With Bra Gee Any resurrections yet? Last week Sunday saw a whole heap of prostitutes, thieves, betrayed spouses, the infertile, the ambitio...
With Bra Gee
Any resurrections yet? Last week Sunday saw a whole heap of prostitutes, thieves, betrayed spouses, the infertile, the ambitious and the disappointed as well every other person unhappy with their lots congregating along one of the main arteries of the capital city as they sought to be recipients of a re-branded miracle oil.
From what we can gather, this new oil is special in so far as it is not on sale, unlike the earlier version which was openly advertised in the media with the price boldly marked.
Then there is the packaging which has also changed. Short of that, we cannot see any other difference between the new version and the old one that obviously did not work as promised, otherwise it would not have needed an upgrade.
One of the claims supposedly made about this new oil is that it would resurrect the dead. And we want to know if six days later anyone has managed to return from the underworld yet.
Because we still remember hearing another similar claim last year when a fellow Profit – typo that should read Prophet, claimed that he would soon be putting the funeral parlours out of business as he retrieved the dead from their fate!
Of course it never happened and we do not expect it to happen any time soon. Unlike the musicians who seem to have come to believe that they must be sycophantic to profits, the drinkers remain a cynical lot and we will not be leaving the bar for any sowe any day soon, never mind what the head of that sowe styles himself.
And besides, where we come from, people who die then insist on socialising with living are called ghosts. Who the hell wants to share a bed with a goritoto?
No thank you Profit, sorry meant Prophet, you can keep your bottled horror to yourself.
Judge finds religion
Consider yourself lucky to walk away before you got knocked up by the child spacing champion. Next time do not imagine that love and stupidity are synonymous.
We all know that judges should be sober, thereby practically barring many of the patrons of the usual place from ever aspiring to that high office although a few of our own do squeeze in now and then.
We also know that a wave of religious fervency is rocking the country and manifesting itself in various forms.
Stickers on cars declaring that a certain prophet removed your severe innate stupidity comes to mind.
Seeding of course cannot go unmentioned as successful religious leaders are seen by the crowds who follow them begging to be allowed to keep the said leaders in heavenly luxury on earth.
But when a whole judge takes a full page advert in the paper to defend a “true man of God” as done by Bulawayo Labour Court Judge Mercy Moya-Matshanga, we really find it unacceptable.
While the honourable lady and her husband — who got his voice in by adding the addendum that he agreed with his wife’s statement – may have their rights to religion, we also have our rights to justice.
Imagine us self-published disbelievers of all prophets coming up before the good judge trying to face off with a prophet-quoting boss. If you think we will get a fair hearing, then we would like to sell you Africa Unity Square at a give away price.
Rocky relations?
Now that Amara Brown has announced the end of her romance with fellow musician Roki we have a few questions to ask her.
First of all young lady, what the hell were you doing hitching yourself to a known woman beater? Did you think somehow you were better than Pauline and the rest of the harem and he would never lay a hand on you?
And was that same stupid arrogance responsible for making you think you were the woman who would make him keep it zipped up? With this guy’s predilection for unprotected sex as evidenced by the tribe of children he has sown all over, did you ever consider that sleeping with him practically meant sleeping with half of Harare when you make the web of all the women he has slept with and all the men those women have slept with and the women that those men have slept with, ad infinitum?
We are not a betting crowd but we will happily lay our month’s drinks on the reason for the break up being connected to one or all of the above reasons. Next time, make a better choice, sister.
Bun in the oven
Rumour has it that our favourite object for malice has a bun in the oven. After being a child with a child for more than a decade, has she decided to see what new parenthood feels like again?
We are not sure yet who the baker might be because our last acknowledged mukwasha — the foreign fellow let her down so embarrassingly after making her believe that she was the queen of Africa.
If this is true we are certainly happy for her because she obviously managed to finally get her act together and move on after acting like one desperate woman when she haunted his side dish with injunctions to leave “her” man alone.
That is the kind of behaviour that we only expect from sisters selling intangible goods in the usual place because for them it is a matter of serious behaviour. We will keep our eyes peeled for the bun and the baker.
Single by day?
Far be it from us to act as the moral police for being drinkers of serious intent and all that who are we to point fingers at any sinners?
But we cannot help saying something about the Facebook single moms brigade.
Yes we are talking about the sisters who spend the day posting cute pictures of their adorable babies as they talk about how they are doing it on their own because the father of the said cute baby was just a sperm donor who disappeared as soon as he realised that his pleasure was set to come with some pain.
The posts end abruptly around five and six in the evening.
This is not because the bundle of single joy has gone to sleep or because mommy has left her workplace and the free Internet supply.
No, it is because she is busy entertaining a man whose own biological kids have to make do with the Nickelodeon because they believe that Daddy is at an important business meeting.
It is this same man who really provides for the “fatherless” child. So what are we saying if we are not moralising? Simple; please do not try to pretend that you are some superwoman when you are just earning your living on your little back like any other prostitute.
Not that we have anything against that group at all, far from it. We just like them to declare their status openly, that is all.
The incident
Of course we will not create an elephant in the room by pretending not to have noted the excitement ignited by the President stumbling to his knees as he stepped off the plane.
We are not surprised that there was laughter from some corners.
Remember those two guys in the Bible whose father had one too many and decided to go about with one item of clothes too few?
One son rushed to cover the old man’s nakedness until the effects of the grape should wear off. But the other boy rolled about in laughter to see such a sight.
We all know what happened to them both. But we are not about to suggest that the graphic designers of all the memes are about to be struck by lightning bolts or anything like that while those who have seen no humour in the situation.
Oh no, life is not like that.
The sun still comes out and the sun still sets. But to the jokers, we all know that no amount of hysterical cackling will bring you closer to your heart’s desire. Seeing imminent demise in a misstep will not make your wishes come true.
Last Call
Following the recent revelations of priests forgetting their vows of celibacy by not only secretly marrying but going on to impregnate their secret sisters-in-law as well, we just could not help stealing this joke from the net.
What does dear old Frank AKA Pope Francis say about celibacy?
If there is any guy to get rid of that nonsense in one of our favourite churches (on account of their liberal attitude towards drinking) then it is good ol’ Frank.
But onto the day’s joke:
A priest, a rabbi, and a pastor are sitting in a bar, across the street from a brothel. They are sipping their drinks when they see a rabbi walk into the brothel.
“Oy! It’s awful to see a man of the cloth give in to temptation,” says the rabbi sorrowfully.
A short while later, they see a pastor walk into the brothel.
“Damn! It’s terrible to see a man of the cloth give into such temptation,” sighs the pastor.
In a little bit, they see a priest enter the brothel.
“It’s nice to see the ladies, who have been used so poorly, have time to confess their sins,” solemnly pronounces the priest.
Till next week, bottoms up!
Please Click Link To Read More: Bar Talk: Of useless snake oils, stupid love
Any resurrections yet? Last week Sunday saw a whole heap of prostitutes, thieves, betrayed spouses, the infertile, the ambitious and the disappointed as well every other person unhappy with their lots congregating along one of the main arteries of the capital city as they sought to be recipients of a re-branded miracle oil.
From what we can gather, this new oil is special in so far as it is not on sale, unlike the earlier version which was openly advertised in the media with the price boldly marked.
Then there is the packaging which has also changed. Short of that, we cannot see any other difference between the new version and the old one that obviously did not work as promised, otherwise it would not have needed an upgrade.
One of the claims supposedly made about this new oil is that it would resurrect the dead. And we want to know if six days later anyone has managed to return from the underworld yet.
Because we still remember hearing another similar claim last year when a fellow Profit – typo that should read Prophet, claimed that he would soon be putting the funeral parlours out of business as he retrieved the dead from their fate!
 |
| Bar Talk: Of useless snake oils, stupid love |
And besides, where we come from, people who die then insist on socialising with living are called ghosts. Who the hell wants to share a bed with a goritoto?
No thank you Profit, sorry meant Prophet, you can keep your bottled horror to yourself.
Judge finds religion
We all know that judges should be sober, thereby practically barring many of the patrons of the usual place from ever aspiring to that high office although a few of our own do squeeze in now and then.
We also know that a wave of religious fervency is rocking the country and manifesting itself in various forms.
Stickers on cars declaring that a certain prophet removed your severe innate stupidity comes to mind.
Seeding of course cannot go unmentioned as successful religious leaders are seen by the crowds who follow them begging to be allowed to keep the said leaders in heavenly luxury on earth.
But when a whole judge takes a full page advert in the paper to defend a “true man of God” as done by Bulawayo Labour Court Judge Mercy Moya-Matshanga, we really find it unacceptable.
While the honourable lady and her husband — who got his voice in by adding the addendum that he agreed with his wife’s statement – may have their rights to religion, we also have our rights to justice.
Imagine us self-published disbelievers of all prophets coming up before the good judge trying to face off with a prophet-quoting boss. If you think we will get a fair hearing, then we would like to sell you Africa Unity Square at a give away price.
Rocky relations?
Now that Amara Brown has announced the end of her romance with fellow musician Roki we have a few questions to ask her.
First of all young lady, what the hell were you doing hitching yourself to a known woman beater? Did you think somehow you were better than Pauline and the rest of the harem and he would never lay a hand on you?
And was that same stupid arrogance responsible for making you think you were the woman who would make him keep it zipped up? With this guy’s predilection for unprotected sex as evidenced by the tribe of children he has sown all over, did you ever consider that sleeping with him practically meant sleeping with half of Harare when you make the web of all the women he has slept with and all the men those women have slept with and the women that those men have slept with, ad infinitum?
We are not a betting crowd but we will happily lay our month’s drinks on the reason for the break up being connected to one or all of the above reasons. Next time, make a better choice, sister.
Bun in the oven
Rumour has it that our favourite object for malice has a bun in the oven. After being a child with a child for more than a decade, has she decided to see what new parenthood feels like again?
We are not sure yet who the baker might be because our last acknowledged mukwasha — the foreign fellow let her down so embarrassingly after making her believe that she was the queen of Africa.
If this is true we are certainly happy for her because she obviously managed to finally get her act together and move on after acting like one desperate woman when she haunted his side dish with injunctions to leave “her” man alone.
That is the kind of behaviour that we only expect from sisters selling intangible goods in the usual place because for them it is a matter of serious behaviour. We will keep our eyes peeled for the bun and the baker.
Single by day?
Far be it from us to act as the moral police for being drinkers of serious intent and all that who are we to point fingers at any sinners?
But we cannot help saying something about the Facebook single moms brigade.
Yes we are talking about the sisters who spend the day posting cute pictures of their adorable babies as they talk about how they are doing it on their own because the father of the said cute baby was just a sperm donor who disappeared as soon as he realised that his pleasure was set to come with some pain.
The posts end abruptly around five and six in the evening.
This is not because the bundle of single joy has gone to sleep or because mommy has left her workplace and the free Internet supply.
No, it is because she is busy entertaining a man whose own biological kids have to make do with the Nickelodeon because they believe that Daddy is at an important business meeting.
It is this same man who really provides for the “fatherless” child. So what are we saying if we are not moralising? Simple; please do not try to pretend that you are some superwoman when you are just earning your living on your little back like any other prostitute.
Not that we have anything against that group at all, far from it. We just like them to declare their status openly, that is all.
The incident
Of course we will not create an elephant in the room by pretending not to have noted the excitement ignited by the President stumbling to his knees as he stepped off the plane.
We are not surprised that there was laughter from some corners.
Remember those two guys in the Bible whose father had one too many and decided to go about with one item of clothes too few?
One son rushed to cover the old man’s nakedness until the effects of the grape should wear off. But the other boy rolled about in laughter to see such a sight.
We all know what happened to them both. But we are not about to suggest that the graphic designers of all the memes are about to be struck by lightning bolts or anything like that while those who have seen no humour in the situation.
Oh no, life is not like that.
The sun still comes out and the sun still sets. But to the jokers, we all know that no amount of hysterical cackling will bring you closer to your heart’s desire. Seeing imminent demise in a misstep will not make your wishes come true.
Last Call
Following the recent revelations of priests forgetting their vows of celibacy by not only secretly marrying but going on to impregnate their secret sisters-in-law as well, we just could not help stealing this joke from the net.
What does dear old Frank AKA Pope Francis say about celibacy?
If there is any guy to get rid of that nonsense in one of our favourite churches (on account of their liberal attitude towards drinking) then it is good ol’ Frank.
But onto the day’s joke:
A priest, a rabbi, and a pastor are sitting in a bar, across the street from a brothel. They are sipping their drinks when they see a rabbi walk into the brothel.
“Oy! It’s awful to see a man of the cloth give in to temptation,” says the rabbi sorrowfully.
A short while later, they see a pastor walk into the brothel.
“Damn! It’s terrible to see a man of the cloth give into such temptation,” sighs the pastor.
In a little bit, they see a priest enter the brothel.
“It’s nice to see the ladies, who have been used so poorly, have time to confess their sins,” solemnly pronounces the priest.
Till next week, bottoms up!
Please Click Link To Read More: Bar Talk: Of useless snake oils, stupid love
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