Alyricist★Laura:
Humans should not be killing or eating any animals period...

What type of savage eats a four legged animal...

Ill give the fish and the bird eaters a pass..

But if you are eating a 4 Legged beast , then you are some sort of subhuman slime

Only Uncivilized Folk Eat Animals.

Akin-David:
1. My Bible
2. My wife
3. My family
These three come hand in hand so i treat them as one

razznaija: You got the photos from LIB, why don't you give her credit for it.

sauer:
na my fault? come on!

funky medina: my total score..26040..hahahaha

SUCCEED!:
The presenters radio name/nick name is Freeze, I don't know his real name, but I must say that the said Freeze is too arrogant on radio, always too full of himself. I listened to that particular episode of the programme 2 days ago and I was totally dissapointed, even his co-presenter and subordinate Kaylah always trys to correct him.

The lady that called to correct him sounded very intelligent and was so persistent but Freeze kept interrupting her and not allowing her to express herself and eventually he cut her off without accepting that he was wrong to the disspointment of Kaylah because Kaylay was somewhat apologetic.

And to think that this same Freeze anchors a christian religious programme Praise Jam on Cool FM on Sundays and advises people makes it even worse. Since Dam Foster left that Radio station Freeze has been trying to fill his gap but he has been such a dissapointment. I hardly listen to Freeze unless it's a very important programme, anytime I tune to Cool FM and he's the presenter I tend to tune to another station.

I wish there was a way to caution and stop this sort of unprofessional conduct by some radio presenters to serve as a deterrent. This is common with Cool FM and her sister stations. Remember they have closed down theirs sister station Wazobia FM's Kano branch because of the carelessness of their presenters because they were accused of inciting the violence that led to the killing of 9 health workers some weeks ago.

There management should should really do something about this.

KINGwax: I do it everytime.
To me, it looks so sexy!!!
I also love to wash dishes wen she cooks and was her undies wen I wanna look funny.
Its so cool. Biliv me!!!

e-talker:


Are these people actually laughing and posing or what?

RIP Goldie!!!

Ivynwa: That cocky looking BF player wan score us Mtscheeeeeeeeeeeeeew Ewo chi m


Looking for links for streaming, check here
www.atdee.net
http://www.atdee.net/59998/watch-nigeria-vs-burkina-faso

omodoagba:



mein bruder wie gehts?

Siena: I can relate to Vikin's experience with Feline creatures. I don't like them - we had a cat when I was growing up. Didn't last long though. I begged my mom to get rid of it, but she was having none of it. As far as she was concerned, the cat was here to stay. It was a ginger tabby Tomcat, and we named it - well, Tom.

When Tom was over a year old, one of my uncles (I can't remember which one) thought it would be real cute to bring Tom a female companion, a month-old grey tabby. She was named Betty, and for some reason, she stank. I remember telling my mom she needed to be given a bath, but no, that wasn't on the cards - cats were very clean animals. An understatement!

Tom was pretty docile, and was no bother to anyone. He continued to do his job keeping some of those huge Nigerian rats at bay (you know, those ones that are as big as medium-sized domestic cats). Betty continued to reek.

Tom kind of grew on me. He was very placid and friendly, and even our dog Rambo came to tolerate him, often they both ate from the same plate, and slept in the same spot behind the sofa.

I was heart broken, when Tom staggered home one day; he was obviously unwell. I rushed him to the vet in GRA, Benin-City, which was the nearest to us in those days (we lived off Agho Street). I had to take a taxi, as my parent's were still at work. A quick examination was all the vet could do - Tom had been poisoned, and there was nothing that could be done. I had the option to take him home, and let him die, or be put down. I chose to have him put to sleep, it seemed the humane thing to do. I wrapped him in a clean towel, and took him home. I buried him in the soft earth behind out house.

So, we were left with Betty. I did give her a bath a couple of times, using Bob Martin Dog Shampoo, the same we used on Rambo. She smelt fresh for about 24 hours, and then her stench returned. It was the same on both occasions, experiences that left both my arms badly scratched - by now, Betty was much bigger, and holding her down was like holding onto a baby tiger, hissing, yowling and trying her utmost to strip the flesh from my arms.

He awful stench never let up. You could tell when she was home, by the nasty smell. Looking back now, she must have had an ailment, that caused her to secrete something, I have no idea. She had the Feline equivalent of body odour.

I took her to the local market, walking distance, and left her there, hoping that would be it. I took a detour on the way home, and stopped off at a friend's house. We chewed the fat over this and that, before I finally left to walk home, about an hour later.

You can imagine my shock, when the first thing I saw when I let myself into our house, was Betty. Yes, Betty I'd left at the market place! From then on, I didn't mask my dislike for her. I tormented her, chucked boots at her, kicked out if she got too close. I was a mischievous child back then - I thought it would be funny to balance Betty on the blades of the ceiling fan, then switch it on. I would start from slow, gradually increasing the speed, till Betty was a blur. By now, the fan would be swinging wildly, due to the unbalanced load, then Betty would let go, land wherever she could, before streaking madly out of the room.

After a while, Betty became wary of me, and would glare at me whenever I entered a room she was in. And I would glare back.

Matters were taken out of my hands one hot afternoon. Rambo, for some reason, didn't get on with Betty, the way he had with Tom. And the reeking Feline made the mistake of licking Rambo's favourite bone, out on the front veranda. The bone was old, hardly any meat left on it, but Rambo loved to gnaw on it, and would spend hours exercising his jaws on the smelly old thing.

Rambo came trotting round the side of our house, spotted Betty, who took off. Rambo promptly gave chase. It was nothing new, so I simply watched till they were both out of sight, and promptly forgot all about them - Betty always managed to give Rambo the slip, anyway.

It was much later, when Rambo came trotting through the gates, his tongue lolling, looking really pleased with himself. Betty was nowhere to be seen, but again, this wasn't unusual. Betty, like all Felines was a free spirit, and came and went as she chose. This ended this hot afternoon. In the evening, as was the norm, I took the kitchen garbage to the rubbish tip, and there on the intersection that ran past the top of our road lay Betty. She had been struck by a passing automobile, and run over by several others since. She was as flat as a pancake, all that was recognisable was her grey tabby, and left hind white sock.

I guess Rambo hated Betty as much as I did, perhaps more, and chased her to her death.