Do not look at me as a prophet of doom for the words I’m about to say. Rather, I reveal the deep truths that we refuse to admit even to ourselves.
SCIENCE HAS FAILED US! How you might ask? Simple. We don’t have robot sex dolls.
I would be more than justified in using this space to bemoan the pathetic state of our sciences and our scholars and our technology, but I’m just not that kind of guy. I’m the kind of guy who thinks beyond his present circumstances and tries to solve the problems that he’s presented with. And there’s only one obvious solution to this dire situation: Necrophilia.
It really is the perfect blend of human contact without the inconvenience of human interaction. Our techniques of human preservation mean that bodies can be maintained in pristine condition after death for a long time. And all it’ll take to get corpses flexible again after rigor mortis is a few strategically placed metal joints. And if you think that is impossible, think of the artificial joints surgeries all over the world that replace knees, elbows and hips. It’s only a small step to doing the same to the dead. It’ll actually be cheaper since you don’t have to worry about anaesthesia and quality of (after)life.
And for all those with petty moral concerns, GET OVER YOURSELVES! You want to deny hundreds of people the joys of having a human sex partner with no demands of their own! What kind of monsters are you!? Yes the partners might be dead, but that’s better than the nothing that those people currently have. It’s not like these corpses will be diverted from some critical function. In fact, we’d actually be using them to bring even more happiness to the world. And I’m sure that if it’s one thing our loved ones would like to know they brought to this world even after their passing, it’s happiness.
Don’t bury or cremate your loved ones. Instead, donate their body to that sexless friend or frustrated who you know could use some good lovin’. In the immortal words of Michael Jackson, you’ll be doing your part to heal the world, to make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race.
MOLESTO HAS A GIRLFRIEND!!!!
This is literally the saddest news for all the thousands (possibly hundreds, maybe tens, perhaps ones, but who’s counting?) of ladies that were salivating at the thought of getting some of this prime grade D. But it’s now reserved for a party of one. Sorry, y’all is too late!
And with a girlfriend comes TONS OF SEX!!! LOADS OF IT!!! ON THE REGULAR! And warmth, love and companionship though why she wastes that on me I have no idea. She already got me with the first part, I wonder why she’s putting in the effort with all the rest. Anyway, SEXY SEX OF SEXTY!
But despite the state of my drained and shrivelled balls, a part of me still unsatisfied. You can only commit so many crimes against god, nature and physics with athletic sex. As all encompassing as her affection is, there are empty places in my heart that she cannot touch. It keeps me up at night trying to figure out what in could possibly be missing from what should be an ideal situation for this inappropriate toucher. Suddenly, with a crash like thunder I farted! After airing out my room, I finally figured out what I’d been missing. Or rather who. Palmela Handerson.
She had been with me for so long that a void was now left that a living, breathing partner could never replicate. Through my awkard teenage years, through my journey of discovery to even my coming into adulthood (a work that is vey much in its infancy), Palmela and her 5 sisters have seen me through the good times and the bad. They know my little quirks and ticks that only come with years of familiarity. Whenever my frustrations have built up, she has always been there with her crew to help relieve the pressue that has been building up inside. So many nostalgic days spent milking the one eyed snake, blowing the horn, choking the chicken, doing the five knuckle shuffle, beating the meat, tenderising the steak, giving me a low five, greasing the pipe, polishing the wood and evicting my testicular squatters.
Sure it was always rushed. Sure Palmela left me with a feeling of intense self-loathing and disgust. Sure she never really cared and was off as soon as the job was done. But she was there! And that’s what mattered. Now I can’t even think about now that I spend my days recovering in haze of post-sex dehydration. A man should not be reduced to living like this. It’s simply inhuman! But unfortunately, even Molesto has to bow down to societal demands at some point. Now it’s time to get and and do some stretches. Using a sex swing with meat hooks to do the reverse dragon dagger with an noose tightening incrementally is a lot more difficult than it sounds. Need to at least be warmed and limber for it.
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.
“I’m a writer.”
“No…you’re a blogger.”
“No no no. Those two are worlds apart. You know the way at the circus they have like a seal playing bagpipes or something like that? You’ll watch it, you’ll be amused, you’ll even clap. But you won’t call that seal a musician. It’s still just a seal playing the bagpipes.”
“In case you didn’t get it bloggers are the…”
“I got it!”
“Seal. You’re the seal.”
I did two things in response to this conversation. First, I resisted the ridiculously strong urge to rename this blog to “Seals playing bagpipes.” Second I decided to reclaim the dignity of bloggers everywhere (you’re welcome). How was I going to do this? Simple. Good, old fashioned investigative journalism.
To show this naysayer, I had to delve into this country’s dark side and emerge victorious with some kind of exclusive story. But what story? Corruption? No, nothing would be surprising there, besides, I don’t need (any more) political enemies. Crime? Screw that, I don’t want to get shot. Perversion? Nah, too easy, Aggrey can write about himself.
I needed something darker, more dangerous (in theory) and interesting. And what’s darker, more dangerous and more interesting than corruption crime and perversion? If you said Witchcraft, 10 points.
For our international readers, it may help to know that in Kenya witchdoctors actually have advertisements. Wooden signs nailed to trees and posts that clearly read “mganga” (Swahili for witch doctor) and have a phone number and a list of services. In richer neighbourhoods they say “astrologer” but it’s not fooling anyone when the list includes “expelling demons.” I’ve never heard anyone actually talk about it but odds are they’re doing good business. The signs are on pretty much any street you walk on.
So, now committed to my gonzo journalist quest I called one of these supposed witchdoctors. Actually, I called several but most wouldn’t talk to me while I was on private number. Only one didn’t seem to mind my secrecy. It’s actually shocking to me that people give their numbers to these people so much that they expect it and get irritated when you don’t. Seriously? If you don’t buy their story, you gave your number to a conman. If you do then you willingly handed your contact and possibly your details to someone you believe can perform magic. There is no winning in that scenario!
Anyway, here’s the line I was selling. I’m a husband at the end of his wit because of his wife’s infidelity. I need her to stop. What can you do for me?
I don’t know what I was expecting. A con definitely but nothing like what i got. This guy says with all the confidence in the world (translating what he said).
“I can make her vagina seal shut!”
What!? Now hold on a second here. If that’s a bluff it’s the hell of a bluff isn’t it? If my story was true and I actually was in that situation I’d damn well notice if he actually delivered. If it’s a con it’s not an efficient one. You’ll get caught and you won’t get repeat customers and if there’s such a thing as a reputation in the witchdoctor market you won’t have a good one. It makes no sense unless…he actually could do it. I’m a natural skeptic but i’ll admit, his sureness unsettled me a bit.
“How much?” I asked.
That’s it? If I have a grudge on a girl all I need is what, 125 dollars and presto “vag away”, just like that?
“Ok…” I pressed on, “but I don’t want her completely unable to have any sex. I’m still her husband, I just want her to stop having it with other people.”
“Love potion then?”
“Hmmm – I can make any man she tries to sleep with have difficuluty ‘standing’.”
“Wait, are you saying you can make any of her potential lovers impotent?”
Whoa! Ok, as a con, this one makes sense. How would I ever know if it worked? But really, think about it. Imagine if this is true. Ladies, imagine if your ex can make you a ray gun of impotence. Spread, aim, fire…Man down! Man down!
All for 14,000 shillings. That’s all. Sure, it ain’t chump change but I know loads of people who’d consider it worth the price. as far as services of any kind go, i don’t know anything else that interesting within that price range. Now the only questions is…is it real? Do these people actually have powers?
I don’t know…yet. Generally, im the least superstitious person you’ll meet so I think it’s a con. But that man’s confidence has made me curious enough to give it a fighting chance. So…
I’m making a test. Next week I’ll meet one of these witch doctors. I’ll acquire some fairly cheap service they offer (much as I’m curious I’m not paying either of those prices without a guarantee or the witching equivalent of a warranty or whatever). Still trying to figure out what I’ll ask for but you’ll know by next week. Just to keep things interesting and confirmable, the victim will be one of my fellow bloggers here. Teren teren. They’re willing in a, I haven’t asked them kind of way. But this is for our pride, necessary sacrifice and all. Also, for science.
See you next week…Maybe
Dear Auntie Liv,
I have been dating this guy for the last 7 months, and I have a serious problem with his weed habits. He doesn’t want to go anywhere, he just sits in the house smoking up and watching videos on YouTube. Every time I want to go somewhere, he’s always refusing and just wants to stay indoors an eat my food. I’m fucking frustrated. What can I do to make him stop?
Disappointed in Donholm.
That was not a typo. You’re a disappointing intolerant good for nothing, who deserves nothing more than heartbreak and chlamydia. But you know what the best thing is about your life is that you won’t get either. You have what every man who’s watched one romantic comedy in his life thinks is the perfect example of a good spouse. Which is EVERY SINGLE MAN OUT THERE.
According to this lacklustre lover of yours, he is doing everything that you sad Tumblr owning girls want. He doesn’t stray, you can keep tabs on him 24/7 and he actually will eat your cooking, which is only nice because someone told you how to use coconut cream in everything. For him the fact that its just not Bites and tepid tap water is enough for him to stay with your nagging ass, and probably the other reason he’s still there is because the weed has mellowed him out to the point that everything you have said since “are you hungry?” is white noise.
Would you really like him to stop smoking up? Are you sure? Now he’ll have an opinion on your stories, your makeup, how your eyebrows aren’t done, how you really need to use stronger deo, now that the thick cloud of smoke has been lifted and he can see (and smell) you in your not-so-impressive glory. Then he’ll start looking at Mingle pictures and actually be awake and active when the call for “I got free tickets!” comes through. And then, what next? You have no idea where he is and what he’s doing! Now what? You dumb bitch.
Eventually if he changes you WILL write to me again, and start telling me how he’s moody, angry, irritable and not the man you knew… And my only advice is to give you a dealers number. And besides, it’s not like you didn’t know that he likes weed. You did, and you should learn from your mistakes. Next time go look for a man who lives in Runda. Because if you’re stupid enough to think you can change a man into something he does want to be, then you’re probably the type of girl who thinks that large distances between the house and the main road equate to class. Assess yourself.
3 years ago, I got my ex-girlfriend pregnant and we decided to keep the baby. But you know how these things go, eventually I realised this was just a trap and that she had ulterior motives, and we eventually broke up. I met this awesome girl and I really do love her and I want to be with her, but she has her reservations about my kid. I love her deeply and think she’s the right one for me. But I also have to provide for my ex and my son. Can you help me?
Confused in Coast.
I have no fucking idea where to start. Sir, you obviously have never watched any black movie, so I’m going to explain to you what happens. Dumb boy(thats you) meets dumb girl. Dumb boy taps dumb girl. Dumb girl gets pregnant because of any variety of reasons; maybe because she liked your flashy ways at Ratchet City (Crooked Q’s) and big house and doesn’t realise that the only reason you choose to be flashy in such an (ahem) establishment is that your parents are very well aware that their son is a loser and will give him an adequate amount of money not out of love, but because they can’t bear to have their family name embarrassed any further. But well, poor mom and dad because that’s exactly what you did, didn’t you? You got a girl from the wrong tribe (yes, that’s what your dad said) with one too many tattoos and/or piercings and a penchant for self expression through low cut tops(????)
Well, you may have learnt your lesson, because your new love interest seems to be extremely intelligent, seeing that she can smell the disaster off you. yes, son, you are going to lead her down a path of destruction. Just like you and your tequila rose shots did to your last ratchet mistake, so please, just leave it at that ONE ratchet mistake. If you really love this girl, you leave her alone. Delete her number. Avoid her when you see her in the street. For even added safety, MOVE. If you love this flower of yours, you’ll keep her far away from your poison, be it the lack of time you’ll have for her, the bitterness shell harbour when you’ll drop everything at a moments notice to run to your son (but she can’t complain because she doesn’t want to be that person keeping him away from his family) Eventually your whole life will begin to play out like a Tyler Perry movie, and we all know how bad those things are. Most of the time the plot ends with someone dying, getting really unwell to the point of paralysis and/or incarceration. Either that or, you’re going to pit those two women against one another, and ratchet begets ratchet, so you’re going to end up turning a good girl into a ratchet. And because you won’t take responsibility for your actions, you’ll end up being an angry Kenyan man who thinks all women are stupid, end up posting stupid misogynistic bullshit like this and end up with a thousand followers because you just understand women don’t you, you piece of shit. Stay in the house, take care of your kids, keep the fuck away from Qs.
Son, don’t do it. The baby mama always wins.
What advice would you give a gay guy who wants to get back with his man?
Sleepless in Sankara.
I…. This is not my area of expertise. I don’t know anything about the gay community apart from what I learnt about them on… Community, but I think your query explains the sudden rise of women hating blogs and male selfies on Instagram.
Actually, just watch Community. Whatever Troy does, mimic it.
I like wearing women’s underwear. What are the good stores that have lingerie in man’s sizes?
Shy in South C.
I can give you my exes number he can tell you where he buys her things. Otherwise I’m also looking for heels that will fit my man feet so when you’re going you call me :*
I know this is kind of stupid but how exactly do you show up an ex? His new girl isn’t shit, he keeps giving me attitude, I just need him to see that I am better!
Livid in LA.
Evidently you didn’t want that cliche, “you don’t need another mans validation to feel your worth, you just need self validation!” bullshit or else you wouldn’t have written to me. Well. You made the right choice. I understand you completely.
So. *clears throat* there are a series of steps you can take.
1. Get a friend who works for Heineken. They get freebies. If they don’t, they’re lying. Get them. People will think you’re cool.
2. Go to a friends house, preferably when the folks aren’t home. Take photos of their liquor. Post them on Instagram and front like they’re a gift from “your clients”. Keep a constant archive of these photos and post them randomly in the middle of the month, especially after everyone on your feed is posting water with ice cubes and calling it lunch.
3. Curve someone online. If someone responds to your tweet with either this…
You might have won the Internet.
4. Replace him with his opposite. If he’s a darkie get the lightest, fair haired, brown eyed light skin motherfucker you can find. If he’s light skin, curve him with Uncle Ruckus. (You get bonus points for Muthunguz)
Start a blog, undergo serious flak from haters at the start enough to make you want to quit, persevere through memes and negative reviews and then 3 years later get a job opportunity and insert the phrase “paid blogger” into every sentence you can.
I have been having a thing with this guy for 5 months. It started off as FWB but I may have started catching feelings. It has been going on long enough for there not to be a future. We haven’t discussed anything but I have a good feeling about this. What should I do?
Ditzy Daisy from Loresho
No boo boo, no. There you have lied to yourself. You cannot still claim to be Friends With Benefits if it has lasted more than 3 months. An FWB is a person who you explore your sexual deviancy with, and discover whether you’re into autoerotic asphyxiation, violent porn and all that stuff that Aggrey talks about. Once this person has seen you with a ball gag in your mouth there is no way you are being promoted upwards to Mrs S&M, and that should be fine with you, because, like you said, it was just meant to be a thing. The 3 month span is ample time for you to fuck out all the misery that whoever it is that hurt you put you through. And the fact that you think that being banged you 3 times a week and a toothbrush in your bathroom is evidence of a future with this man, means that there are a couple hundred million issues you need to address with your ex. Tafadhali, mpigie tu.
I’m in a long distance relat….
That one I won’t touch even with a 1000 ft pole. You are by yourself. LITERALLY.
I’ve been dating my boyfriend for the last year and a half, and it’s been pretty smooth sailing all the way. I just have this huge problem with this female friend of his. She’s always calling him for parties and stuff like that, and every time they go out they get so drunk and have lots of fun. I know he used to like her so their friendship makes me so angry, but he says that she’s just his friend. Is he lying? Jealous Janice from Westy
You ever hear men saying that “women are their own worst enemies”? They are talking about you. You need to relax. You’re his girlfriend. You’re the one who his mum has met and cooked cookies with. You can’t also be the one his dad will accidentally hit on when he’s chomokad the house and gone to drink with young drunk university students. And is the fact that she’s single bothering you? It is isn’t it. I can console you by saying that she’s probably a heavy drinker and has a lot of issues (testify!) and is probably seeking the approval of some asshole that doesn’t even funga his eyes when they kiss, so don’t worry. And even you as a girl you know once you friendzone a nigga not even Moses’ staff can part those legs. She has friend zoned him. You might as well be nice to her, because the minute she disapproves of your cookie baking ass she has the power to destroy you as he laments drunkenly over your stupid jealous behaviours. You’re just temporary, but the bar will always be there. So get over it.
Should I surprise my gf with a tattoo of her name on her birthday?
Romantic Romeo from Ruiru
Yes. Go ahead and show her this amazing display of weakness and watch her run into the arms of your big dicked best friend. HOW DOES SUCH A STUPID PERSON EVEN KNOW OF ME OMG JESUS STRIKE DOWN THIS CHILD
I have had a crush on this guy for the longest time and I have no idea how to let him know. I obsess daily and I constantly wonder what I’m going to say or do around him and end up embarrassing myself. Please help,
Lovestruck Lucy from Lavi
I swear babe, here I can’t help. We’re in the same boat. But if you get the answer to this, halla at your girl.