HIS HOLY WHIZNESS

Shantey Shantey Shantey. Shantey Shantey Shantey… Sangalo…

HIS HOLY WHIZNESS

 I may sing along. I may love the beat. I may even jive to it the few times I jive at all. But. I have never seen a duller whiz kid in my life. Maybe the fact that he is a self-proclaimed “Wheez Keed” plays a part in the dullness. After all, the lizard still finds time to hail itself. Even that lizard must have first performed outrageous feats – like falling from an Iroko tree – to deserve its own self-adulation. Why should I ask my parents if Wheez Keed is bad gan? My father will definitely never have heard of that name, and if I spell it to him, he would cringe instantly and feign a heart attack that measures 9... on the Richter scale. My mom, despite being a deaconess of The Apostolic Church likes to be worldly, in terms of songs, sometimes.

She might know.

At first, boys are wearing Prada in a corner after apparently having hammered. Next, I have to ask my father if he has even heard of a certain bad individual called “Wheez Keed”, before I am informed that he is very bad and spends money by the bundle. In the same breath, I’m also read the credits of the song and duly informed that he has apparently ordered some girl to keep dancing – komole; park her “bus” to the ground. As if this affront to my lyrical sense isn’t audaciously stupid enough, I also have to listen to the fact that he “does” everybody “doable”, including my girlfriend. Wait, he actually says my girlfriend (and yours too) wants to “do” his Holy Whizzyness. All this took him 4 minutes and 39 seconds to say. Ha! I laugh. Derisively. What’s the point? Where do they all connect? Isn’t cohesion an artistic term anymore?

Did I miss the dots?

And the god-awful whine of that goddamned Autotune…

HOW DARE YOU DARE DAREY?

I like Darey a lot. Not in a romantic kind of way, mind. I like that he wants to be different and he actualizes it. He doesn’t sell out on quality all in the name of marketability. But his recent antics… ah, brother, you have it coming.

You have it coming.

Pardon me, but I’m quite sure there aint many places I’ve heard a soul-cum-R&B singer make mixtapes. Pardon me if I still think mixtapes are the exclusive preserve of rap acts.

Like M.I.

The song was melodious, insightful, lyrically upstanding etc etc. I heard it was called “Just The Way You Are”. No problems there, except that…

Wasn’t that the exact same title of Bruno Mars’ hit?

No problems until I heard he also had “Sisi Eko” - another stolen title - and “Never Say Never”!

Darey can conveniently be Justin Bieber’s daddy, never mind Jaden Smith. Why?

THE NODDING HEAD…

Nigerians were very incensed – understandably so – when the nodding head of D’banj kept nodding at President Jonathan’s inane nonsense. I didn’t watch the “Cue & Hey” session, but I heard gist. The most common word you hear “palpable” with is probably “tension”, but, in cyberspace, the anger was palpable.

What do you expect of D’banj?

The man introduced imaginative words like “tongolo”, “no long thing” and “koko” into Nigerian lingo. The man had (in fairness, in collaboration with companies) a reality show, the point of which I’m still trying to wrap my head around. A certain “Rita” for instance, made it past screening, made it into the show proper and started spewing red hot English laced with fire like an angry volcano. How did you imagine he will get on to start with? Whence shall the perception, depth and intelligence spring, to ask intelligent questions? Has the man created another cult societal fad – “intelligent nodding”?

Bottom-line is; he probably got paid a hefty sum for speaking for the grand total of 1 minute (a certain Fela Durotoye must be pretty peeved, and a certain Johnson Ambali, who boasts to undergraduates how he gets paid $7,500 for an hour, must be near the moon now with anger. Please bring me lunar samples sir!). Bottom-line is; Goodluck’s campaign team scouted perfectly for that guy that would fit the bill – an iconic hare-brained male bimbo – to back up an arguably equally hare-brained candidate – never mind the Ph.D.

The man may make the hits, but his reputation has taken THE HIT!

HELP! THE NAZIS ARE HERE!

Why is it that the more international artistes (Asa, Nneka, and Femi Kuti) – who spend more time abroad – are the more grounded ones? Why are the others - whose music wouldn’t make it past the Seme border on a good day – the more arrogant ones? Why do they strut around throwing long arm salutes to themselves like the second coming of “Der Fuhrer”?

THE BUTT-CRACK SHOW

What’s wrong with long underwear, or even a little bit longer-than-usual overwear? I think I represent a few thousand people when I say; I’M TIRED OF THE BUTT-CRACK SHOW! How many times do you get on a bike and hope for the world to fly by, only to be assaulted by the frankly very nauseating sight of girl-in-front-on-a-bike flashing that split right down the middle of her derriere? Funny thing is; some geniuses (chicks obviously) constantly try to pull down their tops to cover up the embarrassment.

Do you not know what you are putting on? Why even bother?

I can safely say I’m a liberal – I tolerate just about anything, especially if it doesn’t affect me directly. Therefore, I believe a woman has the right to wear whatever she may please – even go naked. It’s her body. It’s her prerogative.

It’s her body. But…

But I have to say the ladies are hell bent on showing us every intimate detail of their derriere. Every curve, every roundness, everything, in short.

Or how does one explain the new denim making the female rounds these days?

Oh and yes, do not forget the ungainly sight of nippled mannequins that seem so common these days. What’s the point?

DEBATING DEBATES

Let’s forget that the “Ebele One of Naijaland” flees at the sight of debates faster than the police flee at the sight of equipped robbers. It has already been established that the man is slightly “thick in the grey”. Of course you don’t understand what that means. The brain contains grey matter.

Go figure the rest.

I was watching the “Deputies of Lagos” debate, and I had a few questions. Why is there even a deputies debate when deputies are but butts sitting in offices and heads carrying signs? Why was the organization of that debate by Silverbird so rubbish? Why can’t Nigerians just research a little bit before jumping into things? A panel is a waste of time, especially a panel that doesn’t know its head from its tail in terms of directing questions. The questions themselves were suspect at times, to say the least. Why not have a seasoned media player in political and economic coverage be Mister Moderator? Why have a panel of incompetents - albeit for the job in hand - muddle up the job?

And the Head Honchos’ (guv’nors) debate was even more hilarious. Who would have thought panel member Olisa Agbakogba would make such a fool of himself with his idiotic combativeness? Who would have thought the contestants would trade more barbs than a barber smack in the middle of Oshodi? Who would have thought the debate would be a substitute for Saturday Night Live, except that it was on a Monday?

P.S: Wrote this a little while ago, so, forgive and forget.