Saturday, May 21, 2011

If you're reading this, you missed your flight...Sinner!!

And now presenting guest blogger Flow Kadenge. Please petition his lazy ass to resurrect his blog.

*Steps off podium*

Thank you,


I'm sure a lot of you spent the days before The Rapture refreshing yourselves in your long-lost ways of Holiness. Praying in meek tones in your head, wondering if it's too late already, but nonetheless praying with verve because, if it means escape from damnation in the Eternal Oven, to be a latrine digger in forever mode in the Great Happy Sky, you say 'Give me the shovel.' A lot of you were being extra decent, when often time rudeness applied. I wonder how many kids got spectacular phone calls from grave-voiced strangers saying, "Hello, I'm your father..." And truant kids doing the same to parents who cursed them a long time ago.

 To his detriment this US Pastor, Harold Camping, with the mythical formula based on decades of decoding Scripture, timed his event to coincide with Saturday. Meaning some of y'all will immediately enforce the Backsliding Option and engage in some serious Post-Rapture day sinning in the name of celebrating. Way to go Pastor Guy. Generate more vice in the name of religion. Meanwhile the Muslims, the Buddhists, those kooky individuals who pray to a VCR tape of Men In Black, believing there are tiny, tiny aliens with mythical powers living within... all of them are all collectively laughing at us Hosana types.

And what's with y'all? In 1995 Busta Rhymes proclaimed on his first solo album The Coming, "There's Only Five Years Left!"And you all laughed and said, "That Busta guy, with his wild videos and dreads, such a nutcase... But then some white dude you've never heard of thumps The Bible forcefully and says the world is ending, all of a sudden the Terminator confesses to having grown-ass love children, 50 Cent makes music with Jadakiss, Bin Laden gets his boots smoked while watching porn eating a roast pork sandwich, a Jazz bassist chic no one knows wins best album at the Grammys ahead of Kanye and that Gaga (man)chic, Ugandans grow balls and defy their master, Arabs start kicking dictator ass all over the place, the Lakers and the Celtics both get lumped up badly, no one riots because Manchester United wins.... all kinds of weird stuff, all at once.

Some of you were pro-active in other ways. Planning what you'd carry in your Rapture escape bags: tambourines, copies of the Psalms of David and holy water, warm tuskers and cold muturas, dvds of Grey's Anatomy and even weed. Some were scripting lines with which they would try to bag the foxy heavenly angels and make hybrid babies, I mean twitter has been boring for about a week with this rapture buzz.

Most of all, I feel for those who took this thing seriously enough to get rid of all their worldly possessions, even after it was reported that the Rapture Pastor Guy was still accepting donations on his website. To spend it where exactly? Excuse me, no version of the Bible I've come across describes anything like a mall, or a marketplace, or seedy dens where Players and Ballers of note can congregate and make it rain... only milk and honey and lambs frolicking in the meadow with lions, playing brikisho and shake and other utopian visions. That Pastor must be reading from the International Hedge Fund Version. It has the Book of the Pharisees in it that was previously lost in antiquity. Other versions have The Chronicles of Bernie Madoff. That's right, the one locked up is a re-incarnation.

I imagine the congregations in the churches that told their believers to sell everything off and bring money to them to give to The Lord are going to have some awkward sermons come Sunday after the rapture.  First order of business being for the Pastor to tell his flock how he missed the Train to Heaven, I mean he's holy, right? And secondly, what's good with all the cash? We see that fresh new gray suit you got on, nice cufflinks and imitation Movado watch, Preacher Man.

Stiff silence....

"Reo mmepata kuona guvu ya Baba Yetu. Lapcha ilisemekana inakuja. Rakini hakuna Lapcha inakuja, hio yoooote irikuwa ni mithani, kama ire ya sekondi taam, inaitangwo Mocko."

Crickets......

"Simnajua mocko egzamu, ire inafanyangwo kabra ya mutihani yenyewe ujitayalishe uweze kujua uwezo utakaokuwa nao kwa mtihani.... hata hii lapcha ya jana irikuwa ni mtihani.... Halleluyah!"

Grumbles in the pews....

Pastor wipes shiny forehead with crisp new Ferragamo kerchief.

"Si hata Avrahamu aripewa mocko, ariambiwa apereke mtoto kwa murima amshinje. Na akafunga thafare akaenda huko....huko eeeh, kwa ure mrima... nimesahau, rakini ni mrima kubwa saaana. Na hata hakuvaa jacket. Yah. Sasa huko, kufika akaambiwo "Wee hi ni mocko egzamu, usishije mtoto weee.'" Akaambiwo ashije mburi. Lakini Avahamu arikuwa mjamaa wa guvu. Arinyoga buffaro tatu na kamba moja."

Congregation stirs.

"Pastor lakini wacha mezesha, ganji ziko wapi, niliuza tv and vyombo bwana, watoto wakona njaa, wanataka lunch leo na kuona Flapjack..." Hii mocko hatuelewi."

"Sasa ware wanasema waludishiwe thenti zao, warizopeana loho safi ju dunia irikuwa inaisha kwa sababu ya lapcha, hiyo irikuwa ni Mocko egzam fee.... na kama mmnajua mocko exam fizuli mnajua hapo hakupeangwii lefund yoyote. Either upite ama ukule mawe.... Hata Avrahamu alilipishwa fee, ariambiwo ashinje mburi..."

Commotion knocks the camera to the ground. All we see are shuffling feet and hear all kinds of ruckus going on.


At this point, we press FFWD>> on the movie to  a news bulletin, where a slim lady reports:

"Worshippers at the Glorified Ebenezer African Inland Light Tabernacle of the Holy Ark of David have crucified their Pastor, his wife and two deacons after the fallout arising from today's announced Rapture that failed to materialize. Worshippers claim they were ordered under oath to sell all of their worldy possessions months ago, in readiness for the Rapture and bring forward all money to the Pastor. The Pastor, it is claimed, declared while hanging from an electric pole that he will resurrect within three months..."


Don't ask me why I made the Pastor kuyo. Forward all comments about that to 2braincells@flowkadengebrain.com.

The moral of the story is you'll be here till you aren't. Even Busta Rhymes can't call it, and he can fit the entire Bible into 16 bars. Now, let me know where all the Post-Rapture shindigs are at. Back to you Emy.


*Steps off Podium*

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

what's in a name?

     I'm Emily. Wanza. Sammy. Grew up as Emma though. I changed my name to Emily Wanza on my baptismal day. Why?? Because my granny is called Emma Wanza, I don't want to be my granny! Reasons well known by me. But changing it to Emily didn't change anything, people in ushago still ask "huyu ndio Emma?" I am me! I am not my granny!
  Last month I went to apply for a new Identity Card. I lost the first one and it's took ages to be replaced. so I thought applying for a new one may get me one faster. Carried my result slips, birth certificate, school certificates basically every doc I have..and Yes, my dad's ID. I found a lady; she was nice, initially.
While filling the form, she asked me for my full names and I blurted out "Emily Wanza Sammy!" she looked at me and ask that one question I hate,
Her,  "are you white?"
Yes, thanks to the 3rd name, people ask me that a lot. Then she followed it up with the statement I've heard a lot.
her, "wakamba mnapenda kujiita majina ya baba zenu za kizungu sana."
I really needed the ID so I chose to act cool.  She wrote down "Emilly Wanza Samy."

Me, "it's singe L for Emily and double M for Sammy."
She gave me that -you-think-you-smart-huh?- look, took another form and wrote the correct name. Then she asked for my dad or husband's  ID, you know, to fill in the locations and stuff, what she did made me freeze, literally. pushed the forms away and removed her glasses.
 Her, "msichana unaniona mimi mjinga?"
Me, "why"
Her, "Samuel Musyoki ni nani?"
Me, now puzzled, "that's my dad."
Her, "Sammy ni nani?"
Me, "that's my dad...."
Her, "Samuel and Sammy can't be the same person."
Me, "I can explain.."
Her," No, i don't want your explanation."
Me, "so, what do you want me to do?"
Her, "go bring me Sammy's ID. Your father's"

Yep, my dreams of getting a new ID shattered. Guess I'll have to wait for the replacement. When I applied for an ID in 2005, they never really asked questions.

You are probably wondering why I use Sammy and not Samuel, or why I don't use Musyoki. After my mum gave birth to me, when filling out the certificate she wrote my name as Wanza Sammy. She knew my dad as Sammy. Musyoki is my granddad, I can't use my granddad's name. What's my dad's Kamba's name??? DON'T ASK!

Another thing, my boss writes may name as Wanja, my neighbors call me Wanja, our drivers call me Wanja, guess I'll never know why.

Every Certificate i have carries the name Sammy as the surname..will I ever need to submit my dad's ID for anything in the future?? NO?? Guess that woman can go suck whatever!


Me, "mum, how did it not occur to you that Sammy was a nickname when you applied for my birth certificate?"
 Her, "I was confused."
Me, "but the rest (siblings) carry the same name, Sammy. were you still confused when you gave birth to them?
Her *chuckles* "how would you feel if the rest carried the name Samuel while yours was Sammy?"
 Me, "I'd think I was adopted."
Her, "exactly!"
 Me, "so, if dad's name was Moses, would you have written my name as Wanza Mose?"
Her, "don't push it!"

I love my mum. LOL

Sunday, May 15, 2011

So, really?????




I wanna be rich and I want lots of money,
I don't care about clever I don't care about funny,
I want loads of clothes and fuck-loads of diamonds,
I heard people die while they're trying to find them, ~Lily Allen

 I've always wanted the best things in life. The best shoes, the best clothes, the best accessories, the best house, the best kids, the best family, basically I want the best of everything. Problem is, I'm lazy. I'd rather do something else than do what I'm supposed to do. Because of that, having the best of anything is a rumor. If not a myth. There's no cure for laziness, right? Maybe I should get my priorities right, you know, do what I'm supposed to do when I'm supposed to do it and by that I mean know what's important and what's not.

So, back to wanting the best of everything, how do i go about that? Get a sugar daddy??? Aw hell naw! Do like my friends do and make my boyfriend pay my bills and pay stuff??? er...hell no??

And I'll take my clothes off, and it will be shameless,
'Cause everyone knows it's how you get famous,
I'll look at The Sun & I'll look in the Mirror,
I'm on the right track, yeah I'm onto a winner,~Lily Allen
Women have been known to take off their clothes to climb the corporate ladder and even to get a pay rise..would i ever do that? Aww hell fucking no! No to herpes and shit. So, what? should i get comfortable with not having anything 'better' than what i have? should i get comfortable with what i have?? No?


I don't know what's right and what's real anymore,
And I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore
And when do you think it would all become clear
'Cause I'm being taken over by the fear...~Lily Allen




Things that make you go...hmmmh!

  •  Imagine if we had T-rex arms... ! Oh, what's a T-rex??? It's some kind of a dinosaur with very very short arms.
                                                                        Tyrannosaurus rex
 The forelimbs had only two clawed fingers along with an additional small representing the remnant of a third digit

 Yes, Imagine if we all had such arms. Life would be a hustle! How would we scratch our backs?? Do you know how hard it would be scratching our knees without face-plants? There'd be booming business for back and knee scratchers..

But on a serious note, most men would die of blue balls, because you can't nut off with these short arms, and entire fungal ecosystems would grow out of our belly buttons, for those of us who couldn't afford navel cleansers... And bar counters, they would have to be much higher than normal so we could nurse our beverages with ease.

So, next time you feel like a warped orangutan based on how unpretty you feel about your gangly arms, remember poor, extinct T-Rex, all blue balls and excess rage.

Now that we have self cleaning appliances, don't you think we should have self cleaning houses??? and self cleansing hair..i mean weaves, self charging phones..etc. Who wouldn't want that?  And remote controls for remote controls, for those who keep losing theirs, i'd probably lose that too. Sometimes don't you wish you'd beep your keys just to know where they are? We need solutions and it's like the scientists aren't even trying!

Kenyan gospel is crap, yes, i said. Why would one use the beat to skip to ma lou for a gospel song, why would one want to sound like P-square??? Why do secular dance moves in your videos??? next we'll be shaking our bum bum to wi muthero....which reminds me, aren't they gully creeping in that wi mutheru video???



That I can buy a song while on the toilet using my phone means no one is really working on cancer, are they?  emy wanza

No matter how much you love someone, your whole world can change within 5 seconds of watching them run. ~emy wanza

Sunday, May 1, 2011

what do we(men) want???

Want;  having a desire to possess or do something.

What do we want. Basically, Food, Shelter, clothing, and a coupla luxuries.
But what do women want?? Women want multiple Orgasms, chocolate and the words 'i love you' often, also, we need to be told we are beautiful every now and then. Not forgetting the shoes that hurt like hell, costing us a fortune and some always finding a place in the darkest rooms. We want someone to listen to our every whims and whimper but at the same time we need to be left alone.We want someone who adores us but still gives us space. We want to be looked at, but not ogled.
 To blanket everything, EVERY WOMAN WANTS WHAT THE OTHER BITCH GOT.

Men want nothing but a naked woman who knows when to talk and when to shut up...the shutting up matters a lot to this breed. They hate hints. They want details. They hate being nagged. They prefer nudity to lingerie. They love food..and sports. To them, Chic flicks are for pussies. Keep your handbag to your armpits and if somebody has to hold it for you, don't ask him to do it. You know that sweater he likes?? the one you hate so much because he's always wearing it??? Never ever use it as a rug just because it has to go. Leave his shit alone. If he likes his socks in the underwear drawer, put them in the underwear drawer.


If somebody invented vibrating tampons women could enjoy their period ~Emy Wanza

There's always someone richer, prettier with better tits than you around the corner sister, so you better work on perfecting that blow-job. ~Emy Wanza
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