Why My Pastor Needs a Private Jet

Church: Halleluyah!!!!!!!!!

Brother: Actually I will be talking on the topic, "Why my pastor needs a Private Jet." I believe you have not exhausted your daily quotas of 'Amen' because you'll need to say 'Amen' repeatedly as we go along.

Children of God, it is time for global revival! The church in Nigeria is to carry this end-time message around the world and she needs tools! My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel with teaching appointments in many countries and this work is far too important to be left to airline schedules.

You see, my Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Catholic”) Italy. Italy ranks 1st globally in Maternal Mortality. Just 4 women die in Italy in 100,000 births in a whole year. In Nigeria, about 50,000 women die due to Childbirth annually. In fact, Nigeria is 2nd globally with the highest maternal mortality rate and contributes 10 per cent to the world’s total maternal deaths. My Pastor needs a private jet from members without health care to go and teach the Italians how to live in health and deliver safely.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“liberal”) America. America ranks first in GDP globally, whilst Nigeria ranks 43rd through oil exports. My pastor needs a private jet from members who produce nothing to go teach hard work to the Americans.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“permissive”) Sweden. Sweden was top 3 in the last Corruption Index whilst Nigeria ranked 143 out of 182 countries. My pastor needs a private jet gotten from the proceeds of corruption to go and teach the Swedes how to be righteous.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“immoral”) Brazil. Brazil ranks 2nd globally in actualizing development goals whilst Nigeria ranks 90 out of 133 in making development progress. My pastor needs a private jet from a stagnant people to go teach Brazilians how to move forward.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Shinto”) Japan. Japan ranks 2nd globally in life expectancy whilst Nigeria ranks 185 out of 202. My pastor needs a private jet from people who die needlessly, daily and before their time, to go pray for the Japanese to live long.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“communist”) North Korea. North Korea ranked 1st in Adult Literacy globally whilst Nigeria ranked 129th! My pastor needs a private jet from an illiterate congregation to go impart knowledge to the Koreans. (Cuba 2nd)

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“atheist”) China. China ranks 1st in the world in High Tech Exports, whilst Nigeria ranks 90th. My pastor needs a private jet from members who work in Chinese companies to go teach the Chinese how to be productive.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“unchristian”) Israel. Israel has the world’s most developed R&D sector, whilst Nigeria ranks 90th globally in Research. My pastor needs a private jet from members who discover and develop nothing to go teach the Israelis divine inspiration

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Buddhist”) Thailand. Thailand has an unemployment rate of less than 1% of its population, whilst in Nigeria it’s as high as 40%. My pastor needs a private jet from a jobless congregation to go teach the Thais how to be gainfully employed.


Yes, my pastor needs a private jet, to take to the world what he has been unable to accomplish at home

(Look at my life, look your life, na who e clear say dey serve God? If we apply that philosophy here, all pastors will sit at home and pray for Nigeria which indeed is in dire straits. You cannot take coal to Newcastle, nor Sugar Cane to Brazil nor Christ to the very people that gave him to us).

Author unknown.

GIVING BIRTH TO JUST GIRLS...If Obama Was Truly African by ENA OFUGARA

GIVING BIRTH TO JUST GIRLS...If Obama Was Truly African by ENA OFUGARA

Seeing Obama walk up the stage with his two lovely daughters had me imagining things and laughing yet saddened... saddened that till date, women who, through no fault of theirs, gave birth to just female children suffer still.

I just imagined that Obama's mother was African. Suspend belief for a while and go with me down this lane. If you are Nigerian, the following conversation between Michelle Obama and fictional Mama Obama and Barrack Obama will be easy to relate to.

This is probably happening to a woman (and man) you know.

ENJOY...or think.

LOCATION: WHITE HOUSE. INT: NIGHT

Mama Obama wakes Michelle up and calls her into the sitting area

Mama Obama: Ehen Michelle, how body

Michelle: I am fine ma.

Mama Obama: Na your turn. Now you ask me how my own body

Michelle: What is wrong ma? Are you sick? Do you want money? What is it?

Mama Obama: You dey ask me abi? As you see Barrack Marry so, u no like am?

Michelle: I do not understand ma.

Mama Obama: If to say I no born boy, who u for marry? If to say na only girl pikin I born. Tell me

Michelle: Ma...

Mama Obama: No "ma" me there. Ma ma ma, your first pikin done reach to born and still I never see boy pikin wey go inherit this white house. As George Bush son inherit him papa post come become president, e no good?

Michelle: But Ma, we do not have a choice as to the sex of the child God gives to us. If we even believe science, it is Barrack as the man that determines the sex of the baby, if it will be a boy or a girl. It is he that has the Y and X chromosome.

Mama Obama: eh eh eh. Hold am there. You mean say my pikin "ameoma" (semen) no strong reach to born boy?Naim U dey talk????????

Michelle: It is not by strength of semen. It is God's choice

Mama Obama: So na me sin so tay God dey punish me say I no go carry pikin go circumsize abi? U dey call me sinner. (Shouts as she ties her head tie around her waist and calls Barrack Obama. Barrack comes out, tired from perhaps plans to bomb Iran)

Barrakiii, Barrakii, come hear wetin your wife dey talk. She say me I be sinner. She say your sperm no strong reach to born boy. She want make your papa name die. yeh yeh yeh yeh

Barrack Obama: Mama what is it again? I told you to please let this matter die. "Omotejokwo". A girl is a person as well.

Mama Obama: Ebabo!!! Me ta ro. I said it. I talk am say Michelle done use juju for you. I talk am. (Turns around and begins to pray in Mountain of fire style) Blood of Jesus. Blood of Jesus!!! Holy Ghost Fire!!! Burn them, burn them.Anybody that has used juju on my son,die! die!! die!!!

Barrack Obama: Mama, nobody used Juju on me. Bill Clinton has only one girl called Chelsea. I have two. What do u expect Bill's mother to do?

Mama Obama: (To Obama in a softer voice). Omo me. My pikin. You no dey hear wetin people dey talk? Them say you and Clinton na Illuminati. say na una boy pikin una take do the jazz wey make una president.

Barrack Obama: And u believe that nonsense?

Mama Obama: You know world people with their dirty mouth wey dem no dey brush. But no be say u do am oh. Just try born boy wey go inherit this big fine White House.

Barrack Obama: mama, this is not my house. In a few years I have to pack out. It is for the president of the United States.

Mama Obama: You see! If your boy pikin become president e bad? You know see Bush Pikin?

Barack Obama: What stops any of my girls from being presient if they work towards it? Hilary Clinton is someone's daughter and she will likely be the next president. My daughters are brilliant girls

Mama Obama: No dey put word for my mouth. I tell you say dem no brilliant? I say make u use one boy support them two make mind rest.

Barrack Obama: Mama, I have always supported women to be equal to men in the working place. It is this kind of behaviour that is making Chinese people to be commiting foeticide,

Mama Barrack: Fwety wetin

Barrack Obama: Foeticide. This is the killing of a foetus. In China you are allowed only one child and since a lot of parents prefer boys, they do scan to determine the sex of the unborn child and if it is a girl, they terminate the pregnancy. The girl-child is as important as the boy child. It is our battle in Pakistan and all over the world and what we are trying to achieve that girls be treated no different. It is why the whole world condemned the shooting of Malala Yousufza by Muslim extreemists. All this girl wanted was for girls to have education just like boys. thank God her life was spared. Mama, a girl can be whatever if you give them same opportunities.

Mama Barrack: (Hand on head) EGBELUGHE!!! You say boy pikin and girl pikin na the same? You no hear say for Benin na only boy dey inherit Igiogbe which is the house a man stayed? You want make other people inherit all this your property abi???

Barrack Obama: I am a lawyer just like my wife. I know the Benin tradition. If a man does not want his son to inherit his house, he can sell the house while alive to any of his children and pack out and rent a flat. If the house is not his at time of death, it cannot be inherited by a stupid son.

mama Obama: So na this one i send you go law school go read abi? All the garri I fry take train you, na how u no go take born boy you dey plan abi?

Michelle: Mama, we did not plan not to have boys. I believe in what God has given me. The children are gold to me

Mama Obama: (to Michelle) As I never turn face you, you no go quiet abi? If you use the book wey them say you know well well take born boy e bad???

Barrack Obama: mama, I have a country to run, I need to sleep. You are disturbing us seriously

Mama Obama: Me dey disturb you? For how many days I done dey here wey I take dey disturb you??? No be your sister dey take care of me since? You, I never come your house reach one week, you done dey drive me. Meanwhile you wife mama dey come here stay one year.

Barrack Obama: It is because you never let my wife rest.

Mama Obama: I talk am. Your wife na weeeeeeensh. She done turn you against me. Me wey before you come outside wey I dey born you, this your "ogo" for you back head nearly tear me into two. You wey I leave all your sister dey carry, me wey make sure say na ur money many pass wey you dey go school. Na me no fit stay your house abi? meanwhile your sisters dey take good care of me...sisters wey i leave concentrate on u.

barrack Obama: We all know girls take better care of their aging parents. It is why I wonder at the silliness of insisting on and preferring a male child. If it is the name, i can make sure the girls add "Obama" to their names as women are doing on facebook all over the world. nevertheless mama, I will try my best to take care of you...

Mama Barrack: If you want try your best, carry Michelle enter room now make una gimme boy pikin. If the third time no work, Mama Kipketer get one fine girl. her name na "ogwoguvwevwi" (meaning wrecker of homes). we call her "Oghwo"for shot. You can call her "oghwo darling". I go bring am come make she do housegirl for Michelle. If night reach, na u know how u go dey creep go her room. I hear say Terminator abi na Commando abi na Arnold Swarchzenneger do like that with one woman. That na calabar style.

Michelle: Mama, I can wash all the plates. I do not need a housegirl

Mama Barrack. Okay, Michelle no worry. I no go bring am come your house. iBarraki, when you dey come Kenya? I go keep the girl wait you. No worry, I go take care of am. na just make u dey carry this your private jet abi na AirForce One come Kenya on code come "brokware". that is all.

Barrack Obama: Mamaaaaaaaaaa

Mama Obama: Eh. I done pack my load. I dey go house tomorrow. If I chop your wife food, she fit go poison me
. I done buy bread keep for my "osumabe". (To Michelle) Michelle abi na Michellin tire,, if u no go born boy, ready to pack comot. Next time i come, na with all him sisters and you will pack your load and go in Jesus name. AMEN!!!

Barrack Obama: You keep screaming GOD GOD and never missing Church and yet you are not showing love and understanding to my wife. You are not doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. I know a lot of the money I send to you, you give it as "seed" for me to have a male child or for my wife to pack out. Mama, i am satisfied with all God has done for me. It was his will that a black man like me become president in a country where many people still see you as no better than a monkey. If it is his will that I have only girls, I embrace it gladly. "OMOTEJOKWO", a girl is a human being.

The above was published with the permission of the author Ena Ofugara.

Please leave your comments below for the author.

“M” is for “Mother” – My Review of Skyfall

Finally! I got to see the 23^rd James Bond movie, Skyfall and I was not disappointed. Directed by Academy Award winner, Sam Mendes (American Beauty) and written by the usual suspects Neal Purvis and Robert Wade, together with John Logan, Skyfall marks a half century of Bond movies, and quite naturally my expectations were high, especially following the debacle that was Quantum of Solace.

Once again, just like Licence to Kill and Die Another Day, it was personal. Bond was not out to just save the world but was also on a mission of a personal nature, made personal by the real threat to his surrogate mother, M and her MI6 family.  And just like in The World Is Not Enough he has to rescue and protect M from a villain who blames her for his suffering at the hands of Britain’s enemies. We get to see Daniel Craig grow into the role of Bond; he is less cocky and made more aware of his mortality. Bond seems tired yet determined as he comes back from retirement to serve his queen (read as mother) and country.

A flawed agent, Bond has to do battle with another flawed agent and former but elder brother-at-arms (Alec Trevelyan in Goldeneye, anyone?) who was also nursed at M’s breast, a former MI6 agent, Raoul Silva. Silva played excellently well by Javier Bardem at long last gives us a villain worthy of facing Bond. The previous three (not counting Le Chiffre) were poor poor villains. Raoul Silva – bleached blonde hair and all – very quickly reminds you of The Joker, Max Zorin and Jaws in one particular scene, but where they appear almost comical and crazy like, Silva is not. He is a very intelligent man and like a son betrayed unto death by his mother, he sets out to exact his vengeance. His Spanish-flavoured English lends a certain appeal but also has a dangerous edge to it. Indeed, Raoul Silva is a man to be fearful of.

But why doesn’t Bond ever crack or betray M? In Die Another Day he was left at the hands of the North Koreans and was tortured for over a year; in Casino Royale, Le Chiffre almost emasculated him. Where most agents would have held a grudge against the Empire, Bond never ever does even when his wife was killed by Blofeld. So what makes James Bond so faithful and loyal? I daresay he is a mama’s boy. Bond is M’s favourite who sees his mother as imperfect but in the end she knows best.

Truth be told, Skyfall is rather formulaic and borrows plot lines from previous Bond movies. Revenge. Betrayal. And the villain practically giving himself up to gain access to the new MI6 headquarters (hmm.... reminds me of a certain superhero movie). Initially hampered by budget constraints ($200mm), Skyfall still ekes a beautiful production. It boasts great cinematography and visual effects. The cityscapes of Shanghai, the rooftops of Istanbul and London are eye catching and lovely to behold. The action scenes are done just right with just the right amount of intensity for they never go over the top.  

The acting is quite good by everyone and a special mention goes to Javier Bardem. However, the chemistry between Bond and Eve (Naomie Harris) is not quite there but perhaps this was deliberate as this relationship is one that is never meant to be “quite there”. I also noticed that this time the focus was a lot less on Daniel Craig as Bond but it was rather on Bond as Bond. After the first 30 minutes I stopped trying to second guess myself as to whether Daniel Craig was still a good Bond.

Skyfall very successfully reintroduces Bond to us by providing more details into his past, what is must have been like for him growing up at Skyfall, the almost Bruce Waynesque loss of his parents, and his coming of age in the tunnels of his boyhood home. Both the audience and Bond himself are reintroduced to a new quartermaster, Q (Ben Whishaw) who promises to be one for the new millennium, nerdy, techie but cool.  

Another reintroduction is that of the iconic Aston Martin DB5 used in Goldfinger; and Moneypenny, M’s secretary and James’ almost-girlfriend and lover in a brilliant twist at the end of the film. Quite naturally, I expected Ralph Fiennes to have a bigger role and the man once touted to be the “next Bond” does. *wink*

So as the curtain falls on Dame Judi Dench’s M, we applaud and say goodbye to a strong woman, an efficient leader who faced danger with every step, and took the hardest and toughest decisions; the only woman to perhaps match Bond himself, and chronology notwithstanding, the first Bond girl, his mother “M”.

PS: Skyfall has grossed $321mm worldwide since its October 29, 2012 premiere.

Vote for your favourite Bond actor below.

I also added a brief history of James Bond via the guys at CableTV.com, click on the graphic to hyperlink/maximise:

Via: CableTV.com

If You See the Trek Wey I Trek This Morning!

If You See the Trek Wey I Trek This Morning eh! Una go pity me! 

I woke up early enough considering it was the first workday after a 4-day weekend, thanks to our Muslim brothers. I had shared a bottle of  wine at a friend’s last night so falling asleep was meant to be easy but no thanks to a noisy neighbour who hasn’t realised that he is no longer at the university, it took longer than planned.

So I woke up early and got to the major road a good fifteen minutes before the staff bus’ scheduled arrival at Ajah. But lo and behold there were no okadas in sight! Ten minutes later, na so I begin dey panic. Missing the staff bus would not be funny at all! Instead of me to enter keke jeje I was still forming. You see I don’t like kekes, to me they are like tortoises who think they are rabbits. In my mind, they appear a lot more fragile than the okadas. Irony eh? Besides the kekes take longer to get to the Ajah junction/roundabout than the okadas that can squeeze through two Toyota Sequoias on a good day. Please note that it takes the average car 40 minutes to get from Badore to Ajah junction/roundabout, no thanks to traffic caused by the abysmal slow pace of work on the Lekki-Epe express road by our beloved Hi-Tech Construction Coy. So I held out for an okada. I buzzed my guys on the bus; they were about to pull out of Ajah. Chei! And I was counting on the early Monday morning traffic to slow the bus down. Oh well, shit happens. I told them to go and that I would take public transport aka danfo to work. I waited another ten minutes before I got an okada. The fare of N150 automatically became N200! I tried to bluff the okada man but he called it, so I quickly said no problem and I got on. I got to Ajah in no time and handed the man N1,000. He began to vex asking where he would get change from this early Monday morning. I quietly handed him N150 in change. He looked at me and with a grumble and went to look for change. He came back shortly and handed me my change. 

I walked over to the bus stop. Chei! See crowd! No bus! At this point it was 7am. I called my only friend in Ajah to find out if he and his Kia Rio had passed that point already. He picked and said that he had just gotten to VGC where he was about to pick up some of our friends. I quickly told him I would look for an okada and join him. For where! I no see ONE okada! He had to continue his journey. At this point I decided to walk forward hoping to catch a danfo to Sand fill/Maroko. No such luck. After about 20metres I got a bus to Lekki Phase One for N200....nothing spoil for I could still get an okada from the other side of the road to my office in VI.

The bus picked some secondary school students with the conductor screaming that he would not take less than his advertised fare. The students still got on with full mind and along the way declared that it was N150 that they had. Conductor screamed and threatened. Bus driver joined in. Students screamed back. Bus driver parked his bus and opened the boot for the students (six in number) to get down. Nigerian standoff. Eventually, the students handed over the required fare, but not before cussing out bus driver and conductor. Bus dropped us at Phase One; time check 7:45am. I got to the other side and lo and behold where there were supposed to be okadas at New Market, I saw none! I decided to wait with a bunch of other people. A few okadas came around but none was willing to go my way, except one and he demanded N400! Try as I may, my Warri mind refused to part with that amount of money. It would not, never give in to another man’s greed or exploitation of my misfortune! The government might fuck me in the arse but not an okada man! Never! So after waiting another five minutes in the early morning sun, I decided to trek.

Omo see trekking sha! I walked o, went through Oniru estate. I did not feel too bad as I was quite sure that I would get to the other side way before the traffic-snarled vehicles I walked past. I trekked o, all the while thanking God that I wore my slapping-friendly shoes. My thoughts turned to how I would reward them with a fine coat of polish and myself with a bottle of Lucozade Boost. I got to the other side of Oniru and I spied a solitary okada coming my way. I promptly stopped him. He charged me N150. I did not blink. I got on and arrived at the office at 8:30am, sweaty but in one piece.

As I got into the lift all I could think of was “You better wake up thirty minutes earlier son, ‘cos Fashola no send you!”

N.B.: To the uninitiated "okada" is a commercial motorcycle, and "keke" is an auto rickshaw.

My Name is Bond....

When I was kid I wanted to be James Bond. Yes! He of the “My name is Bond...James Bond” fame. And why exactly did I want to be like Ian Fleming’s super-spy creation? Perhaps it was the guns, the uber cool cars, the charm, the suave dapper of the iconic character, or maybe the not so subtle hints that women fell at his feet (including the female villains who wanted a taste of the man before doing away with him!) So I prayed that by some twist of fate I would find myself working for the British Secret Service or MI6, where I would be trained as a super-spy  imbued with a wide range of skills from being a sharpshooter to an excellent skier, diver and skydiver capable of manning any land, sea vehicle or aircraft known to man including space ships. I would always look sharply dressed in the best that Savile Row had to offer, while saving the world, necktie and cuff-links still in place. Sigh.

However, by the time I hit 16 I gave up on my dream, with reality biting me in the right places.

And just how did my love for the world’s most iconic fictional character begin? I was about six when I saw my first Bond film. I had the unforgettable pleasure of watching Goldfinger at my uncle’s house in Warri. Many would agree that there is no better Bond movie to begin the series with than Goldfinger, which went on to become the template on which all the subsequent Bond films were based. My uncle had about four Bond films in his collection of VHS cassettes. I am willing to bet that James Bond was the reason he named his last child, my cousin, James.

Having been bitten by the bug in Warri, I discovered that my new neighbour back home had a collection of Bond films. In addition, a cousin and her family moved down the road from ours, who had all the Bond movies that my neighbour did not. I was in heaven. My weekends and holidays were filled with watching and re-watching the films I had access to. Thus, my love for James Bond and everything he stood for grew.

And what exactly did James Bond stand for? Even in my young mind, I understood that he was that emblem of huMAN freedom, a bastion against the enemies of freedom and liberty. He was the good guy, a veritable weapon against the axis of evil (East or West). He never dies; he kills the bad guy and gets several women on the way. He was a man’s man. So confident in his abilities that he rarely used an alias: “The name’s Bond....” I mean what kind of spy goes around telling everyone who he is?! A super duper spy, that is!

I was awed by the gadgets and the cars provided by Q Branch. I mean, a CAR EJECTOR SEAT!! A car that transformed into a boat!! A wristwatch with lasers! Little wonder he never dies! His fighting skills until recently were a form of art, from Sean Connery to Roger Moore, he never seemed to break a sweat while in the throes of danger. Pierce Brosnan’s Bond brought a lot more physicality to the role but he still never seemed to get a hair out of place! Bond’s fighting was like ballet (don’t touch me! Don’t “dirty” my shirt!), and like a certain Argentine with a football at his feet, it seemed effortless. Daniel Craig’s Bond on the other hand is Bond with the rough edges, before the smoothing out and touching up. With him Bond is brutal and hard. Efficient. Real. However, he still looks good doing it! In the preview of Skyfall, there is a clip that shows Bond following an explosion, jumping into a dissected train carriage and yet still taking the time to adjust his shirt cuffs and jacket before walking off! SWAG! Come on!!

Indeed, each and every actor who had the good fortune of playing 007 brought his own interpretation and unique qualities to the role. 

Roger Moore, the third Bond as my fellow Bond aficionado and friend Tosan would say was a comedian and an “ashawo”, which in Yoruba refers to a man that likes and chases women a little too much. I mean Bond is the consummate lover but Moore’s Bond seemed to enjoy the women a lot more than the rest, with the way his baby blues would light up upon seeing a beautiful woman. Moore’s funny innuendos and double entendres were unforgettable, in this regard only Pierce Brosnan came close. 

Tim Dalton, the fourth actor to play Bond, was easily the most business-like of them all. His Bond did not have time for flirtations. He was grim and serious, a cold blooded superspy. 

Daniel Craig, the actor who introduced Bond to a new generation of movie watchers is in many ways like Timothy Dalton. Critics and James Bond experts agree that both of them closely resemble in character Ian Fleming’s description of 007. Dalton’s Bond is not judged to be the most popular but he is well appreciated by the critics. It is important to note that Dalton’s Bond movies: License To Kill and The Living Daylights marketing were hampered by budget constraints suffered by Eon Productions. In all the Welsh man did a very good job.

George Lazenby the least known Bond is just that, the least known Bond, and maybe the handsomest of the lot.

Pierce Brosnan looks like he was born to play Bond. The Irishman certainly looked and played the part so well that when Goldeneye was released we kinda forgot that other actors had played the role before him. Goldeneye (sans the opening airplane-catching scene) was a very good reintroduction of Bond and some real British superspy intelligence to fans who had been starved for six long years.

But the Bond of them all is Sir Sean Connery. Don’t get me wrong, he is not "the best Bond" neither is he my favourite Bond, however he as the blueprint very successfully introduced Ian Fleming’s James Bond to the big screen. Just imagine if Dr. No, From Russia With Love and Thunderball had been crap (please note that Thunderball, released in 1965, is recorded as the most financially successful Bond film.) we probably would not have gotten as many Bond movies as we now have. So if Roger Moore was the playboy, Dalton the grim one, Brosnan the fine yet skilled one and Craig the rough one, then Connery was all in one, the complete Bond who had all the characteristics aforementioned.

And it is these characteristics that made me want to be Bond. In my mind he was the complete man: super smart, sexy, a gentleman, a playboy, a great lover, a fighter. James Bond, who achieved the rank of Commander in the Royal Navy, speaks several languages, dresses better than Prince Charles, Tony Blair and Puff Daddy combined, can man numerous vehicles and aircrafts, skis, bungee jumps, skydives, water dives, dates numerous exotic women (without catching an STD!), kills the bad guy no matter how the odds are stacked against him and always saves the day! That is my definition of a man, the man deep down inside I still want to be.

So as the world celebrates 50 years of the original super spy, Ian Fleming’s James Bond “007” and 23 great movies, we say thank you to Mr. Fleming, Albert R. Broccoli, Harry Saltzman (who bought the rights to the Bond books) Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson for continuing to make us happy, Eon Productions, Monty Norman for the iconic theme, John Barry for the music over the years, the various scriptwriters who weaved fantastic plots, and actors who played the unforgettable villains –Auric Goldfinger, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Jaws, Mr. Scaramanga, Le Chiffre, Dr. No, Max Zorin, Mr. Kananga etc, the actresses who played the beautiful Bond girls – Honey Rider, Pussy Galore, Jinx, Domino, Solitaire, Kissy Suzuki, Teresa di Vicenzo aka Mrs. Bond, Tiffany Case, Xenia Onatopp, Wai Lin, Paris Carver, Anya Amaosva, Holly Goodhead, Mary Goodnight, May Day, Kara Milovy, Elektra, Vesper Lynd etc, Miss Monneypenny, Q the Quartermaster and finally to Sean, George, Roger, Tim, Pierce and Daniel.

Thank you guys, thank you!

And oh yeah....Daniel Craig is my favourite Bond! :)

Film Review: The Last Flight To Abuja: May Day!

On Friday, August 3, 2012 when my friend Atoke buzzed me to invite me to the premiere of the Nollywood movie The Last Flight To Abuja holding at the Genesis Deluxe Cinemas I was a bit hesitant. You seeI am not a fan of Nigerian movies (there have been the odd few that I have really enjoyed.... Guilty Pleasures, Mortal Inheritance, Rattlesnake, Out of Bounds, Thunderbolt... to mention a few)...but since it was a chance to share a few laughs and hang out with a friend and see the movie at no real cost to me I decided to give it a go.

The pre-premiere opinion of the movie shared by quite a number of people was that the movie should not have been made and that it was rather insensitive of the makers of the film to “cash in” on the events of the fatal June 3 Dana Airways air crash. This impression was corrected by Mr. Alex Otti, MD/CEO of Diamond Bank the main sponsors of the movie at the premiere. The Last Flight To Abuja, written and directed by Obi Emelonye (The Mirror Boy), which was loosely based around the Bellview Airlines crash of 2006 had been in production for months and was scheduled for release when the Dana plane crashed -  a case of a very bad coincidence.

So I “crossed” my mind and decided to be as objective as possible as I watched the movie. And what can I say? Although it was a commendable attempt, The Last Flight To Abuja crashed both literally and figuratively! Now where do I begin? Armed with a good but cliché ridden and predictable plot and storyline, The Last Flight To Abuja would have been a good movie if it had had a good script and dialogue, any decent acting and passable video effects.

The dialogue was abysmal to say the least; the conversations were alternately stilted and rushed like they were in a race or something. And when did the word “some” become a definitive article? e.g. “Let’s watch some Titanic”, “You have some temperature”. This wrong usage was rife throughout the entire movie with no one finding it fit to correct it!

Wardrobe and realism as is with many of our Nollywood productions was questionable particularly the uniforms, couldn’t the producers get authentic pilot and police uniforms? What was with the plastic tape used to make the pilots’ stripes?  The pilot’s wife also did not have a wedding ring on as she spoke to him on the phone. Were tablets available for use in 2006? Just one air hostess/cabin crew member on a plane? Are we to believe that the airport’s control tower is just one room, closely resembling my BQ room at the university? And the CGI? Hmm, definitely not 2012 stuff, no scratch that, definitely not 2001 stuff!! And the realisation that a scene from another movie was used to depict the air crash scene!! Shame!

The acting? Ever present were the shifting accents and affectations that are more in line with stage performances. However, I did enjoy Hakeem Kae-Kazim’s acting as well as Jim Iyke’s (sorry o but for some funny reason I like his acting *big grin*). The pilots played by Anthony Monjaro and Celine Loader effectively portrayed the distress and panic that any pilot in their positions would feel. Everyone else? Average.

However, the movie was not all bad! I wholeheartedly welcomed and commended Obi Emelonye’s cinematography and use of non-linear sequencing in telling his story, reminiscent of Chris Nolan’s Memento (2000). It showed a certain amount of ambitiousness that I liked. However, the downside was that there were too many flashes between scenes alternating between Abuja and Lagos which was a bit disorienting. His attempt to tell a story from different points of view and perspectives of the characters where they all converge on the plane is also worthy of note. The sound and sound effects were not bad either and the score was very very good! I particularly liked the use of radio commentary featuring a few of our OAPs as background sound as it helped the scenes. There was plenty of comic relief especially by Hakeem Kae-Kazim and his wanna-be philanderer friend. So we had loads of good laughs.

In the end The Last Flight To Abuja is a good attempt but is still beset with the basic challenges to good film making in Nigeria – scripting, acting and realism. The movie might take off with you but I am not so sure of where it would land you. Enjoy!

NB: The Last Flight to Abuja is dedicated to the memories of those that lost their lives in the June 3, 2012 Dana Airways plane crash. Written and directed by Obi Emelonye, it stars Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde, Hakeem Kae-Kazim, Jim Iyke, Ali Nuhu, Uru Eke, Celine Loader, Anthony Manjaro and Jide Kosoko.

Film Review: The Dark Knight Rises: Did it really?

On Wednesday, July 25, 2012 I got an invite to the Genesis Deluxe Cinemas’ premiere of probably the year’s most anticipated movie, The Dark Knight Rises, the concluding installment of director and writer Chris Nolan’s three part Batman series. The hype and anticipation was unprecedented, probably only matched by movies like Terminator 2: Judgement Day and (perhaps the only other comic universe franchise to match DC) Marvel’s The Avengers. The latter had broken records to become the third highest grossing movie of all time in just about eight weeks, earning $260m in its opening weekend in April 2012. I was among the very few people who believed that The Dark Knight Rises would beat The Avenger’s record.

And why did I believe that it would? Simply because Chris Nolan is a FANTASTIC director and writer. Indeed, The Dark Knight smashed records when it was released in 2008. It earned more than a billion dollars worldwide upon its release in 2008. Many would attribute this to Heath Ledger’s epic portrayal of The Joker based on Nolan’s interpretation of Batman’s most villainous villain. Others (myself included) would attribute it to the psychological study that was The Dark Knight. Nolan took Batman from comic book icon to a study in humanity, the battle between good and evil, and the grey areas in between. 2011’s Inception was a case study in film making. Nolan brought bits of what made his sophomore film Momento (2000) to bear in the critically acclaimed Inception. So little wonder The Dark Knight Rises was billed to rise and rise and rise. But somewhere along its intended ascent the two hours plus movie lost its wind.

First and foremost The Dark Knight Rises seemed like a lazy effort. The editing was abysmal. The scripting and plot scenes were like a series of quickies that did not get to the climax. The holes in the plot and storyline were so gaping and the material just did not hold water. I was left to assume so many things: How come Blake could so very easily figure out that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne? How did Bane figure out Batman was Bruce Wayne? How come after eight loooooong years, the city was still mourning White Knight Harvey Dent? I thought Lucius Fox left at the end of The Dark Knight? If he did not, why did he change his mind? How did the 3,000 plus Gotham City policemen survive three months underground? How come Alfred left? No, seriously why did he abandon Bruce? Where was the prison dungeon located? How come Bane could come and go as he pleased? Thought it was supposed to be somewhere not mainland USA? Bane broke Batman’s back (I actually cheered at that scene because it stayed true to the comics!) But come on! One does not recover from a broken back in a prison dungeon overnight!!!! The time-wasting speech and by-force kiss at the climactic scene when time was running out was cringe worthy! A nuke is about to go off in two minutes and you still have time for catharsis and a smooch? Like seriously?!! At the very best the script was overly simplistic.

The acting was not any better really. Joseph Gordon-Levitt had a good performance as the incorruptible cop John Blake. So did Gary Oldman and Marion Cotillard. Michael Cain was poor to say the least while Morgan Freeman and Christian Bale both seemed bored. And Bane’s voice! I had to strain my ears and mostly got someone else to tell me what he said!! It is bad enough we have to strain to catch what Batman (Bale) says due to his hoarse lisp but Bane’s Darth Vader-like voice was just inaudible!! The final fight scene was bleh! I know Chris Bale is not the biggest person or known for his fighting skills, but it was stiff (maybe it was the suit)! Bats is a bad ass martial artist schooled in the shadow arts! Most of us were also hoping that Tom Hardy who played Bane would bring some of his “bad assness” from The Warrior to bear on The Dark Knight Rises but alas that was not seen. The fighting should have been better choreographed.

On the positives, I loved the Talia al Ghul twist! It made sense. But the lovey dovey between Bruce and Miranda Tate her alter ego was not convincing enough. The twist at the end – Blake donning the role of Batman, Bruce Wayne (still recognisable!) turning up alive in Paris with Selina – reminiscent of Inception was almost cheesy but very welcome. It gave the film its final and much needed airlift. I mean no one, no matter the speculations, wanted to see Batman killed. We are glad Nolan kept him alive. If he had not, I daresay The Dark Knight Rises would have been deemed a bad movie.

I would be the first to admit that I was looking forward to identifying themes in The Dark Knight Rises. I found a few.

Nolan by bringing thematic elements of Batman Begins together with those from The Dark Knight stresses that Bruce Wayne cannot exist without Batman simply because he is first Batman before he is Bruce Wayne!! This was an epiphany for me because it was comforting to realise what I had long suspected: that like Superman whose alter ego is Clark Kent, Batman’s alter ego is Bruce Wayne! His life is the cowl! Bruce Wayne’s deterioration in spirit and body after the Batman disappears is evidence of this. In furtherance of the Dark Knight mythos, Nolan again confirms that Batman’s first and only love is the city of Gotham. Batman exists because Gotham exists; when threatened Batman defends her. Simple.

Nolan to my mind explores the symbolism of a “people’s” revolution against their government and the elite in Bane’s uprising (think #occupy). However, I failed to get that sense of anarchy or break up when the status quo of the previous eight years was destroyed. Where were all the mad men? Where was Arkham? The only thing reminiscent of it was The Scarecrow acting as judge and executioner of the new government. Was it a reverse Tunisian revolution gone wrong?

In the end, The Dark Knight Rises successfully brings to an end the Batman trilogy. However, deep inside I got the general feeling that Nolan and his team just wanted to get this trilogy over and done with really.

NB: As of July 29, 2012  (i.e. in 10 days) The Dark Knight Rises has made $537m worldwide at the Box Office.

For the Love of Bobbi!

“If you are still sucking breast, whether your wife’s or girlfriend’s, Happy Children’s Day! Lol!”

That was the joke I got via BB from a friend on Children’s Day. After I had a good laugh and responded adequately to her message where I placed the “blame” entirely on the shoulders of women, I began to think about breasts and why men of different ages are undeniably drawn to and fascinated by “bobbi” as my Warri connect would refer to them. Well not having enough time to carry out a proper survey, I restricted the scope of my rationalisations to my experiences and the few things I have heard other men say about boobs. From this we can hopefully draw a generalisation of the reasons behind men’s love affair with breasts.

First, I think that men are inexplicable drawn to boobs because we do not have boobs. One lady once remarked: What’s the big deal about breasts sef that you men can’t keep your eyes to yourselves?!” Simple: What one does not have, one covets. Yes, I am sure you can identify with wanting something that you do not have, like the new Blackberry phone or the new Jimmy Choos or Prada bag or that job, or that car etc. Yes, men see boobs as something to have, like “Damn! I want those pair of boobs!” Please do not be offended as it is not my intention to objectify women but it is the truth. Deep down inside I think most men are jealous that you women can carry something so delectable, so round, so protruding with panache and style. Really breasts add to a woman’s figure and enhance her curves and overall appeal. I read something off Twitter from @uberfacts, which went something like this: “Human females are the only female mammals whose breasts do not decrease in size after weaning their young.” So maybe human breasts are meant to be an added feature that promotes physical and sexual attraction during non-breastfeeding periods? Talking about breast feeding we have all heard of women who refuse to breastfeed (for long periods) because they do not want their boobies to lose shape. Why? To preserve the beauty of their boobs and to please man of course! Please ladies, breast feed your babies as doctors will tell you that there are numerous health benefits for the baby. By the way, spare some for oga too!

So my first encounter with breasts was around the age of twelve. No, mine was not as a baby because according to my mum, I did not take to breast milk so I was not breast fed but drank from a bottle (yes, you Psych majors can go Freudian on me now). So my first real notice of boobs happened one evening when I rang my neighbours’ doorbell and their 20-something year old aunt opened the door wearing a wrapper. Fortunately or unfortunately, as she said my playmates were not home her wrapper came loose and slipped from her chest. Gbam! I saw a pair of creamy mammary glands. Hmm....now those look interesting I said to myself.

From then on as any normal teenage boy would tell you, my life apart from school revolved around any opportunity to take a closer look at a woman’s chest. It became a thing where a guy would claim to have seen a classmate’s bra. We willed ourselves to see beyond the fabric; we would stretch our arms and jut out our elbows just to cop a feel.  It did not matter whom as long as they were females who were non-relatives, but since we spent the most time in school and at home it fell to schoolmates and neighbours. But I reckon in those early teenage years it was hardly a sexual thing, it was just a matter of curiosity.

My first physical encounter with boobs was at fifteen during a make out session, and boy were they big! Double Ds I believe. And no, they did not belong to the help. They belonged to the first girl I kissed, and she was my age. The feeling was great and I remember thinking “So this is what these feel like!” My curious mind had been sated, I knew what boobs felt and tasted like, finally. Or not. I encountered the same pair for a while until I had the opportunity to meet with another pair which were quite different. Now my curiosity was piqued even more. It became a “Hmm, I wonder what Sade’s breasts would feel like? Jennifer’s?” Then it became one encounter after the other as I got into the university. The thing is as one woman was different from the other, so were one pair of boobs different from the other. Now ladies please do not get me wrong, the boobs thing was just complementary to the whole dating experience, I promise.

Breasts have no “real” sexual function at least from the man’s point of view. I say this because we have been told that women have the capacity to orgasm via stimulation of the breasts. For men who suckle breasts during the sexual act, Sigmund Freud argued that it is an advanced replication of that first “love relationship” a man has with his mother as a baby. So men MUST suckle. And maybe that is another reason for our fascination with boobs, we need nurturing, and since our mums cannot do this anymore, we turn to you women to provide that safe embrace where we know that nothing can go wrong and all is well.

Ladies, men love your boobs, big and/or small. We cannot help it if we stare. But some of you are to blame for the stares. Ah ahn! I have seen low cut blouses that would make a priest stutter, and from married women at that. I have a friend who was quite endowed but deliberately wore those tight push up bras, ol’ boy, guys noticed and formed a long line! The cleavage! Oh! The cleavage! It calls to us, whispering our names, begging us to look.

There are some women who understand the power those creamy mounds possess. There is a friend of a friend who is a motivational speaker/etiquette and communication coach, who confessed that jiggling her top heavy chest opens doors for her and helps “get her point across” whenever she gave presentations and talks.

On the health side of things I am aware that big mammaries can cause severe back pain as a woman ages. So breast reduction is being practised. On the other hand, some women have had theirs increased. What for? In my personal opinion, except you are flat as a washboard, you really should not be getting breast enlargement done. You know why? Because men will still suckle! Yes, some men like theirs big, let them go get the big ones; there are others like a friend who says “more than a handful is a waste” who like them small.

The point of this article? None really. Men simply love boobs, and the truth is no reason is needed! Do not be offended when we ogle, instead be proud. Stick them out, proudly especially if you have been blessed with a “Manchester”. But if you like, cover them up, wear Wonder Bra or wear “Kostay”, it is up to you but men will still stare and forever love and be fascinated with your boobs.... Chei! See bobbi!

No.

Each time she says NO, it is like a reaffirmation of that first NO I heard. It may not hurt as much but it hurts just the same. Dunno why I get myself into these situations. It’s never the same unravelling but it does unravel. Some I chase away. Some push me away. However, I inevitably plead and try to get back. Maybe it’s the pleading or maybe it’s the affirmation that I need.  Jeez, I’m not supposed to be in this kind of place. I shouldn’t. Maybe that’s my particular weakness. Maybe someone understands; maybe God understands. Maybe that’s what Solomon was all about. But hey, he was king, and rich, and wise, and in the Old Testament to boot. I need help. I need to be understood. I need to be loved. I need to be slapped. Hard.

When She Makes Up Your Mind for You.

I have quite a number of single male friends. I can count the number of my close male friends that are married on half a hand; yes, it is that bad. Sometimes I long to be able to chat with guys in the same boat as I am. So in order to help my situation, I occasionally ask my homies such questions like:

“How far? What’s up with you and that babe?”

“That Tolu babe no bad o! When una dey marry?”

“When are you getting married?”

“Guy you’ve been dating Cynthia for like two years now, when are we coming to eat rice and drink Coke?”

And what do I get in response? ....

“Bro, I’m not ready.”

“Pepper never rest o.”

“Marry who? Cynthia? Nah bruv.”

Even the ones that seem eligible and are in seemingly good relationships repeatedly say things like “I haven’t made up my mind yet”. That line has become the mantra for the single yet eligible guys in Lagos. But in closing that bit of the conversation I always tell them “Guy make up your mind, before she makes it up for you.”

Now some of you (and them) may not get what I mean by “when she makes up your mind for you”, allow me to explain. Now this is no threat but a fact: some guys are under the illusion that they call the shots in eventually deciding to marry a woman. But in some situations, that is not the case. You have been dating this girl for upwards of nine months, you are over 28, and have a good job, a nice apartment with the flat screen TV and PS3. She comes over as often as possible, cooks, cleans and performs other girlfriend and “quarter-to-wife activities. Everyone knows she is your girlfriend – your folks, your siblings, your cousins, friends and boss – but somehow somehow you have no plans to marry her; and when questions are asked as to the wedding date you mumble something in the region of “I’m not quite ready.” The sad thing is very often, many dating couples play this scenario and in the end they break up even after five years of dating. These are the ones my guys see and think that they can still call the shots. What they do not see or deliberately choose not to see are the situations where the women make up the men’s minds for them.

My dear cousin is a bit notorious for being a ladies’ man. He is doing quite well for himself and at 30 thinks that he’s got to live it up and groove until he is ready to settle down. This does not mean that he refrains from serious type relationships. He actually gets involved in serious relationships and all. The first one lasted for about three years and when he broke up with her, we (being the entire family) thought that the next one would be the one. Nay, not so. Cousin of mine began running through women like they were going out of fashion, I tried to get him to focus and all that but he was having none of it. In all other ways he was the epitome of hard work and diligence but when it came to having a good time he lived by his own rules. He then finally got into another serious relationship with another girl and after I met her a couple of times (including Christmas Day dinner at my folks’) I had to ask what his plans were. I got the same non-committed answer. The next thing I heard was that the family had intervened and hooked him up with a young lass from the “area”. I thought to myself that this might just work considering that the family was involved. I followed up with the relevant questions as to the degree of his seriousness. Again I got the same non-committed answer! At this point I had to give him the speech. He nodded and listened and said that he had heard but that he just was not ready. A few weeks later my sister buzzed me saying that girlfriend had gotten pregnant. OK. But how did my sister know? Wrong question! How did everyone know? Girlfriend was not having any of that “let’s solve this problem” option. For her it was not an option because she was under the impression that boyfriend was serious about her and as a result she had duly informed her parents about the situation. Being that family was involved, my cousin could not front. Cross level consultations were held and after a few arrangements, their introduction took place last weekend. I attended the introduction but I could not help but laugh. Serves him right, you might say, because despite all his “I’m not yet ready”, girlfriend had made up his mind for him. But the truth is (if they would ever have the guts to say so) many marriages have been brokered because despite the man’s uncertainty, the woman took in and helped to make up boyfriend’s mind.

Now, I do not mean to present women as being manipulative, in fact, my intention is rather the opposite. A girlfriend getting pregnant for her eligible boyfriend is perhaps just the little nudge or kick in the butt that homeboy really needs. Men are known to be rather indecisive when it comes to things that require a great deal of commitment, especially marriage. Insecurity, fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear of losing one’s freedom are common reasons why men hesitate on a formal, legitimate partnership. They say women prepare for marriage right from the age of 18. Men on the other hand, have no age attached to it. All men require is a great deal of maturity and the desire to move to the next step. Only boys would want the milk for free. Mature men would buy the cow and invest in it ensuring that they get excellent milk on a daily basis. Thankfully, many boys mature in marriage becoming men they were afraid of becoming. Unfortunately, a few do not and well, they tend to consciously or sub-consciously blame (or is it dislike) the girl for “forcing” them into that situation. But like I always say, nothing is by force; except someone puts a gun to a guy’s head to get married. I pray my cousin becomes the former by maturing into his marriage. I have not yet met the bride to be but by all indications including a summary from my sister and a look into her Facebook profile, I think she will make a good wife and mother.

So to my homies out there I think it makes you a bit more of a man if you make up your own minds and behave in tandem with your decisions, as against having her make up your mind for you, which believe me she can.

Photo credit: www.essence.com