₦airaland Forum

I can't wait for the inevitable fallout between these two ungentlemen. It will top any Netflix series ever.

Truvelisback:
Good day, fellas. I'm yet to understand the difference between blood group and genotype. I did blood test for about 14 or 15 years ago, when i was still in the tertiary school(my school conducted the for all the students in my school). My test result came out and i was given a piece of card board paper indicating that my blood group is AA while my genotype is Ab+. Pls, someone should explain this. If possible, in a lameman's language.

First thing...

Both your Genotype and blood group are determined by your parents (Father and Mother). I can't go into an explanation of the genetics here.

Now to understand the difference between them, We need to talk about the blood.

You have seen the blood before, it looks red in colorr and liquid in form. But the blood is composed of many cells: Red cells, white cells, and platelets.

Our focus here is on the red cells.

So remember when you entered secondary school and you were sorted into one of the four houses: Yellow, blue, green or Red.

The red cells undergo the same thing: They are sorted into four groups as well: A, B, AB, and O.

Each one of us belongs to one of these four blood groups (OP, yours is AB. There is a lot to say about you. But space and time are not our friends today). We will get to the positive and negative stuff soon.

But these red cells are not just there to do some coloring agent work. They are the ones that move oxygen around the body. (Not your nose like some people may think).

And to perform this function, they need a protein called hemoglobin (HB). It's the cooler used for carrying food.

Now when it comes to genotype we are actually referring to HB genotype.

Because genotype means gene-type. That is, genetic makeup. The blood group we discussed have their own genotype, your eyes, hair, and any part of your body has its own genotype.

But why is the HB genotype significant?

Because it is the most clinically significant especially when dealing with SS patients.

So in your case, your HB genotype is AA. Same as me.

But some people are AS, while some are SC, and some can be CC.

The best way not to mix blood group and genotype is to quickly think of ABO.

Person: What is your blood group?

You (OP): *Quietly think of ABO*: Im AB.

You can be assured that every letter coming to your head is your genotype.

Lastly on the + and - stuff:

This one is just another differentiator for blood groups. There are like 50 systems of blood groups.

But the ABO (explained earlier) and this Rhesus method are the two significant methods.

People either have this rhesus protein or they don't. But most people do. Rare people like me don't. Thats why I'm Blood Group A, Rhesus D negative, or A neg for short.

Thank you for listening.

Thirty years ago, two boys were born into two different families. These families were alike in many ways:

The fathers were both university lecturers. The mothers were both high school teachers. They could afford the basics: food, shelter, clothes, but nothing fancy. They were your textbook, middle-class families.

Both boys grew up, attended university, and graduated at 21, studying the same course with almost identical results. A perfect "copy-and-paste" situation.

But now, at 25, the differences are glaring.

One boy started his career at 21, gained four years of industry experience, and by 25, he was confidently climbing the corporate ladder.

The other? Well, he’s still "gathering himself." At 25, his primary hustle is calculating how much he needs to japa (leave the country).

What's more, the more he saves, the more expensive the ticket becomes. Inflation is always one step ahead, like it has a personal vendetta. And as the ticket price rises like SpaceX rocket, so does his age.

Finally, at 30, after years of saving, scrimping, and begging village people to "leave his destiny alone," he gathers enough money to leave the country.

Meanwhile, his counterpart is now in senior management, living the "soft life", with a thriving family and a dog named after his favorite stock option.

What made the difference?

Was one smarter than the other? Nope. They weren’t even that different academically. Was it hard work? Again, nope. Infact they are both hardworking, one in the right direction and the other in the wrong direction.

You see, one was born in America. The other was born in Nigeria. By now, you don’t need a detective to tell you which is which.

This is why you should be angry at those steering the wheel of this country. Think about it...

You have been sold the gospel of hard work since primary school:

"To o ba kawe re, bata re a dun kokoka" (If you study hard, your shoes will make a sweet sound.)

But fast forward 20+ years, and there’s no bata (shoes) in sight, just bare feet on the hot ground of frustration.

Meanwhile, your classmates who left the country after secondary school are enjoying things you only see on Tayo Aina's YouTube channel: 24/7 electricity, emergency numbers that work, and roads that don’t double as swimming pools during the rainy season.

And what do you have? Vigils. Not for spiritual growth, but to beg God for small small basics, like light and fuel.

The most heartbreaking part?

The same people suffering the most are out there cheering, campaigning, and dancing for the very politicians looting their futures. They shout, “Na my oga be dat!” while the oga’s stomach is expanding faster than your Opay debt.

At what point do we collectively realize these people are stealing away our future, and maybe the next generation's future too? Or is everyone just waiting to join the table where they share the national cake?

Meanwhile, those with the means are saving money to escape the sinking ship, hoping to build a new life elsewhere, where at least their future is in their hands.

Moral of the story...

You can water the grass all you want, but you're just wasting time if the soil is bad. Nigeria’s soil? Don't be deceived by the Green flag, it’s actually in urgent need of fertilizer, and not the type you can buy in the market.

If you’re not angry yet, maybe it’s time to ask yourself why.

Wryyy:
Good evening great scientists
... Please I want to make an inquiry..... What happens if someone study in a school that isn't mlscn Accredited?

What do you think?

You can't have a license. You can't practice. You have wasted your time.

I have someone who studied MLS at Harvarde University Abeokuta facing the same problem.

thelabgirl:
Hello everyone I am a graduate of BMLs and I am yet to get internship, I really need help from anyone that’s generous enough to give me, I am currently in Abuja and I have applied at different hospitals but I haven’t gotten any good news yet. I am tired of staying at home, what do I do

Let me know if you are still interested. I have a link in HMB at Abuja.

jjparagon:
Hello guys, I'm working towards taking the ASCP exams this year. I'd love to know if anyone has study materials to share because all I've been coming across are scamers, I feel this is a safer space to ask for it. Thank you

Any progress?

Nonexisting:
Scientists can discover cure to cancer tomorrow but chances of me getting that $100m by tomorrow is slim. Women abort children all the time and no one bat an eye, I can at least abandon them with no one batting an eye too.

This guy gets it.

Ringstonermask:
Where do i need to sign ? Take 50% and give me d rest

That's the spirit. I was shocked to see people saying they would save some kids.

ItisWell22:
Your view is quite realistic, as there is actually more from where that came.
Unless and only if choosing it wipes out cancer in its entirety.

Cancer is a scourge that is beginning to rise.
About to become the new malaria.
Really fvcking rampant.

Let’s try as much as we can to avoid unhealthy foods and lifestyles.

Are you saving those kids or taking the life-changing money?

Babangidapikin:
I know you are being realistic and think $100million is serious money, yes it's , but it is not worth a life ,they are people whose company is worth $1 Trillion and yet they still need oxygen like all of us .. The infinite intelligence don't give a damn about your money but how much impact you can make to humanity..Save the Children, Tinubunomic is only temporary, perhaps a great Reset.

You can save the kids. I will take the money every time actually.

Imagine this hypothetical situation:

"You can press a button to cure every child in the world of cancer forever, or you can have $100 million tax-free. No one will know what you chose, you can't profit from curing the children, and you have 60 seconds to decide."

At first, when I saw the question on Reddit, I chuckled. I mean, this is easy. I'm picking the $100M no questions asked. Until i started reading the comment sections and the question started itching my brain.

Sixty seconds to choose.

One side of that big red button: kids—bald heads, sad eyes, the kind of scenes they use in those ads that make you immediately change the channel. The other side: $100 million. Tax-free.

60 seconds? Who came up with this timer? Some cosmic Gulder Ultimate Search host with a twisted sense of humor? "Let's watch this mumu sweat it out for a minute while the fate of countless kids hangs in the balance!"

But seriously, $100 million. That's "Bleep Tinubu and his economics" money. That's " I could finally afford to run for political office" money. That's "I could donate some to charity and still be balling" money. No, wait, can't do that. Anonymous choice. Shey you understand?

Speaking of anonymous, why does that matter? Is this some kind of test? Is the real moral choice whether I will do the right thing even if no one knows? Is this what our elders mean when they say "character is what you do when no one is watching"? Man, I knew I should've paid more attention during those long sermons at church.

But curing all childhood cancer forever?

That's huge. That's world-changing. That's "probably should win a Nobel Prize if anyone knew I did it" big.

How many lives would that save? How many families would that spare from heartbreak? How many future world-changers would get to grow up and maybe cure other diseases or solve Nigeria's problems or invent teleportation or something.

Then again, with $100M, I could fund research. I could start a foundation. I could... who am I kidding? I'd probably buy a private jet and name it "Cancer”. Mind you, that’s about my zodiac sign.

Oya now, time dey go. Make you decide.

What kind of person am I if I choose the money? What kind of person am I if I don't? Can I live with myself either way? Will I wake up in a cold sweat 20 years from now, haunted by this choice? Or will I be too comfortable in my air-conditioned mansion to care?

Maybe I should throw a coin. No, that's stupid. You can't leave this up to chance. This isn't some "tinini-tanana" situation. This is life and death. This is "change the world" versus "change my world."

10 seconds left. Ewo! Ewo! Ewo!

Okay, deep breath. What would future me want past me to have done? What would I want my pikins to do? (If I ever have pikins, which I probably can't afford without that ₦46 billion, but that's beside the point.)

5 seconds.

Here goes nothing. Or everything.

Button pressed

Well, that's that. No guilt, no regrets. Just sweet, sweet financial freedom. Sorry, kids with cancer. I hope someone else gets this offer and chooses differently. But me? I'm about to be living the life I have only seen in Ola of Lagos videos.

First thing tomorrow, I'm sending a giant statue of a middle finger to my boss. Then I'm buying the whole place and turning it into a car wash or just burn it down.

Maybe I'll donate to some cancer charities. You know, after I've bought two or three estates in Banana Island, my fleet of cars (no cybertruck please), my private jet, and my football club. A man's got to have priorities, after all.

Is it selfish? Absolutely.

I know what you're thinking, how can you be so selfish? It's children. It's cancer.

But, let’s not deceive ourselves...

Suffering is everywhere. Even in this moment, as I write this , somebody's grandmother somewhere in Ijebu-Ode is praying fervently, while another guy somewhere in Port Harcourt is down to his last N500 with no idea how to eat tonight.

This world has suffering packed like sardines. I could cure these kids, sure, but there is more where that came from. Life, ehn, it's never-ending.

Sorry, not sorry. Because as much as I'd love to save the world, I can't do it with an empty stomach or by borrowing data from MTN every two days.



Lalasticlala
nlfpmod
mynd44
Dominique

.

In my case, I have just finished watching a documentary about the dude, when I opened this account. Not because he is a serial killer but because he was never arrested or identified.

It’s the 4th day of the month and here you are again, waiting for that elusive salary like it’s the final episode of your favorite TV show.

You know it’s coming—at least, you hope it is—but the suspense is killing you.

At first, you’re all smiles, even planning a small chop and drinks with friends to celebrate. Maybe you will finally buy that shawarma you’ve been eyeing or at least upgrade from Indomie to spaghetti and corned beef. Salary’s coming soon, right?

Days pass, and the optimism starts to wane.

Your bank app has become your best friend and worst enemy—you check it like it’s a spiritual exercise, hoping to see those precious figures pop up. But no, the account balance stares back at you, as empty as your Uncle promises.

You suddenly become an emergency chat buddy with your colleagues, asking every minute if they have seen alert. With the hope that maybe it’s network that’s delaying yours.

Then the subtle panic sets in.

The loan app message comes in with all the politeness of someone who knows you’re in a bind: “Just a gentle reminder, loan is due.”

The bills are piling up like dirty dishes in a bachelor’s kitchen, and you start doing the maths in your head. “If I buy only rice without meat, trek to work, and conveniently forget about data subscription, maybe—just maybe—I can stretch this last figures in my Opay”. If only they could make you the minister of budget and economic planning.

At this point you could probably write a cookbook called "101 Ways to Eat Rice: A Broke Person's Guide to Culinary Desperation."

But life isn’t cooperating.

NEPA (or whatever they’re calling themselves these days) won’t understand that you’re on a strict ‘cash-light’ diet. And the way the generator is looking at you, it’s clear it needs servicing—no excuses.

You’re now contemplating all kinds of wild ideas, like convincing the malam at the corner shop to let you pay for bread with a promissory note or seeing if you can somehow stretch one tuber of yam into breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the week. Those Whatsapp memes have finally become your reality like the one I saw this morning talking about breakfast ideas with 300 Naira.

And then it hits you…

The salary isn’t just late; it’s operating on Nigerian time. You know, the kind that makes “five minutes away” actually mean “when I finish this errand, sha.”

You start laughing, not out of joy, but that dry, resigned laughter of someone who knows that, in this country, survival na work.

Remember surviving is winning, Franklin ( or whatever your name is).

But somehow, you push through. You find small wins in the struggle, like discovering an old 500 Naira note in a pair of jeans, or turning plain rice into a gourmet meal with just pepper and salt.

You’ve got resilience in your DNA, and you know that when the salary finally decides to show face, you’ll treat yourself.

Maybe it won’t be a feast at KFC, but a chilled malt and a meat pie from the nearest Iya Friday will do.

After all, in this Naija, man must wack—even if it’s just to remind yourself that one day, you’ll look back at all this and laugh. Or cry. But probably laugh.

Because in the end, if Naija has taught you anything, it’s how to survive with a smile, even when the odds—and the bank balance—aren’t in your favor.

DeeScan:
Cunninlingus


Felatio

Na there we go see you

youngestgrad:
This Oga sabi all their names

Picture this: It’s 11 PM. You’re home alone, and you find yourself in the bathroom with your phone in full brightness and the volume on zero.

You’ve gone down yet another rabbit hole on the internet, and now you’re sitting there, wondering if what you just saw actually reflects how things go down in the real world. Maybe you've even tried to sneak in some of those moves into your own life, only to be met with baffling looks or, worse, that awkward silence that makes you question all your life choices.

Trust me, you're not alone in this. It's easy to wonder if there’s a secret manual that everyone else is reading from, but here’s the truth: a lot of what you see in porn is like trying to use a Nollywood movie as a blueprint for real life.

So, before you start feeling like the only person who hasn’t cracked the code, let’s have an honest chat about what porn has normalized that really isn’t normal at all. Because if you’re setting your expectations based on what goes down in those videos, you might be heading straight for frustration, disappointment, or a very awkward situation.

Let’s start with speed.

Not the speed of your internet that buffers just when things get interesting, but the speed at which those guys in porn move.

You might think, “Fast and furious, right?” Easy there, boss.

Think of it like cooking food, if you rush it, most times you’ll end up with something half-cooked and unappealing.

Yet, those guys like King Nasir jump straight to the main event, often without any prep or even lube.

In real life, this is like trying to start a generator without fuel, nothing good is coming out of it.

Most women will tell you that this “hit and run” approach leads to awkward or downright painful experiences, especially when they’re still figuring things out. Slow down, take your time, and for goodness’ sake, consider lube. Your partner will be grateful.

Now, let’s talk about size.

Let’s address the elephant—or should I say, the horse—in the room: huge dicks.

Listen, not every guy is built like a thoroughbred, and that’s perfectly fine. A member the size of a plantain that stays rock-hard for two hours is not only unrealistic but also unnecessary. What you’ve got is more than enough. It’s not the size of the yam, but how you pound it that matters.

This idea that you need to be carrying an anaconda to satisfy someone’s girlfriend is just one of those myths that porn has managed to normalize.

Then there’s the whole “being loud the second something touches down there” trope.

I get it, we all love Victoria Cakes and maybe her moans. But the thing is they are fake because these actresses are paid to be dramatic, but in real life, most people don’t start yelling like they’re at a bus stop because you brushed against them.

Communication is key. If your partner isn’t making noise, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed. People respond differently. The goal is to enjoy the experience, not win an award for “Best Soundtrack.”

Speaking of soundtracks, let’s talk about something that sounds as unsexy as it is: the prolapse.

Yeah, I know, it’s not a word that rolls off the tongue, but it’s important. When did turning someone’s body inside out become a thing?

It’s one of those bizarre trends that make you wonder if you’re watching a medical drama instead of something “romantic.” Prolapses are not a normal or healthy outcome of any activity. If you see that happening, it’s a big red flag—like a huge “abeg, no vex, but stop” sign.

And those acrobatic stunts?

Porn loves to show off moves that look like they require a professional coach and a safety net. Seriously, some of these positions require a physiotherapist on standby. Let’s be real—trying to mimic that can land you in the hospital instead of a happy place. Keep it simple and safe unless you’re looking to become the next headline in one of those “Weird But True” youtube channels..

Finally, let’s talk about that final move: the facial.

No, it’s not a skincare routine. Somehow, it’s become a signature ending in porn, but in reality, this isn’t something most ladies are lining up to receive.

It’s messy, sticky, and honestly, it’s just overrated. If you’re considering it, maybe have a chat first—your partner’s reaction might not be what you’re expecting, and not in a good way.

So, what’s the takeaway here?

Porn is pure entertainment like WWE, not a how-to guide. If you’re trying to recreate what you see Johhny Sins do to Mia Khalifa, you might be setting yourself up for a very awkward, uncomfortable, or even painful experience. So while Tinubu may be using one hand to destroy your financial life, don't use your hand to destroy your relationship life.

Real-life intimacy is about communication, consent, and making sure everyone is comfortable, not acrobatics, speed drills, or anything involving turning someone inside out. Leave the stunts for Tom Cruise and focus on what really matters: making sure everyone involved is having a good time.

Fahvvy:
This write up deserves a million likes...

I often envy those who got married in the 90s because navigating a relationship in 2024 is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the instruction manual.

You start with all the pieces laid out in front of you, thinking, "How hard can this be?" But then, just as you’re about to hammer in that last nail, you realize one leg is shorter than the others, and suddenly, you’re questioning your entire approach to love.

Take, for instance, this thing about trust issues.

Social media has turned everyone into a detective, and you’re expected to be Sherlock Holmes on steroids.

You are happily in love, scrolling through Twitter, and then—bam!—you stumble upon a Wizarab tweet that sends you spiraling. It’s one of those vague, philosophical musings about relationships that gets a thousand retweets in an hour.

He says something like, “If she’s always online but slow to reply, my guy, you’re not the only one.” And just like that, you’re side-eyeing your girlfriend every time her WhatsApp status shows “online” while your message sits unread. You know it’s probably nothing, but that tiny voice in your head whispers, “But what if…?”

Then there is this man called Agba on that same Twitter, constantly posting about the pitfalls of modern relationships.

His threads are filled with tales that make you question if you’re doing this whole relationship thing right. Agba’s got everyone paranoid, thinking their relationship is just one bad argument away from crashing and burning. It’s like walking through a minefield, with every step potentially setting off an explosive breakup. (Let’s not forget the block industry he sent everyone who disagrees with his views to.)

And you don’ me to start talking about the romance section of Nairaland.

The wild west of relationship advice.

One moment you are reading a heartwarming success story, and the next, you’re knee-deep in a thread about how to survive when your partner turns out to be a serial cheater.

Spoiler alert: They tell you to keep your options open.

All I’m saying is, that place is enough to make anyone question their relationship status.

But just as you’re trying to keep your head above water, you meet the red pill brigade led by none other than that Yellow boy on Twitter.

You know the phrases: “Maintain frame”,“Demand respect”, “Don’t be a simp” He’s selling books, courses, and even one-on-one coaching on how to be the ultimate alpha male.

But let’s be real.

Who cares? Sometimes you just want to be a regular guy who enjoys watching Netflix with his girlfriend without overthinking whether that makes you beta. Yet their voice is always in the back of your mind, whispering, “Are you being too soft?”

As if the pressure to be the perfect alpha wasn’t enough, you’re now competing in a relationship market that’s been completely skewed by Yahoo boys and hookup culture.

These “Elon Musk boys” have turned the game upside down. They have the cash to burn, flashy cars, and they’re throwing money around like it’s nothing. You know their drill “Money na water”.

Meanwhile, there is you with your 9-5, budgeting for the month on a view-once salary, wondering if you can afford to splurge on that nice dinner date. It’s hard not to feel like you’re bringing a knife to a gunfight.

But wait, there’s more.

There is You-know-who economic policies, which have made everything more expensive and everyone more anxious. Dating in this economy is like trying to plan a wedding on a shoestring budget, it’s possible, but good luck not stressing out over every little detail.

Even something as simple as buying a gift becomes a strategic decision:

“Should I go for the expensive perfume or just stick with a nice, thoughtful card? Will she think I’m cheap if I don’t go all out? But what about next month’s rent?” The anxiety is real, and it’s not just about the relationship anymore; it’s about survival. I mean who’s going to survive when fuel is 1000 Naira per liter and climbing.

But let’s not forget the joys, the moments that make all the drama worth it.

Like when you’re having one of those deep, late-night talks where you both open up about your fears and dreams, and you realize how much you really care about each other. Or when you’re walking hand in hand through a crowded street, and you catch her looking at you with that smile that says, “I’m glad you’re here.” It’s in these moments that all the worries fade away, and you remember why you’re putting in the effort.

The truth is, dating in 2024 is a rollercoaster, with its ups and downs, twists and turns. Some days you feel like you’re on top of the world, and other days you’re just trying to hold on for dear life. (Trust me, I have been there, but this time with the memecoin I bought for $2).

But in the end, it’s all part of the ride. So, you keep playing the game, learning the rules as you go, and hoping that somewhere along the way, you’ll figure out the secret to a happy, lasting relationship. Until then, you might as well enjoy the journey—after all, isn’t that what love is all about?

Melagros:
COMRADES, geo politics is somehow dirty

Somehow? It's dirtier than Tinubu"s boxers (If he have one)

drstranged:
I couldn't even read up to half of this write up. Looks like a made up story or novel writing (even a fool can tell) rather than a real stuff that happened to you. You're not even writing with the seriousness of someone who actually went through these events and who was impacted by them, so that makes the whole story lose it's appeal.
Maybe before you post another story next time, read the genuine stories of other guys who went through such experience and you'd know how to craft your words to make it real and have the attention of the reader. This write up is purely immature and unappealing. Go and learn how to write. Sorry

Thanks boss.

AmancalledGod:
This one is still learning how to write a perfect stories

Oya oya you don catch me

Julibet:
If it's not fiction, you're honestly weak.

I don register for gym bro.

jorion:
STORY FOR THE GODS...

I like women bashing when required but this is fiction.

No be fiction boss

I should be reading for next week's test, but right now I have a heavy heart that I hope will lighten after writing this.

I suffered my first heartbreak as a young boy 2 years ago.

You know how it is - that first love hits you like a bowl of too-spicy pepper soup. But just as I was finally able to eat without thinking of her, another virgin girl decided to play a game of table tennis with my heart.

It happened on a family vacation, of all places.

The girl who made my heart do the shaku shaku without any music. We connected faster than Lagosians running to catch the last danfo of the night.

It was all innocent stuff, mind you - just hand-holding and the occasional peck that left me feeling like I had won the lottery.

We kept in touch over the years, meeting up whenever we could.

Each goodbye felt like watching Nigeria lose a football match in the 90th minute.

Fast forward to last week, she came to visit, and hope bloomed in my chest like flowers in a garden.

I took her to a house party, thinking this was it - our time to shine. We were closer than bread and butter all night.

But then, she vanished.

I assumed she had fallen asleep in the basement - a place more mysterious and inaccessible than our president’s promise. I ended up passing out on a couch upstairs, dreaming of our future together.

Little did I know, my uncle - who was more like a brother to me, with only a 7-year age gap - was about to sub in for me.

They slept together that night, and she lost her virginity.

Now, let me paint you a picture of my luck with the ladies.

Remember that first girlfriend I mentioned? Well, she lost her virginity to my friend at the time - while we were still dating.

And where did this betrayal happen? In the spare room right next to my bedroom. I heard everything - a free audio drama I never asked for.

If my love life were a movie, it'd be titled "How to Lose a Girl in 10 Seconds" or "No Room for the Backup Striker". Trust issues? I have got more of those than there are potholes on Nigeria roads.

But don't worry about me, oh. As we say in Nigeria, "No condition is permanent."

Who knows? Maybe one day I'll write a bestseller: "How to Lose Your Girlfriend to Your Uncle and Other Party Tricks." Until then, I'll be here, guarding my heart more carefully than a Nigerian mother guards her special pot of chicken.

So, to all you virgin-seeking vigilantes out there, I say this: Maybe it's time to update your search preferences.

After all, in this game of love, experience often trumps innocence. And who knows? While you're busy playing guardian to a virtue that was never yours to protect, you might miss out on a connection more genuine than a... well, more genuine than my uncle's sudden interest in basement exploration

I wanted Tinubu to fail so I could tell his voters, "I told you so."

But let's be real

You don't even need a microscope to see that Tinubu would fail at Aso Rock. It was as obvious as an elephant in a china shop.

Unless, of course, you've been blinded by the cloaks of tribalism. I'm looking at you, Yoruba ronus - feeling like oponus yet?

At least now you can see with your own eyes how your kinsman is treating the country like a toddler with a new PlayStation - button-mashing included.

Maybe Yorubas buy fuel at 50% off? If so, where's the discount code? Is it "Bat Signal"

Because last I checked, we're all first-class passengers on this Titanic of a nation.

Then there are those who played the religion card: The Muslim-Muslim ticket.

As if Tinubu will go round mosques on Fridays, handing out bags of rice like some political Santa Claus. Now the ticket is beginning to resemble a sportybet slip (shout out to the "Stake 100 Naira to win 50 Million" gang) that cut on the very first game.

The worst part of this whole mess?

Come 2027, when the next election rolls around, the likely winner is none other than... *drumroll please*... Mr. Tinubu himself.

Why? Because he's not about to fold his hands and watch anyone snatch power from him. After all, He is the “Emilokan 1 of Nigerialand”. After all, he's not pulling a Jonathan. And after all, why the heck not?

The saddest part? There will still be some people - blinded by religion and tribe again - who will thumbprint for him because not even artificial intelligence can help their human stupidity.

He knew this last year. He knows this come 2027. And he'll ride this wave again, dividing a country that's already more fractured than a dropped mirror.

So buckle up, the Nigerian political circus is in town, and the show must go on.

tivity101:
Try ask your neighbors if they ever saw you come out of your apartment that Saturday . They should be able to say something about it.

Your story is truly weird sha

As I no get neighbour nko?

Coolsat:
God knows I can't tolerate a spoilt brat as wife all in the name of marriage. I no kuku see seperation as anything. If you ain't making me happy then make everybody dy go . Will not live my life in agony to please any daughter of eve

She is the LOML. I fight for fuel during the day; I fight for love in the night and I fight demons in my dreams.

Mood11:
Frustrate her back

Na my next move be that.