Thursday, July 30, 2009

The Cause of the Gay Gene Revealed

This country is going to drive me insane. I have to type this post at double-speed because there is no electricity in the entire CBD. For heaven’s sake, even the fifteen rebel groups that run Somalia are able to come up with a plan to ensure that at the very least, the Mogadishu CBD always has power. And here my laptop battery is about to go the way of Simba Makoni’s political party. This damn new government has enough money to buy our MP’s brand new vehicles but can’t upgrade a single ZESA power station. The bastards should walk, I say. Until we have clean running water and a continuous supply of electricity, MPs should get an allocation of strong Bata sneakers and Cabinet should meet under a tree and drink mahewu. Just the other day my gardener switched from borehole to Council water without warning me and after unsuspectingly taking a shower in it, I realized it had given my chest hair a perm. A few days later my skin developed blotches and I had to rush to the doctor before I turned into Michael Jackson. This is definitely NOT the Zimbabwe I want.

Our government needs to learn to spend money on the right things. We’ve had about as much of this profligacy as we can take. With the way the MDC MP’s have been baying for these new cars, I’m certainly glad I’ve kept my identity hidden, because they would be all over me like a coloured chick on a crate of free beer. They almost castrated Tendai Biti for daring to suggest that they should be allocated locally assembled Mazda vehicles from Willowvale Motor Industries.

Funny how the shoe suddenly fits when it’s on the other foot – I vaguely remember the MDC expressing unending disgust at the excesses displayed by ZANU-PF ministers and MP’s. They suckered us into believing they didn’t want the Mercedes Benzes and the never-ending perks that had become the sole preserve of ZANU-PF officials. Now, all of a sudden, they also want a piece of the cake – MDC MP’s are to be found at all sorts of lavish gatherings these days, some of which have nothing at all to do with bettering the plight of ordinary Zimbabweans. Last month sometime I saw some of them on TV attending the Miss Deaf pageant. Why do our elected officials always seem able to free up large amounts of time to go to beauty pageants and such, but can only dedicate minimal time to visit their constituencies? My new stance on politics is this: I don’t trust a politician farther than I can spit to hit him.

And yes, as difficult as it is to believe, there is actually such a thing as Miss Deaf. I find that mildly discriminatory. Why should deaf people get their very own beauty pageant? While we’re at it, why not have a Miss Cripple? Or Miss HIV? How about a separate Miss Black and Miss White contest for blacks and Caucasians respectively. Ridiculous. I didn’t go to the stupid Miss Deaf pageant, although I can’t say it was on principle. Actually, I’m waiting for the Miss Mute Pageant – my company will gleefully sponsor that one, because there is nothing more appealing to me than a beautiful woman who can’t talk. If I find one, I will divorce my wife immediately and elope with her so I can someday die in peace.

Which leads me to the subject of this post. Five paragraphs later, I know, don’t correct me, I know what I’m doing, I am vastly experienced at this whole blogging thing now. I had what turned out to be a less than civil discussion about the male-female relationship just the other day with a female friend of mine. She and her husband recently moved to a Western country, and she declared on Facebook that she has found that she is slowly turning into a feminist. I countered that in that case, she will soon find that she is also slowly turning into a divorcee. This simple but true observation brought out what must have been all the unshaven, square-shouldered, dildo-hugging feminists within range of the entire Internet. A huge debate began on whether or not I am a male chauvinist pig, a phrase I am convinced is uniquely Zimbabwean, yet whose meaning is unknown to anyone in Zimbabwe. Seriously, do YOU know what the word chauvinist means, without looking it up? And is it chauvinist pig or chauvinistic pig? No one knows, at least not within these borders.

Those of you have read my previous posts will find this easy to believe: Ten minutes into the discussion I had everyone so mad they resorted to typing in ALL CAPS. Man, women can be so unnecessarily sensitive.

Anyway, what made her so mad was that I said women are beautiful beings, but they are at their worst when they're trying to be men. I said women should be content to just be women.

I can right now hear a thousand Zimbabwean women across the world clicking their fingers and gyrating their empowered heads on their necks and declaring loudly, black American style: "Pshh oh no he didn't! I know he didn't jus' say we should JUS BE WOMEN! What the HELL does it mean to JUS BE A WOMAN!" Now, I am not sexist, but I believe...

Wait, a random thought just crossed my mind: can one be mute, but not deaf? Because that future wife I spoke of earlier wouldn't be of much use to me if she can't hear me barking at her to bring me more ice for my whiskey. I'll have to research that.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I'm not sexist, but I believe women should stop trying to compete with men. It's gotten completely out of hand, and someone needs to put an end to this equal rights bullshit. There is no such thing! Women only want equal rights when it suits them, but are quite happy to let the housebreaker bash their husband’s skull in while they cower in the bedroom. Do you know what equal rights means? It means if we are in bed and something goes bump in the night, I have to leave the bedroom and go check out what the problem is. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. If it happens on a Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday, I stay asleep and you drag your equal ass to the living room to see what’s going on. And if it happens to be a housebreaker, you’d better fight. If you decide your balls aren’t all that big after all, you’d better run in a direction away from me and the rest of the family. That’s what a real man would do.

Equal rights means if I have to put the toilet seat up to take a piss, you should equally have to put the toilet seat down when you want to take a piss.

Equal rights means taking turns to take out the garbage, mow the lawn, replace the oil in the family car, or change a flat tyre on a freezing freeway in the middle of winter. Next time the car dies on the road, let’s have the woman get out and push the damn thing while the husband/boyfriend sits inside with the 3 kids and the luggage.

If I was president of this (once, long long ago) great nation of ours I would have long since banned Generations, The Bold and the Beautiful, The Young & the Restless, Oprah, Tyra, and other similar trash that is poisoning the minds of our once gentle African women.

It's terrible to be a man these days. Women want you to cook, change diapers, mix your own drink, and braai your own meat. What rubbish! This is not the way of our forefathers! Incidentally, that word gives us a hint of a woman's place in the world - have you ever heard anyone talk about "our foremothers"? Men used to be leaders. Bushmen used to go hunting for supper, and didn't have to worry about coming home and being told to wash the bushbaby's little turd-encrusted ass before skinning, cutting and cooking the kudu they would have killed and dragged home all by themselves.

Women want to play rugby and soccer. Why? You don't see us men rushing to learn netball to prove a point. Women want to be soldiers and karatekas and gladiators. For God’s sake, I don't want to lie next to someone I know can deliver a rib-cracking punch to my side, a skull-fracturing roundhouse kick to my temple, then stuff a grenade into my mouth all within 3 seconds just because I turned in my sleep and inadvertently pulled all the blankets from her. This is not my idea of sexy, and men want sexy.

No man wants a stinky, rugby-playing, bicep-flexing domineering woman for a life partner. I don't know what the hell has happened, but Zimbabwean women have lost the essence of what is to be an African woman. No wonder there is such a proliferation of gays; men can't stand it anymore. (Although by that statement let it not be misconstrued that I support gayism; I do not, but that’s a topic for another day).

I always work myself up and can’t complete my posts. And my battery is about to die anyway. Trust me, there will be more on this topic later…

3 comments:

  1. I'm so going to share this..just been thinking how many of our leaders blog/ read blogs..I would want them to read this...lol.

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