There is so much incompetence in high places it beggars belief. I mean, how difficult can it be beating Liverpool?
Barcelona had only one job to do. Not two or even a one and a half job. Just one.Beat Liverpool and get the life-long adulation of Jide.
And they fluffed it. They blew it so bad I can still smell the putrid odour of their self-immolation. Liverpool didn’t even have Firmino and Salah for Pete’s sake! And they had a 3-goal deficit! How hard could it be beating them?
Yea, we know the urge. The need to check your phone like your life depended on it.
So, I went about some shutterbug business over the weekend. This photography hobby has taken over me like a fake aladura spirit. I’m smitten. I put on my camera backpack and went to Makoko.
I’ve seen several beautiful shots of this Ghetto-Venice. But I told myself my pictures have got to be one of the evocative shots of Makoko.
Strange how poverty enchants.
So off I went.
My pictures were distinctively average.
Yea, some friends and colleagues think the pictures were decent. They give me too much credit. They don’t want to hurt my feelings.
But with Makoko, the journey is as intriguing as the destination. Walking gingerly on those wooden stiles with the black and foreboding water beneath, the path through a brothel, hiring a boat and putting out to open waters was more rewarding than any picture I took. And I made the acquaintance of very interesting fellas, notably a ‘Captain Segun’ who’s only captained a canoe.
Anyways, my mediocrity below.
Funny how mediocrity boasts…
This homeboy came out of the water and be chilling on our boat like Aquaman.
You call it a lagoon. He calls it taking a shower.
You go to work on the Third Mainland Bridge. Some go to work under the Third Mainland Bridge.
Maths is a fraud. Centuries of exaltation and glorification are misplaced. Or why has a discipline that underpins all calculations been unable to come up with the formula for success? The equation to be oprah-rich? What’s the use of Chaos Theory, Euler’s Polyhedra Formula or the Fibonacci Sequence if it can’t tell you how to get some moolah into your pocket? We’ve been had by the likes of Archimedes, John Nash and señor Pythagoras.
Old age is not something I worry about a lot. Not because I have a pot of gold squirrelled away somewhere. My pot of gold is at the end of the rainbow. I know it’s there. All I have to do is beat everyone to the rainbow and dispossess the leprechaun guarding the pot.
Howdy good folks! Trust January hasn’t met you in penury.
Oh, I like the sound of that! ‘January and penury.’ “ Save ye for the days to come lest reproach come upon thee like penury in January.” It’s a corny rhyme but I don’t care. It came in the moment, a gift from the Muse. I expect the expression to start making the rounds around pulpits and podiums soon. Remember you heard it first from moi!
On my way home yesterday, I was listening to Classic FM. I heard, a rather preposterous report: an epidemic of female underpants theft in Nigeria. Grand theft of what we call pata or p-a-i-n-t in Yoruba.
Yup. Female pants are being purloined, shanghaied, abducted and misappropriated all over the land. This making away with underpants are sometimes surreptitious. At other times it is brazen and at gunpoint: “your pant or your life!”