When looking for light

In the last days there will be an explosion of knowledge. Not all knowledge is good knowledge. But I shall deal with that later.

If,  for a little bit, you had some doubts about a certain product or idea or concept,  what would be your first course of action?  I am almost sure you would ask about it, read about it, listen to and read reviews about it and maybe get a few first hand accounts about it. Am I right?

Which idiot, seeking clarification on, say product A goes and asks the sells person of product B. It just does not make sense.

If we seek to find the truth of what we believe let us first spend as much time in this faith and when we are saturated we can move on and compare with all the other stuff out there.

To go out there to look for confirmation of truth that defies the world is an exercise in futility.

Oh and about that knowledge…its just that…not all knowledge is good or right or true. Just saying.

A Jesus with no surround sound

Imagine for a moment you were transported back into time, to the time of the early church. To a time when being a follower of Jesus was not popular. Imagine for a moment you were in that time, that sliver of history that capsule in time.

Jesus had been crucified a couple of months back probably a couple of years. You heard about the faith of the Christ followers and you accepted but the memory of that whole momentous time  in the history of the Israelites was fading and it was all the apostles could do to keep the faith burning.

Remember also that all the main tenant of our modern faith were not in existence. Christian, the term, was not invented. Church was not the building and praise and worship were just a few haunting Jewish traditional beats.

You could not confess your faith openly despite the fire in your bones. To meet other Christians you had to sneak out of your house in the dead of the night and even those moments were once in a while and far in between. You memorised scripture not because it was a ‘cool’ thing to do but the word was so scarce that the only way to have it for your own was to memorise.

You could have gotten yourself a copy but that would be too expensive, take too long to copy and even then was more a beacon to get you scorched by the fires of persecution.

Imagine for a moment a world without the modern day spiritual amenities? No praise and worship. No church service or church to pledge loyalty. No bibles and no weekday devotional. No Christian books or Christian music or Christian clubs, movies or any other stuff tailored to Christian proclivities.

Imagine, identifying another Christian you had to use secret or coded messages just so you could live to see another day. That the local zoo was also the local coliseum, a place of entertainment for some but a place of death for others..

Stripped of all our modern day stuff what would our faith depend on and what would it look like. It makes me wonder about what’s really important in the walk of faith.

I am not sure I know but one thing I have learned is that, if you want to know how it works out, read the stories of those that have gone before and from their victories draw a battle plan.

We can only stumble in the future if we have not looked to the past. We cannot truly move forward until we have understood the past…I think.

Sunday school can be harmful to your health and have long term effects on the marriage opportunities of women(like seriously)

 otherwise originally know by the title: Where Have the Men Gone?

by David Murrow

Ladies, I feel your pain.

The dating scene in the church is grim. Christian colleges are becoming convents. Churches all over the world report a shortage of men in the pews – and it seems to be getting worse.

What about the singles' group at church? One woman put it this way: "Well, about two thirds of the singles [at my church] are women, and the men who come are kinda wimpy. Or creepy. There's a reason they're single."

So I'll ask the question you've probably asked a thousand times: Where are all the dynamic, single godly men?

Simple. We screened them out of the church as boys. Picked 'em off one by one.

The way we raised boys in the faith 20 years ago eliminated the very kinds of men some women would love to be dating today.

What Happened?

There are only two possible explanations for the lack of men in church – either A) men are more sinful than women, or B) there's something about the church that's driving men away. The more I study men and church, the more I'm convinced “B” is the more likely cause.

Metaphor time: you're standing in an asphalt plant. The operator loads pebbles of every size into a hopper. The pebbles are shaken through a series of screens that remove every stone that's either too large or too small. The resulting gravel mix is perfectly suited to road surfacing.

Now, let's apply that metaphor to the local church. Children of every kind come into the hopper. They are screened through children's ministry and youth ministry. These programs remove the ones who are poorly suited to church culture. The final mix of adult churchgoers is heavily female and very short on high-testosterone men. But it's perfect for perpetuating the church culture we presently know.

Screen 1: Sunday School

Little boys love going to church. There's no shortage of lads in nurseries, Vacation Bible School and the lower grades of Sunday school. But around the fourth or fifth grade, boys start disappearing, because that's the age when males begin losing in church.

Losing in church? You didn't realize church was a competition, did you? Well, with boys everything is a competition. And it's a contest most boys can't win. The rules of Sunday school are stacked against them: sit still, read aloud, memorize, find passages in the Bible and receive instruction from a female teacher. With rules like these, who's more likely to win? Girls or boys?

By age 12, many boys have been losing in church every Sunday for years. Females possess superior verbal skills, reading skills and finger dexterity (for finding Bible passages). They can sit still longer and instinctively know how to express themselves in small groups. The average girl is made for Sunday school, whereas the average boy is made for the soccer field.

And that's where increasing numbers of young men can be found on Sundays – kicking a ball, doing something they're good at. Many of the dropouts are the wiggly, high-testosterone boys who grow up to become leaders, athletes and alpha males. The kind of men many women would love to be dating right now – if only there were more of them following Jesus.

Of course some boys do make it through Sunday school, where they encounter the next screen: youth group.

Screen 2: Youth Group

When I was an adolescent, youth group was fun. It was based on the three Gs: Games, Goofiness and God. We sang simple songs. We played nutty games. The teaching time was brief but meaningful to teens. I loved it. And it attracted a lot of guys. Church services were sometimes boring, but youth group was always a kick. Youth leaders of the 1970s were almost always men – that big brother role model the boys craved and the girls looked up to (and had secret crushes on).

Fun and games are still a part of youth group, but there's been pressure to make it more "spiritual" by increasing the amount of time devoted to teaching. Singing time has also increased. And today many youth groups are led by young women. These three trends are screening boys out. Let's take them in reverse order:

Female youth leaders. Here's the politically incorrect truth about teenage boys: Most young men will not follow a woman's leadership. There is no example in Scripture of a woman discipling a young man. And women bring a different style to youth group – more emotive, more introspective and more focused on feelings. I'm not saying it's impossible for a woman to minister to teenage boys, but she's at a disadvantage.

Lengthy worship sets. Praise and worship arrived in youth group during the early 1990s. The goofy songs disappeared. Singing time expanded to 30 minutes or more. The whole feeling changed from a fun group activity to an intimate personal time with God.

The youth meeting is quickly evolving into a music-centric experience. Teens stand in a darkened room and sing love songs to Jesus, led by a praise band of their peers. Girls thrive in this emotional hothouse, but boys melt and evaporate. Many guys stand in the crowd with their hands in their pockets thinking, This is lame. Or, I'm supposed to like this, but I don't. What's wrong with me? Before you know it, you've got 19 girls and five guys at youth group. And there's not a jock among the guys.

Teaching. Youth leaders have come under intense pressure to focus most of their teaching on sexual purity and relationships — often at the expense of other topics. The pressure is coming from frightened parents who see it as the youth leader's duty to get their children through high school without a pregnancy or an STD.

This focus on sexual purity has morphed into a number of peculiar teachings that alter the dating habits of young Christians – and drive young men out of the church.

The anti-dating movement. Inspired by the bestselling book by Joshua Harris, many young believers have decided to kiss dating goodbye. Instead, they plan to someday enter into formal courtship arrangements with potential mates, preferably under parental supervision, with an eye toward marriage.

I'm not speaking against this practice, but you can see how it might feel like a straightjacket to a young man. A nice fellow may be seen as a wolf simply for asking a girl on a date.

The super-virginity movement. I know a number of Christian couples who not only refused to have sex before marriage, they have shunned all physical contact. No kissing. No hugging. Some even declined to hold hands before their nuptials. The goal was to have their first kiss at the altar, as they are pronounced man and wife.

Once again, I'm not condemning the practice. But supervirginity requires the marrying man to take an enormous risk.

During courtship, the supervirgin couple explores their spiritual, mental and emotional compatibility, but may not know if there's a spark of physical passion between them. The supervirgin woman enters marriage knowing exactly how her husband will respond mentally and emotionally (her primary needs), but the supervirgin man has no idea how she will respond physically (his primary need). Kissing, hugging and handholding are good indicators of physical chemistry; take these away and a guy has no clue whether he's marrying a red-hot tiger or a cold fish.

Of course, these things shouldn't really matter, because of a third peculiar teaching that's rampant in the church today: God has prepared one special person for you to marry. That's right: Jesus is our heavenly matchmaker. You don't need to actively search for a mate; simply pray and God will plop that perfect person down in front of you one day.

This crazy teaching has its genesis in Genesis — the only two occasions in Scripture where God provided a specific wife for a specific man. God gave Eve to Adam and provided Rebekah for Isaac. Both were special cases: Eve was the mother of the human race, and Rebekah was the mother of the Hebrew nation. Through the remaining 65 books of the Bible, God never arranges another marriage. Nonetheless, youth leaders the world over point to these two ancestral couples as proof that God preordains a special mate for each of us.

This bad snippet of theology causes all kinds of dysfunction among young Christians. They fall in love and then pray intently: "God, is this the one You have prepared for me?" God is silent. Hearing nothing, they have two choices: walk away from a perfectly acceptable mate or marry under a cloud of fear, terrified that they're outside of God's will.

A man can choose a Christian girlfriend with all her fantasies and prohibitions, or he can choose a regular girlfriend who will pucker up. Increasingly, even Christian men are choosing to date outside the church. It may not be right; it's just easier.

Who's Left

The single men who survive the screening process generally fit one of the following profiles:

1. The Bible geeks. Quiet, studious men who love to study theological tomes. Or verbal guys who love to teach.

2. The musical. They play in the band. Or they stand on the front row raising their hands during the music.

3. The asexual. Guys who are OK with kissing dating (and kissing) goodbye.

4. The predators. Guys who know there are plenty of desperate young women in church and enjoy trying to get them in bed.

 5. The social misfits. Strange men who come to church because it's the only place women will smile at them.

If you're into these kinds of guys, then the church dating scene isn't so bad. If not, then you'll have to fight over the most rare (and for some, the most desirable) category of single churchgoing men: the late converts. 

These are men who came to Christ in their teens or 20s, bypassing much of the screening process. Many were saved out of terrible sin. They have been forgiven much and love God much. (These guys get snapped up quickly by the best-looking women.)

Where Does That Leave Us?

By their senior year, girls are 14 percent more likely to have participated in a youth group than boys. And they are 21 percent more likely to have stayed involved in youth group all four years of high school. Congratulations. The stage is set for the female-dominated church of the future.

So what's the answer? We need a revolution in how we raise boys in the faith. Sunday school and youth group are screening out men years before they reach adulthood. Christians must have the courage to change these institutions so regular, red-blooded boys are more likely to grow up in church. I'm not saying we should pander to men, but would it be too much to accommodate them?

Want some good news? The changes are already underway. My next article will discuss the many ways churches are removing the screens — and the amazing response they're seeing from young men.

Copyright 2012 David Murrow. All rights reserved. This article was published on Boundless.org on January 25, 2012.

Never, ever be a Nice Guy to women (warning: there is alot of 'french' in this article)

(thankfully its not my original article so be lenient)

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never

become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bi*ching about what a**holes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores.

This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate  moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male

population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give

them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but  somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when

you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two

sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she

shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing

spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically

linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world.

And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more

disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should.

And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have

observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other

schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls

are just illogical, manipulative bitches. (AMEN TO THAT!!!!!)

Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.”

Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in

the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom.

I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You

know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as

ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience

in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting

services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy,

insane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the

faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved

vindication is coming.

———————————————

“What Happened to All the Nice Guys?”

I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I

thought I’d take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven’t

figured it out.

What happened to all the nice guys?

The answer is simple: you did.

See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy

pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you

when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but  didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were f*cking treated you.

At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little

puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay

attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crushon you.

Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you

vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your

position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t

your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too

poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the

things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time

pulled off with such ease.

Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the

boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was,

admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the

boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the  things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a

good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having

tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and

douche bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?”

Well, once again, you did.

You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without

reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life.

He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted

to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a

Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five

months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to

realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the

boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some

money, and generally acted like more of an a**hole than he ever wanted to be.

Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection

of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of

“nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted

them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives,

if that.

So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do:

1.) Build a time machine.

2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass.

3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab hold of it.

I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy,

but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your

infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice

guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there

looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you.

If you were five years younger.

So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact

that you’ve fu*ked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to

excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and

he certainly doesn’t f*cking want you, now.

Sincerely,

A Recovering Nice Guy

http://nyanchwani.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/never-ever-be-a-nice-guy-to-women/

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/damian-carrington-blog/2012/jan/27/biofuels-biodiesel-ethanol-palm-oil

When fun hurts.

There is this movie I was watching, of course seeing as there is not other way to enjoy movies, well I was watching it and there was this scene where a family of three; mommy, daddy and their littly son(ny) were jumping up and down in a bouncing castle.

It was really cool. They were going up and down in this really colourful castle and they were having the time of their life with their hair caught in time and their smiles and happiness slowed down in super max 3D( I just made that up) for all to share. Now that is how to have fun in a bouncing castle.

But….that has not been an experience. We do not have that many in Uganda and those that are there are really meant for kids so having a bunch of over size, over weight adults bouncing around can really be harmful to the health of the bouncing castle and the integrity and reputation of the said adults.

Anyways I have always wondered why adult cant have fun to you know. Adult are people too. Armed with this revolutionary Idea I was ready to take the bouncing castle world by the horns. I would have said that soon after I was given a chance to meht out my revenge but I wont say that. Why? Well it was not soon after at all. Infact it was a couple of days and several months later that I was presented with the cahnace.

You see every year at my church, All Saints Cathedral, we have what we call family Sunday. This is a day where all 4 services are combined into one, we go to a venue big enough to accommodate us, have a service and then share a meal together and then have all these fun games.

With all these parents around you can imagine quite a few munchkins are in tow and to keep them well sated and in check they hire a jumping castle. Now the kids think this is all so they can have fun but no its so they can jump themselves silly and later they will be too tired to bother their parents. So anyways here is this jumping castle…and then there is me, and my dastardly revolutionary plan.

We shall fast forward past the mundane boring adult stuff to the exact moment when I bolt in the direction of the jumping castle, picking up speed and a rumble along. In a few steps, well very many steps, that thing was far, a take my last three strides and launch myself into the air expectiong to land on my belly and if I was lucky be flung back or high into the air after I bounced off the castle floor.

There was absolutely nothing spectacular after the slight thud of me hitting the floor…well excelt for the snap pop of back bone and the shearing pain that shot up my back into my brain and into the other aspects of all  my extremities. I recoiled from the pain and tried to recover but well anybody who has tried to stand still or walk on an air filled castle that is being stomped by execited over juiced sugar high kids will tell you this was no easy feat.  My only solution was to crawl to the edge and slide over and crawl away. I I had a tail it would be between my legs. I had non but I am sure my but was clenched as hard as could be from all the pain.

Prov 16:25

There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death.

N.I.V

Not all that seems fun for us is always good for us.

Of Fear...

Now Ahab told Jezebel everything Elijah had done and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. So Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah to say, “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.”

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life.

Imagine everybody’s shock as Elijah, the man who had slain thousands of prophets and had called down fire, fled across the desert to scared to rest and too ashamed to look the people in the face. Imagine his sense of failure and the challenge and beating his manhood had taken.

What had come over him? What caused him to suddenly bolt and the sound of Jezebels voice? Why would a man, who faced off against thousands of devil inspired prophets suddenly blanch at the high pitched threats of a power mad woman? That we shall never know for the Bible does not tell us so.

But one thing is for sure, he felt dejected, alone, tired and worn out and probably angry and bitter. He could have been angry and bitter at all the ‘other’ prophets who had deserted and left him standing alone. Maybe he was angry at a former class mate or village friend who has shied away when he needed them most. I do not know.

But one thing I am sure he felt was shame and a sense of failure. He dealt with one of number one fears every man deals with almost daily. He had failed. He had blown it. People were counting on him and he had no solution.

So he did the only thing he knew how to. He fled. To the only place he knew so well, the desert. Remember that before the confrontation at Horeb he and Ahab had played cat and mouse in these very desert waddies and he had managed to keep one step ahead all this time.

And so he figured that he could do it one more time. Run to familiar territories and probably the solace of solitude. He did not have to answer to anyone out there, explain to them or meet their gaze. He did not have to face their accusing stares no measure his achievements against those that had come before.

Elijah the mighty prophet was running away not just from Jezebel but from his own heavy conscience.

He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” 5 Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

One thing is for sure heavy burdens are exhausting and Elijah could run no more. The weight of his heart brought him to his knees and he cried out to God and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Thank God for sleep.

He considered leaving his call, “I have had enough, LORD,”

Elijah despaired of life. “Take my life”

He disregarded his past achievement and compared himself to those that came before him, “I am no better than my ancestors”

He embraced failure.

But

God had other plans

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.

I am always fascinated by the last bit of verse 8, ‘he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD.

God did not curse him nor did he cast him out. God did not sternly rebuke nor did he reprimand him for his poor showing instead God arranged for room service, a meal and an encounter that would remind Elijah not just of who he(Elijah) was but also of who God was and still is.

Elijah lamented, twice how bad things were but God did not even flinch. Instead he tells Elijah to go anoint kings and anoint his own successor. God plans were in no way limited by the actions of Elijah or those of Jezebel.

God showed him one again just how power full he was and hose determined he was to bring all that Elijah had been told to pass. He was committed 100 percent even when Elijah was down and almost out.

And he stired again the heart of the prophet and gave him encouraging word, “you are not alone my friend for I have 700 others like you who have neither bowed their knee nor worshiped Baal.

Gods way and plan cannot be halted and His commitment and love towards us and out wellbeing is an ever fixed and immovable fact….

Other Random Facts

I haven’t slept properly in a week.

Some coffee really gives you bad heart burns.

Creativity is not synonymous with spontaneity.

God, He understands.

The Evolution of Underwear.

It now days gone by since we used to be bombarded by the various “string” based female under wear. I don’t know about you but anyone who travelled in a commuter taxi aka matatu round that time would be treated to at least one almost bare split bottom preview.

It simply defied the whole idea of underwear. But lately these scenes are long gone and I was grateful until a thought occurred to me. “Where did they all go?” Only one word comes to mind COMMANDO!!. Shivers right?

I began to think to myself where all this underwear business came from. Who said we had to wear anything under there? Who wrote that is was a must? Even with such flimsy knotted contraptions in the market masquerading as undergarments people still endeavour to put something on under all the trendy clothes. Why I asked.

Could it be that deep down somewhere in the inside of us we know that certain things are meant to be kept away from public view? That somehow revealing our nether regions to all and sundry is not right? Even those that throw clothes to the wind literally have communes where they can go and be, you know, all natural.

On the beaches of more liberal cities the “place of ‘happiness’ “ is covered though the mobile baby feeder is all out there and the Gluteus Maximus goes bare so to speak.

Well these are all questions I have. I am not sure I have an answer. From the great big full length Victorian undergarments to victoria and her secrets we still endeavour to wear something down there even in these liberal times.

I guess there is still something worth keeping private. I wonder where we are headed to next.

Other random thoughts

The tightness of outfits especially ladies trouser threatens the future of underpants.

French underpants to the rescue.

Lace is a good option.

                                                                    

When All The Potholes are Gone.

(Warning.This is a really boring post.Unlike most of my posts which may be witty and funny and what not this is absolutely non of those. its sort of serious and totally tries to make a point. If you ask me it tries to hard. But anyways. Enjoy)

I do not even know how it happened but I found myself sitting across an elderly gentleman discussing politics and the current government in this country.

He said the he believed in giving credit where it is due and while he may not agree with some of the policies or lack thereof the current government he did not agree with an opposition that acted and spoke like the government had done nothing.

Placing my own political views and bias aside I agree. I believe that everyman should receive due and fair recognition for his work and such.

I believe all that even for those that we have little regard, we must pause and applaude them when they do something noteworthy.

I don’t think the past successes should be a constant way point for us when weaknesses and failures are pointed out. Instead they should be encouragement and proof that we can indeed do better.

My thoughts then wondered to my children. What shall their world be like? What shall they complain about and what shall they point out? What shall they be left with after all the potholes are gone?

And I realised to that with great success comes great expectation and for those that have gone before we should not castigate those that come after for being ungrateful for they have no understanding of your ‘past’ tribulations and can complain about only what they perceive as theirs even if in stark contrast to yours its frivolous and petty.

I wonder, truly, what shall be the subject of complaint when all the potholes are gone.

(P.S see what i mean when i say boring. Yeah and you noticed the trying to hard bit right...its like so totally lame yeah..)

Random Thoughts

Did you know that P.S. stands for POST SCRIPT.

but what the heck does P P S stand for

If you ask me it some mental disorder for writers and whatnots.

You Should Have Loved Me First

Here I am again. In that place where all I can think about is you. I get mad sometimes that you would have another instead of me. That I would listen to story after story of some other weak useless chap who broke your heart and how all men are dogs, cheats, liars and the spawn of Satan himself.

And all this while I sat by your side, listened to you, comforted you and watched out for you. I wanted to tell you how not all men are dogs, cheats or liars. I was not. Not all men are the same, for I was fighting to be different…for you.

I wanted you to love me, I wanted to love you back, hold you, comfort you and wipe away your tears but you never looked at me that way. How many broken hearts did I mend? How many nights did I spend up listening to you sob over the phone and how many times did I watch with despair as you walked down the same path with another guy.

Oh you should have loved me first. For then I would show you what true love and devotion were. I would show you what it meant to be pursued and wooed. I would show you how a true woman of value should be treated. Oh that you would have loved me first and we would have skipped all this heartache.

For if you had tasted of these pure waters you would have hungered no more for the stale putrid pools of wanton lust. If you had lain in my arms you would have realised how weak theirs were. For if you had laid you head against my chest you would have heard what true love, a heart-full of it sounded like.

If you had cried in my arms you would have known what true solace was. If you had stumbled you would have known what trust and confidence are for I would be there, you would have known also loyalty and dependability were possible oh if you had only loved me first.

But now all I can be is a shoulder to cry on, a Band-Aid to a broken heart, a hand to wipe away the tears, an ear to listen.

Here I sit again listening to a sad sad tale of love gone wrong and all I can say dear is you should have loved me first.

I Found Obama in a Bookshop

While browsing the stalls of a very famous bookstore and I found Obama hiding out in one of the isles reading a book upside down.

I sauntered to him and said wassup. He was startled and he looked at me like he had just seen a monkey or something…ok granted my hair might have been dishevelled and not having lunch did not help my looks either but I tell you my mother gave birth to a fine handsome fella.

Anyways back to Obama. I said to him, “man what are you doing here, don’t you have other poor African nations to ignore etc etc”

He replied “well I just needed to chill, well not like chill chill cause it like cold in Washington but like chill. You know?”

And I nodded my head and said, “No”

“Ok well. I really needed to get away from things and carrying this flags of my fathers is really heavy. So I just thought I shall come and chill with you guys from down these ends.” He rumbled on.

Looking at him quizzically and with my mouth twisted to one side I said slowly and thoughtfully…“okaaayyyy”

Well I the point of all that digression was, I was actually walking through Aristoc (a popular bookshop in Kampala) today and was totally inspired and a little demoralised by all the titles I read and saw. Made me realise how much I really have not tapped my own potential and how I need to focus my energies (totally not in a middle eastern religion kind of way) on doing what was good and right.

So I have added all the other cool stuff I have wanted to do. Like why the heck is Christian stuff so expensive? I am opening one as soon as I figure out how.

Then there is the coffee shop where all my friends and their enemies, ok some of mine as well, can come have some really cool stuff to eat while listening to great music and such other cools stuff. That too shall be sorted out as soon as I figure out how.

Then of course there are other ‘nyongeza’s’ that I have neither the time nor the memory skills to find out otherwise.

Other Random Thoughts

Cakes are so expensive but soo cool in a fattening kind of way

Who writes all these books? Who said we were interested anyways.

I am so going to build a container house…I have got it all down.

Dont look to Obama as your shining light and hope. He aint Gat it. GOd does and He made you with a little of Him on the inside. Find Him, Find It and shine.

The God Particle (A sequel to the Satanist Within)

Today was a totally wonderful day. Why? Because m faith in people was for a morment redeemed and I did not think it too much of a bother to give of myself within. 

A light shone in the greyness that was my life and I was gunuinely happy from the inside out. That there were those committed to making the lives of those around them better is a great encouragement to me and to that that would seek to walk in their footsteps.

That there are those who despite the troubles of life and the harshness of humanity still remain innocent, sweet and pristine. That to drink from the fountain that is their life is great refreshing. That c they understand the dynamics of a symbiotic friendship makes it a joy to pour out into their lives. I am happy and I am glad.

Also that we fight everyday or rather I fight everyday not to be the bad I know I can be is for me hope.

  

Because the greatest tragedy is for the spirit of God to depart. Infact a friend once said the reason the tribulation will be so terrible is because there would be no Holy Spirit to keep the evil at bay. Infact it would be like the flood gates have been removed and all the murk that is humanitities collective propensity for evil shall just come flooding in.

So while I many times do that evil that I don’t want to do, I am greatful for  the good that I do do even when I want to do the evil thing.

That I don’t do the evil is testimony that the God Particle is alive and well in me.

You should have loved me first

Here I am again. In that place where all I can think about is you. I get mad sometimes that you would have another instead of me. That I would listen to story after story of some other weak useless chap who broke your heart and how all men are dogs, cheats, liars and the spawn of Satan himself.

And all this while I sat by your side, listened to you, comforted you and watched out for you. I wanted to tell you how not all men are dogs, cheats or liars. I was not. Not all men are the same, for I was fighting to be different…for you.

I wanted you to love me, I wanted to love you back , hold you, comfort you and wipe away your tears but you never looked at me that way. How many broken hearts did I mend. How many nights did I spend up listening to you sob over the phone and how many times did I watch with despair as you walked down the same path with another guy.

Oh you should have love me first. For then I would show you what true love and devotion were. I would show you what it meant to be pursued and wooed. I would show you how a true woman of value should be treated. Oh that you would have loved me first and we would have skipped all this heartache.

For if you had tasted of these pure waters you would have hungered no more for the stale putrid pools of wanton lust. If you had lain in my arms you would have realised how weak theirs were. For if you had laid you head against my chest you would have heard what true love, a heart-full of it sounded like.

If you had cried in my arms you would have known what true solace was. If you had stumbled you would have known what trust and confidence are for I would be there, you would have known also loyalty and dependability were possible oh if you had only loved me first.

But now all I can be is a shoulder to cry on, a Band-Aid to a broken heart, a hand to wipe away the tears, an ear to listen.

Here I sit again listening to a sad sad tale of love gone wrong and all I can say dear is you should have loved me first.

The assassination of a prophet part 2

The prophet lay down lifeless and bleeding. The gaping hole in his head testimony to the bullet that had just passed through his skull scattering his thoughts in a thousand directions. He lay there blinking, unsure of what had happened most probably he was also in shock. His thoughts that had exited his head along with the bullet that had derailed his train of thoughts lay splattered all over the walls and on those that stood around him.

One of them seemed to be in utter shock. It seemed he received a particularly nasty though along with the brain matter that stained his face and shirt. The look of disgust though was definitely not from the taste on his mouth.

Another woman stood a smile on her face and she partook of the joyful thoughts that sometimes swam around the head of the prophet on those better days. All around him the prophet saw his thoughts crawl all over the place. Some he was glad to get rid of other he hoped never got back into his head while others he worried that they would get ‘heard’ by others.

“why the heck where all these people standing there while he lay on the pavement, a halo of blood around his head and his thoughts running all over the place” he wondered.

“Could someone please call the cops, an ambulance or something” he exclaimed. “Don’t just stand there” he almost shouted.

Then a though crossed his mind, one of those that had not exited his head. It crawled in from a sparse section of brain that had clung to his skull.

“Maybe they are not calling the ambulance because there is no need for one.” The thought swam around his head a little more making loopy circles from side to side.  The prophet looked to the sky, ok well he looked up which since he was lying flat on his back would technically mead he looked at the feet of those who stood by his head and the wall beyond.

He looked up, well you get the point, and he looked and chewed on that thought. And then it hit him. “I AM DEAD!”