I am back folks—and before you blame me for the long absence, check which country I write from. I do not have damn electricity most hours of the day when I really need it and interestingly, when I am sleeping around midnight or at work, the power comes on.

Left alone to the World Witches Association with their headquarters situated at Damango in the Northern Region of Ghana, working through their national agent-Electricity Company of Ghana, I wouldn’t be able to write a single article a month. But today, the witches seem to have over slept so I have power when I am home and the cobwebs which have taken over my laptop have been duly cleaned.

And if you are wondering why the World Witches Association’s headquarters is at Damango—that is where that man called John Dramani Mahama comes from.

Anyway, before I jump to look at the confused state of these people who we unfortunately have to deal with every day called MEN—let me throw out my take on the annual Father’s Day celebration.

Obviously, Father’s Day is not as popular as Mother’s Day in Africa and the reason is simple; a vast number of African fathers are useless compared to mothers. They just pass out semen and disappear, leaving mothers to carry the semen for 9 months—and take care of the end product of the semen, human beings for the rest of their lives.

In fact, I think we should have “Shaming Father’s Day” instead in Africa and that will surely be well celebrated—on this day, we will parade those useless fathers on the street and punch them in the face. Of course, with chains on their hands and legs, and their eyes well covered so they wouldn’t know who is doing the heavy slapping.

I will bring my own father for the daily rehearsal; what an a$$hole…

With the above said, I still think it’s wrong for us to celebrate our mothers on Father’s Day—that is abuse of position and it’s unfair. If your father is or was a douche bag like mine, I am sure there was a man (be it family, friend or a stranger) who played a key role or occasional important roles in your life. You can celebrate such a man who came forward and helped when your father failed to show his annoying face.

So I do not support what Ghanaian actress-Yvonne Nelson and several others do yearly. I am sure a man has helped somehow in their lives and they can use this single day to say “Thank You” to this man by celebrating him. And by a man, I don’t mean that stupid so called Uncle of yours who helped but also wanted to touch your boobies or sleep with you.

I spent the last 2 hours moving from one social media platform to another, randomly checking to see if anyone will be bold enough to wish President John Mahama ‘Happy Father’s Day’. I would have traced down that person and kick the hell out of him or her. A father who cannot provide for his children is no father—and President Mahama is a prototype. He has failed all his children-Ghanaians.

And those of you inanely posting photos of your sugar Daddies as your fathers, their wives will catch you—even if they don’t, God is watching your stinking an*s.

Let me now deal with my main subject before the witches come for my power—enemies of progress sitting on my neck and always interfering with my orgasm routine. I have managed to solve that big problem—not fully solved but things are a little better. I may write about that, not for your disgusting pleasure but to help my sisters whose reliable penises have become useless because of the constant power cuts.

Men are deeply confused. Quote me anywhere and at any time—and if you are asked to explain, just punch the person in the face because I am sure the person will be a man.

A few months ago I met this man and he was great so I wanted to keep him for myself. I decided to find out what he likes, literally, trying to know as much as I can and how I can lock him down before one of those vultures called Boss Chicks take over.  He was corporative—perhaps, he saw the poison on my table labelled ‘Poison for Him.’

Among the tall list of preferences and wants, he told me he loves women with short natural hair and even though my hair grows quite quick, I have never cut them off. I  have never been interested in the growing natural hair movement, because I feel like, most of these girls cannot afford the increasing prices of perm creams so they run away and start carrying the ‘Natural Sister’ banners.

But a man is capable of making you do whatever—just as a woman is capable of making you lick her pot without annoyingly reciprocating the benevolent gesture. So I asked my brother to help me cut my shoulder touching hair. I don’t want to talk about the disaster but after his failed attempt, I ended up at the barber shop; at first looking like a rain beaten crow and left looking like Amber Rose.

When my “catch” saw me the next evening,  he was excited but didn’t even say a damn thing about the huge step I had taken to please him. I know he was excited because his erection was too strong that night—there was some excitement there and how hard he humped me proved it.

Less than a week later, I caught this son of a b*atch checking out more than 4 women wearing long fake hair—I mean those synthetic cheap weaves.  And to be frank, I nearly castrated his huge unequal balls using a pair of clippers my brother uses for pruning.

I went ballistic on him when he couldn’t stop checking out my friend one evening.  And when I asked why —knowing that I am 1000% beautiful than this friend (by the way, I only pick friends I am beautiful than), he said he just loved her hair. What the F**king F**k!

This is the same man who talked me into changing my hair a week ago because he didn’t like long hair and was so down with short natural hair.  If this is not deep seated confusion, then it’s gross insanity—I mean insanity beyond cure.

Concluding that men are deeply confused is not from just this single experience but from the many I’ve had over the years plus those my friends have shared. Men do not really know what they want; they are like pregnant cats—you think they want this, give it to them and they don’t eat it. Worst is the case of men, because they actually tell you they want this—the next minute, they are in for the total opposite.

Even when it comes the long established want of all men-PU**Y, they’ve started to demand for the back entrance too—once again, confirming that they are deeply confused and do not know what they want.

I hear they call it dessert!

If you missed my previous articles, CLICK HERE for them.

Writer’s Email: [email protected]

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