Posts Tagged ‘Kidero’

Can we all just agree that the Zombies in The Walking Dead are scarier than the zombies in World War Z, please?

No doubt you’ve watched the much anticipated World War Z, or you’re an ardent fan of AMC’s The Walking Dead, Warm Bodies, or all three. All of them typically are about a world overrun by zombies. For those that haven’t, zombies are creatures that have somehow defied death and come back to ‘life’; ok life here is relative. They have control of their exoskeletons hence can walk, albeit at the pace of a slug, maybe slower. In addition, they have no heartbeat and zero brain activity, which means they are only driven by their desire for a taste of human blood. As if that’s not gross enough, their favorite dessert are human brains. Warm Bodies did go further to explain that zombies love eating brains because it allows them to relieve thoughts and memories of other people, but hey, it doesn’t change the fact that it is a gross affair.

Regardless, neither explains how to survive such a zombie apocalypse. I doubt any production will in future either, hence the reason for this post; of course based on what I have learnt from watching them.

  1. First and foremost, the easiest way to survive a zombie attack is to shoot them in the head. Yes, I mean accurate headshots that will blow their rotting brains out. You could do better and cut off their heads, although you do risk the zombie pinning you down and biting you, or worse, making a feast of your brain. I repeat, I encourage you not to give them your thoughts, literally. If you’re bitten, you’re prolly turn into one yourself and someone else will blow off your head. Either way, you’re dead.
  2. There is this story I love of three women that were to be executed by firing squad, I suppose for treason; I am not sure. So, as the story goes, the army commander was generous enough to allow the women to say whatever last words they had, only unknown to him, the women had agreed to each mention a disaster, which would divert attention and give them a chance to escape. So the first woman, an African, on being asked for her last words, shouted “FLASH FLOOD!!!” which was enough to divert attention and she climbed over the wall and ran. The second woman, a brunette, shouted “VOLCANO!!” and she too escaped. The third woman on being asked for her last words shouted “FIREEEE!!!” Needless to say, she was a blonde.

    What’s the point of that story? Simple. Zombies are slower than a blonde’s brain activity. Therefore, when you meet one, or more, trust your legs. RUN the fuck away like you’re a Kalenjin woman that wants to give her boyfriend a lap dance.

  3. Zombies may have zero brain activity, but that doesn’t mean that their senses do not work (Don’t ask me how; I thought the brain is what causes reaction to stimuli). My point is, zombies have excellent sense of hearing. Avoid loud mouths. In fact, I’d urge you not to be anywhere near Jaguar, Mike Sonko, Shebesh, 2 Chainz, Souljah Boy, or whoever else you deem to be a source of loud noise. For instance, keep off Kidero in case he decides to slap anyone and the sound that follows attracts unwanted attention from zombies to you.

    You could also do yourself a good deal to learn using weapons such as swords, crossbows, knives, etc. That goes to you too terrorists. Kindly avoid guns and bombs for the obvious reason that they are loud. And if you have to use a bomb, please use it wisely to blow yourself up and take out as many zombies as you can in the process. I know it could be a new concept blowing yourself up to save other people, but you might just double the number of virgins waiting for you in the afterlife.

  4. In addition, as afore mentioned in number 3, zombies have excellent senses. This applies to their sense of smell and sight too. However, not to worry. There is a way to fool them. However, this might be somewhat gross, so light skins, you might have to hope it doesn’t come to this. This is because it will require you to blow a zombies brains out. Then, you will be required to smear their rotting remains on yourself, which automatically covers up your natural scent with that of a zombie, meaning other zombies cannot smell you out, even if they do see you. However, only use this method if you won’t vomit your intestines out, since vomiting does tend to be a loud, messy affair and we don’t want you attracting zombies to yourself now, do we?

    Alternatively, you could cut off a two zombie’s hands off as well as their teeth and nails, then tie the zombies close to you. This will have the same effect of masking your scent. You can walk with them wherever without rousing suspicion.

  5. World War Z also finds an even better solution. Find yourself a scientist first. Then, you will have to inject yourself with a serum of a weakened form of the virus that causes people to turn into zombies and pray to God your immunity is strong enough to resist the changing process. This virus will alter your DNA to match a zombie’s and they cannot attack one of their own. However, this method should be used with a lot of caution. You should be locked in a room just in case you turn into a zombie and start eating other people’s brains, which will translate into absolutely zero work done; like having sex with a Socialite with a basin pussy and you’re Asian… we all know that if an Asian with an erection is running and he collides into a wall it’s his nose that will get broken.
  6. Finally, ok, actually this should have been number one on this guide, you should learn how to be a thief. This particular skill set will enable you stock up food, medication and an adequate supply of water. Yes, steal, stock it up. You’re going to need a huge supply of those because you can’t really go fishing or farming. Not with zombies wandering all over the place. Ladies, you can stock up cucumbers too just in case all men in the world turn into zombies and there’s no one anymore to help you deal with when you’re horny. Do whatever you have to; just don’t get bit in the process.

    If you do get bit, take heart. You will turn into a zombie soon and the only thing you have to be scared of is a man with a gun trying to blow your brains off. If you’re the sensible type, or you don’t want to die as a zombie, kill yourself; but by shooting yourself in the head. DO NOT try to hang yourself, or you’ll spend eternity dangling from a tree growling senseless things and you can’t even go to sleep because zombies can’t fall asleep. DO NOT try to drown yourself either, or you’ll be stuck in water forever because zombies can’t swim either. Also, dont believe for a second what Warm Bodies purports, that zombies can be healed with love. BLOW THEIR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!


Posted: September 16, 2013 by ketihapa in AIDS, Rape
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Vera Farmiga, who plays the character Norma Louise Bates in the TV hit series Bates Motel in the episode where she was assaulted.

She sweeps across the room, her gaze tilted at an angle of 90 degrees; you see, she’s lying on the cold, hard floor. She breathes softly, calm, waiting for the inevitable. She’s too weak to lift her already bloody hands now, but she can feel her fingers twitch. In the distance, she hears the wailing sirens of police cars as they quickly approach. She knows she’s slowly losing the fight, but hey, she wants it this way. No pain, no regrets. She’s lived the best she ever could…

********** 1 hour earlier****************

The cup of coffee in her left hand, she picks up the remote control of her 32 inch TV and turns it on, and lets herself fall into the embracing arm rests of her couch. Slowly, she flicks the channels till she comes across something she likes. In this case, BBC News Channel. She takes a sip of her warm, soothing coffee, listening carefully to the beautiful female news anchor. She’s talking about the crisis that faces Kenya if her two principles do get convicted by the International Criminal Court, and the African Union’s efforts in intervening to plead with the ICC to let the accused miss some of their court days in order to carry out their executive duties in the country.

Personally, she could care less. She knows it is probably going to destabilize the country if the president and his vice are convicted by the court, but hey, she knows Kenya, her country has always got through her obstacles. Her Black Berry phone beeps once; a text message from work. Her boss is reminding her of her presentation to the board tomorrow but she knows she’s ready for it. She texts back a single line, “I am ready sir, don’t worry.” She knows how much her boss hates shortened words in texts. All the same, she promises herself to go through her prepared presentation before she goes to bed, as well as take her meds.

She now shifts her attention to the hissing noise in the kitchen, which alerts her that her dinner is ready, or almost ready. Lazily, she drags herself up and towards the kitchen. She’s almost halfway when her dog starts barking. She assumes he’s hungry, as usual, when it stops barking after 20 seconds. She lifts the lid of her brass cooking pot and immediately the smell of a meal that promises to be sumptuous hits her nostrils. She takes a spoon and tastes it to check whether she put in the right amount of seasoning. She smiles to herself; boy does she love cooking for herself. She decides she’ll eat it later after taking a shower.

That is when she hears the scratching noise on her front door, followed moments later by a window crashing, which alerts her of an intruder. Her dog has resumed with its barking. Never the type to panic, she calmly dials the police hotline and requests for immediate assistance, before she picks her kitchen knife. She walks towards the kitchen door, swiftly, in order to lock herself in. Really, she doesn’t care whether the intruder takes any of her valuables; she doesn’t care jack shit about any of those things. She knows that her life is more precious.

Now she’s at the door and firmly but quickly, she shuts it, but she’s a second too late. Her intruder is already at the door pushing at it to force it open. In the end, her frail arms give in and she curses herself for not being strong enough as she sprawls towards the floor from the sheer force; she lets go of her knife in the process. Less than a minute later, a hand is grabbing her and she barely has time to reach out for the knife nor to see her assailant’s face.

“Please, take all you want, just leave me alone,” she says, turning to her assailant. Then she sees the muzzle of the gun facing her face and terror rips through her face.


She starts sobbing.

The man, she’s figured out that much now, lifts his fat palm and slams a slap that easily makes Kidero’s to Shebesh look like child’s play.

“What-do-you-want-?” she manages to say amidst her sobs, but it only seems to make him angrier.

Now, he shoves the gun further in her face and orders her to lie still or he’s going to shoot. Vaguely, she has an idea of what she wants but she finds herself praying that it isn’t it her assailant wants. Her fears are confirmed when he pins her face up on the kitchen table, his huge hands urgently grabbing at her skirt. She starts to scream, but the man fires into the air. He rips apart her panties as he methodically opens his fly to reveal his erection.

“Please, you don’t have to do this….” She begs, but the man proceeds to rip open her blouse and in the process her bra, to reveal her tender breasts; she is now fully aware what the man wants to do to her.

His gun trained on her forehead, the man forces himself into her, as pain spreads through her almost instantly; he has no condom on. She closes her eyes and prays a prayer to God, not for him, but for herself. The man has absolutely no idea what he’s done to himself. She feels the tears trickle down her face, as the man’s sweat drips on her nipples, which seems to get the man even hornier and her grabs at her breasts. It’s too late for her to scream out now, she decides, and waits for an eternity for him to finish.

It doesn’t take very long. She feels his seed splash into her vagina; amidst a moan that would make any porn star jealous from the man. He pulls out, leaving fluid dripping out of her; a mixture of blood and sperm. Still pointing his gun at her, he proceeds to dress up, as she sobs softly, tasting her bitter tears in the process.

When he’s done, he takes one look at her and starts walking away. With every strength left in her, she brings herself to sit up on the table, holding herself.

“Sir, if you’d listened to me when I told you to stop I wouldn’t have to tell you that you’ve just contracted HIV,” she says, once again calm.

Her assailant stops dead in in his tracks and in a spur of anger and shock, fires a bullet that connects with her upper body, puncturing her left lung. He takes to his heels as sirens scream in the distance and as she force of the impact from the bullet sends her to the ground. She is clutching desperately at her wound.

The police arrive just in time to see cough blood, as a medic desperately tries to hold on to her dear life for her. Maybe this is not the end after all, she decides, as she slowly fades into unconsciousness.


Posted: September 7, 2013 by ketihapa in Relationships
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

The unwritten rule of life: Hold your child’s hand till you’re sure they wont fall when you let go

If you’re reading this one of three things has happened; one, I resigned my chairmanship of #teamMafisi and got married, or two, one of my mortal enemies found out where I keep my stash of condoms and decided to poke holes, or three, I discovered I could earn money by watching pornography then jerking off and selling my stuff. Whichever the case, the inevitable truth is that here you are reading this letter. Also, it means you’ve turned 18 today… Still, Happy Birthday son.

In truth though, this letter is more of a contingency plan. Not that I do not love you, because I do- my balls are rolling at the moment actually- Your birth may have averted the apocalypse. And now God is so pissed off He wants to send me to hell. Son, I refuse to be sent to hell. I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity telling Osama how his daughter was the bomb. That is the reason I had to make sure you reached 18 before you could read this letter and the reason I didn’t tell you before my untimely demise; because only then can I be sure that you’ve grown enough to handle what I’m to tell you.

So here goes. First of all ensure you have no gas leaks in the house- just a safety precaution because this letter will self-destruct in approximately five minutes if the lab results are anything to go by. That gives you roughly four and a half minutes to finish reading. Now, I need you to kiss the top right part of this letter with an X on it. Your saliva will contain sufficient DNA to reveal the rest of the letter.

Good. The fact that you can read this means that you are indeed my son and not the milkman’s. Sorry, I had to confirm. If you were born as a result of my supposed marriage to your mother or as a result of the holes in the condom (refer to the first paragraph), your mother still blames me for the tattoo on her butt. Marriage wasn’t exactly my idea son, I wanted to die a virgin. Then God said he’d grant me eternal life. I am sorry I had to turn down that offer as appealing as it was.

That aside, I’d very much like to know whom you’re dating before we go any further. Oh shit, wait. I forgot there’s no return address. Doesn’t matter. Coz guess whom I’m hanging out with!!!!!!


Don’t know about you, but I think this guy is just a dick. He brags how he invented the Ford, ati how his vehicles have perfect braking systems and superior engines even if they look ugly. Then to make matters worse, he once tried to criticize God ati how Women were God’s worst invention of all time. You should have seen his face when Jesus told him his invention is shit. Jesus simply pointed out, I’ll quote “My ‘HORRIBLE’ invention, granted, may have a rear end that protrudes too much and emits too much exhaust fumes when they’re asleep, but at least men still ride my invention to date.”

Crap, I just realized you have only two minutes left before the letter explodes. Anyway, back to the reason I wrote this letter, the contingency plan (sorry, I was waiting for the saliva to dry up). After your birth son, I might have glued your glued your mom’s vagina shut. I’m sorry, at the time it seemed like a good idea because apparently our milkman, Wanjala, was taking advantage of the increase in the price of milk to seduce your mother. The bastard was selling her milk for 10 shillings cheaper. But that’s not the point, to cut the story short, apparently it was God’s plan for Wanjala to seduce your mother and get her pregnant. And as we all know, it was the glued vagina that killed her.

Your mother was supposed to give birth to the Antichrist.

I know it’s a hard decision, but I want you to find the notebook your mother buried in the garden outside our house. In it you’ll find detailed instructions on how to invent a time machine. When I wrote it I thought it was utter gibberish but apparently Einstein thinks it was brilliant and that it just might work.

So will you build a time machine son? Your mother’s vagina depends on it.

And I think time should be up now, so I’ll need you to get rid of this letter very urgently or it’ll blow up in your face, and I mean literally.

Goodbye son. Remember, no matter what, I love you. The tattoo of your name on my butt proves it. (Seriously, they allow tattoos in HEAVEN!)

Yours faithfully,

Dad here resting in peace (LQTM).

P.S: When you build that time machine and unglue her vagina, please do me a favour and kill that idiot Wanjala, of course BEFORE he has sex with your mother. Or this letter will be pointless. I lied, it’s a fucking revenge letter.

P.S.S. You’ll get further instructions when you build the time machine, coz well, if you reverse time you’ll undo my death in the process as well and I’ll get to re-watch Kidero slap Shebesh. Neither of them will see it coming till it hits her.