Blogging is bad one night stand: Does she know she raised a man who beds politicians?

Blogging is bad one night stand: Does she know she raised a man who beds politicians?

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  • Our young men have been turned into dogs, lapping their masters’ feet, waiting for them to drop at least a piece of bone
  • Does your mother know he raised a ‘man’ who virtually beds politicians to earn favours?

There is a crop of propagandists and rumour-mongers who call themselves political bloggers that are like a bunch of gossip girls who wear trousers and own real eyelashes and even uglier hearts.

These kind of men disgust me, and I won’t even try to sugarcoat it because they can drive a toddler up the wall. Uhuru this, Raila that, Jubilee this, Nasa that every friggin day and night!

Their favourite statement when you try to correct them on something is, “Take it to your own wall; this is my wall, I can write whatever I want!” First of all, that statement alone reeks of juvenile privilege and cowardice of the highest level.

Just like how as kids we used to chase the neighbourhood kids when they scored one against us with our own ball. Second of all, you wrote it on a public wall that Zuckerberg freely gave to you, you don’t pay tax for that wall, and as long as the comment box section is open, that alone is an invitation to comment.

Third, when a post invokes a reaction in someone, they sure will leave you a comment. That’s the whole point of social media.  So, for you to turn around and block or chase that person from your wall is just petty. It only shows you are unable to face and handle realities. If you don’t need people’s opinions, then write it inside your underwear where no one can see it!

I like to believe these political bloggers are just sad people living miserable lives somewhere. For someone to proclaim their career is licking the fat butts of politicians all day long just to earn a little penny and maybe a bit of recognition, is just pathetic.

Our young men have been turned into dogs, lapping their masters’ feet, waiting for them to drop at least a piece of bone from the meat feast on the table. And believe me; never will you be invited to the table because a dog is all you will ever be to them. Your loyalty means absolutely nothing to them.

Does your mother know he raised a ‘man’ who virtually beds politicians to earn favours?  And as you sit your behind on a hard cold chair all day long typing away hateful pieces, someone else is bedding your wife back at home because you have no time for her as your life is all about appeasing the souls of your masters.  Overrunning that one photo that you squeezed in with your earthly ‘god;’ pretending to have a direct line to them when that number has never gone through ever, just shows how  desperate you are.

You are only good as long as you continue being the bridge to their agenda. And when they are done with you, they will cast you aside like you didn’t even matter to begin with.

They’ll use you to brew hate and spew venom on the very person who unconditionally gives you salt and sugar when you have none. And if you don’t believe me, try knocking on the State House gate or the Odinga house in Karen and ask for a pinch of salt. I am pretty sure we will find your sorry ass somewhere beaten to a pulp just one second from meeting your maker.

You are always digging up false information, tainting the other party, attaching sham photos just to agitate people into fighting. But when the day to fight finally comes, your tail stays tucked between your legs as you cry out, “Oh God, help us!” Why do we always involve God when we all landed here from our human undoings? And where will your master be at that time?

They’d probably be in the Bahamas enjoying a cocktail and cheering on as they watch you getting torn into pieces. “He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t care about me,” that should be your chant before you pick that keyboard to write something hateful.

[“Source-sde”]