WBS Sucketh, NTV Rocketh

Nga why doesn't this new kid 'pon da block, NTV, give us an Al-Jazeera relay? Nga why don't we get to see stuff as it happens, in the sexiest (read `hottest') region under the sun, the Middle East?

Nga why don't they put stuff like `Arrested Development' (no, me no like -- too American) and `Still Standing' (also too American, but I can stand it), and other hot stuff, like proffesionally-made news features? Well, frig WBS, and their Gandee-fixations, with crap like Omubala, that I couldn't use to scratch my itchin' butt.

Nga why don't they put stuff like CSI: Miami, Grid, and stuff. Quite un-bad.

Go, NTV, go! I even got to see Saddam's hanging -- I mean the trapdoor flying loose! Shite! (Read that again -- it's not shi'ite.)
They put neater movies, too! Woo! I won't always watch -- I'll rarely watch, but 'tis good to have somewhere to go when I want to.

Saddam's Noose Gets Broken. Inside Job Suspected.

(See update at bottom)

Yeah. Saddam was hanged by the neck, 'til he died.

You see, ...

Whoever sheds the blood of man,
by man shall his blood be shed;
for in the image of God
has God made man.

[Genesis 9:6, (emphasis mine)]

But the problem is that we can never be so sure that anybody is guilty of anything. I support the death penalty big time -- because if someone thinks anybody can die by his/her hand, he/she should be ready to die by another's hand. Anybody who knowingly causes death should be killed, no questions asked.
But what if Saddam had some sycophant who was actually in charge of the killings he has been hanged for? That's the curse of human justice -- it can't ever be sure. Still, let's move on with it. I mean, frig, but he's just one of the 40-something Iraqis who have died today (already -- ED). And he wasn't the first, neither the last -- you've got to give it up for terrorists who blow themselves up before 6:00 in the morning!

On the day the LORD gives you relief from suffering and turmoil and cruel bondage, you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon:
How the oppressor has come to an end!
How his fury has ended!
...
They will all respond,
they will say to you,
"You also have become weak, as we are;
you have become like us."

All your pomp has been brought down to the grave,
along with the noise of your harps;
maggots are spread out beneath you
and worms cover you.

[Isaiah 14:3, 4, 10, 11, (emphasis mine)]

Me, I'm alive. Thank Jah. The revolution goes on, over here.

UPDATE [31st, December, 1330h]:

I have just seen a video on Al-Jazeera, of Saddam actually falling through the trap door. They were trying to be good, so they censored major parts of it, but you see and hear much -- `La illaha il Allah, Muhammadan rasoul Allah', the Shahadah. Frig. And then somebody shouts `The tyrant is dead!', after some guys have chanted the name of the Shia leader, `Moqtada, Moqtada, Moqtada!'. And some guy says `Give it three minutes ... no, no, don't push!'
See the last quote before the update, and you'll marvel at how prophetic this is!

Frig! I have given up hunting for the vid on the net (YouTube sucks, for the first time -- at least I'm not looking for Bob Marley vids), but here are some links to guide the crude amongst us: MemphisRap and WBOC.
I'll keep looking.

Defaced `Nkuuka' Posters

I have noticed an interesting trend, over here in Entebbe. It must be the same all over the place. The posters for CBS' end-of-year bash, `Enkuuka ya CBS', all have some particular part defaced -- the smiling face of the chic who sang Tinda tiine. Of course, some guy is taking them to some voodoo doc, to say `make her mine, and I'll give you ...'. That's her punishment for having such over-poweringly pretty eyes. I mean, I don't like falling for chics. (Much less guys, so breathe easy.) But she really is terrifyingly cute. I'm going to pick one, myself. One look at her eyes, and ... I should hunt for that poster on the web. A digital one, I mean. One that is not yet defaced.

Who invented the ingenious move? Some Einsteins actually die un-recognised, in a swamp of blood, as their boda-boda drags them to the invisible finish line.

Oh, and one had the Bebe Cool part defaced, as well. Some perv, I guess.

Evil Holiday Break. Or Why Jesus Should Have Stuck in Heaven

Frig this.

Because it's Christmas, there is no cheap food around. So I'm forced to count the money I spend, and hence be (or, at least, feel like) a falla. These taxi idjits have also added a coin to the fare (which coin for which distance, I can't predict; there's a formula they seem to follow that still beats me).

And I an' I got my very own Worst Idea! Gotta go. I'm in a café, and I can't take my pleasure with the Net. And my RSS/Atom feeds are back in the office, so I can't check out the blogs. Frig. And, Kenyan Cat, your blog feed is broken -- it has an XML error, kinda. Does anybody else load the feed? I get it via Firefox.

And Then, Frig This

Okay, so we've arrived there: violence over land. Well, frig this.

If my article on tribes doesn't make it to the papers by next working day, I'll put the bugger up here.
Yep, I write in the Evil paper. But under a pseudonym, of course.

Also, I have heard quite some noise about the fact that there is cholera prowling the wetter corners of Kampala. Well, frig, maybe we are a whole population of American Presidents? Ho ho ho ho! (Search for "cholera" on those pages — Ctrl + F on Firefox).

Neat Slum, Anyone?

Okay, so that time has like arrived, yeah? I have to move outta zeeyi's. Frig. Ma is against, naturally. Mum. But, naturally, I drift towards the birds with whom I share a feather.

So, who can point me to a neat slum? Shouldn't be too hard. You friggers have been there, done that, got the t-shirt, even got arrested. So, any pointers? A few things though:

1. I don't want to swim out to work.
2. No voodoo-practising neighbourhoods. It's one thing to see the creepy crap on Nigerian home videos, and then a whole new universe to have one of them friggers offering lessons. It's not the voodoo that I don't like. It is the people.
   
3. Cute (read "fat") chics close by. I don't want our demographics to be such a prestigious record, yet one I have never contributed to, even when I could.

Still, anything to stay out of those fights in the taxi park. It's weird. Working in K'la, and having to be forced to become a firm believer in God twice every friggin' day, seated behind the drunk daring of a qhat-chewing taxi driver ... Stuff like that gets to your head, after a while. I mean, by now God knows I actually mean `Let me get out of this with only burns on the arms, and I'll be yours for the next five minutes'. [This writer stopped asking for too much from God, hence the `only burns on the arms', and not `unhurt'. -- ED]

And having to watch all those dogs get mashed ... I mean, Hajj Segujja (aparently that's yesterday's driver's name) slowed down to let the dog get within range! I mean, frig! The look on his face (drool, happy drool, streaking to his neck, he's caught up in the ecstasy of running a puppy over), then the look on the puppy's face -- frig, Jah, this is friggin' it -- the sudden attempt to turn back, the realisation that 25 in dog years is old enough, the surrender, the brave, unflinching impact with the wheels, the sudden fall, the quick, short yelp -- frig! Yeow! -- then, the look on Mama Dog's face -- that frigger kicked hard on the way out, bruised me mortally, and now ... -- and the heavy silence in the taxi. Then the humming that builds up into excitement, into smiles, into grins, into howled praises for Hajj, into ... frig, I'm surrounded by Nigerians!
I just decided I had had enough of that.

I have even added a line of support (at the bottom, in the Activism section) a line in solidarity with all my fallen four-legged comrades. This can't go on. Dogs of the World, Unite!

And, besides, I am quite sick of having to take Kung-fu lessons there. It's funny how people actually fight for their place among the chosen 14 (or 18, depending on how healthy our National Anarchy Index has been at the time). I mean, frig, I will get a taxi! Kyokka!

Anyway, help a bredren out.

Comin' In From the Cold

Ah, frig. Laid out my blog the way I want it (almost), and now I can begin inviting people over. Well, a person, at least.

I have a feed directory for Ugandan blogs. I've added myself, just to be fair.
Ah, frig. This feels ... usual.

I won't be too regular - I have a friggin' job. Maybe I mean `frequent', actually.

Salutations, Comrades!

Give I the Motherland or Give I Death!

On, gallant Revolutionaries, on!
Towards a Bright Revolution!

It's not always you get to run such a fierce sanity test.

Okay, so I'll be squealing propaganda via here, and moving to my own space, when I have finished coding my own blog. I'm not on PHP, as of now, so it will take a while.
And, my boss should never find out about this. You know ...
"Communi ... that's why we are making all these friggin' losses? All along?"