MAWGA GOODMORNING HOW YOU AND BUSY DOING?
No gal r boy no pack me bag fi me I do it my own dam self big up me clean n nice 2bed room flat me no bounce bout nah mek nobody mek me uncomfortable in a england cause the queen mek sure it possible 4 me and my 2kids to be happy so I think u should try n do the same me too happy right now fi fight bish the cloth too nice in d shop dem n me need to wear dem a me sey out n bad 4 summer yea nah look.com dat me seh
WTF AFRICA- FATHER INA SON PUDDU
Wife Catches Husband With Son’s Wife on a Farm
People in Muzarabani under Chief Hwata in Warambwa village were left tongue tied when a woman caught her husband being intimate with his son’s wife in a field on Tuesday last week.
The father was apparently having one hell of a ‘Field Day’ people have said! Promise Chapwanya was caught doing the father-in-law duties but not in the normal way, he was bonking Tendai Mugariri his daughter-in-law from the rear, the so-called doggy-style, while they were in the fields.
The two were taken to Sabhuku (headman) Alexio Mhasvi for the customary law court to answer for their misdeeds as it is taboo. Promise was caught by his wife Abigail Gumbo, who tracked them to the fields after seeing that the two were getting too close for comfort for a relationship between a father-in-law and a daughter-in-law. She is said to have hatched a plan after she suspected that something was happening between the two. Tendai was said to be wearing shorts that were too revealing in front of her father-in-law, raising her mother-in-law’s suspicion.
Sabhuku Alexio also confirmed that Abigail was also suspicious because the two always went to the garden and fields together. On the fateful day Abigail is said to have followed the two from a distance and caught them in the middle of the juicy act and doing the doggy style in the fields. H-Metro caught up with Promise at his home but he ran away before he said anything; he went behind his house and vanished into the bush.
Probably the SAME bush that protected him as he enjoyed the fruits of his son’s courtship skills as he ‘did’ his daughter-in-law. Promise’s lovebird Tendai said, “Zvamakanzwa ndizvozvo but I cannot say anything about that issue (What you heard is true but I cannot say anything about the issue).” Abigail the mother in-law said, “Nyaya iyoyo ine makuva pasi and handisati ndaona zvakadaro. (That story is deadly, but I have never seen anything like that).”
But she could not be drawn to saying much as she was afraid of her husband as she kept saying, “You should talk to my husband. After all he is the HEAD of the house.” Apparently he was giving more HEAD than he was expected to . . . giving his ‘services’ even to the daughters-in-law! Abigail also wanted to say much but she just said; “the matter is under chief Hwata tomorrow”, (Yesterday), “so I cannot say more and if you want more details you can come and listen to the story yourselves at the chiefs court tomorrow.”
However Abigail wanted to tell H-Metro more details and she said, “Let’s meet somewhere not here since ndingazomuka ndakafa zvikazivikanwa kuti ndakuudzai zvimwe (I might end up dead if it’s found out that I gave you more details).” She later changed her mind and did not turn up at the rendezvous, fearing for her life from her husband Promise. Simbarashe, Tendai’s husband and the man whose wife was playing hide-the-sausage with his father could only just shake his head and refused to comment on the issue.
He professed to be devastated. Tendai’s hesitation at the house was so tense that the four seemed not to be in talking terms as witnessed by H-Metro when Abigail refused to call Tendai so that she could be interviewed, Abigail kept saying, “Vadaidzei mega ambuya vangu (call my mother-in-law yourselves),” lamenting that she was now the muroora and not Tendai.
Village head Alexio Mhasvi said, “At my level I handle such cases but later refer them to the Chief.” Village head Mhasvi also said when they were at his court, Promise and Tendai denied that they were caught having sex in the bush, but that she was merely fabricating the whole story. The denial was short-lived as Promise’s brother is said to have also stood up and testified that he caught the two having sex in bush behind a baobab tree.
HIGHWAY TO DANGER-GOODMORNING
by Ron Carlson
“Hey, buddy, over here,” I heard a voice whisper from the shadows.
“How much?” I asked.
“How much you got?” the man in the black ski mask responded.
“Fifty bucks,” I said, unwilling to disclose the real count.
“Okay,” he told me, “that will get you two sets.”
“Two sets!” I exclaimed, “That’s outrageous!”
“Maybe so,” he calmly muttered, “take it or leave it.”
“They’re only $13.95 a box inside,” I protested, pointing to the Sam’s entrance across the parking lot.
“Then go get ‘em there,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You know I can’t do that,” I told him, hoping to evoke sympathy and a reduced bid. “I don’t have a prescription.”
“Tough luck, buddy. Take it or leave it.”
I gave him the money. He gave me the contact lenses. We parted. No one got hurt.
I balk at supporting the shady underground economy and enabling con artists who prey on the weak-minded and shortsighted. But what’s an optically challenged guy like me to do when our appointment is still two weeks away? I gotta’ see. And that makes me vulnerable to exploitation by the criminal element of society.
I’m already under suspicion at the local Sam’s Warehouse for trying to purchase Bausch &Lomb’s without a prescription. They have my mug shot on a bulletin board near the lasagna freezer. I’ve got to be careful. Big Brother Walton is watching.
But it’s really not my fault. I’m as innocent as any guilty person. Blame the State Legislators. They are the ones who make it a felony to be in possession of contact lenses after one year from your last examination. They are the ones who have driven normally law-abiding citizens like myself to the streets in search of illegal contraband.
We live in a really big state with gargantuan and really big issues like immigration, school finance, water shortages, urban sprawl, stinky air, Nicole Smith, and Yankees from up north picking Bluebonnets, and how do our elected officials respond? They draft laws making sure no one can buy contact lenses without a yearly check-up.
I bet Tom Delay is somehow behind it all. His brother-in-law is probably an optometrist.
I know I sound judgmental, but I’m upset. And not just for me, but also for all the myopic people of the state, from Brownsville to Lubbock, from Texarkana to El Paso, for all the four-eyed people who have escaped the tyranny of glasses and found consolation in contacts. We’ve been reduced to common criminals.
All you 20-20 folks, smug in your refractions, don’t understand the magnitude of our problem. There are none so blind as those who refuse to see.
But look at it from our perspective.
Once a year, every year, we have to take a day off from life and get an eye exam. Even with a coupon, it runs about $1800.00 (sarcasm), if you get the double drops and computer read-out. Fortunately, they take plastic.
Fortunately, I have insurance, which pays the first $18.
Fortunately, I live in a state where the elected representatives care about my health.
“Why is it,” I asked the pleasant young assistant about ready to finish her third year of high school, “that it’s so important I get an annual exam?”
“No talking during the exam,” she responded while pressing her index finger to her lips. “It could affect your test scores.”
“What then?” I asked, fearful I might fail.
“No contacts!”
“Really?”
“Yep, that’s right, four-eyes,” she smiled. “You want to go back to glasses?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then be quiet and squint.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The doctor eventually strolled in to give his Good Housekeeping approval. He examined the exam. He shook his head back and forth. He motioned to his bodyguard to come near. He showed her the picture of the back of my undressed eyeball. I felt violated.
“Highway to the Danger Zone,” he laughed
She laughed on cue, as good assistants often do.
“Excuse me…” I interrupted.
“You have rogue blood vessels marching toward your cornea,” he explained in militant terms.
“What does that mean?” I inquired, ever the pragmatist.
“If you wear your contacts twenty-four hours a day for the next sixty years, you’ll go blind.”
“So what should I do?”
“Exercise, eat right, get plenty of rest, and stop sinning.”
“Anything else?”
“Make your annual appointment before you leave.”
Well, I’ve got news for him. I ain’t going back. I can get a counterfeit prescription on the street for less than the cost of a State Inspection sticker.
It’s a matter of principle.
I hate being victimized by goofy rules. It violates my sense of common sense. It retards my pursuit of freedom.
Now I understand regulations governing codeine-laced pain pills. But contact lenses? What are they thinking in Austin? Do they envision sixteen year olds sneaking out behind the woodshed and smoking contacts? Might we become addicted to seeing straight? And see through their hocus-pocus?
I hate silly rules, especially when they are imposed upon me by folks ill equipped to pass legislation or judgment.
I guess that’s why I hate legalism. I hate silly rules and the silly doctors of regulation who seek to enforce them. It’s a Highway to the Danger Zone.
Leave me alone. Take your nonsense somewhere else. Go play doctor of law with someone who doesn’t know better. Those of us who know Jesus, know better, and it’s one of the main reasons we adore our Liberator. He came to set us free from goofy regulations imposed by goofy little-fallen-power-hungry-people.
Thank you, Lord, for grace, pure, simple, and free
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