Those criticising Charles Darwin unfairly are misguided and uninformed. We are descendants of monkeys. Pardon me, we are not monkeys, we are Apes. Man is Ape, Naked Ape. Why else, do you think, we go aping after trends and fads? I wonder if our cousins in the wild didn’t get ascribed the status of ape for imitating us higher animals. Those guys compete at “Shit On Your Hand” too. It is a game men play well.
Before you get put off, consider this:
Lady Gaga is hot, and every Grandmother wants to dress like her. I will dress like Lady Gaga too if and only if I was a female gorilla. Then I would have been comfy to go everywhere in my birthday suit, then I wouldn’t stop decency from climbing up a tree and taking the plunge.
Justin Bieber is much a star as every other would-be artiste. Even that Baba had to adopt the name Whiz Kid to measure up. Now Wande Coal has taken to dressing up the Bieber part, and croacking like a Whiz Kid. I am so inspired I want to be a Whiz Kid when I get to the age of 40 if I don’t die of hard drugs like my role models- Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston.
I will not kill you with a boring story of how I and Joe kept changing hairstyles, beardstyles, dressstyles and sunshades like R. Kelly when I was younger and as childish. Neither will I drive you crazy with the gory tale of how my girlfriend’s crib hardly have a free space to get laid in, for the litter of wigs, weave-ons and human hair everywhere. Another day, I will regal you with an epic poem of my sister who is as gaunt as Genevieve Nnaji and wears more colours than Nicki Minaj, and chain-smoke like Rita Dominic.
Couples, both late and ancient, are also cashing in on the apeshit trends of celebrity marriage. Everyone wants to live and part ways like Chris Brown and Rihana. My Landlord of 73 has recently been giving his wife of 45 years in Marriage the Brown treatment. And the Desperate Housewife has taken to desperate measures to live out her numbered days as Whitney Houston lived. But instead of singing the blues what we hear everyday and night is wailing and gnashing. I don’t think she’s very up to date. Whitney sings not whine.
Well, lest I should carry last, I joined the trend of evolution, doing what others do, aping after the trends and fashion. Though failing and falling behind, I have found my niche. Do you know what my niche is? My niche is far from the cliche thingy mingy everyone is going gaga about. I have found the narrow path of Blogging. I am blogging like Linda Ikeji Blogs. I want to make fast and easy money from gossip blogging, before I get to Bill Gate’s age; then evolve to trying my Goodluck for Presidency, before I am Barack Obama’s age. God help me, if I don’t blow like Timaya I will go take a dive in the lagoon, or simply put by head through a noose made from my Mummy’s G-String, and swing it like Tiger Woods, who is born to do it, or get burnt again and open a Church like Chris Okotie, and start a airline like Oyedipo.
If all that don’t convince you that I am no higher animal than you, then you are a little higher than the angels.
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