The ‘What If?’ Series. (Dan-ifying The Biblical Adam & Eve)

I would like to tell you a story.

First off, forget all you think you know about the story.

The Story is set in eternity. I would not dare to add or subtract from The Truth.

But I am compelled to entertain you. I am obligated to open up the eye of your understanding.

As always, embedded in all I will ever write; exist ‘gates’.

If you know, you know.

Once upon a time there was one made in the likeness of the Author and Finisher. (This is how I was told the story began.)

He that was newly created, he was alone. Not lonely.

He traversed the length and breadth of his dominion.

The story says that he had been commissioned to name all things; animals, plants et al.

He was a maverick. He was a pioneer. He was was a (Before Christ) Tarzan.

In short, he was badass!

Original badass!

Now El Shaddai ran a few algorithms. In His brilliance, He deemed it fit to make a Help Meet for Badass.

And then voila! there was this hottie at the whim… The caprices of Badass.

Let us be real for a bit… We are all adults here.

Fellas back me up on this;

A virgin.

Younger than you are.

Totally ignorant and largely naive.

And lest I forget, perpetually naked.

Yes naked.

As was he… Bad-assery!

Keeping it real… This was the first recorded insinuation of sex.

This was also in that year when men lived to be hundreds of years old.

Can you imagine the libido in that dominion?!

The unmitigated and uncensored lust!!

Their eagerness. Their dedication. Their devotion. The love!

They must have tormented the animals incessantly. Their ruckus most likely made primates cover their eyes and ears in embarrassment.

He was whipped

She was dick-matized.

They were in a utopian euphoria of some sort.


In the version of this story, (the story that was told to me and I am telling you), one day Badass stumbled on the devil weasling around The Forbidden Tree.

Of course he had his bride… woman, queen, sex slave etc in tow.

Hey… She must have been gobsmacked by Badass.


And then the devil sold his lies convincingly.

And Badass nodded in permission to his Help Meet.

Whereupon she hurriedly picked /collected / harvested / plucked a fruit off of The Forbidden Tree.

Eve? In that era and dispensation? Dare leave her protector / husband / lord / new-found lover??

And dare to strike conversation with any other thing without his say so?



According to the way that the story was told to me of course…

According to the story, the one I was told, Badass instructed his woman to eat of it. And then he ate.

Help Meet was old-school; loyal, graceful, obedient, wise and respectful. She backed up her man’s story. She did not let him down.

From the sentencing all the way to banishment she refused to snitch.

Of course Tsidkenu knew exactly what Badass was doing. He was not deceived. But He saw them as one. A few centuries later He would allow the ‘untimely’ death of a couple. They lied to an apostle about proceeds from land sold.

Rohe would not interfere in the affairs of man without requisite invitation though. So He did what He had to do. This version of the story agrees with the original one.

No… That was not Freudian. I slipped for a reason.

She lost her home, her comfort zone, her security. She was cursed alongside her man and she served her time with dignity, style and grace.

That woman was certainly ‘ride or die’.


Ahem! The above is exactly the way the story was told to me of course… Hehehe…

The story goes on to reveal that Help Meet may have been less educated than Badass. And so there exists Badass’ version of this same story that is popular and well accepted. And original.

No… That was not Freudian. I slipped right on point.

And so my friends, I have come to the end of the story that I was told.

If I ever hear another story I deem worth your time, I will tell it.

You may leave your comments on this blog.

Thank you.


When Words Fail… 

I know it is going to be hard for you to relate to…  

Yes you… (sick, degenerate lech!) but she is in a committed relationship.  And so am I by the way… 

Thank you for asking…but Vivian and I are just friends! 

Now do not get me wrong, Vivian and I are attracted to each other… But that is where it must end. Too many lives would be ruined if Vivian and I cross that line. 

She is a wealthy banker and is engaged to be married to Franklin. He is a stock broker. We are all mutual friends. 

I am emotionally committed; lock, stock and barrel to Alicia. Alicia is utterly besotted with me. She is currently earning a masters degree in a private university. I am an author, my first book just grossed a little over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars on

Alicia and I will marry soon. We have been dating for two years and have decided that our honeymoon would be at the Obudu Cattle Ranch, Cross River state, Nigeria. 

Alicia has never been to The Ranch and she says that she cannot wait to make love to me there. Neither can I…wait to make love to her… anywhere I mean. 

Vivian and Franklin were supposed to holiday at The Ranch last week. 

That is until he broke up with her. 

The holiday was booked months ago, it was a promotion and she had planned on giving Franklin a surprise treat. It had cost her a small fortune, because she had arranged for the best. 

And so she approached me to accompany her there. No point allowing the money go to waste, since there were no refunds she reasoned. 

I thought it would be a great way of getting to know my future honeymoon spot free of charge. 

In a bid to absolve (our popular) selves from gossip and slander, we both agreed to tell no one else. Not family, not Alicia or even God, we joked. 

And so we went and were lodged in the tastefully prepared Honeymoon Chalets. I promise you that it was fun. I made sure Vivian got over her heartbreak whenever I looked at her. There was nothing sexual or inappropriate that was done. We were extremely close and friendly  ‘asexuals’. 

Our neighbors though… By Jove! The ruckus! 

The chalets were about fifty meters apart, but their every sound carried like they were next door. 

She was a screamer! I have never, in all my life, heard a woman moan, groan and scream as loud as the woman in that chalet. 

In truth, I was miserable all through. I missed Alicia terribly and I was emotionally drained from constantly bolstering Vivian’s heartbroken spirit. The loud lovers next door did not help matters, they made me pine for Alicia even more. 

A night before we were (mercifully) due to return home, there was a barbecue Vivian had preordered outside our chalet. Though it was chilly, I was bare-chested. The fire from the grill and the crossfade I was on from the moonshine and cannabis liqueur I was sipping had me feeling invincible. 

I saw our ‘neighbour’ come out for a smoke, and after respectfully raising hands in respectful salutation, I beckoned him over. 

He was good-natured and straight shooting. 

I teased him about his sexual prowess when Vivian was not listening and he swore (down) that he was always on a diet of Viagra. But because his girlfriend was paying for their current, annual  holiday, he was presently on a cocktail of Viagra, Spanish fly and a Chinese aphrodisiac. 

They had been together for four years and came up here every year. 

He was (clearly) a cool dude so Vivian and I insisted that he and his girlfriend join us. There was more than enough meat and drinks. 

I waited till they were clearly headed towards us from their chalet before I dashed in to wear a shirt. 

As I stepped out, they all had their backs to me. 

“I’m back…, miss me?!” I remember shouting cheerfully. 

She understandably reacted  faster than Vivian and my male neighbor. Let’s face it, a man suddenly shouted out gibberish from behind her in the dark… That would startle anyone. 

But I was startled that it was Alicia, my Alicia that whipped around to face me. 

In retrospect, crossfading probably saved a life or two that night. 

It is a miracle that neither Alicia nor I caused a scene, screamed or fainted. 

All words failed for the first few minutes. 

Then my buzz and my high smoothened me out. I was like silk, the crossfade kept everything nice and easy. 
Vivian had never met Alicia in any capacity, so she was none the wiser. 

My male neighbor was too busy munching on grilled protein to be aware. 

When it was time to call it a night, I decisively shook Alicia’s hand… goodbye. 

The Guys’ Rules

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down.

Finally, the guys’ side of the story. (I must admit, it’s pretty good.) We always hear “the rules” from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side.

These are our rules!

Please note… these are all numbered “1” ON PURPOSE!


1) Learn to work the toilet seat. You’re a big girl. If it’s up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don’t hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1) Sunday sports. It’s like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1) Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1) Crying is blackmail.

1) Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1) Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1) Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That’s what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1) A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.

1) Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

1) If you won’t dress like the Victoria’s Secret girls, don’t expect us to act like soap opera guys.

1) If you think you’re fat, you probably are. Don’t ask us.

1) If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1) You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1) Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1) Christopher Columbus did not need directions and neither do we.

1) ALL men see in only 16 colors, like windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1) If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1) If we ask what is wrong and you say “nothing,” we will act like nothing’s wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1) If you ask a question you don’t want an answer to, expect an answer you don’t want to hear.

1) When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine… Really.

1) Don’t ask us what we’re thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, or monster trucks.

1) You have enough clothes.

1) You have too many shoes.

1) I am in shape. Round is a shape.

1) Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; but did you know men really don’t mind that? It’s like camping.


Respect – large (In a Jamaican accent), to the genius that strung these together.
Bless you. Where ever you may be.

Heresy, Apostasy, And The Space Betwixt Them

Happy New Year!



I attend a vibrant pentecostal church. Tongue – talking, Spirit – filled, demon – chasing type of church.

We are mandated  to fast and pray during the last three days of every year. This year was no different.

I took it very seriously, 2016, I knew was going to be the best year of my life thus far. I could feel it, I just knew.
I actually fasted so I would make no mistakes administering the deluge of wealth and resources coming my way, I craved wisdom. I was fasting for wisdom. I already knew my 2016. I already have 2016!

2016 was my year. It is a year I’ve locked down well.

I took the fasting and prayer so seriously that I levied upon myself a three – day dry fast. No food, no water.

By the third day I was spirit. I was in the spirit and I moved thus.

Then I saw that I was sitting in plush looking car. The upholstery was exquisite. From the ambience I deduced that we were seated in a Rolls Royce, in a Ghost or Phantom.

Yes ‘we.’

He was seated facing me.

The devil.




Yes, the devil.

He was the epitome of impeccable taste and style.
Very dapper, very trendy 40-something year old.
Good looking dude too.
His expensive-smelling perfume caressed my nostrils pleasantly.

“I’m tired of it all. I don’t even know how it got this bad!”

“Who? What? ” I queried.

“God! This quarrel we have… I’m wrong, He’s right… I’m bad, He’s good… Sick of it! I accept!! I’m the bad one, I accept my faults… Punish me!!! ”

I had nothing, by way of reply.

“I just want a bit of peace. I’m tired of evil, or being blamed for it. I wish I could leave it all.”

“Why are you telling me all this? ” I asked.

What did Satan take me for? I had more carnal concerns. This issue, even in heaven would require the  intervention of very top management.

“Your spirit shone the brightest in this principality. You have been luminous almost three days now. It’s been years since I felt such faith! I had to come see.”


Okay. Uhmmmm, guess its not everyone that can impress the devil… thank you I guess?

He gazed at me for seconds, but they felt like hours.

I returned his scrutiny.

He embodied Masculine perfection.

He was telling the truth.

The father of all lies… Was telling the truth.
He was tired of fighting God. He wanted out. Retirement.


The lake of fire.


He was done being the devil.

“Then you must talk to Him. He is The Way, The Truth and The Life…” I counseled.

“I fear I have fallen from grace. I am cast down. I have lost my grace.” The devil gravely intoned.

“I know a way, but you sir, must do as I ask. I will act and talk but once… I need to be getting back.”

He was nodding his head in total agreement.
So I sat up, and the devil mirrored by movements thus closing the gap between us. I held out my hands and the devil clasped them.
So hand in hand with my eyes closed I instructed the devil to repeat after me.

“Dear God,
I come to You in the Name of Jesus. I admit that I am not right with You, and I want to be right with You. I ask You to forgive me of all my sins. The Bible says if I confess with my mouth that “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in my heart that God raised Him from the dead, I will be saved (Rom. 10:9). I believe with my heart and I confess with my mouth that Jesus is the Lord and Savior of my life. Thank You for saving me!
In Jesus’ Name I pray. Amen.”

And he did. The devil repeated after me.

Satan gave his life to Christ.

The devil had just accepted Jesus into his heart.

I had led Lucifer to Christ. He was now born again.

I felt everything spiritual grind to a halt. The atmosphere became thick, then crackle, then hurt like static electricity.

Painful. Unbearable. Pressure.


I was about to lead him to be filled with the Holy Spirit when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up into the softest, whitest, purest form of light and life.

The devil had the same glory and grace on either side. They were now holding him up.

Well done good and faithful servant… You are an heir… My son… ! You are a god.” The messenger spoke to and about me.

“May it be so, amen. ” I acquiesced.

And then in an instant the messengers took the devil to meet God.

In the same instant I was myself.

I pondered on many things.

Then I prayed that God forgive the devil and accept a prodigal son.


Should A Man Ever Hit A Woman?


Hi there!

Been a while… You good?
I’m good… Yeah…
Lovely weather yes?


True story, broad daylight. Busy weekday. Along a major expressway.
Car screeches to a halt abruptly, Driver and passenger doors fly open within seconds of each other.
Guy jumps out of the drivers side, lady tumbles out of the passengers side and he starts to pursue her around the parked car.
His mien darkened with murderous rage. His intent and mission homicidal.
Don’t know how that ended, I witnessed it in a ‘go slow’ traffic from the other lane. Cars in front of me started moving. Cars behind were honking.

Another case in which my neighbors live-in lover casually mentioned that, whenever their home was too quiet she’d “(just) do something to annoy” her boyfriend. That once she got him provoked enough to beat her up, they would have common ground to make up and talk.
They are married nine years now. Three kids.

So, I’ve been hearing of recent that, “men should not hit women” … “Real man won’t raise his hand on a woman” … “Any man that can hit a woman is a coward, weak” … Blah… Blah… Blah…

Lemme cut to the  chase, it is perfectly fine to hit a woman.

Yes I said it!

Bite me!!

Uhmmmm, on second thoughts don’t bite me, I’ll definitely bite back.

Seriously, do, not, touch, me.

There are several instances in which the man has no choice but to hit a woman. No choice whatsoever but to strike his woman.
Thank you for asking, I will mention three possible instances.

The said man is minding his business, or not.
The said woman is most likely not minding her business, or not… Hehehehe…

And then owing to misadventure or a freak accident arising he sees the said woman about to be mortally damaged, maimed or immortalised; he is permitted to violently pull her away, thump or swat, therapeutically slap or suckerpunch her into sanity or silence, clothesline her in restraint or brilliantly tackle her all in a valiant bid to cheat injury or worse to her fair self.

The ‘misadventure or freak accident arising’ situations are, but not limited to :-
Choking, Fire, Unseen incoming vehicle, Child or human bleeding to death, Risk of capture by ISIS, Boko Haram or Al Qaeda, Spiders… etc.

It is wrong to hit anyone. Especially if witnesses testify that you dealt the first blow. In such instances, self defence may prompt response in kind.
If you live in Africa, or you plan to visit in the near future, ladies, my loves, might I suggest that you suppress any (demonically-inspired) desire or notion to strike the average African man? I wager that you would not walk away unaided.

Free tip from locker rooms and gentlemen clubs worldwide, most men generally think that a woman that strikes a man is not a lady. So, they need not be gentlemen around such women. Recent polls show 74% of men would hit a woman.¶

I personally blame gender equality.

All I’m saying is that you ought to objectively expect substantial ROI, when you invest in striking a person. Not every one would shrug it off like I would (wink).

Let’s imagine that you and the woman are getting intimate.
Please, I beg you, work with me here. I can actually spell it out for you, but my mum reads my work…?
So, by reason of perversion and personal fetish, I place you behind her bent-over form.
You are a Male Ambassador, elected by nature (and) or some other power or incentive at that precise point in time to help her value the male species.

If you should happen to hear her scream, mumble or beg,

“Baby, spank my ass…?! ”

Please sir, raise your splayed hand or finger(s) to an appropriate height and in compliance to her wish, strike that woman!

Mind Your Language!

90% Of People Can’t Pronounce This Whole Poem. You Have To Try It.

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world.

After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labor to reading six lines aloud.

Dearest creature in creation, 
Study English pronunciation. 
I will teach you in my verse 
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. 
I will keep you, Suzy, busy, 
Make your head with heat grow dizzy. 
Tear in eye, your dress will tear. 
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

Just compare heart, beard, and heard, 
Dies and diet, lord and word, 
Sword and sward, retain and Britain. 
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.) 
Now I surely will not plague you 
With such words as plaque and ague. 
But be careful how you speak: 
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; 
Cloven, oven, how and low, 
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery, 
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, 
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, 
Exiles, similes, and reviles; 
Scholar, vicar, and cigar, 
Solar, mica, war and far; 
One, anemone, Balmoral, 
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; 
Gertrude, German, wind and mind, 
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.

Billet does not rhyme with ballet, 
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. 
Blood and flood are not like food, 
Nor is mould like should and would. 
Viscous, viscount, load and broad, 
Toward, to forward, to reward. 
And your pronunciation’s OK 
When you correctly say croquet, 
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, 
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour 
And enamour rhyme with hammer. 
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, 
Doll and roll and some and home. 
Stranger does not rhyme with anger, 
Neither does devour with clangour. 
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, 
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, 
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, 
And then singer, ginger, linger, 
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, 
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query does not rhyme with very, 
Nor does fury sound like bury. 
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. 
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. 
Though the differences seem little, 
We say actual but victual. 
Refer does not rhyme with deafer. 
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. 
Mint, pint, senate and sedate; 
Dull, bull, and George ate late. 
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, 
Science, conscience, scientific.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven, 
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. 
We say hallowed, but allowed, 
People, leopard, towed, but vowed. 
Mark the differences, moreover, 
Between mover, cover, clover; 
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, 
Chalice, but police and lice; 
Camel, constable, unstable, 
Principle, disciple, label.

Petal, panel, and canal, 
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. 
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, 
Senator, spectator, mayor. 
Tour, but our and succour, four. 
Gas, alas, and Arkansas. 
Sea, idea, Korea, area, 
Psalm, Maria, but malaria. 
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. 
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian, 
Dandelion and battalion. 
Sally with ally, yea, ye, 
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. 
Say aver, but ever, fever, 
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. 
Heron, granary, canary. 
Crevice and device and aerie.

Face, but preface, not efface. 
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. 
Large, but target, gin, give, verging, 
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. 
Ear, but earn and wear and tear 
Do not rhyme with here but ere. 
Seven is right, but so is even, 
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, 
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, 
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.

Pronunciation — think of Psyche! 
Is a paling stout and spikey? 
Won’t it make you lose your wits, 
Writing groats and saying grits? 
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel: 
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, 
Islington and Isle of Wight, 
Housewife, verdict and indict.

Finally, which rhymes with enough — 
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? 
Hiccough has the sound of cup. 
My advice is to give up!!!


Gerard Nolst Trenite (1870-1949)