A diner!
Jidenna: Look from what I’ve heard here all you really need me to do is drop some class. Get down and dirty as it were. I’ll lower myself and actually enter a diner. Sit down even. That’s the most I’m willing to compromise.
Mary: oh my God!
Jidenna: I know. It’s brilliant.
Mary: sighs Fine. I can’t sway you. But there is one other thing.
Mary: The classic man remix video. Some people…*cough* some people seem to think you’re a bit stuck up.
Jidenna: Really? Why would they say that.
Mary: I …erm, have no idea. But it’s out there and we have to deal with it. We thought for the video you could do something to change opinions maybe?
Jidenna: I have the perfect idea.
Mary: You do?
Jidenna: I’ll be in this sleek white suit right….
Jidenna: Then, this is the part…I’ll go into a convenience store.
Jidenna: You know, a convenience store. An actual one. Selling…things. Junk food or whatever is in those places. Then I get an ornate type box thing and walk out.
Jidenna: That’s it.
Mary: What’s the point.
Jidenna: I buy things in convenience stores…like a normal person. I’m just like everyone else. Between the diner and the convenience store – I’m a man of the people Mary. A Classic man of the people.
“What did you just say?”
“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’”
“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”
“Are you secretly a Satanist.”
“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.
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
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.
If you’ve spent some time on this blog then you probably know that the end goal is world domination. What might surprise you however is how long this plan has been in motion. See, when I was a kid we had a giant picture of Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya’s first president, hanging somewhere. Kenyans know the one. The iconic image with the fly whisk.
Now I didn’t know who he was exactly and I certainly didn’t know he was dead at the time. But, because I was a stubborn child who refused to ask questions when I could make my own (horribly uninformed) conclusions, I decided he was the world ruler. Why else would we have a picture of him? Solid reasoning, right? And in a moment of childlike confidence I declared that I would take his job. It was a vow I took very seriously as you can see:
As it turned out the entire office of world ruler was unoccupied so (sadly) I don’t have to unseat anybody. But (again, sadly) I do need you people to actually get the office. Dictatorship ain’t what it used to be. So i (not really) humbly come bearing gifts.
- A GUILT TRIP
Look at the hope in that child’s eyes. Do you want to crush it? Are you trying to get in the way of that dream? Do you dance in a field upon the forgotten corpses of children’s hopes?
If not then support our domination. Vote for us here.
- A POWER PLAY
In case you’re a heartless bastard and you’re not swayed by any of that then consider this. You, our readers are coming with us. When we establish our class system, you’ll be the party members, the aristocracy, the Shogun, the Brahmin etc.
If you want to bathe in the tears of your enemies, Vote here.
- BLACK MAIL
In case guilt or the promise of power aren’t your cup of tea, consider this. We know how you got here. You heard me. We know what you were googling that somehow landed you on this site.
Be it your strange desire to see cartoons misbehaving
-Marvel comics sex
-thumbellina frogo porn
-spongebob flipping off
Or you were accidentally trying to find Vaseline.com (which raises the questions. Why? How did that even lead you here? And Why? Bulk purchase?)
Or the 69 (har har) of you that were looking for a man in a diaper
We know! And if you don’t vote for us. Well…I trust you’ll do the right thing
PS: I really wish I was making up those stats. And those are the tame ones. I love you dear readers, but y’all are messed up people. Which is why you should support your own. Do not feed the bloggers for best creative writing blog. We promise really useful corruption.
You may have heard that we’ve been nominated for Best Creative Writing Blog for the Kenyan Blog Awards 2014. Cue unseemly celebration with terrible dancing and everything. I’d like to thank all you sick twisted people who nominated us. We will take you with us when we take over the world so don’t forget to vote for us here:
As for you new readers. Why should you vote for us? First, meet the bloggers.
I’m the boss around these parts. I’ve been kindly informed several times that sanity is not my strong point.
You can read about my (succesful) quest to find the funniest book ever here
My thoughts on cartoons here
Meet Olivia. Aka BBB (Big Breasted Blogger) our resident cynic.
Are you happy? Let her disabuse you of your foolishness. You are broke and single, accept this here.
I’d say meet Aggrey but it’s probably safer if you watch from a distance. Aggrey, also known as Molesto (The Clown) is our dark side. If i told you how many times we’ve had to seek legal advice on his account (from law students obviously. Ain’t nobody got that kind of money) you wouldn’t believe me.
Nat aka Nuthead is our angry violent side.
Strangely enough, she’s the (relatively) sane one. Sit down and let her teach you the difference between anti-social and selectively social.
Fred is the man in charge of everything else. We need a podcast. He’s our guy. Photographer. The man has invented a way to take pictures of the past so he can tell you what Jesus actually looked like. I would tell you about his hacking activities but we don’t want him to get arrested. Of course, he’s extremely lazy so his world changing activities take a while.
Black lazy James Franco can tell you how all this begun.
You know you want to vote for us. Vote for the Madness
Last you heard from me I was on a mission. I was going to prove that bloggers are writers, perhaps even journalists, by getting involved in witchcraft (that sounded saner in in my head).
Here’s how that went.
To start with I needed to consider two things. What I was going to ask the witchdoctor for, it had to be testable and cheap (because there’s a fine line between a fun experiment and getting ripped off) and who was going to be the victim.
The “what” turned out to be easy. There’s one thing every single witchdoctor in the country claims they can do which by definition means it’ll have to be cheap. Love potions. The problem with that choice is that the “who am I going to use it on” part becomes tricky. If it actually works then things can get ridiculously problematic. And besides, how do you even test it? The reason I assume the cons think it’s a good bet is because it’s so hard to know. If you see no effect they can simply say the person is faking, people do that. And if you think the person is under a spell it probably gives you more confidence and you do all the work yourself and tada! Love potions work.
So if this was going to work the “who” could only be one person, me. That would make the whole thing easily testable. I know who I do and don’t like and I’m quite sure I’d notice if that suddenly changed after the potion. As for being problematic, well…I could take steps to minimize that beforehand.
Here’s the gist of the story I came up with: My uncle is a rich man and he’s picked a wife for me as a favour for one of his cronies. If I do it, then I’m guaranteed a good share of his inheritance but on the flip side I feel nothing for this woman. If I have to spend the rest of my life with her and not get caught cheating, which would void the part where I get rich, then I need some help. Now do your magic. Good plan, covers everything that needs to be covered (and in hindsight is needlessly complicated. I could have just said I’m marrying rich woman, much more plausible. Oops.)
As for who I was supposed to be falling in love with I considered someone I despise just for maximum effect but that’s a terrible idea. If it worked I’d be stuck with feelings for someone I hate. Not that I thought it’d work but hey, no need for needless risks right – besides potentially putting myself at the mercy of dark magic that is.
This part of the story will get a little vague. I’m skimping on details because I realize (with the way things unfolded) just how easy I would be to find if they read this post and for reasons I’ll make clear later I don’t want to be the guy who gave up the name and location of this particular witchdoctor. I’ll say this. I drove to prestige plaza and took something of a long walk to get to the meeting spot, which was an apartment complex. If you can work that out good on you Sherlock Holmes.
The witchdoctor’s lair was not really what I expected. It was a nice apartment. No skulls. No animal hides. No rows of potions. Nothing witchy. There was even a laptop somewhere. The witchdoctor was disappointing too. No skinny old crone. She was maybe 50 and approaching obesity and looked a lot more like a kind school teacher than a witch. But she did have that “Mombasa Swahili” thing going so that was something.
Her son was waiting in the next room. This is significant because he looks like he was put together using parts from rugby players and MMA fighters who were killed in their prime. He is a monster. Which is why I started off by saying a good friend of mine recommended her and escorted me to the gate. Best if she thought people knew where I was and who she was. Wouldn’t want Frankenstein of the gym in the other room to snap my neck or leave with a vial of poison. Yes, I do occasionally consider the potential consequences of my foolishness.
Cutting to the chase, I told her my story, she gave me my instructions and…I did it. On the fateful day I, against every sense in my body, woke up at 3 AM. I spun an egg in a bowl for 3 minutes without breaking it, all the while picturing the girl, and then chucked it over the fence (If you’ve ever found a random broken egg where you live then your neighbour is probably practicing witchcraft). Later on, about an hour before meeting her I took the potion which, disappointingly, was actually a bitter powder. Then I set off to meet her without spending more than 5 minutes in the presence of any other woman.
Digression here, if you’re wondering how I chose the girl it wasn’t easy. After hours of trying to figure the perfect combination I gave up and decided to go simple. I settled on only one trait. For obvious reasons, she must not under any circumstances be a reader or even a potential reader of this blog. It wasn’t that hard finding someone who’s sworn off this blog for life (thanks Aggrey).
How did it go? It didn’t work. Now that’s not to say it didn’t do anything…it just didn’t do what it was supposed to. What it did was make me spend about three hours with the most thought numbing erection of all time. You know how they say men think with their dicks. It isn’t true. Trust me, you’ll know when it becomes true. I have said some stupid things in my life but that day holds a personal record. Probably the entire top 10 really. And she was around the whole time because i lacked the wits to gracefully excuse myself. No, I’m not going to tell you anything i said it was mortifying enough with an audience of one. With all that said, I’m not in love with her(unless you define that as a short burst of barely contained lust) so…thumbs down for witchcraft.
I’m probably supposed to have some deep insight after this. Some kind of lesson or something. All i’ve got is…If you must go to a witchdoctor for heaven’s sake don’t bewitch yourself. I get the feeling that you already knew that though. Also, definitely try this at home (I figure if you’re willing to take advice from me theres no use telling you not to. I’d be wasting potential for a good story for everyone you know).
Happy new year readers. The madness has just begun.