OFFICE POLITICS AND PECULIAR MEMOS

OFFICE POLITICS AND PECULIAR MEMOS

To: The Boss Manager

From: A Disgruntled Employee

My grievances are at an overdrive at this point in time. I am not writing to cry over my promotion that never was, even though I surely did qualify for it but I guess nepotism is an enemy I am unable to defeat in this lifetime. Rather, I write to ask why you deliberately encouraged me to be on the run for the coveted position, when you knew that your unqualified far-distant cousin was the sure bet for the high post? Granted he cannot speak Queen’s English to save his life, let alone drafting a decent punctuated letter but who cares? His relative is the boss and that is all the qualification he needed.

I would have suggested that you grow a pair and a conscience too, for integrity's sake, and allow either I or other seasoned staffers to secure the highly coveted position. Nonetheless, I am aware that you are a long-life member of the Black Tax Association, therefore I will not fault you for being loyal to your family, yet why does your loyalty have to affect my already struggling career?

You know very well that an ascension to the corporate ladder on my part, would bring about tons of golden opportunities for me. But I guess you did not consider me worthy of the upgrade. I am sure that your folks must have insisted on getting this dimwit of a cousin out of the village, in order for peace to reign, and you were much too respectful or much too fearful to turn them down.

As a result, both the city and the place of business have lost their tranquility, thanks to the uncomfortable presence of this uncouth dinge. Meanwhile, our staff have to bear the brunt of this troublemaker, silently in order not to lose their menial jobs. Well, what about us? What of our peace? Anyway, I will suggest that when next doors of opportunities open forth, please choose a relative who is more polished, much more refined, and especially one who knows how to work a computer.

Needless to say, I am afraid that this clueless character of a blood relative will not cope for long in these government offices, always yelling and screaming at the office machines, oblivious to the fact that the machines are inanimate. Who then takes accountability for the damages done? He equally suffers from collective amnesia, ever pretending to forget and always ignoring crucial matters. How then do we cope with such a person?

I believe we also do need a counselling psychologist at bay, in case of any mental anguish on our part, for as it is now, I would uneasily confirm that your cousin, twice removed, should equally be removed from our vicinity, before somebody ends up getting hurt, thereby provoking doom and gloom to befall on us, all because of his drama-filled persona. God help us all!

Do not misjudge me Sir. This word tirade is not courtesy of the missed job opportunity that I am failing to come to terms with. In fact, I am over the fact that you overlooked me for it, and instead gave it to an incompetent fellow. But rather, this rant is about your misinformed choice of hiring a senior supervisor. I am afraid that staffers will quit over this circus freak you employed to work among us. His jungle tactics are working my last nerve that I too am about to tender my resignation, and take my chances with the hustlers nation.

After all, I am well able to find another job, one that will not challenge my sanity. All I know is that you brought the devil's son in our midst and now we have to battle with nightmares because of his demonic ways. I would have stayed on and taken the defeat but even I have boundaries that cannot be crossed, therefore I refuse for the devil to have me.

Moreover, that crooked cousin has also had you diving and dodging his presence like a thief, and even though you remain stoic, still I am able to peer through to your masked sentiments. Look, it is not like I am purposely attacking your brother for my own benefit or that I am being a petty Penny, though maybe a little bit, because "I told you so" on my part will be a firing statement on yours, and I for one, would not wish to be on the other dark side of unemployment.

I am aware that this memo has gone way past its standard length, therefore I am about to make my final conclusion but before I do, I feel that I may have to apologies for airing out the truth, hoping that you will not take offense and in turn, terminate my contract.

I am also aware that truth hurts, so please, take what I write with a spoonful of sugar, bearing in mind our many years of professionalism and friendship, plus I am also a long-standing member of the Black Tax Association, and like you, there are many of my blood relations depending on me.

Unceremoniously,

One seriously aggrieved member of staff.

 

THE BOY IS MINE

THE BOY IS MINE

That statement has had so many desperate women in a rut. I mean, is the boy really yours, if you have to brawl over him? I would not dare wage war against my fellow woman, unless it is for a good cause. Sure, let us fight over food, water, air for we need these for our survival. We can even battle to defend our family’s honour, for it is justifiable to do so. But not for the love of a philanderer.

I would be caught dead panel-beating another soul because of competition over a womanizer. Why would I? Why should I? What about my self-worth? How about my self-respect? Perhaps we could learn to share, instead of breaking into a catfight over him. Yet, the better option for me would be to allow my rival have him for good. Afterall, how many billion men are left for me to choose from? Hence, I would not stoop so low as to fight over one man, when I have so many other options.

Ladies, listen to this tale as old as time, of how Mary and Sue got over Chris. So, Mary did not know that Sue and Chris were an item, before she got with him. She was happy to date him, oblivious of the fact that Sue had been in the picture long before she appeared on site. Chris wanted both Mary and Sue, thus he ommitted the truth, not wanting both ladies finding out about his infidelity, thereby exposing his dirty little secret.

But when the girls found out through the grapevine that Chris was having his cake and eating it too, they decided to claw each other bloody, in order to secure their love for Chris. Long story short, they both decided Chris was not worth destroying their Brazilian weaves for. Hence, they dumped him in the trash, where they found him, and went off to live fruitful lives.

You see ladies, the moral of the story is, do not get caught up in the rapture of love and loose your precious teeth in the process. Some men are for the streets, so accept it and leave them there. The truth is that you cannot change a player. Instead, surrender him to God and walk on by.

Perhaps I am talking to myself again like I always do, because I know that somewhere beyond the rainbow, there are several confused women who have heard of this tale, yet will fiercely fight for old player Joe’s love, not knowing that Joe is struggling with some insecurity issues since his teenage years, hence his desire tomanipulate and delude the poor lasses.

It is here that I would wish to rest my case and call it a day with dummies who cannot seem to take proper counsel and place value on their selves, yet I am propelled by powerful forces, to direct my counsel instead at all the surviving Casanovas, who specialize in breaking the hearts and minds of naïve women. To all you playboys I say, stop tricking or you will end up dragged into the deepest darkest part of the abyss.

This is my advise to all you perverts who are busy cheating women out of their love, time, and money. There is a special place in hell reserved entirely for all of you, where you will spend the rest of your afterlives paying for your deadly sins. But then again, why should your victims wait that long for their justice?

Maybe you all should receive a dose of karma and a taste of your own medicine, before you descend to Sheol. I will warn you though that when she comes lurking at your door, she bays for blood and shows no mercy. It is an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth with karma. She is bloody cold and does not miss her target. Do you see where I am going with this rant?

But why am I even wasting my precious time bantering with grown folks, when I have things to do and places to go to? In the end, you have one life to live, so do not waste it on people who are not worthy of you. I repeat, do not add value to the wrong people. I rest my case.

THE ORACLE SPEAKS; JESUS IS COMING SOON!

THE ORACLE SPEAKS; JESUS IS COMING SOON!

The oracle speaks of the second-coming of Jesus Christ. You best believe it, because it is fast approaching. Even the devil and his minions highly anticipate the day of His coming, thus tremble because of it. Equally, the scriptures boldly speaks of the return of King of Kings, to take His very elect home, like a thief in the night, and in the twinkling of an eye. So, are you ready for His coming?

The truth is that many are not clear on where they stand, as pertaining to this gospel. Yet, I can truthfully confirm to you all that Jesus Christ, The Messiah, is coming sooner than you wish Him to, at that time the sons of men make a mockery of His name, by purporting to know better than their Creator. Yes, Jesus is coming. Do not worry of His origins, race or skin colour, for it will not matter in the day He takes to the skies, calling forth His chosen ones, dead or alive, and gathering them in His glory train to paradise.

I heard many foolish homosapiens confess that Jesus Christ is not real. Well, the good news is that you will all live to find out of His reality sooner than you think. What you do not seem to know is that the enemy of your souls is a pathological liar, who has for years kept you in the dark, of the truth about his former Master, while he confiscates all the blueprints of bible manuscripts, of which he studies everyday, trying to estimate the time he has left, before the Son of Man wipes him off his existence, and throws his unrepentant self into the lake of fire.

But then that fallen angel also has a copy of your divine destiny at hand, of which he has a plan to steal and exchange it for a hard knock life, by turning you into his false prophet, while awaiting for the day he has set to misguide your ignorant self to join him and share in his demise.

That prince of darkness will convince you that the bible is a myth, shrouded in Jewish mysticism, concocted by Hebrew dreamers and misguided Zionists. He will then raise you to be his foot soldier, in the guise of a science professor, so that you propagate his lies worldwide.

In turn, you will buy into the devil's lies, abandon the wisdom of your fathers, and transform inevitably into a confused Neanderthal, using the Creator’s science and His earthly elements, to argue of His nonexistence. You too will eventually become a liar just like your master, spinning webs of metaphysical illusions, designed to push innocent souls further down the matrix.

Your master will surely reward you with a new identity, to match your new found purpose. You will henceforth be known as the Professor of all things science, bearing all extrapolating evidence that God and science are concepts that are mutually inexclusive.

You Professor, will try and tamper with our sanity, by claiming that nothing we see in the physical is real, and that our reality is a figment of our imagination. Professor, you are a stiff-necked fool! You really do need to be rushed quickly, fast, and in a hurry to the sanitarium, with a straitjacket and a cannibal mask, if only to restrain your impending madness.

But this here is the kicker, I tell you Professor. Your master will then summon his enlightened ones to crown you as a science god, and confer you with various accolades, for your scientific ingenuity, that supposedly led to the advancement of the big bang fairy tale, which claims to have brought forth all of the earth’s elements into existence, even though you Professor, cannot quite trace nor explain to men from whence the big bang narrative originated from.

Needless to say, according to your enlightened mind, the big bang story is real but God Almighty is not. Eh, someone please hold down me before I catch a case and transform into the hulk, to deal with this confusion. But before I do, I have two solid questions for you Professor. Firstly, who created the bang? Secondly, who heard the sound of the bang? That is all I want to know.

This is where I tell beguiled souls that wisdom and intelligence are two very different concepts, in that the former is divinely bestowed, while the latter is skilfully acquired, and both are important for a balanced mind frame. Yet, when wisdom lacks in an intelligent mind, a person becomes skewed and imbalanced in their perception, as though they are borderline kolomental.

Yes, I know you are very clever Professor, the way you flipped the script on me, called me uneducated, labelled me a bible thumper, and dismissed me as a fanatic. Well, maybe I am a zealot but one thing I do know is that the truth is at times stranger than fiction.

That is why I may seem like a loon, talking about the second coming of the Messiah, to many derailed souls today, who you, the Professor of all things science, has conditioned especially the youngsters to categorize our Lord and Saviour, as one of those characters in the DC Comics or the Marvel Universe.

This is where the revelation of Jesus Christ is important to you and I. God is Omniscient. That means, nothing is hidden in Him and in Him resides all Wisdom. The Professor may sanctimoniously cloak his motives, while he brazenly ask me, “Why do you not recognize nor worship the gods of your ancestors but instead, worship a foreign god?”

Well, Prof, I was not lucky enough to learn from my forefathers, as they had passed on before I came into this world. Secondly, I do not know of another God apart from the one who was taught to me by my teachers, one who revealed himself to me, the Man, Christ the King. Thirdly, is not everything created by God Almighty?

So, all you woke people, awake to this message; this is the true gospel people, a double-edged sword that is fiery and cut-throat. Jesus is coming soon. Therefore, if you are on the right side of truth, it will bless you but sting you if you are on the wrong side of it.

My advise for you all is do not be offended by the truth, rather embrace and live by it. Therefore, do not shoot me Professor, for I am just a messenger. But incase you become impulsive and attempt to direct your anger at me, then you will have my Master to contend with.  

 

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD FROM THE AFRO-UNIVERSE

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD FROM THE AFRO-UNIVERSE

If the little red riding hood was an Afrocentric girl living in a parallel afro-universe mirroring her Caucasian counterpart, born and bred under the African sun, I tell you that she would not only be a skilled hunter-gatherer but also a skilled warrior, turning big bad wolves into chicken stew. Perhaps, her name would translate from the little red riding hood to Young Black Beauty Blue, because of how Nubian her physical features would be. But let us not loose sight of the unfolding story.

Little red would not take kindly to anthropomorphic animals impersonating her relatives. Like I told you many times before, Africans do not believe in ghosts, fairies or talking animals. Once we encounter the above mentioned, we either fall in formation for a spiritual battle, or we take the most primal action and run for the hills.

Anyhow, Little Red from the Afro-universe will not cower in the face of a lycan pretending to be her grandmother. Once she smells his shape-shifting odour, she will strike that werewolf in a swoop, engage him in a galactic combat, skin his mane, and fry him for lunch or dinner, depending on the angle of the African sun.

Speaking of which, Little Red’s grandmother from the afro-universe would be one sharp magician, with the ability to call rain from a shrub. Trust me, that wolf would not dare enter granny’s house, cross-dress in her night gown, and jump in her sacred bed. What? Oh, no! Nana would have already seen Wolfie approaching, and magically disorganized his trail of thought, and have him chase after butterflies and rainbows instead.

I believe that this is how the folklore of the Little Red Riding Hood would have played out in the afro-universe. Are you ready for this explosive re-make? But before I give you the sweet tea, here is a fun fact for you all to embrace. Young Black Beauty Blue would be named so, on account of her brazen skin that developed a blue shimmer whenever she stood under the rays of the golden sun.

Once upon a time, centuries ago when pre-colonial Africa was densely canopied under the equatorial rain forest, one Young Black Beauty Blue rushed past the village kraals and into the dense forest to save her grandmother from a ritual sacrifice by a pack of blood-thirsty shape-shifting lycans. Armed to the teeth with; a bow and a quiver full of poisoned arrows strapped to her back, clutching on to a spear and shield, with a dagger firmly held on to her hide skirt, Young Black Beauty Blue was determined to save her beloved Nana Buku.

She sped off towards the next village, where her Nana resided, with her brothers in tow, racing past her to beat time against those flesh-eating direwolves. Visions of her Nana Buku in danger made her mad dash, feeling extremely fierce, and ready to battle the coterie of sinister intruders.

Meanwhile, that babaric lichen, leader of the treacherous pack of latrans, was baying for Nana Buku's blood, desperately wanting to fuse his soul with hers, in order to siphon all her magic powers for his own. So, he crept into her kraal and took her her a hostage, awaiting for the other lycanthropes to join him in the ceremony, during the fool moon.

As soon as Young Black Beauty Blue and her brothers reached the bed of the sacred river, than a pack of lycos appeared to stop them. The beasts outnumbered the siblings, and proceeded to holler magic spells on the teenagers, in order to weaken their powers.

The hollering of the wolves was so loud that their ears spotted blood, as they became deaf to any form of sound. Nonetheless, Young Black Beauty Blue was not about to give up the fight. Despite of the ringing pain in her head, she let out a loud war cry that summoned the gods forth in to battle.

Papa Sango, the most powerful of the gods appeared in the flesh as a crouching tiger, accompanied by a multitude of ancestral spirits and deities, to rescue the wounded warriors. The werewolves went to war with the ancestors but they were no match for the legends, therefore were all slayed, their carcasses dumped in the sacred river and swept adrift.

Then the shamans and warlocks appeared to minister healing on to the teenagers. But there was no time to waste, for Nana Buku was still in danger. All the forces, both visible and invisible crossed the sacred river on to the next village, where Nana Buku was held captive. When the lichen perceived the invisible army approaching his vicinity, he attempted to swallow Nana Buku alive but before he could, the ancestors took hold of him, tied a rope to his neck, set him ablaze, and sacrificed him to their gods.

I warned you people before that this bright red fairytale turns cold blue, takes a left overturn, and mutates into a folklore, soon as it hits the afro-sphere, for there are too many cultural laws, set traditions, hard-core beliefs, as well as invisible forces to contend within the afro-verse.

In the afro-universe, things are normally not that complicated, except for spirituality, and then it is survival for the fittest. That is the law of our African jungles, which are now practically touristic theme parks, ever since independence. Hence, I highly doubt that Young Black Beauty Blue, together with our ancestors will be able to find their way home in the heavily built concrete jungles of Africa. Perhaps time travel into afro-universe will do for them, should they wish to visit home.

 

 

 

FOR THE LOVE OF CARTOON!

 

FOR THE LOVE OF CARTOON!

Grim and Evil, are two masters of evil, attempting to cause chaos and disorder in my world. For the love of cartoon! That Jamaican accent is a bust Mr. Reaper. Therefore, either snooze it or loose it skull face! You too Cancarne! Your ridonculous body does not match your evil mind. You two are like Tom and Jerry, those mute frenemies who are always chasing, and always on the run.

Well, so you both think that my life is like the Grim adventures of Billy and Mandy? Am I Minnie Mouse? Do you compare me to Casper, your friendly ghost? Do not think for a minute that you can Dick Dastardly your way into my life, and I in turn will Penelope Pitstop myself into your Wacky Races. I think not!

Do not play with me or I will Power Puff your Flying Machine into the middle of nowhere, and have that Pigeon summon Freaky Fred, to shave your corrupt heads, for being so naughty. So bothered, you will have Johnny Bravo call his mama Bunny and that quirky Carl to conjure up Megamind, in order to save you Muppets from this Metrocity.

Never mistake me for Courage the Cowardly dog, for I am Shera, He-man’s twin sister, and by the power of grey skies, I will call on the Code Name Kids Next Door to drive you two Looney Tunes out of Townsville and into Gotham, where you belong. I wish you Grim luck when dealing with the Batman, you Joker. You too Carncane, for Robin is in the Hood.

What do you take me for? Do I resemble the Simpsons? No sir, I am from the Boondocks. I am a dark breed of the Addams Family, call me Wednesday you Anamaniacs! I am warning you two Yogi Bears, do not aggravate my inner Angela Anaconda to transform me into Optimus Prime, and Megatron your Decepticon selves into Droopy and Dripple.

Oh, yes! I am that Karate Girl, trained in mortal combat like the Kung Fu Panda or better yet, Hong Kong Fui. I am more lethal than Samurai Jack, and yet cool as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, you Cow and Chicken! That is right! Just ask the Roadrunner how I Pink Panthered that Wile Coyote and acmed that Tasmanian devil into smithereens.

Want to know how I became a Power Puff Girl? I went in to the Dexter’s Laboratory, Blossomed my way with the help from Professor Utonium, who accidentally added chemical X into my already sweet concoction. Alas! My sister squad Bubbles and Buttercup were born. So, the Mayor called in Inspector Gadget, to request Victor and Hugo to escort us to Townsville, via the Mystery Machine, together with Shaggy and Scooby, driving us faster than Sonic the Hedgehog.

Yes, some say that I am more of a Popeye’s girl, somewhat more pure than Olive Oyl. I am tall and slim with my bohemian braids that make all the handsome gentlemen brawl over me. But when the spinach power comes to play, then it is the Sailor Man wins my heart and saves the day.

Even Wilma knows she has nothing on this beautiful Betty of Bedrock, just ask Fred Flinstones and Bunny Rubble too. None of these broads can outwit my Pinky and Brain, even if Sylvester and Tweety should pair up with that clever old Granny, to solve this old age mystery. Well, I thought I saw a pussycat!

So, if you Rug Rats think you can I Am Weasel into my life and Smurf me into a Shrek, then I will be forced to Rin Tintin on the Jetsons to send those space Minions my way, in order to find me an escape route to Hotel Transylvania. Afterall, I am the most infectual Top Cat but you can call me TC. I am the leader of the gang, with Chuch, Benny, and Brain as my best pals, always disturbing the peace, and playing cat and mouse with Officer Dibble.

Sometimes, I am that sunny-yellow Sponge Bob, who lives in a pineapple under the sea. My cashmaniac boss, Mr. Crabs can validate how my tasty krabby patties pull customers to the Krusty Krab. But that bourgeois wanna-be hater Squidward thinks that I am lame, yet he cannot play that stupid clarinet thorough enough, to save his melancholic Tentacles. Lucky for me, I am privileged to have Patrick and Sandy Sue on my corner, incase Plankton decides to concoct another one of his evil plans, to steal the magic krabby patty formula.

Nevertheless, I always Duck Dodger my way out of many an awkward Looney Tunes moment. For example, just like the cuckoo Penguins from Madagascar, those crazy Ed boys creep me out, especially with their foolish antics and their strange love for Jawbreakers. Let us face it, Eddy is wired, Edd is ingenious, and Ed is slow. How do these three Edwards manage to keep such a strange friendship? It is no wonder why Kevin and his gang cannot stand them.

Then in comes that odd couple, Eustace and Muriel, who happen to live in the middle of nowhere, a deserted town, together with their cowardly dog named Courage. Seriously, can someone please call the Ghostbusters, for there is something strange in that neighbourhood? There are creepy abnormal happenings everyday in the middle of nowhere, and Courage is the only one bold enough to fight the dark entities all by his lonesome. Poor dog.

Speaking of dogs, wake up Muttley, you are dreaming again! That snickering hound sure loves him some sleep. Nonetheless, tell him to stop giggling, for his master that Dick hates it. Also, let him know that the Flying Machines are about to hit the airwaves, thus he should join both Zilly and Clunk on their mundane mission to stop that pigeon.

Finally, we solve this Scooby Doo mystery. Where is Freddy, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby, to catch those mask-wearing villains of Crystal Cove? Jinkies!

That's All Folks!