Cows and Milk

One of the weirdest things about me is probably my love for technology. Okay, I do not really love technology I just love the idea of owning fancy gadgets. I would be that guy at a coffee shop seating at the corner, holding a mug of mocha admiring the creamy art and have my phone right across me neatly placed on a mat. Now this dear friend, this qualifies as a date so, no! I am not lonely take your love pushing, cupid marauding nonsense elsewhere.

One other thing, I hate mainstream television! Catch me dead tuning into a television show. Whoever is probably in charge of regulating content is sleeping on the job. I mean literally sleeping, it has become so bad such that anytime I need to fall asleep I turn on the T.V and BAM!! I am off to la la land! Nevertheless, should you pay me a visit in two years give or take never (I am not so huge on hosting) one of the first things you will take note of would be a seemingly borderless large black mirage on my wall.

Just because you hate cows, it does not mean you cannot have milk.

As life would have it I was stuck at a friend’s house (the not so huge on hosting goes for been hosted as well. I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. This in no way being an insult to any of my friends it is just who I am)and the monotonous drone that passes for prime time music attacks my ears with the wrath of a thousand scorned Kisii women on market day.

Here we go, I whispered to the voices inside my head bracing myself for what I expected to be nothing but pure torture. Most of you might think, why not walk out? Alternatively, why not ask my friend to put in a movie or connect a gaming console. Well, not everyone is as enlightened as me. To some people missing the ‘news’ is a taboo. ‘News’ because what we are exposed to every single waking moment does not even qualify for an update on a social media page. It is pure hullabaloo. So, a presidential BMW was stolen?? Oh, wow! I mean, wake me up when the train goes missing.

So, the ‘news’ starts and gone are the days where I would see a large imposing desk branded in large fonts with the media companies logo and seated behind it a serious face, in a serious suit with a serious pose. Back then, as you can see, news was serious. Now, the first thing I notice is a damsel. She is dressed in a short tight sleeveless low collar red dress, matching high-heeled shoes and a smile on luscious red lips. She is smiling and walking slowly (I believe this is deliberate) towards the camera. Her hips swaying from one corner to the other doing what I believe to be commanding their own gravitational pull because goddamit I am drawn.

She slowly makes this turn exposing what I think to be her ‘good’ side (which is obviously the back) for the camera, pauses for effect and says hello to her viewers (I was one of them for this instance)in an eloquent, polished and practiced accent. Those legs damn it! Whatever steps the Chinese took to get to a thousand miles I’d buy her a car so she wouldn’t have to.

Long story short, I was no longer interested in what she had to say just how she said it, I mean she would say “20 people were killed in a road accident along Busia highway” and that would be the sexiest damn thing anyone ever said to me. Do you remember that sleeping person we were talking about? They must have woken up, taken a cold shower and have a huge mug of Arabica in their hands with a dozen pots brewing in the background.

So guess who loves cows again? Yes! You got that right! Me!

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