Contemptuous Beauty

I just read the phrase “contemptuous beauty” in an old book. I gather it is where the lucky recipient (and temporary borrower) of God’s or Nature’s bounty feels superior to humanity on that fortuitous account alone.

They demand more volumes of breathing air, colder cokes, sleeker cars for cheaper, exclusive rights to wear the sexiest clothes and the only remaining promotion or pay rise for the next 5 years. That’s contemptuous beauty.

I think I just wrote up a benighted beast and not a bedazzling beauty. I see a lot of Contemptuous Beauties in the City of Accra. Oh, until something devastating inevitably happens to burst their beauty bubble.

(Do you remember the drop-dead gorgeous criminal whose lawyer begged against her imprisonment because she was too beautiful to go to jail?)

A Guy with Soft, Curly Hair

I remember a glamorous girl that I laughed and flirted with a long time ago. She figured she fancied guys with soft and curly (Dada B) hair. Her defence was it was for the benefit of her children. So, it must be true that beyond the physical appetite, what strain of genes to pass on to the offspring is subconsciously at play, when a female selects her mate. My friend was mentally swift, and clearly conceived she had enough of the grey matter to pass on. She just desired a man with body muscle and luxuriant locks!

Closet Kung Fu*

Sin #1: Goes to the loo with his cell phone.

Sin #2: Doesn't switch it off or make it mute.

Sin #3: Fails to realise there's an office mate in there.

Sin #4: Begins to grunt and heave to announce the dislodging.

Sin #5: A call comes through while he's pushing and panting.

Sin #6: Dares to pick the call mid-push, as his voice floats out the cubicle.

Sin #7: Through mouth and nose he yells, “Heee-aaaaaaaah, heh-lloooo.”

Sin #8: Denies it was his voice; says it was the ring tone!


*Forgive me, it's Silly Friday.

Give Us More or We’ll Release the Prisoners!

You know we are damned, dead and doubly doomed when wailing warders abandon prison posts and ooze out onto the city streets like plagues and pus to hold the public hostage. It’s true that they may be paid like public peasant slaves, but to threaten to unleash hordes of prisoners on the equally pay-pinched public is to sink integrity beneath a cesspool.

The Arse of the Traffic in the City of Accra

I’ve had it with bailing out of home at Bat Hour and digging in at my desk (after work) until the Witching Hour, all because of the treacherous traffic streaking from the armpits to the arse of Accra. I resent Ghanaian government – the entire gamut of gormless Ghana governments that have made nothing, nada, of tackling the commuters’ conundrum intelligently. Next time a pitiful politician (of any colour) approaches me, I’d welcome them with my middle finger and vote likewise.

Wicked Wednesday – The Irrelevant List Coming

A catalogue of Ghana’s gay MPs will ‘out’ on Wednesday. Why? There was politics in the town of Cape Coast; a jostle for renown between the president and the leader of the opposition. Now, the shit has hit the fan; scurrilous broadsides. One man has been called gay by the other side. He says it’s not true. However, he has information on who’s gay in Ghana’s Parliament. He will expose them on Wednesday. 2010 in Ghana! Our leaders are dabbling ... Do we really want development in the next 300 years?

I Wish I Could Ask Napoleon for Advice

If I could ask any historical person for advice, hmmm, it could be any among hundreds. But, now, I'm thinking of Napoleon Bonaparte. And here's what I'd ask him:

marilyn_monroe_on_vent

You're small; you have riveting eyes; you are aggressive; you're a soldier; is there anything else in your skill bag for spectacular success (we'll talk about the equally spectacular failure later)?



A close second could be Marilyn Monroe, who I'd probably ask, "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?"



Who would you pick, and what would you ask them?