Grant me to gleefully disappoint those who had borne the frivolous thought that I had furloughed my beef with the mediocre young women who call themselves socialites. Perish that impression, I am not turning into a vegan anytime soon.
What troubles my gut every time I sink my teeth to maul these bunch of ignoramuses is not the likelihood of getting gout, but that my bullet deflects before it hits the target, they do not read! I however believe their admirers and fans will pass the massage.
The target of my pen today are two miscreants. I will laugh at one and dish advice to the other. Nay- I have grinned enough already. My pro bono counsel to young women has been deemed pugnacious but even critics cannot deny its efficacy. It is like quinine, bitter and nauseating but will kick Malaria out of the bloodstream.
I first chanced on the so called Pendo (Stacy Vugusta) a few years back when a local TV made a pathetic try at aping the American Reality TV shows. Nairobi Diaries turned out to be, in my characteristic unbridled opinion, the worst TV show in Kenya. Just an unctuous weekly orgy of dumb-ass douchebaggery that follows the vacuous, talentless lives of the most shameless ladies in the country.
I watched the show a couple of times chiefly for research purposes (critiqued it after that on my then Nairobian column) and the few times I caught it on television, I could literally feel my brain cells starting to erode, I could feel myself getting stupid. I was horrified at the bunch of talentless wastrels who have made thousands of women and silly men glued to their lives by conning their pea brained fans that there is something compelling about them and their extravagant, purposeless and empty lives.
Pendo, who was one of the loudest and flagrant in her debauchery was in the news few days ago when she was hounded to court and charged with failing to pay Sh208,000 bill she accumulated alongside her lover while staying at English Point hotel.
I guffawed when my straying eyes glanced that article. The man must have felt cheated. Imagine being promised a sumptuous delicacy only to be served a useless, overpriced yet bland meal that is imbued with STI germs (Trap King claimed she gave him an STI) and one that neither arouses nor satisfies your taste buds. Would you not bolt from that day light robbery?
Every business, including flesh peddling requires some level of acuity. Pendo, you got played because aside from the fact that no man wants to part with a fortune to savor your dwindling sexual appeal, you did not tie the loose ends of the bargain.
Enroll for some business class, for if the news is anything to go by this is not the first time a man leaves you with the hotel bills. Instead of spending your earning on tattoos, maintaining a pseudo grandeur lifestyle just to seem classy (Class is in act, not fashion sense), invest that money in some worthwhile venture because it is evident your flesh is no longer fresh.
And now to the youngest prey in town- Shakilla. Someone sent me a video of the young lass, obviously inebriated, spewing diabolical drivel over the number and names of celebrities she has warmed their beds or sprayed their car seats with her crème de la framboise.
First thing that caught my eye as she continues to court controversy with the desperation and verve of a functionally illiterate soul is that the girl who converses like a zombie learning how to speak, at 19, has the countenance as tight as Kris Jenner’s steely-eyed, Botox-frozen face. Perhaps her jaws have temporomandibular disorder, given the number of ‘meats’ she has had to shove in her mouth just to appear ‘bad.’
And of course the starter pack for every online harl*t- an ass, thigh tatts, nose ring and a face with 15 layers of makeup. Listen girl, you are 19. Of course you are a walking adrenaline junkie, youthful exuberance has engulfed every ounce of your being. You get attention every time you post a photo that bears flesh. But you are also at the years that sets the foundation to the kind of woman you will turn out to be.
I am attempted to wonder whether you will have any grip by age 25 if at 19, you have tuned your fountain into a community borehole for every riffraff or if by that age, you would not have allowed your bean to be rubbed into extinction like Dodo but let me focus instead and muse over what you want to do with your life.
I am not sure what advice Kamene Goro gave you on Bonga na Jalas but come on, it is like a fatter fly telling another fly to stop feasting on shit and instead go quench its thirst in hot tea. Goro is a feminist, the ilk of shameless cynics who believe in exploitations of flesh for cash and who have used their platforms to make thousands of impressionable young female fans think the way to succeed in life is strip off and screw the highest bidder.
“Ordinary people pursue money, simple people pursue power, average people pursue fame, but extraordinary people pursue ideas”- Matshona Dhliwayo.
Is no one going to speak out over what young girls of this snowflake generation are doing in the name of ‘wokeness?” Anyone? Well, Aoko will. This is a generation known for their hypersensitivity to everything, their crippling self-esteem, and foolishness of appalling proportion and haughty arrogance.
The Fame you desperately court at only 19 is fleeting and will leave you abused, misused, broken, damaged and forgotten after a short stint. It also espouses you as a poorly raised brat who needed more spanking than cuddling.
Shakilla- name sounds like a low budget Shakira with hips that lie- at 19, the only thing that should be grazing your jaws is a toothbrush. What should be keeping you up at night is not doing Insta videos for lousy fake TMZ blogger but college assignments. Explore constructive ideas not scrotums. Caress books not phalluses. Catch fun with focused, like minded mates. Get a boyfriend– nurse your first heartbreak, not hangover from incessant booze.
You are not ‘woke’, or bad. You are a misguided girl who has reduced herself to a cheapskate, a dullard who needs a reality check. That nose ring that is more conspicuous than your brain does not make you cool; your body count that you brag about because it is littered with celebs does not make you stand out among your peers, it makes you a piece of rag that men have been using to wipe their canal desires. Retrace your steps. Introspect. Your youthful years are the bricks that you use to build your future, they will build or destroy you.
DISCLAIMER: VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THIS ARTICLE ARE THE WRITER’S. THEY DO NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT VIEWS OF VIUSASA.