The new Six-pack

The gym is no longer bustling with activity, for the new six-pack lies not the along the lines of the abdominal muscles, rather far much lower, a little bit to the left….. There you have it, the wallet is the new hexa- reference point, that is, the honey wherein the bees swarm. The number of zeros preceded by a more worthwhile integer in your account should rather spiral not unlike the Fibonacci sequence or one is doomed. Whence once the pot was distasteful (pun intended), it can now call the much hungrier, financially less-blessed kettle black with little qualms.

I can be forgiven for such an unusual analogy as a result of my few visits to the gym where to my detriment; my single pack did not undergo a mysterious case of meiosis to the desired multiple of three, but rather ‘slightly’ ballooned. You would not believe the ravenous appetite that comes with the exertions designed by fellow man to twist the human body into steel turrets of choice. It is with this in mind that I decry the lack of empathy for the physical hard-worker that can only manage to lift you to great heights, literally, and not in the abstract connotation always alluded to.

Oh, and there is always the other six pack that we all unilaterally love. Cold, frothing and refreshing, but that is a yarn for another day.

Woe ye of little faith.

Off of her Back

I wonder when you chose to christen yourself ‘stripper’.

The moment you sought out the young lass dressed or under-dressed, whatever the difference is, and pawed the few fibers of gabardine off her back, you became as such the embodiment of immorality under the same scale you used to deem yourself righteous enough to scar another human. For being moral is not about being righteous, but being human.

The definition of humanity is beholden to the control of our primal nature. Whatever the slur on one’s sensibilities, the path of least resistance is the better option to follow. In the end Murphy’s Law would come into play, so why make it so much harder by being the antagonist. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. I watched the video for less than a minute, trust me, the damsel in distress therein will not be feeling apprehensive for less than a minute. The disfigured and tortured soul, oi, look too hard, look twice, say hi and she will think that she knows that you know that it be her under whatever disguise of choice she has on.

Someone once told me there is a difference between a person and an individual. It is a keen eye and an ardent muzzle that can discern between the two. In being your own person, dictate on what and who defines you and then let the individual shine. The individual is the person that nobody but ever sees. Back to the agenda herein and what I would like to ask the rascals engaged in the aforementioned debauchery, were you personally and individually pleased with yourself?

Peace.

Rebuttle

Riding today morning in a matatu to work (yes, I don’t drive a Subaru), I saw a sticker with the synonymous diction “A nice intelligent woman without the correct mannerism is like a gold nose-ring on a swine”. Very deep I would say, because it reminded me of one persona so hellbent on stereotyping the male psyche.

To my chagrin, after wasting my valuable time perusing the onslaught on the male fraternity under the veneer of intelligent conversation, class and quality, my mind began a slow roast on all the ‘facts’ she put therein. The article, mind you, is not about Kenyan men/boys in subarus and living in Kinoo, Roysa or wherever. It is rather about a disillusioned young girl just shy of a quarter of a decade years old.

Do not humor yourself my dear that you fly solo, it is more along the lines of you grovel solo. The choice of analogies and leisure activities belie the true personality behind the scathing, attention seeking arguments that are so much your forte. If instead of watching Scandal and or wasting your time on Covert Affairs you could pick a book once in a while you would know that the Brazilian bearded female Capuchin monkey throws stones to indicate their urgent, I repeat, urgent, need to be mated(just to use the polite wording). So believe you me, I get where you are coming from. Your cry for help has been duly noted.

Before you look for class lass, it would be a plus if you could but show an iota of it too. One might think oneself quite the avant-garde in expressing one’s views so boldly and with such flair. While I raise my hat to that, it is the wiser fool that knows when risqué opinions shift from entertainment to mere slur. For one that has pretty much figured out, the figurine you lay on a pedestal as your amorousness mantra is quite the deformity.

But hey, who am I to judge, the world is a stage, every man play his part,right?

Peace.