Optimist vs Pessimist. Who is right?

Source

An extreme Nigerian optimist and extreme Nigerian pessimist happened to be very good friends. How they could stand each other without strangling each other was really a mystery to everyone. The optimist believed that nothing was really wrong with Nigeria, and every bad thing currently happening in Nigeria is actually a good thing in disguise. His personal national anthem was TY Bello’s song, The Future, which he listened to every morning and night.

The pessimist on the other hand, saw nothing good in Nigeria. In fact he spent all his waking moments talking about the impending doom of the country, such that everyone wondered why he had not found a way to bail out, even if it was just to the neighbouring country of Benin Republic.

The irony of it was that both of them were on the same social standing, jobless youths, struggling to make ends meet. This is an example of how their conversation usually goes, when they happen to be together.

Pessy: I am telling you Opty, there is nothing good about this country. Every single sector is in a rot. I am jobless right now, and doubt I will be getting any job anytime soon. The unemployment rate in Nigeria is something else. Imagine I went to look for job. After going through 10 stages, can you imagine? 10 stages! I was told that I couldn’t get the job because I was over-qualified. Didn’t they know I was over-qualified right from the very first day? Why waste so much of my time?

Opty: Take it easy, Pessy. Remember that when one door closes, another one will open.

Pessy: No, I disagree. Whenever one door closes, another slams in your face.

Opty: Just look at you. You need to always look at the bright side of life. You still have a chance to do something for Nigeria. Even if you didn’t get a job, you can think about a good idea, and become an entrepreneur. Don’t you know that today is first day of the rest of your life?

Pessy: The rest of my life, you say? With Boko Haram in sight, today should also be seen as the last day of my life so far. Don’t you also see those terrorists in Jos, roasting people, with all the smoke rising in the air?

Opty: I think Jos is the place to be. Haven’t you thought about it that wherever there is smoke, there must be barbeque and asun ?

And the optimist-pessimist banter continued…

Opty: Think about it well Pessy. They are doing it so they will build our fighting spirit. They are actually doing it intentionally to help us. They planned all these problems happening to us. They want us to be so frustrated that we won’t be able to take it anymore, and then we fight for change. So you see, the government is actually working for the interest of the Nigerian populace, contrary to popular opinion.

Pessy: But by the time we get so frustrated, as you claim, we would have started self-immolation.

Opty: I can see that you refuse to see the light.

Pessy: I see the light. It is a very bright light, the light of the Nigerian Armageddon.

Opty: Okay, let me tell you a true life story, something that happened in Delta State, just to let you know that you can achieve something in this blessed nation of ours, should you ever put your mind to. An Urhobo orphan was living with his uncle’s family. His uncle’s wife maltreated him, and made him work like a slave. He ran away from the house at the age of sixteen to Sapele, where he became a street trader, sleeping under make-shift sheds. Piece by piece, step by step, he persevered and made something out of his life, and is now one of the biggest and richest business men in Sapele. All these happened in this same Nigeria you complain about. Now what is the morale of that story?

Pessy: Well… the morale is that Urhobo relatives suck.

Opty: Gosh Pessy, you so incorrigible. I am tired of your banter. I need to go now. Please, can I borrow some money from you?

Pessy: I think I have a little extra change here. Take, though I doubt that you will pay back.

Opty: Well, that is why I am borrowing it from you. I knew you wouldn’t expect it back. You should always borrow money from pessimists. They don’t expect to get anything back.

Mrs Brown’s Ministry

Source

Mrs Brown owned a very big house, which she inherited from her husband, after he died some years back. She believed that she and her husband had the very best marriage, and she decided to keep that memory alive by not remarrying, but instead ‘helping’ young couples have such enviable marriage, beginning with the ones ‘lucky’ enough to rent a flat in her house.

The problem was that the young couples did not want Mrs Brown’s ‘help’, as they felt she was just a nosy old landlady whose interference had a way of turning things from bad to worse. However, Mrs Brown would hear none of this. She always knew how to use her position as landlady to get into the houses of everyone whose marriage she wanted to ‘help’.

She never rented her flats to single people or older couples. She only rented to young couples that had marriages ranging from one day old to fifteen years old. She believed helping them was her divine calling. And since all her kids were grown, married, and out of the country, she had all the time to devote to this ‘ministry’ of hers.

Believe it or not, one of the terms in her customised rent contract is that polygamy is not allowed in her house, she must not find out about the presence of any third party on the matrimonial bed. Also, once you separate from your spouse, you will have to leave the house once your current rent expires.

These rules were appalling to people that intended to rent, but they still rented anyway because they were desperate for accommodation, and secondly, most of them were young couples who never actually intended to separate from their spouses, so it was all well and good for them.

She even always has extra keys to the flats of new tenants, and sneaks in to their house in their absence, until they eventually find her out, and change their locks. One tenant even told his neighbours that she had walked in on him, and found him naked, before he realised she had an extra key.

Talks of ‘“Who is that woman by your side?” “She is my sister ma.”, “Who is that man I see you hugging?”, “He is my uncle ma.”, “If he is your uncle, should you hug him? Why can’t you go on your knees to greet him?”’ were the norm in that compound.

As such, even though Mrs Brown had a very nice building, with spacious flats, tenants never lasted long in her house.

One particular tenant that could not wait to leave that house was Niyi, who had tried in vain to stand Mrs Brown’s ministry, but was unsuccessful. His marriage was two years old, and he was very handsome and tall. He also had a very friendly disposition towards everyone he met.

His friendliness and beauty was a thing of concern to Mrs Brown, as she considered this to be a sign of a womanising man, and a womanising man would eventually make his wife insecure and give her heartache, which would eventually lead to an unhappy marriage. And an unhappy marriage in Mrs Brown’s house would be a failure, and serve as a big blow to her ‘ministry’. Because of this, she decided that she would keep a special eye on Niyi.

Niyi was already getting tired of her nosy interrogations and comments, and was always at the edge of blowing off his top, but his wife always tried to calm him down.

One day, he was talking to his sister about a family matter in his car. Seeing Mrs Brown walking towards him from a distance, he knew a problem was brewing around the corner. Immediately, he turned to face his sister directly, pretending not to notice her.

When she finally got to him, she started

Mrs Brown: Niyi

Niyi: (Muttering under his breath) Yes, Jezebel? (Turning around) Oh, I'm sorry, ma. You sounded like someone else I knew.

Mrs Brown: Who is this you are talking to, does your wife know you are downstairs in your car with a strange woman?

Niyi: Yes ma, she knows. This is not a strange woman, she is my sister.

Mrs Brown: How do I know you are telling the truth?

Niyi: If only you had changed the lens of your glasses, like I recommended, you would have seen the resemblance between us.

Mrs Brown: You don’t have to be so rude with your remarks. I am only trying to help you, and watch out for your wife.

Niyi: Thank you ma, we appreciate that.

On another occasion, Niyi was on leave from work, and his female cousin had come to visit him at home. Immediately she got into the apartment, Mrs Brown got on the prowl. She went to the front of his apartment, and strained her ears so she could decipher whatever it is that might be going on in his house.

After about one hour, she couldn’t stand the mystery anymore, so she just knocked. Niyi knew it was her, so he refused to open the door. He told her to go away, that he was sleeping.

Mrs Brown: I am here with the carpenter. Remember you made a request that your kitchen cabinet be fixed.

Niyi: That is very strange. I made that request 18 months ago when I just moved in, and nothing has been done about it since then. I wonder how come you remember, even when I have fixed it and forgotten about it.

Mrs Brown: Well, I decided to be a darling, and do something about it.

He finally opened the door, and before he knew it, Mrs Brown pushed it wide open with a power he never imagined she had in her, and went straight into the living room.

Niyi: I thought you said you brought the carpenter. Where is he?

Mrs Brown: (Looking at the woman in the living room) Seeing what I see here, the absence of the carpenter is hardly important now.

Niyi: And what are you seeing here?

Mrs Brown: Who is this in your living room?

Niyi: (Hardly believing his ears, irritated, but trying to be polite) She is my cousin ma.

Mrs Brown: (Eyeing Niyi and the lady) Are you sure, are you telling me that there is nothing going on between you two?

Niyi: Absolutely ma. There is nothing going on between us.

Looking suspiciously, Mrs Brown hissed and walked out

Later that afternoon, Niyi took his thrash out, and saw his cousin off to the car park.

On his way back to his apartment, he saw Mrs Brown doing something he had never imagined or thought possible. It was a sight of Mrs Brown going through his thrash.

Niyi: Excuse me ma, what is going on here?

Mrs Brown: Ooh, not to worry. You claim she is your cousin. I will prove to you that she is not, when I find the condoms you used for protection!!!

I won't tell you...

Mama Peace lost her palm wine-tapping husband when he fell down from the palm tree three years ago. After then, she decided that she would resign from her job as a full-time housewife, and take an employment as a full-time rumour monger. She has acquired several contours and scars on her body, to exhibit as medals she has received from doing this serious job of hers.

I am not going to tell you of the time she told people that she saw Yetunde kissing Tope’s husband, when Yetunde claimed to only be checking the colour of the wax coming out of his ears, or when she told us at the backyard that she saw Alpha snogging Lateefat. We asked Alpha about this, but he said he was only giving Lateefat mouth to mouth resuscitation, as she was about to faint, because of the fumes coming out of Mama Peace’s generator.

I won’t even mention the time she said Omon was stealing fish from Titilayo’s pot of soup, when Omon said he was only helping Titilayo remove the cockroach that flew into the soup. No, I won’t mention these tales.

I won’t mention the fact that we were not surprised when we heard that fifteen year old Susan was pregnant, because Mama Peace had already told people on the next street that she caught Tekena and Susan doing the deed, and when she confronted Tekena about why he should do such to a very young girl, he said she had come to seduce him when he was praying, and he had removed his belt, so he could use it to bind the adulterous demon inside of her. When he removed his belt, his trousers fell down, and that was the last thing he remembered.

I will keep mum about how she told some people in her family that she caught her brother-in-law staring at the backside of his step-daughter, and they were eyeing each other, but he claimed he was only looking at the unusual colour of the butterfly at the hem of her dress.

Source

What of the time she told the whole street that ever since the hummer-driving Mr Abimbola died, Mr Festus, who was Mr Abimbola’s best friend, has been leaving Mrs Abimbola’s house by 12 midnight, whenever her twins were away in the university, and Mrs Abimbola says he’s just coming by to see whether there are no cracks in the wall of the house, because he was the supervising engineer when the house was being built. No, I won’t tell you that story too.

I refuse to talk about when she raised an alarm after catching Mr Edoho stealing all the cloths off the cloth line at the back of the compound, and we all ran out, only for Mr Edoho to tell us that he had a vision that the house was going to burn that day, and he was helping us save our clothes in advance.

In fact, at this moment, my lips are sealed because I won’t mention when she told the Christian community in the estate that she caught Brother Amos putting Egg and Pap sacrifice at the T-Junction, and Brother Amos said he was only killing a white squirrel there, the one that appeared in his room while praying in the midnight, which he relentlessly chased, and eventually killed when he got to the T-Junction.

No, I won’t tell you all these tales. What I would only tell you is that mama Peace has a full-time job, which has caused her to have loads of enemies and no genuine friends, and this job sure gets her into troubles with a lot of people.

Ehhmm, one more thing… I won’t also tell you that my daughter’s name is Peace, and my husband was a palm wine tapper who died three years ago.

Damn the Man!!!

Aite, people of blogsville. I've been so busy that I couldn't write for the blog in the past few weeks, so this week I decided to pull something out of my archives, in case you haven't read my second book. Someone asked me to write about feminism, so I just decided to do parody of one fiery post on feminism that a blogger posted two years ago. If you can guess the blogger, please don't let me know. I don't want to know that you know, lol. Anyway, enjoy.

Source

“Good day people, as we all know, my name is SheTalks. I welcome you to another episode of ControverShe, the number one TV program highlighting controversial issues and causes of women in our society.

On today’s episode, we have a very special guest with us. She is no stranger to you and I. Her name has been causing ripples in the headlines for the past one year. Her personality rhymes with the title of our program, ControverShe, as she is sure to always be found wherever controversy resides. Her best–selling book, Damn the Man, is everywhere. And the rate at which women of all types are rushing it is faster than a cascaded running prowess of Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake. I think I will term that Yosain Blolt effect. Yeah, so her book sells faster than Yosain can ever think of running in their life.

This makes me to wonder, if women are eating this book, Damn the Man, just like a greedy fat child gobbling up a slice of chocolate cake, can we then assume that this is what they have been waiting for all along? Can we say that they love this woman because she has been able to take the bold step, and voice what other women have wanted to voice all along, but stayed back due to the fear of whatever it is that might have been holding them back? Is this why she is seen to be the saviour of all women?

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am sure by now, you already know who I am talking about. Join me as I welcome to the studio, no other lady but Miss Damiete Jamessssssss.”

The camera zooms in to show Miss Damiete James, who was spotting a denim jacket, baggy chinos trousers, with a face cap, that had ‘Damn the Man’ printed on it. She had no jewellery whatsoever on any part of her body.

A thunderous round of applause sounded in the studio. The audience was filled with people carrying placards of ‘Damn the Man’, ‘We love you Damiete’, ‘You are my hero’, ‘You are my goddess’, etc. Some even had Damiete’s name, face or ‘Damn the Man’, tattooed on different parts of their bodies.

SheTalks: Welcome to ControverShe, Miss Damiete James.

DJ: Thanks for inviting me SheTalks. And, please, call me DJ.

SheTalks: Alright DJ. Wow, imagine the show of such love and admiration from the crowd there, DJ. How do you feel when you see people get so excited when your name is mentioned?

DJ: Yes, I am always honoured to see people admiring me, but to be honest, I don’t see what big deal is. People get excited over people like President Obama all the time, and no one makes a big deal out of it. So, I see no reason why anyone should make a big deal out of mine. Is it because I am woman, and he is a man?

The audience’s excitement returns, to the point of being uncontrollable.

SheTalks: (Facing the audience) I know we all love DJ to the point of near-worship, but if we really want to enjoy this episode, we will have to calm down a bit, so we can really hear what she has to say to us. Thank you. (Turning back to DJ) Ooh, you have a point there DJ. But don’t you think it’s because they see you as their hero, the first vocal and unashamed feminist that has been able to penetrate the media, and achieve the enormous amount of things you have?

DJ: (Turning to the crowd) Hi ladies, please, if you feel yourself being overcome with excitement again, just follow my recommendation in Chapter 21 of Damn the Man, I am sure you remember it. (Facing the SheTalks) Yes, I believe that is it. But I am here to tell the women that they can do better than me, and achieve so much more, if only they would get up their butts, do what they have to do, and just ‘Damn the Man’.

Surprisingly, there was no single noise from the crowd. The view of the camera zooming in on the crowd was enough to explain the reason why. Everyone in the crowd had their mouth taped with a ‘Damn the Man’ tape.

SheTalks: Wow DJ, if a pin should drop here at this moment, we would hear it. Just a minute ago, the crowd could not be quietened, but now the whole place is as quiet as a graveyard. What exactly is in Chapter 21 of your book that you just asked them to do?

DJ: Well, in Chapter 21, I explained that many women like to chatter, overly display their emotions, get excited easily by men, thereby spitting meaningless mushy words, engage in useless and idle gossip, be hysteric, which is obviously true, as you saw them demonstrate here a few minutes ago, and some other useless stuff that mostly the non Damiete-trained women do. I explained that if they continued with these kinds of behaviour, they would not gain the respect of men. So what they should do is be emotionally closed like the man, act mature, and stop being excited at the every little sweet-nothing a man tells them, because that is what they are… Nothings! Also, if they feel they cannot suppress this negative emotion of theirs whenever they find themselves in situations that threaten to bring that embarrassing side of them out, they should just tape their mouths with the ‘Damn the Man’ tape, which as you can see in the audience now, is what they have done. It works like magic.

SheTalks: Wow, that is very interesting to hear. (Turning to the audience) Well, our audience and our viewers at home, we would be taking a commercial break now. When we come back, we will be finding out more about our guest, and her thoughts on feminism. Stay tuned to this channel, and don’t go anywhere.

Commercial Plays

Are you a woman who has been affected by the most poisonous hormone ever existing, called oestrogen? Does the second human specie, also known as males, look down on you like a lesser person because you have two things growing on anterior? Were you one of those unfortunate people whose grandmothers told that your whole existence is to please the man, and wait on him by living your life in the kitchen? Do you feel like you might have been brainwashed by a deceitful definition of happiness being something to be found in a man? Well, by now, I am sure you would have been getting restless, just having to listen to those hogwash fairy tales that were sold to you in times past.

Well, do not worry, a solution has come. I am here to let you know that you can just DAMN THE MAN! Find out how to undo the damage done to us by our grandmothers, find out how to live happily, by always being one step ahead of the man, find out how to make it in life without the help of a man, find out how to be a total ‘Damn the Man’ woman, and so much more, all in a copy of Damn the Man: The complete guide to being liberated from the lies our grandmother told us, by Damiete James.

End of commercial break

SheTalks: We welcome our audience and viewers at home back from the short break. If you are just joining us, it is sad to say that you have just missed a part of today’s episode of ControverShe, i.e. our interview with no other person but the author of the best-selling book, Damn the Man, by Damiete James. But nevertheless, we still have a whole lot more for you today (SheTalks turns to face to DJ).

A round of applause resounded from the audience. The Damn the Man tape was still firmly placed on their lips.

DJ: Thank you SheTalks.

SheTalks: So, DJ, what is your definition of feminism?

DJ: Feminism is the name used to describe a movement of people who are feminists or support feminism.

SheTalks: (Rolling her eyeballs, apparently expecting more from DJ) And… Who would you refer to as a feminist?

DJ: A feminist is anyone that is tired of these mistakes of a creature we call men, whether she is a professor, a market woman, a nun, or whoever. There are active and passive feminists. Active ones are the ones that take a vocal stand, and speak loudly about what we believe in, such as me. There are very few of us. And the passive ones are the rest, the ones who are tired of the other human specie and their crap, but too timid to voice it out, for whatever reason best known to them. In my opinion, most educated women in this country are feminists, but just don’t want to admit it, as they don’t want to be seen as chasing men away, or ridiculing their culture and traditions.  They like to have the advantage of being educated, and the benefit that comes along with it, but don’t want to regard themselves as feminists. (Turning to the audience) Well ladies, I have one word for you. As long as you are not going to allow one 65 year-old man marry your 13 year old daughter, as long as you like to buy your own clothes, own your bank account, spend your own money, marry whoever you like, study whatever you like, purchase whatever you like, then lady, you are a feminist! I repeat, YOU ARE A FEMINIST!!!

SheTalks: (Trying to adjust to the risen volume of DJ's voice) Well, that would mean we are all feminists.

DJ: Exactly my point. We are all feminists. What remains now is for us to complete our feminism process by being a proud ‘Damn the Man’ woman. A woman who is not afraid to stand up for her right and get out from under the umbrella of all the loser-men, a woman who is not afraid to stop hiding under the guise of ‘a woman should be submissive’, a woman that is not afraid to say ‘Damn the Man’.

SheTalks: Wow DJ, that is really strong. So apart from reading your book, Damn the Man, what else should women do to become a true ‘Damn the Man’ woman?

DJ: Let me tell you this SheTalks. Do you know that oestrogen is the number one cause of women’s damnation? I therefore recommend that every woman goes to my clinic, the ‘Damn the man’ clinic, which is located everywhere in the country, once a month to extract the oestrogen inside of her. This way, she would be able to get rid of all those hormones on the inside of her, which makes her do all the mushy stuff, and act with unreasonable maternal instinct, like choosing to live in an abusive home, because she wants to protect her children, choosing to love stupid male specie that are not worth loving, working all day for a lazy man to come and eat the fruit of her labour, dressing like a mentally imbalanced person exposing her body parts, just to attract a loser-man, and all other unreasonable things women do because of the oestrogen in them. So, woman, go to a ‘Damn the man’ clinic today, and get rid of that poisonous substance in you called oestrogen. Its existence in your blood is what drives you to do all these crazy stuff, and blame it on another deranged word, called ‘Love’. That is the only way to become a complete ‘Damn the Man’ woman.

SheTalks: (Looking dazed and confused) Thank you for all that DJ, and thanks for being our guest on today’s episode of ControverShe.

DJ: Thank you for having me SheTalks. (Turning to the audience) Alright ladies, I am done. You can remove the ‘Damn the Man’ tapes from your lips, and let the hero-worship continue.

Instantly, the crowd suddenly becomes noisy as everyone lets out their excitement again.

SheTalks: (With a shocked look on her face, and instantly having to raise her voice): Well, I wasn’t expecting that. We are calling it a wrap for this episode. Please, don’t forget to join us same time, same station, next week on your number one program, ControverShe, for another interesting time, and with another interesting and controversial guest. As usual, it promises to be great.

Show ends, commercial plays

Are you a woman who has been affected by the most poisonous hormone ever existing, called oestrogen? Does the second human specie, also known as males, look down on you like a lesser person because you have two things growing on anterior? Were you one of those unfortunate people whose grandmothers told that your whole existence is to please the man, and wait on him by living your life in the kitchen? Do you feel like you might have been brainwashed by a deceitful definition of happiness being something to be found in a man? Well, by now, I am sure you would have been getting restless, just having to listen to those hogwash fairy tales that were sold to you in times past.

Well, do not worry, a solution has come. I am here to let you know that you can just DAMN THE MAN! Find out how to undo the damage done to us by our grandmothers, find out how to live happily, by always being one step ahead of the man, find out how to make it in life without the help of a man, find out how to be a total ‘Damn the Man’ woman, and so much more, all in a copy of Damn the Man: The complete guide to being liberated from the lies our grandmother told us, by Damiete James.

Of Security Guards and Facebook deceits

I have not been able to write much in about two weeks now. So much coming at me, and a little block, lol. Because I love this blog and you guys very much, I can't afford to leave it vacant.

And so, I bring you a not-so-funny, but real life article of something I experienced two years ago. Enjoy.

In my days of dropping proposals with Security Guards as my legs were not long enough to enter the main building, I encountered many eccentric characters in the name of Security Guards. There were some who felt you should worship them because they held the power of letting you into the building, and there were some others you just didn’t want to offend, lest they get angry, and throw your proposal into the nearest trashcan. In my own opinion, Security Guards are one of the most power-drunk people I have had to deal with on a regular basis. Putting my bias aside, I remember this short encounter with a Security Guard, which made me realise that they are just like any ordinary person when they are not in their uniforms.

I had gone to drop my proposal at the Corporate Affairs branch of an indigenous telecommunications company, and was registering my proposal in the Log Book when the phone of the Security Man rang. He had one or two friends around. As the phone rang, he hesitated to pick and started complaining out loud.

Security Man: Haa, this girl again. She just dey always disturb me, I no wan pick her call joo. Na Facebook she see me last week o, wey she come send me message. She see my picture, and she no let me rest since then. (Ha, it’s this girl again. She just always disturbs me. I don’t want to pick her call. She saw me on Facebook last week, and then sent me a message. She saw my picture, and hasn’t allowed me rest since then.)

At this point, I looked beyond the guard's uniform and studied his face. I must confess, he was really handsome, and had naturally curly hair.

Security Man: I really deck up for that picture o, I wear shades, I come pose well well. Na the picture wey I put for Facebook be that, wey she no let me rest. (I really dressed up in that picture. I wore shades, and then posed well. That’s my only picture on Facebook, and she’s not allowing me rest).

The phone was still ringing, and we were all grinning in the security post. He finally picked the phone and surprising to me, suddenly started speaking very good English.

Security Man: Hello... How are you?... How is work going?... Hope you are fine?... I have missed you... I am at my 'office'... My office is at VI… Where’s your office?... Ooh Allen Avenue.... I hope you are having a nice time... I love you... Bye... Muah (kisses)!

Ewww, did he just kiss her over the phone?

At this point we all burst into uncontrollable laughter when a female friend of his finally spoke.

Female friend: Na wa for you, I sorry for the girl. She dey think say you be better person, she no know say na security officer you be. She think say she don hammer. (I am sorry for the girl. She thinks that you are a good catch. She doesn’t know that you a common Security Officer. She thinks she has hit it big.)

I wondered about the girl at the other end of the line. She must have thought her handsome Facebook boyfriend was a big man working on the island. I imagined her sitting behind her office desk at Allen Avenue, speaking to him and smiling. I also wondered what was with the profession of love to someone one met on Facebook just a week ago. Was this the level desperation could get some of us women to at times? I left the security post saying to myself, only God knows where this internet relationship and its deceits would lead to.

This ‘relationship’ has already entered voicemail , even before it started.

Source

What if I begged you for money?

Hiya. If I asked you for N200 or even N1000 when I'm in need, I am sure you would give me. Well, that's why I'm asking you right now to get my latest book. Its a comedy/humour book to serve as my contribution to easing the stress living in this world sometimes poses.

You can download it on your android device for just N200 on Okada books, or buy the kindle version on amazon for less than N750. If you don't have a kindle, you can always get your kindle app for free on your PC and all electronic devices, and still get to read the book. You can also get the hard copy from amazon and create space, no matter your location in the world.

So just search on Okadabooks or amazon for the title, For Laff's Sake.

However, I must warn you before you go ahead. Make sure your ribs and lungs are in perfect condition before you buy this book, or else, you might not survive before you finish it.

So please, support me with that token of yours, which you would still have given me anyway even if I wasn't offering you any value, and add some sunshine to your life by laughing hard.

If you know anyone in a foul mood, who is looking for a reason to smile, send this message to them, and let them know that there's a chill pill of humour out there, waiting to cure their disease.

Thanks for your support

@ilola

Judging Technology by Atilola Moronfolu

Source

On a fateful afternoon, 22 year old Peter died, and was instantly transported to the presence of the Lord to face judgement. Immediately he faced the Lord, he knew something was seriously wrong.

“Peter, to be very honest, I am not happy with the way you lived your life while you were on earth.”

“Ooh Jeez, Lol. I thought you and I were BFFs. How can you say you are not happy with me? IMHO, I did the best I could do. Jeez, you can’t be serious. In fact, I am LMHO. After all, when my friends were celebrating, I pinged them HBD, HWA, HML or GBU, depending on the occasion they were celebrating. I tried to be as nice as possible. What more could I have done?” Peter tried to defend himself.

“Excuse me Son, what is the meaning of what you are saying. I created humans, and all the languages in the world, but I can’t seem to understand this funny language you are speaking to me.”

At this point Peter, who had developed a short attention span due to his addiction to technology while he was on earth, started getting carried away by his new surroundings, and was looking round this new environment.

“OMG!!!! Is that my younger brother, Andrew, the one who died at the age of eight? Wow, it’s been long time I spoke with him. I must go and talk to him. BRB Jeez.”

The Lord immediately pulled him back with an invisible force. “I don’t think you know whose presence you are before. I don’t think it has dawned on you yet.”

“Ohhh Jeez, that’s true Lord. I meant no disrespect to you Lord. To be honest, I really don’t I can stand your presence, it is just too awesome. Your eyes are too holy to behold iniquity. Facing you at this time just reminds me of what a sinful man I am. Oh Lord, I really cannot do this. Let me just go to the next street, and call you from there on my phone. I will use the opportunity to walk the streets of gold for a while. And if by the time I am speaking to you, I cannot stand your voice, we will just do this whole ‘passing my judgment’ thing by SMS. Better still Lord, let’s chat over BBM or Whatsapp if you prefer that, since it seems people are migrating to Whatsapp these days. It won’t cost a dime since I just paid for my monthly subscription yesterday. That was before the car hit me. Jeez, I hope your subscription hasn’t expired.

“I am really shaking my head at your ignorance, son. If I paid the ultimate and most expensive price two thousand years ago, do you really think the price for a BBM subscription or whatever you call it will be a big deal for me?”

“Okay Lord, I am sorry. You see… that is what I am talking about right there. You do not think the way we humans think. You intimidate me Lord, I am not going to be able to stand in your presence much longer. Let me just go to the corner so we can PING each other. You can tell me what I did on earth to please you, so you can just pass my judgement over the phone. I am pretty sure I am coming to heaven anyway. After all, I was pretty cool on earth.”

“Oh no… not so fast. You have to stay in my presence. That’s how judgment is passed here. There’s no hiding from the shamelessness of your actions while you were on earth.”

“Wow jeez, if you acted this way on the internet in my world, you would have been referred to as a Cyber bully. Okay, okay, I accept Lord. After all, I really don’t have a choice.”

“Wrong dear, when it comes to me, you always have a choice. The earth is man’s domain; therefore, the choice of what to do was yours. This place is my domain, so the choice here is mine. So if I have decided that no BBM PINGing or Whatsapp-ing is allowed here, then take it as final.

“KK Lord.”

“There goes that language I don’t understand again.” The Lord retorted. “I see that the influence of this technology on your life has affected the way you and a lot of people on earth interact with other human beings. Your social etiquette has actually being so much affected, because you spend a larger percentage of your waking hours hunched over one gadget or the other, rather than with human beings.”

“Anyway, let’s get on with your judgment. But before we even begin, I am the God of all, the whole heaven and earth. Yet you find it hard to stand straight before me, even though you claim to be in awe of my presence. Do you know the reason for this?”

“No jeez.” Peter replied.

“Well, it is because you have developed a bad posture of slouching, due to the fact that you are always walking with your head down, and shoulders hunched over a Smartphone. Your reliance on back-bending computers has caused you to ignore your mother’s advice to stand up straight. Therefore, your backbone therefore has been permanently bent.”

“So right now, even if I wanted you to stand straight in my presence, I could not achieve it without having to tamper with your freewill.”

“KK Lord.”

“Looking at your activities on earth, to summarise the whole thing, you have been found guilty of misusing technology.”

“Guilty of misusing technology? With all due respect Lord, I really doubt that.”

“Oh really? Okay then, spell my name.”

“Well, according to internetslang.com, it is G-A-W-D. Simple!”

“Nice one Peter, thank you for clearing the last shred of doubt I had left. Now, I don’t want to hear one more word from you. Straight to the judgment…”

Count 1

You have been found guilty of lying and intentional deceit. For every Friday night you tweeted ‘Clubbing trips’, even though in truth, you were just drooling saliva on your pillow, because you did not have real-life friends to hang out with, for every summer you spent in the Boy Scout boot camp, but you used Photoshop to create a picture of you in a false location, uploaded it on Facebook, and typed ‘Hawai sturves’, for all the times you were jobless, but were always fast to update your phone DPs to pictures of I hate Mondays, and Thank God it’s Friday(TGIF), so people will have the impression that you had a very busy time at work- for all those times, you have displeased me. You have therefore been found guilty of lying and deceit with the use of technology.

Count 2

You always arrive late to every meeting you have because you were carried away by either playing game on your PS2 or your iPad. You then send a text message to the people fifteen minutes before the time of the meeting, saying, “Running late, will be there in an hour’s time. TTYL”, not caring whether the other attendees are already there or not. That my son, is the sin selfishness with the use of technology.

Count 3

You have been found guilty of terrorism. I know you are not a member of Al-Qaeda, have never encouraged anyone to be a suicide bomber, and are not on the US no-fly list since they don’t see you as a threat, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are a terrorist anyway.

You are just an introverted 22 year old guy, who cannot even open your mouth to save your life when you are being bullied in school. You are nerdy, and have issues talking to people, thanks to your underdeveloped social skills. Yet, you sit behind the screen to assume a larger-than-life persona on social media. You therefore bully people, drive people to depression with your wicked comments on different forums. I am sure if these people knew just how insecure and powerless you were in real life, they would have paid no heed to you, but unfortunately, they did not. You have therefore been found guilty of terrorism with the use of technology.

Count 4

You have been found guilty of disrespecting my name. Peter, I checked your recent tweets before you died. You joined the people doing the GodIsWatchingYou hash tag trend on twitter. If that were all, it would have been better. You tweeted things like “All dez girls dt wear 'Arse Pad' and deceive boys... #GodIsWatchingYou. Shout Out to all the Choir Masters on my TL who (f-word) their Choir-sisters after Choir Practice...#GodIsWatchingYou. I really don’t understand it Peter, I don’t know where you and your friends get the courage to do this. You dare disrespect my name by putting it in the same sentence with vulgar words. You have therefore been found guilty of committing the sin of disrespecting and taking my name in vain with the use of technology.

Count 5

You are guilty of being wicked. You broke up with four girls by text message, not caring about their feelings. You did not have the courtesy to call and speak with them. You had to send them such insensitive messages.

You sent this to Clara, “Have I told you lately how much I am in love with you? No? Think about it, have a great life...”

And this to Janet, “I'd climb the highest mountain. I'd swim the ocean blue. I'd do anything at all my dear - just to get away from you.”

Then you pinged this to Alicia, “I get so emotional when you are not around. I think the emotion is called happiness.”

And this to Latisha, “The only thing worse than being alone, is being with you.”

You did all these over the phone. Now my dear, that is just the height of insensitivity.”

At this point, shock could not even begin to describe the look on Peter’s face. To say that he was dazed would be an understatement.

“Why are you looking at me with such a shocked face? Oh, you thought I won’t see everything? Well, let me tell you, Just like the devil’s eyes goes to and fro, looking for whom to devour, my eyes also goes to and fro the earth. Did you forget that I am the omnipresent one? Yes my dear, all your deeds are in this book for me to read. I am guessing you are no more thinking that you and I doing this ‘whole judgment thing’, as you put it, over BBM PINGs or Whatsapp is such a nice idea after all. In fact, I think if I had agreed to your request, you would have even switched off the phone on me by now, like you usually did to avoid confrontation while you were on earth.

Count 6

You have been found guilty of murder. Now, wipe that surprised look of your face. I am the God of the whole earth, and I know you are thinking you did not kill anyone. But you see… you did. I understand the fact that you were texting and driving at the same time when you had this accident that sent you to my very presence. So you see… you are guilty of murder. You murdered yourself. You committed murder with the use of technology.”

Of course, by now, Peter was completely speechless.

“So my dear Peter, it breaks my heart to tell you this, but you leave me with no choice. There is therefore no place for people like you in my kingdom. While you were on earth, you were supposed to obey my commandments but you decided to do your own thing. For this reason, you will not be able to come into this place. You would have to go to hell, and be with the devil. I doubt that that will be an issue for you, as with your use of technology, you had been dining with him all through the period you were on earth, so you should be used to it by now.

Peter suddenly found courage to talk again, only this time, he was not so confident and cocky anymore. “OMG! Please Lord, give me one more chance. I promise I would turn over a new leaf.”

“My judgment is final, Peter.”

“Please Lord, just one more chance, I promise. I would forever be a good person.”

After over two hours of begging God with his chat lingo…

What happened to Peter at the end of the day? Find out this and more humour stories in a copy of my new book, For Laff's Sake.

You can purchase the kindle version and  hard copy from amazon, or download the soft copy on your android device for just N200 if you are in Nigeria. The hard copy is also available on createspace.com

Comedy has met Literature

Happy new month and week, everyone. I hope this post finds you in a good mood, cos I really need it to. After so much unexpected bumps, and lots of feet-dragging, I have finally released my second book, For Laff's Sake.

As you know, this is different from my first book, as it is collection of humour stories, written for the sole purpose of putting a smile on your face after a dreary day.

Honestly, you know I don't need to mention that without blogsville, my writing career will be nowhere by now. I appreciate each and everyone of you guys, honestly. Right from Myne, who I learnt a few things from when I released my first book, to the bloggers that critiqued this particular book. Toinlicious, Simply mee, Tamie, Okeoghene, Sugarspring, Anne. I also thank Mr Geebee for making sure I did not have to pay for an editor, cos as you know an editor cannot edit her own book. I thank every single member of blogsville. If you think this is just eye service, you should check the acknowledgement page of the book. You guys were actually the ones I acknowledged, lol.

The kindle edition can be purchased here and here on amazon, while the print edition will be available on amazon in a few days.

The Blogsville tour and give away of this book will be starting next week. Trust me, this book is one you don't want to miss. If you think I am lying, just ask the bloggers I mentioned above, who took part in the analysis. Your lungs will never remain the same by the time you are done.