98% of Zimbos are literate. Who are the other 2%?

                                                                               Your average Zimbo politician.

According to a newly released report, 98% of the nation is literate. The remaining 2% is made up of politicians.

The Centre for the Deciphering of Inscriptions and Symbols (AKA Reading), said it had conducted extensive research before coming to that shocking conclusion.

“Yes, we can confirm that Unesco has declared Zimbabwe’s literacy rate stands at 98%, the highest on the African continent,” said an expert who looked like he knew what the hell he was talking about.

“We can also confirm that the remaining two percent is made up of MPs and Ministers.”

Asked whether he was not aware that, according to the UN, per capita, Zimbabwe has the world’s highest ratio of PhD Ministers, the expert said: “Take a look around you. Do you see any fucking evidence that this country is run by educated people?”

He pulled out a long list of really dumb shit done by politicians over recent times, from all that whole diesel-from-a-rock buffoonery in Chinhoyi to everything that comes out on ZBC between 8 and 9PM every fucking night. 

But he put it all away very fast because he quickly realised that the 98% who are literate would still vote for the 2% who are dimwits at the next election and these ass-swipes would become MPs, ministers and so forth and he'd be up to his eyeballs in shit.

MPs however said they welcomed the report. One Minister said he was proud that so many people in the country were able to read and write, even if he himself hasn’t the foggiest idea how to do so.

The VP talks bull....

Faithful bulls are no fun 

Women, listen carefully.

Now, if a whole Vice President, a whole war veteran, who shot down a whole helicopter with her AK47, was washing her philandering husband’s feet, then who the hell are you to be complaining about your hubby's cheating?

Listen to the most powerful woman in the country speak: “I did not stop washing by husband’s feet, even when he had done wrong”.

Doing "wrong" here means sleeping around with a few chicks. Beatter, the fat one with the Fanta-face and big ass and the humungous boobies for a general to rest his weary head on. Or Prevalence, the talkative, skinny Rhumba dancer known for climbing up the railings at Rufaro stadium every Sunday to wiggle her skinny ass for Dynamos.

In fact, according to the VP, you women should do nothing about your husbands’ philandering. OK? Just sit down and wash his feet.

Here’s how she puts it: “Kana pamba pako uine bhuru reBrahman, dzichienda kudhibhi haugone kuritaurira kuti servicer (mombe) yekwanhingi usaservicer yekwanhingi.” (interpretation: let bulls roam free)

In fact, while Brahman is servicing all sorts of cows, he gets his spies to trail your ass, making sure you don’t go out to find your own service. That’s what the VP said.

In other words, just let your hubbies, in the deep, philosophical words of the Notorious BIG, “fuck bitches”.

When he comes home in the morning, reeking of liquor and wild pussy, wash his feet and shut your mouth.

And, yet, here you are, you ‘modern woman’, talking out your ass about ‘hee in these days of HIV, hee no to violence against women’.

You women thought you had progressed? No. You are falling backwards into deep backward shit.

And the Brahmans? They roam the fields, looking for random plum heifers to service. Why not?

Women, if our VP can wash the hooves of her philandering Brahman, who are you to demand anything better?

Who are you? Are you a Vice President of a country? No? Did you ever shoot down a helicopter with an AK47? No? Then sit your ass down then.

Shut the hell up and watch those who are Vice Presidents, and those who shot down choppers, peel back all those gains you women figured you had won.

Dear Locadia ...

             Please forgive me. It was not an easy decision to make. I still love you.
                                                                                                               pic: Byo24
          
                                 

My darling Locadia,
Time and opportunity have forced me to send off this wild missive over to you that side, with a pierced heart leaking fountains of endless sorrow.

How are the wagons of life pulling for you over that side of the deep blue ocean of love?

Locky, my dear, my heart is suffering a big headache. I suffer from the geographical path that now separates us.

Sweetie, maximum love and sweet memory have metamophorsised into surprising phantasmagorical circumstances and I find myself forced to do the painful task of making this pen do a gingerly dance on this cursed piece of timber.

Yes, God cursed this piece of timber a long time ago when it was still a seedling; one day it would become this piece of paper that now carries the cries of my weeping soul to my lost love, Locky.

Lovie, please don’t jump out of your skin and try to dance in your skeleton when you read this letter.

Firstly, l acknowledge your painful existence at the sudden and bombastic deprivation of my sweet love.

You ask me how are you? As for me l am half orange and half lemon meaning that things are half sweet like an unwanted visitor’s Mazoe. In other words, I am half-half, the carrying system of a donkey. I am fine. Loneliness only.

Now you ask me, ‘but why loneliness when I see in the papers you and Lizzy?’

Sweetie, please understand. Mine wasn’t an easy decision. I had to close eyes and choose.

Besides, you look the same.

Lovie, you know I would do anything for you. Even brush a crocodile’s teeth for you. Tickle a hippo’s balls.

But, sorry, I just can't be yours anymore. 

Please understand I’m under pressure. Why are people judging me? Judging judging judging all the time. Why?

When they met their own women in the street, did they say ‘pss, sisi ndakudai, I love you, but which party does your father support?’ Did they ask ‘are you Dynamos or Highlander? Ho, so it matters when it’s the Prime Minister of the Country? Ho, because it’s Morgan from Buhera they become Chief Justice Chidyausiku and want to judge me?

And I know she was once a girlfriend of several of these Zanu 'young turks'. I know them. But some of these very people saying this ka, their wives once loved Nigerians and now they are having problems with measuring up.

Sweetie, please don’t despair. Don’t rip your heart out and throw it far, far away. Keep your heart. I still love you. I love you over than.

But I just can’t be with two women. I am the Prime Minister of the Country.

With love.

Your darling Morgy.

PS: SWALK ( Sealed with a lovely kiss )

 PS again: My mother says you are good with sweeping. If only that mattered.

BREAKING NEWS: 88-year-old Zvimba man defies all logic

Random Zvimba Man being led by Random Mt Darwin Woman upon
arrival of said Random Zvimba Man from a 12 or 15 or so hour flight
                                                                             pic: Daily News

Health Experts were stunned as a random 88-year-old man from Zvimba disembarked from a 12-hour flight from Asia and immediately headed into a series of long meetings that have a serious bearing on the fate of 12 million or so people.

We asked a Health Expert how he reacted to the news. He said: “I was stunned.”

When Cynic arrived at the scene, dozens of witnesses were still as wide-eyed as you would be if you bumped into Makandiwa at the 3rd Annual Zinatha Convention & Witchdoctoring Paraphernalia Expo.

“I have never seen anything like that. A man from Zvimba just came off that plane after it was in the air for about 12, maybe 15 hours, I don’t know, then he just went off to chair meetings we were told are important.”

Asked whether this was why he was as wide-eyed as a goat at a Zimbabwean marriage ceremony, he said “yes”.

Commentators say the world has never seen this phenomenon.
“This is the first 88-year-old man from Zvimba to disembark from a long, long, long flight but still go to chair meetings,” said a political commentator, who declined to be named because most commentators talk shit and who wants their kids to know their father makes a living talking shit.

Zvimba Man boxes a woman. He let her win.

A visit to a Harare old people’s home revealed most 88-year-olds there had never come off a 15-hour flight and headed straight to important meetings.

We asked one old looking man. “No. I have never come off a 12 hour flight. In fact, I have never come off a flight because I have never been on one at all. Do you want to put me on a flight?”

We said no.

We then asked another oldish looking fellow, who may be close to 88, but seeing as he only got had a birth certificate in 1989 these things are hard to tell. He declined to comment saying was hoping the chair he was sitting on was a toilet because he was sure he had just done something.

We were unable to find any 88-year-old man who is like that random man from Zvimba who disembarked from a 12-hour flight and immediately headed into important, long meetings.

ZRP: The Greatest Cops on the Planet

Ok, let’s be fair. Maybe the dude tried to stop this minibus crew after they'd committed some road crime. Bastards tries to speed off, and Cde Officer, dedicated as ever, tries to stop the vehicle with his sheer might. But the car speeds off and he soon finds it ain’t easy jumping off a moving car. and it wasn't such a clever plan.

Or, maybe, the minibus crew and the officer fails to agree on, eh, a 'fee'. The officer demands more, driver tries to speed off, Officer Action remembers he has rent to pay and hungry kids to feed and needs to buy airtime and he tries to stop the vehicle.

Either way, we must salute ZRP. They must have some wicked training at Morris Depot.

Which other force on this planet has cops that jump on moving minibuses?

Remind me again. Why is weed illegal?

This guy, smoking weed here in his youth, was to later become leader of the most
powerful country in the world. So who are you to deny me a few whiffs?

Well, if the evangelisticalest of world evangelists says he has no problem with weed, then who am I, a sinner saved by grace, to stand here and not pump my fist in the air and write to the Copac people to include weed rights in the new constitution?

Pat Robertson. Remember him? The guy whose smug little face would peek into your living room every old Sunday back in the day on TV asking us to touch the screen and be saved from our pagan ways? 700 Club guy.

Now, generally, this right-wing idiot is a gaping mine of a asshole. Supported apartheid, talks out of right-wing ass, and, well, is an all round moron.

But this, in the NY Times: “I really believe we should treat marijuana the way we treat beverage alcohol. I’ve never used marijuana and I don’t intend to, but it’s just one of those things that I think: this war on drugs just hasn’t succeeded.”

Amen.

Wish our own pastors would wake up and smell the high-grade. We know they all smoke weed. Especially that Kunonga bastard. Makandiwa is cool so he’s definitely on something.  (Pastor Mbhoro is on crack. Big difference) 

And can we please stop pretending weed is only smoked by Rastas and jobless ghetto youths? I know for a fact it's smoked in Cabinet. I checked.

Time we had a real debate about weed.

Nobody - NOBODY – has ever put forward a convincing argument as to why weed is illegal. It’s just illegal. Why? Just because it is. Why? Because it was always illegal. So, no reason. Ridiculous because beer, which is more harmful – and causes pot bellies, like that of the guy at your office who’s always doing PowerPoint presentations with his shirt button over the navel open because the fucking belly is too big  to fit in his shirt – is legal.

Beer’s OK, they say. Unless I drink and drive, they say. Or take too much and become a menace, they say. Fair.

So why In the name of the Great Weed God of Mount Mulanje can’t I smoke my weed in peace?

If I’m stoned  in my own home, laughing at the paint on my  wall, what the fuck is your   problem?

So what if I swear Mugabe clambered through my window and took a puff and we watched Kung Fu flicks through the night, mimicking all those Shaolin master sounds ? My  problem.

Why should a small joint of weed, in my  own home, bring the bloody Police to my door?

Everyday, I read about some guy arrested only for having 'a few twists' with him. Cops even go on and state the 'street value'. So they have a weed price monitoring unit?

Why is weed illegal? Remind me again.

Gono vs Kereke: Don't stop the bitchfight!

You’ve seen hookers fight, right?

On one side, Belinda, the skinny one with the brown spots and hoarse voice. And on the other side, fat Bibiana, the one with the big boobies.

Screams. Wigs flying. Hair pulled. Clothes ripped.

You run closer because you like watching bitch fights. Like me.

You are enjoying the show. Idiot comes and asks you why they’re fighting. Even tries to mediate. He’s a moron. Because, number one; he’s trying to stop a bitch fight. Who does that? Two; who understands where bitches have been and what freakish shit got them here?

So why intervene? Do you understand the politics of Avenues hookery?

Remember, these are no ordinary women. In the words of A Pimp Named Slickback in the Boondocks, “What woman, sir, this here is a ho ..”

A younger Gono, in his autobio.
Academic trials heh?
"You could never have secured
a quarter
of the PhD requirements using your very
limited and blunt academic
mental
amplitude even in 5 decades - Kereke to
Gono

Which is why I won’t try understand this bitch fight between Gono and Kereke, that paedophile Gono sacked as his right-hand-man. Alleged paedophile.

For those that don’t read, here’s the fight so far; Kereke gets sacked, he writes to Zanu saying Gono is incompetent and corrupt, Gono says don’t listen to this overambitious fool, and Kereke responds in a letter saying Gono is a corrupt dimwit; he wrote the PhD for Gono and Gono stole money etc.

No, I will not try to understand. I choose to just sit back and watch; secrets revealed, clothes ripped off. Weirdly positioned birthmarks exposed.

The more is revealed of the sordid whorehouse that became our central bank under Gono the better.

Only whores know the secrets of whorehouses. And who better to reveal the secrets of the whorehouse than a fired whore? Who are the sleaziest clients? Who never pays? Who sucks toes? Who likes a bit of spanking? All that.

And bitches only say interesting shit when they’re angry. Or drunk. Or drunk AND angry. Like these two chaps.

So don’t none of you bastards stop this brawl.

Go on bitches! Fight, fight, fight….