And behold, there is a new breed of extravagant sheikhs in town who are ready to blow supernumerary amounts of Arab money on any soul willing to play ball, pay bills or whenever their balls desperately need to play. They have the keys to crack open the havens of pleasure located around their loins which could be all the heaven they ever wanted. They have a name for this key, and they love to call it currency. Currently they go by the tag Blessers. Say hello to sponsors.
Meanwhile, a deluge of Instagram models will be showcasing incessant photos of their voluptuousness while praying that the gods bless us with even more sponsors. Some will wish they had better phones that performed witchcraft enough to magically dupe Chris Brown to take a selfie with them when he visited coastal Kenya. As we wait for the second coming of Chris Brown, peeps will be working on their selfies more than they work on themselves.
In this city, finding a girl who can bring back intelligence is harder than guessing what melodrama will come out of Senator Mike Sonko’s bag of tricks. A lass will safely convince herself that maybe if she wears a top showing her boobs, she will meet a nice guy who wants her for her personality. Love stricken chaps love the story of the beauty and the beast. As long as the beast has a ranch or a hacienda in a kingdom with a queen size bed, then they won’t even care about handsome babies anymore. Currency is key!
You know your girlfriend has a sponsor when you both slide into an argument and in between repugnant exchanges she tells you something like “listen here young man”. Then you will be sure she is now dating your ancestor. You will consider yourself a lucky bastard after realizing you are better off than Cheryl Kitonga’s boyfriend who discovered on National TV that his cookie was being exported for pounding and better consumption by premium genitalia that only sponsors seem to possess. Its gets even worse if you are dumped by a dark-skinned girl since every time you see charcoal, you immediately get emotional.
Who doesn’t want trips to Dubai for shopping and later a sundowner in Rio de Janeiro? You guessed right, not me! Who doesn’t want to go to Hawaii and give everyone they meet a frantic “aloha” in a bid to tell every Hawaiian “hawayu”? Not you either. So what will you, your team YOLO and some of these Instagram models do? You will send your dignity to the dogs because after all, it’s your godamn life! Basic damsels in distress will be heard clapping in the background while cheering me on. Why? Because the society has lost its meaning and looking for something is often confused with looking for someone. Temporary thrills of life over-the-edge is branded the ultimate goal. Selling oneself for frivolous luxury items is the new quickest investment to show fake and real friends that you started from the bottom and now they can bow before you. Barter trade has reincarnated as exchange for sex and goods.
But maybe the society has molded most of us into robotic drones with a mindset that wealth is the epitome of a life well lived, regardless of how one gets there. Wealth and affluence is celebtrated more than hardwork and milestones. The other day, the president pardons an inmate who then later after release, allegedly steals nine dollars from God (church). You know how the story ends, they are back in prison as they wait to die. Back to the ministry of health, Kenya Airways embezzlement, and NYS scandal- fraudsters are getting away with murder! You can bet the government is blaming Donald Trump for sneaking impunity into our Kenyan border before he deports Obama back to K’ogello. This crass of leaders you shower with votes have played an important role in making sure their caskets remain gold plated while Kenyans remain buried in desolation and lack food on their plates.
Sponsorship is far from charity, but you could argue that Charity who just moved into an apartment from the hostels for romantic convenience and adventurous maneuvers could have bagged herself a sponsor. Unless the government offered her a fat university loan with slim chances of her account running out even if it was subjected to the slim possible challenge or demonic tax rates. Maybe she won the lotto, or the NYS loot fell right onto her right foot. Let’s also not forget that her boyfriend could have won the Sportpesa Mega Jackpot, enough to buy the truth and impunity from the government (except the government offers all its citizens impunity for free). But above all, let’s also not rule out the fact that Charity might need a large apartment fully furnished with a lab to make test-tube babies and launch rockets with much success than Facebook did- remember the last time Zuckerberg ate fish in Kenya? Their rocket endeavors backfired . She need so much money because she studies rocket science in college. I think she might need sponsors from NASA too.
Nowadays you go to a club and before you spoil you spoil thy liver with a little whiskey and you jaws drop on the floor. Your mouth is stuck agape. Before you collect your jaws from the floor your eyes hover around the club only to messing up your judgement. You think you are a deadbeat parent who qualifies to be an admin for Kilimani Mums. Hitherto, this caricature of a spectacle leaves you thinking its parents day in a damn club, because there are too many girls with old men. Again, meet sponsors…the new sheriffs in town with new money and enough fuel to drive “sponsorees” bonkers.
In such an epoch we are living in, it takes a really refined and strong woman to remain single in a world that is accustomed to settling for anything just to say they are taken and have someone. They don’t mind being taken for granted as long as money is dangled around their conscience. Sapiosexuals are scarce, sex is being sold in plenty. Pretty young ladies are willing to treat a geezer’s libido for an acre of land’s worth. Ladies and gentlemen, folks are in business and pensioners don’t mind screwing a day old chick who, somewhat, doesn’t mind being a “Sidechick”. Methinks, this should be the worst Chickengate saga so far!
Some bimbos are even prepared for a sugardaddy but they are not ready to give them sugar. Listen up, there’s no free lunch, unless it’s your grandmother who made that broth or you are the mastermind of graft in Kenya and a profound appetite for land grabbing, because only then will you get away with enjoying free food and Wi-Fi. Corruption in Kenya is booming- louder than the speaker of the National Assembly, and following closely is the business that sponsors propagate. The government would be in for a kill should they start taxing this lucrative business between sponsors and the get-rich-quickly millennials.
Again really, who are we to question how people choose to live their lives. After all, we are just but mere mortals. It’s okay to spur a rant that a broke guy doesn’t have the right to squander a powerful amount of energy romping someone’s daughter, yet that gusto could have been used to work and get paid. Heck that dude is not even supposed to sweat while at it. But have you ever thought that it is also better for a man to be stingy with his money because he hustled for it, than a woman to deny you a hole full of pleasure she didn’t drill herself.
It’s a generation that wants to sit and play coy while others toil for them. The human species is being put on a pedestal where relationships money and entertainment pushes their wheel of life as it dumps chastity and dignity. Just in case you thought we are headed for Sodom, be sure we have already sank to Gomorrah