“God save our gracious Queen, Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen: Send her victorious, Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us: God save the Queen.” – Verse One of “God Save The Queen” – Jamaica’s Royal Anthem.
Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas, Supreme Defender of the Faith and Governor of the Church of England, Head of the Commonwealth and Queen of Jamaica.
That is the full title of the Head of State of Jamaica, Elizabeth of the House of Windsor. As I sat and wrote out the entire title, I couldn’t help but smirk. It appeared to me so pompous and convoluted, so far removed from Jamaica’s culture, values or attitudes; yet still this frail 83 year old British woman is Head of the State of Jamaica. Our Government is formed in her name (the executive power is vested in her, our parliament consists of her, a Senate and a House of Representatives), our laws are given assent through her representative and all high officials of our country are appointed by and through her. Wait, it gets better. Up until recently, our Prime Minister’s swore allegiance to her. The Most Hon. P.J. Patterson corrected this, and our PM’s now swear allegiance to the people of Jamaica. Thank you Mr. Patterson.
The views expressed in this post are not my own. I do not necessarily endorse statements made or conclusions drawn. However, I believe everyone has the right to have their perspective heard. To this end, I have decided to feature other writers on my blog. This is my first such feature, in what I hope to be a series of features. Enjoy another voice and perspective.
I can never understand women, I swear. Everyday they preach “mi want a good man, mi want a good man” well Amen bitch, but the good man you claim that you want is the same nigga u neglected. Why? Because him too sawf (submissive), you rule him, he’s too perfect, he’s not the relationship type, he does everything you want in a man. Like WTF bitch??? You just said you wanted a perfect man so why you complaining? *tivali ooman voice* the point isssss women are confused and most who think they know what they want, don’t.
They think they know until they are in a relationship with Mr. Asskisser for 2 months when suddenly she runs outta ass space (especially ya’ll skinny bitches with no ass). That’s when she plays heartbreaker and decides she no longer wants to break his dick off in the bedroom, she wants to break his heart (8) you got him suicidal, suicidal when you say its overrr (8) (In that case see @gilly_royal for some rope motherfucker).
Last year I did a Philosophy course titled “The Philosophy of Sex and Love”. The course sought to explore philosophical theories on sex and love and the function of these two things in human existence. The class was basically an excuse to be sexually explicit in an academic setting. The subject matter ranged from oral sex, to homosexuality, to beastiality, to masturbation, to pornography. Just to name a few. I encourage all final year UWI students to register for this course. Very informative and insightful, and did I mention slack? Yes, very slack.
Anyhow, one of the theories we explored in the course was that of a wife being no different from a prostitute. Armed with this knowledge, I ventured into the deep as I wrote “The Confessions of a Whore”, and suggested that girlfriends and wives were really not that different from prostitutes. The backlash from my female readers was overwhelming.
Disclaimer : This is a true story concerning the exploits of a male prostitute. The events related may offend your conscience. If you are hyper – religious and or judgemental, you should close the tab now.
He’s unassuming. 5’11 he says, and mostly silent. He wears a fitted cap, a white v-neck tee, blue jeans and a pair of Adidas slippers. The awkward silence that hangs heavily is punctuated by the angry raindrops. There is nothing about his outward appearance that could possibly betray the tale he had come to tell Shanice* and I, he is a male whore.
When she told me she knew a guy that sold his body, I laughed. My response was, so what? All girls do, at least informally. Yes ladies, when men sleep with you and then you get your favourite pair of shoes or you get that little “allowance”; he’s saying “job well done, get yourself something nice.” (The only thing left for him to do is throw a dollar bill at you.) That makes you a prostitute in everything but name. Try a little independence. After all, the sex is payment enough.
But I digress.
I decided I wouldn’t speak during this “interview”, I’d allow Shanice to ask the questions, he was after all, her friend. I’d simply listen and record his version of events. The story began in high school. He says he made the Manning Cup team because “yow, mi love ball game enuh but nuh funds neva a run.” In fact, I got the distinct impression he joined the team so that he would benefit from the free lunch afforded to the footballers. He was merely 16 years old and wanted to go to the bar-b-que; he says he didn’t have the “funds” and his mother is “wukliss” – I understood this to mean she either couldn’t, or refused to give him the money he needed. What he said next stunned me.
Some propose to know the mind of God, some propose to work alongside those charged with apprehending fugitives and stolen cars, there are those sent directly from the CEO of RIM and there are those which appeal to our humanity and then there are those which have little to no point. Yes, I am speaking of the infamous BBM Broadcast.
Last evening I was lying in bed, enjoying the rain and having some sexually charged thoughts, when suddenly I was alerted to the presence of a new message. Annoyed though I was that I was being called from the enticing thoughts, I decided to give in to the red light and check. I was greeted with :
“Does Jesus come first in your life? If so, stop what your doing & send it to all your contacts now. Watch what He does.”
I stared at the purple letters for a few seconds before responding, “He won’t do anything. He didn’t tell you He would, and you really shouldn’t make promises on His behalf, especially promises He won’t keep.” Added to my annoyance was the fact that I was in a sexually charged state and being forced to think about Jesus and what He means in my life. That was a very awkward moment.
The Golding Administration last Tuesday tabled in the House of Representatives the report of the Emile George led Commission of Enquiry. Having enquired for some 40 days into the extradition saga which nearly brought down the ruling Labour party, the commissioners presented a report which has been condemned and rejected by the general citizenry. Indeed, the only groups which have accepted the report are the Government and the JLP.
I wish to highlight a few points from the report which I find puzzling.
The first and perhaps the most glaring travesty which jumps from the report presented, is that section which speaks to Prime Minister Golding’s involvement in the matter. The commissioners concede that Golding’s involvement was “inappropriate” and “imprudent”, but there is no comma; there is a full stop. In other words, that is the end of the matter. This cannot be acceptable.
Lately I’ve been suffering from a severe case of writer’s block and I find that my inspiration to write is now more often than not informed by Twitter and her trends. This tells me that those of you who think I should take up writing in some professional capacity are wrong. I’m really not that talented; I need to be on a “hottaz” JUTC A/C yellow bus (Yes, I know. I’m a hottaz) or logged in to Twitter for inspiration to flow. Well, generally anyway.
Anyhow, as I read the tweets which my learned followers offered as recipes for killing a relationship, I began wondering if we’re really that shallow or if it is indicative of a “new age” understanding of relationships, where sex and love are intertwined and any separation usually ruins the relationship. That is, can you be in a relationship without sex? And alternately, can you be in a relationship without love? Or do the two complement each other? And if one exists without the other, is the relationship less fulfilling?
The following post will speak about my morning erections and the difficulty they cause during pee’ing. If you’re homophobic, disgusted or otherwise threatened by hearing or reading about a penis and or pee’ing, close the tab.
According to The Urban Dictionary (yes, I’m quoting it), the term “morning wood” is a colloquialism which speaks to the phenomenon of penile erection following sleep, related to nocturnal penile tumescence. Calm down. I’m going to define “penile tumescence”.
Nocturnal penile tumescence (also known as “morning wood” or “morning glory”) is the spontaneous occurrence of an erection of the penis during sleep. All men without physiological erectile dysfunction experience this phenomenon, usually three to five times during the night. It typically happens during REM sleep.
Disclaimer : I’m not going to seek to defend the RagaShanti Show, if you’re a fan of his and you’ll take offence to criticisms being levelled at him; close the tab. I’m annoyed and I’m going to be ranting.
Closed it? No? Still here? Very well.
Unlike my previous blog posts, this one will have no ceremony. No introduction. It won’t sound academic and it probably won’t even make sense. I’m just annoyed that my timeline falls victim to this show so often.
Ragashanti’s show is not only annoying, but it is absolute rubbish. I remember when the show was on the radio, I marvelled at how “cayliss” Jamaican people are. I mean, if you’re gonna sex with someone, shouldn’t you at least get bus fare to go back home? I’m not here for people sexing and then have to “boom ride” to get home. I’m not here for that at all.
So last August I decided I wanted to blog. I decided I’d make it a blog about Politics and Current Affairs and I expected a lot of excited young readers and I saw a future with rich commentary and feedback (it’s ok, you can laugh; it’s funny). Needless to say, that never happened.
If you visit the Archives to the right of your screen, you’ll see that I made 7 posts in the month of August and collectively they got the blog all of 137 views. (Again, you can laugh; it’s funny.) September rolled around the corner and I decided I’d make another post, that got all of 27 views and October, November and December were nothing to write home about.
By then I became disheartened. The blog was a flop. I should have just stuck to writing Facebook notes. At that time I had one consistent reader and he encouraged me to continue writing. He thought it would “pick up” (rolls eyes). Still, when the new year rolled around, I decided I’d try again, I’d broaden the scope of the blog. So I added Entertainment & Culture, Personal, Religion, Social Justice and kept Politics … and WHAM! .. the views shot off the ground !!
Bajan born sensation Rihanna has finally released the much anticipated video for her single “Man Down”. The video, shot in Portland Jamaica, has been the subject of some amount of criticism. Individuals have complained that it is a negative portrayal of Jamaican life and the culture. I’m compelled to lend my humble opinion to the debate.
There comes a time when those of us who lead comfortable lives in our gated communities, and who seldom venture beyond Half Way Tree or Liguanea must come to the realisation that there is so much more to the Jamaican society. There are garrisons, ghettos and slums. There are rapists, murderers and dons. There are people what are deading befront dem fambily, befront dem madder and dem bredder. There are pit latrines and areas with no electricity or piped water. There are shacks, board houses and rampant poverty. In fact, 20% of the population live below the poverty line; that’s some 540,000 people. This is the Jamaican reality for so many. And according to STATIN and the PIOJ, the vast majority of this country is rural. Not urban. Not “UPT”. Rural.
There are a few things that are considered necessary in order to live a comfortable life in the 21st century. We all need a cell phone, cable TV, a computer and…
Now before you get upset and close the tab, because you think I’ve wasted your time; consider how many times you’ve read or heard “Hi Haters!” or “Good Morning Bad mind, how are you doing today?” Yes, it would appear that “haters” have become essential to a comfortable life. They are now indispensable accessories, without which your life lacks meaning and worth.
If no one is hating on you, you’ve been doing something very wrong. So, what causes “haters? From whence do they come? And how do we gain them?