Posts Tagged ‘Abortion’

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Seriously, if you havent listened to Echosmith's Cool Kids, you need to ASAP

I wish that I could be one of the cool kids, coz all the cool kids, they seem to fit in… Echosmith said this. I am inclined to agree… cool kids do seem to fit in. I have only one problem, who exactly are cool kids. I would stop writing this post if at least one of you had a solid answer but none of you do, IMO. You all seem to have exemplary different definitions of whom a cool kid is. And yes, nobody seems to have a concrete answer. Not even the coolest kids (that I know) can answer this question. So, yes, you can understand why I decided to do this post. I am tired of being labeled uncool along lines that nobody really understands. There are more double standards than that ex of yours that still swears Water is Life yet KNEC swears they taught her that water is H20. Whom do you believe?
It is in this light that I decided to do a little research on whom exactly should be considered a cool kid.
Echosmith swear that a cool kid (despite already being cool themselves) that a cool kid is that person whose heartbeat seems to be faster than yours yet you all have the same heart rate. That person who- whether you’re walking together with or not- never seem to walk in a straight line. Pardon me guys, but I honestly think- if my biology teacher wasn’t as bogus as the principles of life she taught me- that the first person is suffering from Blood Pressure while the second is suffering… sorry scratch that… (If you literally did, congratulations. You are a DJ and effectively a cool kid.)…  enjoying something my Chemistry teacher introduced me, then tried to tell me wasn’t awesome despite giving me numerous tests and exams on it… Alcohol.
Then there’s Facebook. According to Facebook… sorry guys, can’t find anything that’s cool about Facebook or anyone on it. The only way you guys on Facebook are going to be cool is if Facebook freezes your accounts.
Twitter. Sodom and Gomorrah if you will. According to Twitter, you are a cool kid if you meet the following criteria: First you have at least 2000 followers and receive about 400 nudes per day. Then, you have linked your IG to your Twitter account. You also need to tweet things that don’t necessarily make sense, but which people (read other cool kids) can relate to. You also need to have lunch at KFC on a daily basis and post photos of your lunch on the aforementioned IG account. Failure to post the said pic means you had lunch so awesome it couldn’t even be captured on a camera. This includes special treats like Air Burgers and Imagine Pizzas. You also have to be light skinned. If people cannot see it, you are allowed to take a torch and brighten the area of skin you need them to see before posting it on, you guessed it, the aforementioned IG account.
You also need to be very outgoing and attend all sporting events, including imaginary ones like Unicorn Hunting and Bungee Climbing (I personally thought it was Bungee Jumping, but hey, I am not a cool kid.) You have to have a girlfriend that is very okay with you receiving the above mentioned nudes and who would be willing to give you a BJ on top of the Bungee rope that the two of you just climbed. She, bae, in other words, needs to have personal beef with that Safaricom chic that tells her you are not available because she gets overly jealous and feels the entire world is at her feet… including the condom shoes she wears because she doesn’t want to expose her feet to premature pregnancy.
To be deemed a cool kid on Twitter, you need to be not more than 19 years of age. By this time, which by default you’ll have more than more than 2000 followers, you also need to own a house and a car and not complain when it rains because your said car can also transform into a chopper and fly to Mombasa because cool kids expect the weather in Nairobi to beg them to come back. By extension, they also don’t spend time in traffic. Traffic stops for them, just like Cocaine is the one that suffers an overdose of them. To them, everyone is a feminist. In fact, they refer to our Eminem as Feminem.
Then there’s the parents’ description of a cool kid. I will not dwell on this, but the rest of us know that an African mom’s definition of a cool kid is one that gets straight A’s in school and doesn’t get a girlfriend till form 24, and knows how to avoid other cool kids like the plague. In fact, church wine isn’t really made of grapes and doesn’t contain any alcohol. If you drink too much of it and you get drunk, you will be beaten up for trying to consume too much of the blood of Jesus.
Then there’s what you think. Honestly, I can’t really tell you if I am a cool kid, but I do know this one thing; a cool kid does not make stupid typos. Also, a cool kid does not tell people that he got her pregnant by accident because he knows she did not happen to have been walking on the street then she slipped and accidentally fell on his dick. He is responsible enough to acknowledge he got her pregnant and will not look for a scumbag doctor to perform an abortion. He works hard to achieve his goals in life and he will be there for, not only his friends, but also his family. That IMO, is what makes a cool kid.

Abortion is an expression of free will, but it is murder.

Today I feel special; special enough actually to not whine about how women make life difficult for men. I actually feel like I am one in a million. Of course I know how invalid this argument would be if I were in China, where one in a million translates into roughly three thousand other ‘one in a million people’ exactly like you, but what the hell. This is Africa; Kenya to be specific, where everything is either made in China or made in Kenya- by the Chinese. I feel special not because i finally got laid by Julie Gichuru, but because for the first time in my life, I feel I made a difference in someone’s life. In fact, if anyone cares, I feel I deserve a Nobel Prize.

As you all very well know, I now realize my days to fill the Earth are numbered courtesy of the woman that scared me half to death at Kenya Cinema the yesterday. Quite frankly, I understand what the Calendar in my living room feels to have her days numbered- yes it is a she. Don’t ask why, just know it has something to do with the photo on her that I realized is the ultimate icebreaker when I bring a chic home and has consequently gotten me laid a number of times. So anyway, since my near death experience, I decided to make my remaining days on Earth count. I just didn’t know how yet. However, the more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that I first had to accept the fact that everyone is entitled to their opinion and that I had to figure out how to accept people’s opinions without compromising my own. You see, opinion, like an asshole, is one of those things that everyone has. No matter how big or small or how stinky or fresh they are, at the end of the day, everyone has an opinion. It means that you are accommodative enough, but it is up to you to convince people why they should go with your opinion. It was this decision that got me to the events of today and consequently, this post.

It all started yesterday in the morning when Ken, a pal of mine and a colleague at work, told me he needed to find an excuse to skip work; somehow for the next hour, it led to a serious brain-storming session as we tried to figure out the perfect excuse that was guaranteed to work. To cut the story short, we decided to tell ‘his highness’ that my colleague’s girlfriend was pregnant and that she had just called from the hospital saying that her water broke. You see, the beauty of it was that we had been making jokes in the office about who was going to be a father before the other and my boss is one of those people who just cannot avoid listening into conversations- his secretary too, although I tend to overlook this fact because she is totally bangable. And we knew he is the sort of person that takes things a little too seriously, hence it was undoubtedly going to work. True, it worked like a charm. He fell flat for the lie and at that point, we were convinced the pair of us would have made the best defense lawyers in the land. I really have nothing against lawyers, except I always warn people, be wary when dealing with one. Many lawyers are genuinely good people… it is the other 99% of them that give the rest a bad name.

By this point, I know you must wonder how Ken skipping work turned from being a solo project to project “WE skip work” I am sure. The simple reason is that I take my friendships quite seriously. I am the sort of friend that will be beside you in jail when you get caught committing murder because I was caught as I tried to help you conceal the evidence. So in this particular instance, I wasn’t going to let Ken enjoy his freedom alone. The sad thing about karma is that it always has a way of getting back at you… it is like misfortune, which never misses either. And it did strike us when we least needed it. Murphy’s Law dictates that bad things always happen when they are least needed or expected.

The instant we got out of that office, we knew we had a whole day to ourselves to party and simply spoil ourselves. We had made a list of people to call in advance- people that were jobless enough to turn up no matter what. We were happy; happier than my friend Elvis when he discovered he could actually delete Windows to create more space for porn in his computer hard drive, and then use a Linux Ubuntu Live CD to boot the computer and access the stash. No more creating folders and subfolders like ‘Office/Documents/Important/Backup/New folder/etc…/’. (It works by the way, this is not made up.) He is way past that age now, or so he tells us. Anyway, we had just left town and we were on our way to Ken’s place when his girlfriend, Anita, called.

That single phone call changed our day. Karma. Turns out she had missed her period and she actually thought she was pregnant. It gets worse. She was just from the clinic and they confirmed it. And she wanted to keep the baby. Her father is a senior man in one of the current government’s offices. And she’s still in school. Ken wanted an abortion done as soon as possible and he had somehow convinced her it was the best way forward. I would have been okay, except, I did not agree with them. In my honest opinion as I told him, Anita’s initial decision was the right one. It was finally time for him to take responsibility for his actions and I demanded they keep the baby. This baby was the product of a sperm that had fought so hard to beat the rest of the pack to the jackpot and only God knows whether it might have been the one with the DNA of the next president of this country… Okay, on second thought, maybe even the Antichrist, but hey, just like you and me, it deserved its right to life and to see the light of day. Human life is precious, it doesn’t matter how tiny. Besides, if WE did go through with the abortion, how the hell were we supposed to drink away OUR sorrows with no money?

To cut the story short, after I had successfully sold my opinion to Ken, we spent most of the day trying to convince Anita to keep the baby and then, she spent the remaining hours trying to convince us that the best step to take was to inform Ken’s parents as well as hers. In the end, neither party’s parents have been informed yet… We are in fact nursing hangovers and I don’t see either of us making it to work or school tomorrow in Anita’s case. What does matter though is that I feel proud of myself because today I saved a life. The moral of my story or rather, what I learnt from my experience is that not all babies are made as a result of alcohol and two, that alcohol does save lives at times. I believe God finally found a use for my alcoholic tendencies. I may have been selfishly trying to save money for alcohol by preventing Ken from going through with the abortion but it has to count for something that because of me, Kenya’s population expects to increase by one, or God forbid more, in the next nine months. Now, sadly, I have to say bye. My boss is calling I know to ask why I am not in for work and I am off to apply for my Nobel Prize.