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He offered himself to me, he's been unowned for 15 months now and yearning to be owned again, by me!. He is submissive , nicely-built and single. I love that he believes in FEMALE SUPREMACY and SERVITUDE. and have respect for a female-led relationship. He is well-trained for domestic duties, cooking, ironing and laundry is his favorite task. He will also take me shopping for high-heels, of my favorite color. He will prepare my bath , wash me, have a warm towel ready and pat me dry. He calls me mistress and will make my life wonderful.

I'm not selfish so I will grant him one wish a week, in return for all his good deeds. His name is Johnie...

...God, that wavering southern female drawl must drive men wild during pillow talk. But I digress.
Sure, these high flying lawyers do sometimes stick necks out, in support of a losing cause. Especially if somewhere down the road they see professional advantage, and Mr. Green. Lots of Mr. G.
But her allegations were so devastating, specific and internally mutually supportive, that to falsely chirp away in these regards, would be professional suicide. These folks don't play that game.

Now let's allow the rest of their work to proceed, for which plenty of time exists, and the final adjudication of the SCOTUS. Remedies may then follow, but which ones?

Part 1

Mrs. Crompton was cycling home to her little cottage in the village when she came upon two diminutive, downcast figures sitting on the grassy bank by the side of the track. She had a very caring nature and so could not help but stop and ask the reason for their sad demeanour.

“We’ve lost our jobs and been turned out of the big house, where we were employed by Mrs. Strong-Cummings, or her ladyship, as we used to call her,” said one of the small characters. “Now we have nowhere to live, and don’t know where our next meal will come from.”

“Oh dear me,” said Mrs. Crompton, “what was your work at the big house, and why were you turned out?”

“We’ve got special talents, as you might call them,” he continued. “We were taken on by her ladyship as pleasure midgets, and she kept us busy most evenings. Then, all a sudden, we lost our urges, and no amount of talent is any good without the urges. She put up with it for about a week before she said as how a pair of frigid midgets was no good to her, and sent us a packing.”

Mrs. Crompton was very moved by their story, although she didn’t dwell for too long on the nature of their previous occupation. “Look’” she said, “I’ve got a large garden, and now I’m getting older, it is too much work for me to look after it properly. I can’t afford to pay you anything I’m afraid, but if you would like to come and look after my garden for me, I will give you food and a place to sleep.”

The midgets looked at one another and their little faces broke into beaming smiles. “Oh yes! they both cried out together.”

“Do you two little gentlemen have names?” asked Mrs. Crompton.

“I’m Wam,” said one, “I’m Bam,” said the other.

“PLeased to meet you Wam and Bam, now if you both jump into the basket on the front of my bicycle, it’s time we were getting home for tea.”
And off they sped along the track, towards the village and Mrs. Crompton’s little cottage.

After tea, when Mrs. Crompton had shown Wam and Bam where they would sleep, the three of them chatted about this and that, and Mrs. Crompton asked the midgets about their life at the big house. They told her about her ladyship’s lavish dinner parties, where she would get them to entertain her guests with their very unusual and amusing party trick. They described how a guest would be asked to put a small, personal object into a wooden box, and they -blindfolded and not allowed to use their hands- would have to identify what that object was. Mrs. Crompton didn’t hear all of the story; she found that she “would quite like another cup of tea”, and went off to make it before it was finished.


Next morning, straight after breakfast, the midgets were shown the garden, and given their instructions for the day. Not much was required of them; all they had to do was remove the dead roses from their stems, and pull up all the weeds from between the rose bushes. They enjoyed the work, and turned out to be very efficient at it. On the second day, they were shown how to tend the herb garden, and how to grow new plants from seed, in the greenhouse.

My jaw wants to unhook when I listen to what some women have to say about their close encounters of the third kind with men. It crossed my mind that some of these women are just out to make men appear as evil monsters but I’m more than prepared to concede that at least some women may have had some really terrible experiences with men.

But all this makes we wonder with exactly what kind of men you are involved with? In all fairness, if you date an undesired character, you must expect to be treated in kind. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t say he has the right to misbehave because he is what he is but you cannot cultivate weeds and expect to pick peaches from it.

If a friend arranged a blind date and he turns out to be weird, kick your friend’s arse. You have been sold out. Otherwise you must take at least some of the blame – even if just for your inability to spot a bad character for they are not that difficult to recognize. They all carry a lot of baggage and it wells up soon enough in conversation. And if you get into it, knowing that you’re dealing with a dubious character, don’t complain about it afterwards because it was your choice to be with such a man.

I have seen it countless times that a woman who comes out of an abusive relationship, just hook up with another bad egg the next time. They find calm relationships dull. Harsh as this may sound, some women are attracted to ruffians and I think they want to be mistreated. I don’t know if they crave for the excitement or the sympathy but they normally get both.

I have also been had by one or two women but they were few and far between. The majority of women are normal and rational. Just like that there are many good men out there but the onus is on you to separate the dregs from the wine. If you pick one loose cannon, we can call it a mistake; it can happen to anybody. More than that, it starts looking like a trend. Remember, nobody can force you to date anybody. It’s your own choice. We cannot always blame others for our own bad choices.


Relax! It is Friday.

I have done a lot of thinking of late. Thinking about what might have been, what could have been, what has been and what has not been. For some things there is still time while for others, I fear, it is too late. Mercifully those are few. I have done most of what I wanted to do. Yes, I had my ups and my downs but the average line was always above the line.

Regrets there are only a few too. There are a few things that I should have done differently, but I’m happy with my life as it is.

Maybe it is because I never had any unrealistic dreams. I was often accused of having no ambition and that I don’t fulfill my potential but I’d rather build on what I am than to chase unreachable goals. I was blessed with so many talents. Some said I must become a writer and other said I must become an artist. My parents wanted me to become a preacher. Everybody had different plans for me. I disappointed them all and I’m not apologizing for that. I did what I wanted to do.

I have always been the champion of the underdog. Somebody once said it is because I’m a loser. Yet I never felt like a loser. I’d rather help the loser back to his feet before I cheer the winner. There is no disgrace in losing. I’d rather lose fairly than win by cheating. Such would be a hollow victory. You cannot bullshit yourself. If somebody defeats me by cheating I feel great because that is an admission by him that I’m better, stronger or smarter than him. Why else would he cheat?

More than all, I’m at peace with myself and I bear no grudges. I may retaliate when somebody does me wrong but I forget about it as soon as now. I cut my losses and get on with my life. I don’t hate anybody or anything; hate consumes you until you are just an empty shell. If somebody wants to hate me, it is his unhappiness. It cannot interfere with mine.

Yes, there are still a few things I still plan to do. And I’ll do it for they are all reachable. I’m not going to start chasing the end of the rainbow now. Achieving a goal has always been an anticlimax to me. The process of getting there is what brings me satisfaction.


May this be a joyful day to you all.

At school my teachers thought I would never amount to anything. I haven’t seen any of them since I left so they probably don’t know how accurate their predictions were. None of my achievements in life have been more than minor. This has, from time to time, caused me anxiety and dissatisfaction, but not anymore. I’ve found that since I’ve been living on my own I no longer care about achievement, or lack of it. A bit more money would be nice, but it wouldn’t take much more to spare me the usual end of the month juggling.

This made me wonder how many of the ambitions we have are for the sake of other people.

It won’t happen in our lifetimes but I find it interesting that the racial category I will call Anglo for purposes of this blog will, in a few hundred years, be statistically extinct.

It is already incredibly challenging to find population percentages for the race that combined the Celts, Saxons, Vikings, Romans and Normans to produce the Anglos – that ever-bubbling melting pot of people who played a huge role in world history because of their insatiable desire to travel to other parts of the world, meet new people and, usually, try to convert, kill, or enslave them.

Those stroppy islanders had particularly significant impact in North America, Australia, and large swathes of Africa (usually butting heads with pesky Europeans in territory disputes along the way) but now we are ourselves vanishing into the melting pots of the world – we have close to negative population growth, and the majority of those producing busily on these shores are immigrant populations or mixed.

What, you read this far? Have a coffee! there are comments coming up with more fascinating statistics for you. It’s like a school day. Yay!

I'm particularly interested to see how many have a kneejerk reaction that this is a racist blog. It isn't. It is simply about a race of people who affected the world. Most of them happened to be a whiter shade of pale, falling into a much bigger demographic (see comments)

The song is completely irrelevant, apart from the title. Not a bad song, though.

This US presidential election seems to be about past issues of intolerance, greed and finger pointing...thanks to Trump...it is "okay" to be racist, sexist and dishonest. What truly disturbing is that women are being verbally abused with remarks about their looks. Why would men not want to stand up for Equality? It is quite sad also that many people in his camp spew such vile remarks regarding the African Americans not to mention the scam Trump is involved with his so called University...or his many law suits...

Thanks to Clinton who laughed with delight at Trump regarding his claims of having a better temperament or his denial of past opinions or values...clearly the audience was also amused by his claims too...perhaps the USA has hope yet...even Bush senior is voting for Hillary...

Despite Trump's dystopian views...he hasn't got the facts straight...and Hillary has the facts...she prepared for the debate...Trump did not...

Just a reminder of what Trump really thinks...lol...

After spending more than ½ my life in Africa I went to Britain, Shortly after arriving I attended a job interview with a panel of 4 interviewers.

There was a woman who started off by asking in a very slow patronizing voice if I had been scared of the elevator, I replied that yes I had been but was amazed at the openings in the wall with glass in them; she replied that “I suppose you don’t have windows in your mud houses”.

I have also had people say “but you are white, we thought all Africans were dark skinned” and the popular ”how do you cope with all the wild animals”.

What are your perceptions of Africa, and have you been asked stupid questions about where you live?

Good morning guys.

Last night, I have to admit, I was a little down. I needed something to make me get through the night. Without moping, without being more miserable like over run by a train. Beaten and tired.

So...guess what I did.

I seeked the company of Jack Daniels.

Now I don't drink. I can't. I take a little sip, whether it's wine or any alcohol and I become very weak. The world is like a spinning ball.

But last night I made an exception and went ahead and treated myself special for the moment. All alone. Drinking.

Well I feel better. Sure I made a fool of myself by writing self inflicting memoir, but I survived. The mods must have known, I needed that cathartic encounter.

I figured our world is so volatile. It might just end before we know it.

Bottom line? I woke up feeling good.

So good morning fellow citizens of the blog world.

Come and join me in my high and positive spirits.

Thank you all for your comnents, opinions, telling me I'm right, most of the times wrong.

Thank you all.