more sense: liberia's former president charles taylor has been arrested while trying to flee nigeria, and he is to be sent back to liberia to face war crimes charges.

finally, the people of sierra leone will get some justice from this man who is purported to be one of the world's biggest purveyors of blood diamonds. if the accusations are true, taylor funded the rebel guerrillas in west africa's various regional crises, responsible for hacking limbs off innocent people and other graver acts of genocide, funnelling arms, cash and other forms of support to them over a period of years. in return they paid him in diamonds, mined by terrorised women and children who summarily had their hands and legs hacked off, sometimes for the amusement of their captors and tormentors.

blood money has a way of coming round to haunt you. i hope kanye is watching, and i hope he isn't wearing any conflict diamonds!

taylor's arrest should be a reminder to those retarded african leaders that no condition is ever permanent. regardless where we find ourselves at any point in time, it would be all to easy to lose it, whether through death, illness or the unfathomable and unstoppable conspiracies and connivings of time, fate and circumstance. less than 3 years ago he was liberia's president, and the most powerful man in that little country, and then he was forced to leave, to become an exiled man without a state to return to. today he is in custody, bound for that same place where he was once king, returning in the chains of a common criminal. he might yet serve a long prison sentence, in the company of thugs whose existence he would never have acknowledged, or was he just a thug all along himself?

it goes further to show you that you cannot trust african leaders - when taylor left liberia, he was assured of the protection of the nigerian government. they found him a nice house, with guards and many of the comforts of a visiting head of state, rather than the fugitive that he really was. well, the american government wanted taylor handed over to a war crimes tribunal, and after the smallest of whimpers nigeria's president (rightly) gave him up without so much as a second's hesitation.

charles taylor is in custody, and hopefully justice will be served. finally.

there are other criminals still at large, hiding under the guises of former presidents and government officials; if the long arm of the law can catch up to taylor, who knows who else might find himself in chains? african leaders beware, the world is watching!

words for olusola (it was mother's day yesterday)

words for Olusola

Olusola,
My God never made you perfect
But He made you for me:
because He knew, that there would be things
That my eyes would see, through which
Only love could carry me;
He made you from His generosity
The angel that loves and nurtures me
Unconditionally

My heart grows weary in the night,
Afraid, alone, as the light recedes
further into the distance
But you are the beacon that guides me
Back to safe harbours
You’re the anchor that keeps me
From drifting into the darkness
- Olusola

Mother, only you know,
Why you love me,
why you’re incessantly speaking
to God on behalf,
Praying, interceding,
and shedding precious tears over my weary soul.
Your knees, I know, grow tired
From all your kneeling
But you love me
Love sacrifices its life for mine

We weather storms,
and when times have got rough you’ve held me
Though you’ve suffered vile deprivation
And injustice
You have stood firm, never letting
The weight of my burdens
Break your back.
You still plead for no treasures
Still only asking that my tomorrows
Are worth the price you’ve paid
- that you pay everyday

Olusola,
I come and go as pleases me
Further and further away,
My return finds you in the same place
On those weathered knees,
praying,
And then rejoicing, in my safe return
Why do you delight so much,
In the mere fact of my presence?

I still rage like the untamed ocean
There’s much yet to change,
But the lessons you so patiently taught me
Serve me well today
Did you not teach me to pray?
Olusola,
Did you not teach me, to love God and to obey?
You’re always there when I need you

Olusola
You’re the only one I know
Who always says,
“I love you”.
My God did not make you perfect
Olusola
But you’re all I need.

0349.151005
Words for my mother (Oluwaninsola)

i posted this before, sometime last year, but i feel compelled to publish it again

words for olusola

Even when we, don’t see
Eye to eye on things
We’re still the same

Most times I find that we,
You and me
Stand on opposite sides of things
Most things
When our visions don’t converge
Our own passions cause us to collide
vehemently, inevitably;
but we’re still the same.

Sometimes in the heat of the things we feel
we say things that we do not mean
sometimes I wish that you would just see me
as I do,
just take a second and then a minute
to look through these eyes
maybe our differences would not be
like the vast ocean
that physically separates you and me
but we’re still the same

Olusola,
I know that change is permanent
That’s why winter gives way to spring
But some things do stay the same
I know that your affection for me never changes
because even when we disagree
You always take a few seconds, to say
those three words
that mean so much to me:
“Olawunmi, I love you”

I know we’re different
But we’re still the same
Mother,
Though our differences cause so much pain
Impatient, impudent, insistent
As I might be
I always
- always –
Love you…

Words for Oluwaninsola

1401.27022006

pedestrian crossings and retards

the more i saw of him, the more he irritated me. he was laughing and casually playing with his girlfriend as though they had no cares in the world, as well they might, who knows? but he was getting on my nerves, and every step that we both took brought us closer and closer to each other. pretty soon he was going to be close enough for me to punch his ugly face in if i wished, and you know, as the distance between us reduced the temptation to do exactly that was growing.

i steadied my nerves, willed myself to breathe calmly; pretty soon he would be in very close proximity and i wanted to be in control by then. i looked at his girlfriend. i wasn't impressed. she wasn'y ugly, but she certainly wasn't pretty enough to make anyone want to win a million pounds in the lottery just so he could spend it to make her happy. nope, i'd keep that million and send her money for food stamps.

we got closer and i took my hands out of my pockets. the asshole chubby-belly idiot was still laughing and it was clear that we would pass right by each other before they could get to the door of the convenience store that they were clearly headed to. i removed my right earphone and put Tracy on pause, she could go back to telling me about Halleluiyah once i had put this ugly hobbit in his place.

i approached him and said, clearly enough for Idiot and Idiota to hear,

"you know you really shouldn't jump red lights, it is really dangerous".

"i said you should not be jumping red lights, it is dangerous"

and i just continued walking.

he looked shocked, he had been caught by surprise, and the smile was slowly leaving his face. idiot. no doubt he had been expecting to hear me pay him some compliment about his car, the porsche cayenne with the nice wheels. idiot. i wonder if he can drive that cayenne in a nice little jail cell sorrounded by all sorts of violent criminals and scum.

i was really upset as i walked away. stupid idiots like that do dumb things to upset dumb women and they go around swaggering like they are "the man". well you're not the man and you wouldn't be the man if you had mown someone down in your big suv at a zebra crossing while the lights were clearly indicating that you should be stopped. yes, the wanker ran a red light at a pedestrian crossing. it was not an amber light, but a clear-as-day umambiguous red light that other cars had stopped for.

i was on my walk to school, one mile, and it was raining. not good. this guy drove right through a red light in a residential area, right in front of a park and across the road from a youth centre, then made an illegal u-turn and parked in front of the local convenience store. all the while he was laughing, and so was Idiota, his very bright girlfriend. neither of them seemed concerned about what they had just done. not nice at all. flash guy in the nice expensive car who thinks he's above the law. well, i don't care what you get up to, as long as you don't endanger other people just to impress your date. juvenile. and if your date is impressed, she deserves to be walking on that pedestrian crossing while you're closing in on her in a truck that weighs over 2 tons.

last week i was about 5 inches away from being run down in exactly the same circumstances: a pedestrian crossing and traffic light indicating i could cross, when halfway across the road some dim-witted baboon drove straight through like he was on the highway. at that speed i would have been injured for sure. to serve what end? during the same week my friend Londe was actually hit by a man in a speeding van who overtook a long line of cars. Londe is over 6 feet tall, could he not see the tall graceful figure quietly crossing the street? and in the last couple of days i have seen at least three similar incidents of blatant disregard for pedestrian crossings.

i'm sure you can tell by now that i'm not fond of people who take unnecessary risks with the lives of people innocently using the streets. i embarassed that guy in front of his girlfriend today, but that was not enough; personally i'd like to see some very strong penalties, and i don't mean fines and suspensions. let's whoop some asses. let's bring back the canes and flog anyone who takes unnecessary risks at traffic lights. if they catch you, they make you step out in a g-string (man or woman i don't care) and lash your butt thoroughly for disregarding simple rules of commonsense. yup, bare-butt canings should ensure vehicular discipline.

i would gladly wield the cane. please drive safely.

THE PROMISE

in case you were wondering why i like tracy chapman so much, here's a very good reason.

If you wait for me
then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart

If you think of me
If you miss me once in awhile
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

If you dream of me
L like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

I've longed for you
And I have desired
To see your face your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
Please say you'll be waiting

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise
If it's one that you can keep
I vow to come for you
If you wait for me

And say you'll hold
A place for me
I in your heart.

Tracy Chapman - The Promise. (From New Beginning)



let's have a little discussion, what does this song mean to you?

at last the madness ends (for the moment at least). the nigerian militants holding foreign oil workers hostage have finally released them. whew! i was honestly praying that they wouldn't resort to killing visitors to our country, regardless the circumstances.

angry

the analogy of crabs in a bucket does not apply only to black people, it applies to ethnic minorities as a whole. as a group of discrete nationalities we have a huge responsibility for our own woes, because even though the sum of our individual and multi-cultural parts is not insignificant, we do not pull our weight.

pulling our weight as people means accepting that we are disadvantaged, and doing our best to fight for a collective equality with the powers that rule the lands where we live. in manchester, most of the taxi drivers are asian, and this is indeed true all over the northern parts of the uk. stand on the street corner and hail a cab, and the overwhelming odds will find that cab being driven by someone of indian, pakistani or some other related descent. all well and good.

the problem is that when you step out of a bar or club late at night in any of these cities, the fact that the cabs are driven by asian men starts to count heavily against you if your skin is black. manchester taxis do not stop for black people at night. period. you could be standing in the pouring rain and dressed in the most respectable gear ever made, and noone will stop for you, unless its one of the few taxis being driven by a caucasian an asian who was raised in this country. the older generation are just a bunch of narrow-minded prejudiced idiots.

tonight i went out with my flatmate and a friend of his who's visiting us from london. after a fairly good night at a bar, it was time to make our way home. at 3 in the morning, with most of the clubs still going till 4, the streets were still largely empty, and there were taxis everywhere we looked. obviously, this was good news and naturally we expected to be out of the lightly drizzling rain in a matter of minutes, but this didn't happen because all the taxis just drove past us, like we didn't exist. after the third cab drove past without stopping i had to ask tayo if i was invisible, because i had been standing practically in the middle of the road being ignored by empty taxis. we had the same experience last night at 10pm.

i see no reason for us to be treated so badly; none of us is big or physically scary in any way (not that being 7ft tall should be an excuse) and being well-dressed, well-educated upstanding members of society i was really aggrieved. last month my friend's 19-year old sister and 2 of her friends could not get a cab home because the cabs don't stop for black people. not even young black teenagers are exempt from this absurd and disgraceful example of racism that we experience everyday of our lives. i hate this, and its one of the reasons why i will be packing up my bags and returning to my home when my purpose for being here has been achieved. i refuse to let my children be discriminated against.

i have asked a few drivers why this happens, and they always offer the same excuses about our people making unnecessary trouble for the drivers, including refusing to pay the cabfare and just generally being asses. well that sounds reasonable, except a couple of drivers have also told me that this is a problem common to all the races, including their fellow asians. so why single us out? and the asians are not even alone, because black drivers do the same damn thing too. and that's wrong. its also wrong that our people insist on acting the foool: why would you refuse to pay for taxi ride that saved you the trouble of having to walk heaven-knows how many miles to your home after a night on the town? shame on you!

but why do we do such things to ourselves? the asians are not really that much better off than black people in this country, nor are the chinese. yet we treat each other with suspicion rather than banding together to prosecute a common cause that should see us command a strong voice in the greater socio-political and economic scheme of things in this country. how can we ever move forward when we turn our backs on the very people whom we should embrace?

to me it is painfully obvious that we need each other, because if we unite our forces we could make some positive changes in our society, changes which we have been unable to make in our own little groups. could we elect our own minority officials to fight our various agenda in the heart of the regional and central governments? the Bible says that a house divided against itself cannot stand. well we have divided our house and used the pieces of furniture to beat each other over the head.

if asians discriminate against me on the road, what incentive have i got to offer my assistance to an asian person if it is required of me and within my power to do so? especially when the guy or girl who needs my help could be the son or daughter of the shit-head cab-driver who preferred to leave me in the cold rather than take me on a ride that i would be paying money for. so we start a vicious cycle where we refuse to render any help to each other, and the powers that be get richer and stronger while we squabble among ourselves. meanwhile the tensions build and boil under the surface until one day it explodes into a conflict between certain sections of the community and we wonder what happened. well, our stupidity and ignorance happened to us, ad we will pay the price.

some people say that the "white man" won't let us get stronger, but i say we make it all too easy for whoever wants to keep us in subjugation by fighting amond ourselves. we divide ourselves and they ride us like the pack mules we have no business being. the white man isn't doing shit to keep us down, we're doing it ourselves. that "white man" thing is more an excuse than a truly valid reason. have we tried to help ourselves?

i am upset tonight, and it grieves me that if an asian girl needed my help i might be inclined to hesitate before i rise to her aid, even though having 6 precious sisters means that i am overly sensitive to the needs of women. without a doubt i would help her eventually, but because a few asian men pissed me off tonight, it would mean that one of their daughters would have to suffer a few anxious moments while she wonders of this black stranger will help her out of a jam or not.

shame on you narrow-minded piss-heads!

my star is coming back to the UK y'all

tracy chapman will be back in the uk in the summer, playing at the hampton court festival. now if only i could afford the bloody tickets!!

her last concert moved me to tears, and there are no reasons why this one should not be as good. damn my account for being near empty!! there is no other artist that i would want to see in concert more than tracy, and its killing me that i can't go.

damn.

let's take up a collection for the Send Olawunmi To See Tracy Fund. knowing how kind you folks are, i have no doubt that this fund-raising drive will be a resounding success. please contribute generously, God loves a cheerful giver.

God bless you in proportion to your donations. thank you.

robin hood me

Some days I am just sure that my run through school, with all its attendant pains and pressures, is my punishment for the very grievous misdemeanours I must have committed in my past life (or lives?). I’m telling you, some days its just too bad to be regular school woes, it has to be some form of retributive justice, like school is the capital punishment of the after-life.

I have a new theory: that people are sent to their next lives to atone for the heinous sins of their previous ones. How you serve your punishment would differ from person to person, for instance if you were a mass-murdering monster named Hitler, your punishment could be as bad as being a two-bit low life who gets summarily beaten up by life in all of the worst possible ways.

Get sent to jail for a long-ass time? Check. Get raped in your jail-cell? Check. The said rapists were big ugly muthas with dicks like over-sized baseball bats? Check. Did they derive a sadistic pleasure from your pain? Check. Visited by random calamities? Check. Possess butt-ugly features that guarantee no one will ever find you attractive? Check. Lightning strikes you when you’re indoors wearing plastic shoes and a rubber hat? Check. Wife gives birth to a baby you just know has to be mixed race when you’re both full black/white? Check. Win the $100m lottery and lose your ticket? Check. Random birds take turns to anoint your head with shit when you’re walking? Check.

I guess for some people it is a mess of calamities, but in my world redemption has to be found in a masochistic refusal to quit school despite my patent and undeniable hatred of all things academic and structured. This is my punishment for past sins I tell you. Why am I convinced that it has to do with my past life? Well, because I haven’t done that much damage in this world dammit! Yes, I know I’ve been bad on occasion, but not THAT bad, you have to believe me.

So it has to be past life. And since I haven't been a victim of the random calamities listed above (and I never will by the grace of Almighty God) then it stands to reason that while I was bad before, I wasn’t bad enough to warrant an Afterlife Capital Sentence like the one Hitler and his fellow Jew-killing monsters will be serving for the next thousand lifetimes.

So what could I have done to deserve school? I have a theory. I must have been Robin Hood in my past life, you know that English outlaw who ran around stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Plus he hunted the king’s deer and did random ish just because he was told that he wasn’t supposed to. The contrary renegade souljah who refused to play by the rules. Yup, that’s the man I be. And that’s the reason for my academic purgatory; I was bad ‘cos I stole and robbed people and killed a few corrupt government officers, even though it was all for a good cause.

Well, however noble the reason, all that stealing and killing gig is sinful, and now I’m paying the price, though the ultimate sentence has been mitigated by my services to mankind i.e. feeding the poor and downtrodden of the age with my ill-gotten gains. That’s why the price of my redemption is the hassle of struggling to get a phd when some of the boys I went to law school with just started their own law firms.

Robin Hood. Hmmm. I like the sound of that…



DISCLAIMER: I wish to assert that in my years as the legendary vigilante and renegade Robin Hood, I did not wear tights, and I was not involved in any brokeback activities with the Merry Men. I didn’t do no credit-card fraud (who had credit cards anyway), and Maid Marian was really a fine woman of upstanding (sometimes) moral character. And I wasn’t no rapist either. Get your facts straight!!!









© olawunmi awosedo 2006

I was tagged by Kunle to state the 10 attributes of my perfect lover.

Rules:
If I tag you, you have to do the following:
1. The tagged victim must come up with 10 different points of their perfect lover.
2. Need to mention gender of target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged again, there's no need to post a 2nd time.

Let me start by saying that as a red-blooded heterosexual male, it goes without saying that my ideal partner is a woman. Get that straight folks!

I have never sat down to make a list of the attributes/qualities that I am looking for before, but deep in my head I have always known what I don’t want to have in my life. This list cannot be treated as an ascending or descending order of preference, because all of these are of equal importance to me.

1. God-fearing; my spiritual beliefs run deep, so my ideal partner would be someone with whom I can exchange ideas and with whom I can grow in my understanding of God. I have no intention of fighting jihads when I get home from work, or of having to explain to someone who doesn’t understand, why certain things must be, because they are the dictates of my faith.

2. intelligence and intellect: of the things that I cannot stand, stupidity is number one. The perfect person for me is a highly intelligent, well-educated woman who is able to apply her intellect to our life and our circumstances. I would never date anyone who was shallow or couldn’t hold their own intellectually because it would be too painful, and I certainly would not marry her. I’d like to be with someone who that I connect with intellectually. I love to read, and i enjoy the arts so much that it would be a real problem if my mate didn't at least appreciate those same things. someone who's informed and knowledgeable about a wide range of issues from movies to politics and music.

3. ambition: she must have her own aspirations and the drive to achieve them. I would never be with someone who looked to me to do everything for them, or who didn’t have their own dreams, and the resolve to go after them. I want to own the world, and I would like to be with someone who doesn’t see any reason why she, and I, cannot do so.

4. independence: I’m not looking for a flag-burning crusader, but I want someone who is able to function and make decisions on her own without relying on me (or us) for everything. This way she is someone to whom I can turn when I need her strength.

Ideally, it’s a balance between knowing when to go off on her own, and when to let me look after her; I always tend to spoil the people in my life, and while I would never want a woman who couldn’t look after herself, I certainly do not want someone who will not let me be there for her, it would suppress an important part of me too much.

And I don’t like control freaks, or anyone who is bossy or determined to control me. I’m far too rebellious and free-spirited to let anyone run my life, so dating or marrying one of those would be a right disaster.

5. affectionate: my perfect mate is loving and kind. Understanding and open about her feelings, so we don’t have to play 20 questions when she’s unhappy, or upset or angry. We can just deal with it. Someone who isn’t afraid to show emotion, or to say exactly how she feels.

Baby has got to be a freak in the bed and out of it i.e. in the car, on the sofa, in the kitchen or wherever the mood catches us… no inhibitions mami! (did I mention the bathroom?). yes, i want my own private hoe at home!

6. respectful: to God, to me, to our families and friends, to elders and subordinates, and to every single person that she comes into contact with. Respect is one of the fundamental aspects of my culture, and it is a big part of the way I was raised and who I am. My wife has to be someone who understands the value of this respect, so that we can teach it to our children. a key part of respect for me is honesty, trust me and respect me enough to tell me the truth all of the time, because I'm not one for lies. this also means no games, no ambiguity, just openness - it all boils down to respect.
   

7. beautiful: I want to know in my heart and in my head and before my eyes that she is beautiful and desirable. It matters not to me that other people don’t see all that I see in her, as long as in my eyes she is the most beautiful woman in the world. So it’s not important that she is the most beautiful woman in the eyes of the world, as long as I can look at her in the morning, and at night, and in the depths of sleep, and know that there is no one else I would want to be with, gabrielle union, eva mendes and eva longoria inclusive.

8. domesticated: I’m talking someone who can cook and keep a house in order, not someone who is more interested in shopping than in making us comfortable at home. Take-out should be a treat, and not something that’s necessitated by the fact that my wife cannot or will not cook. I don’t expect her to cook everyday after a long day at work; that would be cruel at the least. Just want her to make the time out as often as she reasonably can without killing herself in the process. I can cook really well too, so we can work something out that makes us both happy.

It also means someone who is comfortable just chilling at home in front of the tv, or in the garden, or in a quiet house with the lights and tv turned off. Do we really have to go every night? i want someone with whom i can make a house into a happy home, and have fun doing it.

9. patience: let me admit that she will require a lot of patience to live with me. like any other person I have flaws that my partner has to put up with, as I have to endure hers. I am impatient, and very often moody, impulsive, flirtatious and stubborn (but not unreasonably so). I am also very guarded, and she would have to put up with knowing that I will not always be able to talk about everything that’s going through my mind, unless she can find a way to get me to open up.

10. fun, and open-minded: now this is a big one that covers a lot of things. She must have a mad sense of humour, because I’m goofy and playful and impulsive and very animated when I’m playing. I want someone who can be herself, and let me be myself too. Don’t want anyone who’s judgemental, pretentious, snobbish or just too up herself to get down and have a really good time.
    

I’m tagging nikki, cat, jummy, miss a, ariel cage, uchenna, akin, opeyemi, and phumie. Who says I have to play by all the rules?

I think I thought too long and hard about this. Not good at all. lol

kimi

what does kimi räikkönen have to do to get a break? it seems that anything that can go wrong will do so, and when there’s even a smidgen of bad fortune to be had then its guaranteed to visit him. two grands prix in a row, the first two of the season and its two calamities for the taking already!

bahrain: opening race of the season, suspension failure on his first qualifying lap meant that he could not even start his season right, and it put him at the back of the grid. if he was frustrated he didn’t show it, he just drove his damaged car all the way back to the pits shedding bits and pieces of the car along the way, no doubt ignoring all the calls from the mechanics to “park the car and walk kimi!!” and they say finns don’t show emotion.

on sunday morning he started from the back of the grid (22^nd place) and drove to a heroic third position. his team-mate started 5^th in an identical car, and finished 5^th. who’s your daddy juan pablo?

malaysia: qualified 6^th, no doubt with a heavy fuel load, and he was widely tipped to be the man to beat, this would be the perfect chance to show his true potential, especially as alonso was starting behind him. his race ended on the first lap when christian klein ran into him from behind, damaging his suspension. his team-mate started 5^th and finished 4^th, what would kimi have done?

you have to feel for kimi, because the only reason why he didn’t win the championship last season, despite some amazing drives, is because his team could not give him a reliable car to work with. when you’re constantly battling with engine failures, suspension failures and the like, you can hardly keep up with a rival who’s car is slightly slower, but reliable enough to finish every race.

so, what gives this season? does kimi resign himself to another season of almosts? hell no, somehow you just know that he will be fighting as hard as his machinery will allow him to, winning races and showing that he has the skill and the tenacity to be world champion.

i know who i will be rooting for. i wonder if kimi has learned the power of prayer?

what the hell is wrong with Blogger? i can't put images in my posts!!!

why?

why do people do such horrible things?

six men kidnappped two girls from a car park, locked in the boot of their car and drove them to a hotel where they forced them to smoke heroine and crack and raped them repeatedly while subjecting them to all manner of physical and verbal abuse. then they drove them to some bushes and just killed them like they were flies or little rabbits. they killed those girls without any form of regard for the sanctity of human life, for what purpose?

well, they might have "killed" two girls, but only one died. the other one survived being shot in the head to tell the tale, no doubt The Creator intervened in a fit if rage to ensure that someone paid the price for their vile abusing his children. one of those girls survived to testify in court and now the cowardly scum have been convicted of murder.

i find this particularly disturbing for a couple of reasons, primarily because all of this took place in Reading, the same town where 2 of my precious little sisters go to university. secondly, it worries me that people can be so wicked; what chance did those two girls stand against six grown men armed with knives and guns?

now the cowards are going to jail, which in my opinion is not enough atonement for their crimes. now, everyone knows that i am advocate for capital punishment, and that this is one of the scenarios in which i would unreservedly recommend the speedy dispatch of these vermin to a place where they cannot harm another living thing, but in this case i cannot even see how death would be a steep enough price to pay. no, in this case, death would be far too easy an escape for the vampires unless it is an unreasonably painful and drawn out process involving whips and rats nibbling at their worthless bodies while they look on as helplessly as those poor girls did.

i don't like life sentences because far too often some over-zealous campaigner and some zen-chanting politician will decide that the murderer has been rehabilitated and "his debt to society" paid after some ten years in prison. that is not a life sentence at all, if society wants to show its revulsion for a particularly dreadful crime then the perpetrator should be locked away for life, preferably in a prison with other violent offenders with sexual frustrations to assuage, so that the vermin can pay his debt to society by being "spit-roasted" between a stiff, unlubricated penis forcefully introduced to his rectum and another rammed down his throat as far as it can go without choking him to death. several.times.a.day. in between sessions of painful beatings. year.after.year. for decades on end. and they should have pictures of their victim's bodies posted in their cells as a reminder of the real reason for their unending ordeal of violent resitution.

if you don't understand my anger, let me explain: i have six sisters, all of them younger than me, and the ordeal that those girls had to endure is a nightmare that i dare not imagine for fear that i might lose my mind. i will state this for the record now, if any politician, activist or other weak-willed apologist attempts to have these monsters released from prison at anytime beforehis death, i will personally start a campaign in opposition. i will march and collect signatures and do whatever i have to do to ensure that these vermin do not walk freely again. if they cannot get death sentences, then their life sentences had better be for LIFE.

i know it serves no purpose to pray for the dead, but i hope that Mary-Ann Leneghan finds some peace at last. i also pray that the girl who survived is able to put this behind her and live as normal a life as is possible in the circumstances, but what are the odds? and i pray that the families of both girls are able to deal with the aftermath of this traumatic experience, it is to them, and the surviving girl that the greatest harm has been done.

of fatalities and trains

I’m writing this on a train that’s been stationary for the last hour and a half, as I make my way back to Manchester after a weekend in London. the train’s been delayed, we’re delicately informed by the manager, because there has been a fatality ahead of us somewhere further along the track that we will be travelling on during this 3½ hour journey, and the police are investigating.

A fatality on the track? Surely he isn’t trying to say what I think? Has someone committed suicide on the tracks?

Well, it is possible, stranger things have been known to happen and in any event suicides are a regular occurrence in this country – sad, but true. However, whilst the news of anyone dying is normally a sad and sobering thought for me, tonight I am not very predisposed toward charitable or sympathetic sentiments. I am tired and this long-ass journey just became longer. It’s just past 1a.m. (1:06 to be exact) and normally the train would be pulling into Manchester about now, but instead we’re still less than halfway along our journey.

So call me heartless if you wish, but I cannot help the feeling that if someone deliberately truly took their own life on the railway lines tonight, then they have been needlessly cruel and inconsiderate. Yes, cruel and inconsiderate, because in killing themselves they have not only caused a measure of untold grief to their family and friends, but they have also succeeded in causing a great deal of hardship to other people.

There is no doubt in my mind that suicide is a grave thing, and that a person would usually be under a great deal of pressure before they can feel compelled to take that bold step that robs them of that most crucial of gifts – life, therefore one must necessarily sympathise with anyone who takes this final tragic step. But at the same time, I cannot help feeling that jumping in front of a moving train is a particularly dramatic and inconsiderate as well as inconvenient way of leaving this world. I mean, surely there are less disruptive ways to journey into the great unknown? I say this because a railway suicide impacts on so many lives that would not necessarily be touched by a quieter, less obtrusive means of self-dispatch.

My uncle once witnessed a woman’s suicide by rush-hour train on a weekday morning while on his way to work, and the memory of that tragic event has not left him more than a year later. He was sitting on the train platform, just waiting for his train like everyone else when the railway staff announced the approach of a high-speed train, and asked everyone to stand back from the platform edges. As the train was approaching he suddenly noticed a rapid movement beside him followed by a scream: the woman that he had observed a few moments before had jumped onto the tracks to be crushed by the train. The station was closed and evacuated, but not before my uncle caught a glimpse of the gory grey-matter, the remains of a woman whose head had been crushed by a speeding train. My uncle didn’t go to work for the rest of the week, and when he eventually returned to work he didn’t use the trains for a while, relying instead on the coach until he could face the train station and his memories of that morning.

My uncle’s experience, and mine from tonight underline the reasons why I dislike railway suicides in particular. Why take an innocent train driver and shoulder him with the burden of having helped to take your life? Every rational person would argue naturally that the train driver should bear no responsibility for the death since he had nothing to do with it directly, and this is the correct position, but can you make that case to a man who knows that he just ended the life of another? Yes, it is an irrational burden to take upon oneself but it would still torment most people.

Second, train-related accidents are never pretty, so it would be very traumatic indeed to anyone who witnesses the accident or has to view the remains of any victim(s). My uncle is a fairly strong man, but he was affected by what he saw, and so would most people, most especially children and people with less robust compositions. Some people would need therapy to cope with such an experience and its just not fair to unnecessarily involve other people in your personal problems like that.

Third, its just a nuisance all round: trains will be delayed while the paramedic and coroners’ services are called to the scene to remove the remains and these will be delayed in turn by a police examination of the scene, and the subsequent safety checks before full service will be restored. People like me will be late for meetings, appointments and bed. Surely there are less disruptive ways to go without this nuisance? And I cannot imagine doing it late at night would alleviate the resulting collateral hardship much because I’m on a late train that’s running at least 2 hours behind schedule courtesy of what might be a suicide.

A bullet in the head might be an ugly and painful end to contemplate, but surely it is any more so than would be jumping in front of a train travelling at 150 miles-per-hour? How about a handful of sedatives, or slashed wrists in a bath-tub filled with warm water? Carbon-monoxide poisoning? Unpleasant as they might sound, at least they reduce the chance of hurting third parties unnecessarily.

I’m going to stop here, I do no know for certain that the fatality was a suicide, for all I know it could have been a genuine accident at a railway crossing, or some homeless or deranged person in a place where they had no business being. And I really have no business discussing an issue as serious as suicide with so little sympathy for the unfortunate individuals concerned. Whoever the fatality is, I hope they rest in peace.

I merely needed a means to pass the time and getting out my laptop to write this helped.


© Olawunmi Awosedo: 0151.20032006

so sick

SOMEONE SHOULD PLEASE HAND NE-YO A REMOTE CONTROL SO HE CAN TURN THAT DAMNED RADIO OFF!!!

and of that won't work, could you please hand him a gun? that sad git is just about desperate enough to end his misery and mine in the process. its a beautiful song, but pleeeeeeeeeease MTV stop playing that song. or do i have to turn off my radio?

tired and in pain. yippee!!!

So I got tired of not sleeping at night, and needing to do something drastic I dragged my tired ass to the gym last night for some serious fatigue-ation (fatigation - don’t tell me the word doesn’t exist, its when a man tries to tire himself out so his tired bones can override his hyper-active mind and let him finally catch some sleep). Figured if I worked hard enough at it my body would just give up and pass out from all the exertions. Sounds like a plan right?

Well, I went to the gym early (7pm is mad early by my standards) and punished that ass. Hit the cross-trainer and pumped like a family of hungry lions was after me, all the while the machine was telling me to slow down to the desired cardio-vascular level I was working harder and harder until the machine stopped bitching and left my obstinate ass alone. I guess the microchip in the machine’s brain got bitchy and thought, “if you want to kill your stupid ass tonight I won’t stop you, after all you did sign a release”. Five frantic miles later I got off the machine and to my surprise the stupid room started to spin. Spinning! What sort of nonsense is that? Did someone give the damn room too much to drink? Stupid room was spinning so much it almost made me fall over. Meanie!

Well the room stopped spinning after a while and I hit the weights for some more work. Lifting and pulling, pushing and straining, drawing mental pictures of all the people I wanted to slap, and using their fugly mugs to conjure up reserves of energy that I had no idea existed in my lean frame, and then doing it all over again, I was on a roll. Until I got tired. i.got.tired. too tired to lift a thing. Picked up my towel and water bottle, headed toward the door, until I remembered the colour of the ceiling in my room. I have been staring at that damn ceiling so much it was beginning to look like a masterpiece of art. Plain white art. Nah, I wasn’t ready to go just yet, not till I was sure that sleep would be a certainty.

Turned around and went back into the gym, that ass deserved some more work. Had to find inspiration. Paris Hilton. Yes, but not in that way. I figured that babe is so skinny you could snap her bony ass in two if you were strong enough. Separate the Paris from the Hilton – now that was my motivation to work even harder - paris.hilton.seperated. it worked, because I was pulling and lifting shit even harder than before.

Then I made the 1-mile walk to my house as the final straw to finish my tired bones off. Had dinner, went off to bed. Sleep at last. NO. I stayed up till the mothersucking early birds started going off to work. Plus I had no aches and pains. None. I hadn’t even managed to hurt myself. Which means Paris Hilton is safe for the moment. Shit!

Well its 8pm now and I’m about to leave school. I have pains. Shoot, I have aches in places where I have no right having muscles, and even my aches have pains of their own. At least I’m human, I have never been so happy to feel pain in my life. Paris.Hilton can still become Paris Hilton. Yes.

One more thing, I feel tired and sleepy. Maybe this will work after all. Maybe not. If I don’t get any sleep tonight there will be hell to pay!

i had this idea for Punk'd meets Pimp My Ride.

i am sick of hese guys who deliberately go out and pick up cars that the scrap-yard PAYS them to take home just so they can make a pleading grovelling video appeal for X-to-the-Zibit to come over and put a dvd player underneath the tirs of their cars, snooker tables inside the exhaust and flame-throwers inside the steering wheel. that shit is NOT gangsta at all. it is tacky.as.hell. and somebody should bitch slap the guys at west coast customs for some of the stupid ideas they come up with, talking 'bout "since you like to barbecue, we put a big-ass grill inside the hood and took out your engine. you don't need to drive no more, just make your garage into a kitchen and cook shit up for your friends".


anyway i came up with an idea to fix the problem once and for all. we PUNK them. somebody sends a video round to the Pimp my ride crew and they investigate the owner. if that is reall their normal car, then they pimp it. but if its not their daily car, and this person has just been paid to take it from a demolition line, they deserve to have the tables turned on them.

same routine as normal, 'Zibit collects the car from their house with all the shouting and shaking (how come the person being pimped always opens the door? don't they ever step out for a drink or go to school?) and he drives the car away.


the guys at west coast take a look at the car and get cracking, measuring and talking about all the stuff they'd like to add to the car. heck, they even ask the owner to suggest the things he would like to see done to his/her ride. but then the guys do nothing to it until the day it is to be collected, when they cover it up with a tarp like its been pimped. the owner comes to collect their car, expecting to see flames, tv screens and lava lamps,















'Zibit tells the owner all the fun they had with their car, and then he removes the tarp slowly before telling the surprised owner:

YOU'VE BEEN PUNK'D.




















punk'd, not pimped.




(i still can't sleep, obviously)

i couldn't sleep

I have not been getting enough sleep, and it is weighing on my mind. But how the hell does one sleep when your mind just refuses to shut down? Last night I was so tired that I had to conjure all my reserves of energy to drag myself into bed, but you know don’t you, that as soon as I got my tired ass into that bed the sleep was gone from my eye faster than a talented street “artist” can pick your pocket. Somebody stole the sleep from my eyes and I want it back. ASAP.

So its not exactly a new thing for me, I have had trouble sleeping since I was a child, and my grandmother even had a song and a nickname for me that both celebrated my restlessness. Call me the Energizer Bunny, I don’t care; just don’t say it to my face ‘cos it doesn’t sound right. Surely only vibrators and the women who reside on the pages of Playboy should be called bunnies?

Now I’ve tried all of the usual remedies: warm milk doesn’t work for me ‘cos my silly stomach doesn’t do lactose - something to do with enzymes. Stupid-ass enzymes must be having a laugh at my expense. I avoid milk for the most part so I can have enough enzymes to digest ice-cream, which I refuse to live without. I’ve tried counting sheeo too, now that can be fun, but its no good for sleeping – you know it’s a waste of time when you count the two thousand, two hundred and four, you just know that sleep will definitely not be paying you a visit that night (horrible meanie).

When I get frustrated I just have fun with the sheep in my head (not that kind of fun you dirty minded so-and-so), I start imagining the sheep covered in different colours of wool from different designer labels, so there’s the Armani sheep dressed in black, the Burberry sheep dressed in that awfully common but chic check, the ghetto sheep dressed in various colours of FUBU, Rocawear and Sean John, that Paris Hilton sheep with the skinny butt who really hates the bootylicious J-lo and Beyonce sheep with their blinged up thongs and there’s the hunter sheep in the blood-stained sheepskin coat. What I can never understand is why some wild animal always seems to track this last sheep down so it can attack it. Could it be the trail of blood? And why the hell can the sheep not defend itself? Stupid sheep.

i need to sleep, I’m imagining really stupid things again.

2Face - African Queen

check out nigeria's newest superstar.


much props to naija guy in whose blog i found the links. peace man!

TGIF!!!

it all starts this weekend...

The F1 Season kicks off in the desert!!!

i'm a Man United fan

today i'm wearing my Manchester United jersey, for the first time in months. unlike most "fans", i have been a fan for almost 15 years now, and it's been a great experience. but recently, our form has taken a real dive and its not been the most encouraging time to be a Red Devil. frankly, its been disappointing as hell, and its gotten to the point where i'm having to re-examine my loyalty to a team that isn't living up to anyone's honest expectations, given the amount of potential and resources available to the team.

look at it this way, sport is meant to be a recreational activity, unless of course you're a sportsman in which case that's how you pay your bills (lucky bastard) and you have to take it seriously. for the rest of us, its something that we do for fun and relaxation, but how the hell are yoy supposed to relax when your bloody team loses all teh time? and its worse when your foolish bloody flatmate supports Arse-an-all and they have had more success in recent seasons. how can you be relaxed when he gloats and reminds you that they beat your team in the FA Cup Finals? sometimes i want to wipe the floor with his arsenal jersey, and i have warned him to control his gloating lest he finds his silly self poisoned in his sleep. so lately, being a Man U fan has not been relaxing or fun.

but this morning i realised that i don't care. i love my team, and i live barely 2 miles from our stadium. in any event, i have always been an intelligent fan, whether or not my team win, i still eat, sleep and live - the players being paid millions by the team to do their job have no trouble living their lives even when they lose, so why should i put mine on hold for a team that doesn't give a hoot what i do? i like being a red devil, and we will win again soon. in the main time, i didn't spend £30 on this jersey just so that it could gather dust in my wardrobe!!! (see, it came down to the money in the end [lol], did you really think it was about the team?)

wear your colours with pride, unless of course you support Birmingham, West Brom, Man City or Sunderland, in which case you should use that jersey as a rag, 'cos that's all its good for!!!

i read my girl nikki's account of the first hours of her day, and this is what i had to say:

just one of them days right?
one of them days when you wish the sun had taken the day off so that the moon would have to work an extra shift in the sky;
the night would have gone on endlessly - such bliss, except that it would be really bad for the guy who had just won the lottery,
who could not wait for the new day to dawn so that he could run round
to the office and pick up his cheque for $100 million:
you see, you were having a bad day, but his day was the brightest it had ever been since his mother gave that final push
that marked his first moments in this trying world of schedules and tight shoes.

you're falling and hitting your head on the bathroom wall, cursing the over-efficient awakening of the world
while he's jumping and hitting his head on heaven's floor, anticipating the smell of the leather of that new porsche,
winner-man is soaring so high on dreams that he's hopping on eagles' wings
as you spit your tooth into the bathroom sink.
there'd better be a reason why this stupid iron is burning great big holes in your favourite shirt
never mind the shattered mirror and the broken zipper on your nice new $300 skirt,
shit, did you just spill all of your milk?
"no breakfast, more bills, and its still only 9 o'clock, can i put up with much more of this?"
sitting on the bus trying to mind your own, silent prayers to the benevolent higher forces, "please show me some mercy!"
"why the hell is that man whistling and singing so carefree, isn't it a little too early
and why does he keep looking at that same damn piece of paper every other minute - can he not read?"
singing and whistling, one would think he'd just won the lottery.

mama never said that there'd be days like this....

you say you're having a bad day, but someone is having the time of his life.
this is life, and this is your life,
tragedy, reality, orgasms and random shit that you can't explain.

keep your head up!!!

from my notebook, 1613.07032006

(c) olawunmi awosedo

Just in case your hut is on fire...

i found this in Mobonike'z Diary and i thought it would be an interesting thing to share with y'all. i've been passing through a storm lately, and its quite possible that someone else would be as encouraged by it as i was.

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger. He cried out, "God! How could you do this to me?" Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching the island! It had come to rescue him! "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied. The

Moral of This Story: It's easy to get discouraged when things are going bad, but we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of our pain and suffering. Remember that the next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground. It just may be a smoke signal that summons the Grace of God.

P.S. You may want to consider passing this on, because you never know who feels as if their hut is on fire today.

words

These weakened knees
Have not touched ground or pew in ages
I haven't bowed my head
I offer thanks to any god or to ask for favors

But watch me now
I'm falling down
Praying
To speak the word that precedes bliss
To speak the word
To speak the word

Love love love love love love love love

Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word

Love


Tracy Chapman - "Speak the Word" (from the Telling Stories CD)

more about time

March already?

March?

like MARCH 2006?

already?

where the hell did the year go? bloody hell!!! i'm telling you, time's in a hurry and we need to work out a way to slow that monster down before it does some permanent and horrible damage to somebody, like making us grow OLD!!

is our youth fast-disappearing? what the hell is wrong with time, why won't that *itch just sit still for a few (a LOT of) moments so we can catch our breaths? damn, i need some time to get my growing on, and this *itch won't let me.

TIME IS A MONSTER Y'ALL!!!