If all that’s to life is to drive a bigger car than the Joneses, live in a grander house than the Joneses, have more money than the Joneses, have your children attend a better school than the Joneses, … (you get the idea) … then one might as well lie down right now and die. As Paul said ” … we are of all men most miserable …”

Don’t be late. If that’s impossible, then don’t be “sh*t, da*m, da*n, I left my passport at home” late while you are at the airport waiting to check-in. It’s better to be a little late to the airport than to be “that” late.

That’s what I intended to post. And that’s the end of that. And I never thought I would find myself in that position – which I didn’t. The first rule of traveling, before you leave your house, triple-check the travel date and time. I went all the way to the airport only to discover that my trip was tomorrow. After walking the length and breadth of the departure hall, I was finally informed that South African Airlines don’t fly on Saturday. That is when another look at the ticket showed me the error of my ways. I had assumed that our Travels desk knew well enough that it’s better to arrive the day before the event that was the purpose of one’s journey started so as to be able to settle in and be well rested. I had “seen” Sunday on my ticket and somehow jumped to the conclusion that it was the arrival day and not the departure day.

So I double-checked all my particulars at home, reduced my baggage by several items of clothing, hopped in a taxi and made it to the airport only to find that it was the wrong day. I know I am not stupid, so what am I?

I should really be asleep, but while trying to do so these thoughts continued to swell in my mind. Hopefully after I put them down I will drift off for some hours. The ideas are not new, I have been ruminating on variations for a while

OK, here goes

Kids: 2 is enough for every couple
kids sex: personally, I want 2 handsome athletic boys. Twins is OK, one after the other with say 2 years difference in age is OK

Marriage: marry someone better looking than you are – you owe it to your kids. You are giving them a head-start in this complex world if they look good.
Men: marry beautiful women (yes, Godly, loving, compassionate – all these I assume you have already made sure of) or at least marry a woman who is more beautiful than you are handsome (or ugly if applicable)

Women: marry a handsome man (yes, Godly, loving, compassionate – all these I assume you have already made sure of) or as handsome as you are beautiful

Women/Men: marry someone with any visible physical deformity (congenital etc – results of injuries don’t count) ONLY if it does not run in the family. Take me for example, as far as I know, no one else has the same or similar physical deformity in my extended family that I know of – so it may be be safely assumed within reason, that mine was just a glitch in the formation of the fertilized cell (while developing) that is the person I am now.
Actually it may be argued that, were it not for selfish reasons, deformed people should of their own volition, choose not to pro-create in order to avoid the possibility of bestowing such a legacy on future generations. We may no longer be in the earlier ages when physical strength and makeup was all that counted towards survival, but in this world which is still infatuated with outward appearances, one should as much as possible ensure that future generations are as perfect physically as possible.

Women: don’t marry a fat man unless you like or don’t mind the paunch. The love handle is not restricted to the sides as you feed him.

Men: don’t marry a fat lady unless you that’s what you want/like. Marriage makes even the thinnest of ladies “voluptuous”. At least if you start out regular, it sort of grows on you. That way you almost don’t notice it and it is acceptable. Afterall, it’s both your creation.

Generally, for both men and women, once married, it’s down-hill from there (talking about weight)

We are all narcissistic to a certain extent. Yes, a part of me want to be in the limelight just like all those Hollywood types, with the paparazzi dogging and cataloging my every move in words and pictures. But once one is dead, of what use is all that? Yes, I would like to be remembered. But the African’s excuse of using every burial as a day-out to party and eat is something beyond me. When I “go”, please just ensure I am truly gone, then get a wooden casket with no frills and no lacquer if possible, so the worms can get access as quickly as possible. A church service would be nice, but no need to put anybody out. Say immediate family, anyone else who is interested for a grand total of about 50-100 people should be enough. No need to go far, the nearest reasonable ground for such affairs is OK. A headstone would be nice, so that passing generations can stop by and ponder the transiency of man. I do so anytime I see a graveyard. I have been known to read the inscriptions on headstones. To always do the maths to workout how old the person was at death. To consider what the person’s life was like when he was alive. We will all go sooner or later. Death where is thy sting …

Damisi Itayemi (193x – February 03, 2009)

lying all alone
on a cold slab of stone
that is my uncle
but is he?
he is long gone
with the last breath – his last song
to join the angels’ throng

none of us can save another
not wife
nor child
nor husband
nor father
nor daughter
nor son
nor sister
nor brother

when the bell tolls
we are all alone
each man by himself
to heed the maker’s call

what then is money or property
is gold worth its weight?
will diamond light the path?
what use is silvery plates and pans?

Lazarus has fallen asleep a second time
never to rise again in this life time

every man is a tortured soul seeking rest

what is man, that thou art mindful of him?
and the son of man, that thou visitest him?  (Psalm 8:4)

the days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.   (Psalm 90:10)

we blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,. And wither and perish but naught changeth thee

R.I.P. Uncle Damisi Itayemi

I, a-man-just-like-thee, on this day no-one lays claim to, not in the spirit, and not on Patmos, having ruminated on the words of Solomon ibn David ibn Jesse, the lamenter of old, do agree with him of blessed memory, that beyond death, and above all there is, in addition to its joys and sorrows, that all of mans labour is in vain and vanity upon vanity. It is indeed better that man never was born. Therefor says I:

Blessed are the never-born, they neither experience joy nor sadness

Blessed are the dead, for sorrow is now alien to them

Blessed are the long-gone, the sands of time has wiped away their misdeeds

Blessed are they who have passed on, no harm can befall

Blessed are the truly fallen, never to rise again, therefore never to fall again

Blessed are the forgotten, because neither pain nor regret is remembered

Blessed are the shades, having no substance, are no longer bound to the earth

Blessed art thou, when thy time runs out, for only then art thou truly beyond the reach of the evil that men do

Blessed art thou when thy sojourn ends, it is the beginning of eternity.

I think I should stop lying to myself. Am I truly saved? I have indeed confessed with my mouth and I hope I believe with my heart … I can’t say I have ever heard from God. Yes, I have sometimes listened to the small still voice – which some say is one’s conscience.
I suspect it might have been more from a sense of guilt or a fear of being caught that made me listen to the voice. Was there ever really a voice?
Or just me weighing the pros and cons?

What have I made of so great a sacrifice by the Lord Jesus Christ?
How many times have I rededicated my life?
And fallen away again before the day is done?

I am just an ordinary man trying to stay out of hell. Is there anyone that’s truly ordinary? After all, we are all fearfully and wonderfully made. Should I be able to say I am a man? What have I done in this world to claim that title. Think of men of old, now those were truly men. So I have been here 30+ years, who cares?

I guess that’s the cup half empty

Then trying to make heaven would be the cup half full.

Or is it the other way round?

My greatest wish while I am alive is to be able to fly unaided. Soar into the sky like superman, walk the air currents freer than a bird. Should a grown man with the knowledge of physics and gravity have such wishes? I don’t know – may be that is why it’s just a wish?
If it is not possible in this life, would we be earth-bound in heaven? Or will we be able to take off at a moment’s whim?

One wish when I am dead, make sure I am really dead before you put me six under, even before you slide me into the little crib in the morgue. How about waiting a couple of days to allow me to marinate on the slap on a warm table top – to allow decomposition to set in just to be sure? Then a postmortem to be doubly sure. I guess a postmortem makes one as dead as a door-nail. Now that is being dead for certain.
Why? I don’t want to wake up gasping for breath and scraping at the finish in my coffin. Then have my lungs collapse painfully on itself from lack of air.

I think I have said enough.

And to the man at the S.A. embassy, sleep well tonight and may you wake up healthy tomorrow. May the sun shine lovingly on you and the day bring good things your way.  Because if I don’t wish you well, the alternative will be to say “may the devil take you and others such as you everywhere in the world!”

Haven’t posted anything in a while, but couldn’t resist doing so when I came across the following (someone’s signature actually):

Capitalization is the difference between “I had to help my uncle Jack off a horse..” and “I had to help my uncle jack off a horse..”

amazing how superstitious humans are. I had a travel agent come to my place of work. The receptionist handed him a tag with the number 13 on it and he bluntly refused it saying he would accept any other number but 13. “13 is the most unlucky number”. I asked the receptionist to please give him another tag. I jokingly mentioned to him that at least it wasnt Friday the 13th. And the man is a pastor 🙂

I will no longer accept all this limitations placed on us by our environment e.g., gravity. Why can’t I fly, why can’t I move an object by exerting my mental powers (telekinesis), why can’t I put a thought directly into another persons head (telepathy). i am going to put a small object at an easily accessible place in my room and every day from now on, spend 5 minutes attempting to move it simply by willing it to do so! Let’s get started!

Had quite a vivid/terrible dream yesterday. Must have been close to the morning I think. In it there were 3 or four girls from my set back in school. And I knew in the dream that they were dead. And there they were digging their own graves and already the graves were knee deep. They had this zombie expression on their faces. In the same place I was modeling a woman and the structure must have been quite big because it appears I was looking up at it from behind.  And I was thinking the skirt was too short and in the manner of dreams I could increase the skirt’s length by just drawing a new line at the place were I thought should be the proper length. I woke up shaken and started praying for the girls’ safety. Thankfully I think I can only remember one for sure now, but when I first awoke I was sure of 3 of the four faces. Someone close was also arranging and re-arranging what appeared to be stuff from some god’s shrine in the same dream.

If you can lay your hands on a copy of Amazing Grace (2006) – you should watch the film. It’s about William Wilberforce’s effort to pass the bill that ended slave trading in the British empire at the close of the 18th century. Of course slave trading (or owning of) continued especially in the Americas for another seventy years or so. Consider it part of your cultural education (especially those who find it a pain to read history books).
If you can get a copy of “City of God” – it’s a must watch. It’s based on a true story of a slum in Brazil and it’s occupants struggle for survival amidst gangsterism fueled by drugs and poverty.

(08/08/2008)