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 Literature › Re: The Beauty In Patriarchy by Roycemadeit(op): 4:27pm On Jun 06, 2024 |
While they returned to the hospital, I found myself driving to our family house, a sprawling five-bedroom duplex. As I approached, the only sign of life was the gateman standing sentry at the gate. This young man, with the determination of a soldier, refused to let me drive into the compound. His stance was unyielding, and he ignored all my attempts to reason with him. Even the estate guard, who knew me, couldn't sway him. Was this man foolish or fiercely loyal? Perhaps it wasn't his fault entirely. I hadn't crossed paths with him since his employment several months ago. After all my explanations fell on deaf ears, I retreated to my car, too drained to endure more of this farce at the hands of someone whose salary I helped pay. I called Dora, who promptly contacted him, and soon he was scurrying to open the gate. I drove in, pulled my weary self out of the car, and entered the house. The house was a familiar landscape, save for the new television on the wall and the fresh set of sofas. I collapsed heavily into a chair, as if gravity itself were welcoming me like a mother embraces her son after a long day at school. My head felt like it was aflame from lack of sleep and hunger, which might explain why I didn't notice the bothersome gateman hovering in the sitting room. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. "Yes, ma'am. I just wanted to tender my sincere apologies for not..." "Listen, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't know who I was." "Thank you, ma'am. My name is Nduka. Should you require anything, please, ma'am, don't hesitate to call on me." He gave a slight bow and turned to leave. My mouth hung open. What did I just hear? Was this cheap singlet-and-shorts-wearing, muscular gateman speaking impeccable English like some Don in some Shakespeare's tale? No, it had to be the hunger. [color=#Fe9000]I watched the muscles on his back and shoulders tense with each step, the white light of the sitting room refracting off his form, that seemed to have been polished with oil. He reached the door, then suddenly wheeled around like a soldier in formation and caught me staring.[/color] "Would you like me to fix something for you to eat?" he asked, his voice resonating through the room. "Why are you asking me about food?" My question might have startled him, but it was nothing compared to my own surprise. Perhaps my tone was too brusque, masking my embarrassment. "Anything you desire, I will fix it up," he replied, his powerful baritone reminiscent of Yul Edochie’s, but with a European polish. This was intriguing. A man offering to cook for me? What had the world come to? Could it be part of his paid duties? "For now, let me have rice and..." I hesitated, wondering if it wouldn’t take too long. "What soup do we have in the house? If there is soup, you can make me semo or wheat." His question about food had incited a riot in my belly. I had assumed Nduka had taken on the role of his predecessor, who doubled as the security man and driver, until he asked, like a clairvoyant, what I would like to eat. It dawned on me that I hadn’t eaten, and he must have seen the hunger written all over my face. In my confusion, I had forgotten about food, but now hunger clawed at my stomach, a stark reflection of the fractured state of my life. I wondered how Chidi was faring, but it was unfair that he had manhandled my father and cast me out of our matrimonial home without seeking any explanations. My mind tangled with thoughts, torn between my hospitalized father, my crumbling marriage, and the seeming futility of it all. A sound from the dining room pulled my focus. Nduka was placing bowls from a tray onto the dining table. I nudged my mind away from its wandering and focused on addressing the most immediate problem at hand. |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Call On God For Help,things Are Really Hard,adeboye Tells Nigerians by Roycemadeit(m): 11:12am On Jun 05, 2024 |
He does not call on God when things are hard but on his members to pledge 1 billion. Well, except the times he called on God and he changed the weather, weather change that isn't provable. He can't call on this God to help Nigerians. Idiots would still find themselves doing same thing over and over again and expecting different results... Talking to themselves and claiming it's to God 😂 |
| Literature › Re: The Beauty In Patriarchy by Roycemadeit(op): 4:38pm On Jun 04, 2024 |
Sleep evaded me that night. My thoughts careened wildly, a frantic rollercoaster between hope and despair. My attempts to reach Chidi were met with a dead end. Had he blocked my number? The truth, the explanation I desperately wanted to offer – about having the bottle long before we met – swirled in my mind. But logic whispered that dishonesty wouldn't be enough. Chidi craved absolute truth, an unwavering foundation for our relationship. Any deviation, even with the best intentions, felt like a betrayal. A past transgression flickered in my memory. A dinner with a colleague, a harmless outing I'd lied about. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. My colleague's unexpected call during my shower, followed by a text referring to the evening as a "date" and his longing for another, betrayed me. Joining him in bed after my shower that night, I yearned for Chidi's touch. But my attempts at intimacy were met with a chilling aloofness. His sudden question about my whereabouts, delayed until after dinner and a bath, felt calculated, almost predatory. The truth, so tempting on my lips, seemed to vanish in the face of his unspoken doubt. "Traffic," I lied, a practiced response that felt hollow in the tense atmosphere. Chidi remained silent, his back a wall against any further attempts at connection. The room vibrated with a sinister energy, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The following morning, Chidi's words were a brutal awakening. He spoke of our failing marriage, his conditional love hinged solely on complete honesty. Then came the question again, a relentless drill – why was I late last night? Chidi possessed an overactive imagination, a tendency to twist reality into a web of suspicion. Yet, a part of me feared this might be different. So, I confessed – a harmless dinner with a colleague, a conversation fueled by work, not romance. "Is there more?" His voice held a dangerous edge. "There's nothing more," I pleaded. "Let's hope so," he warned, the threat of ending our marriage hanging heavy in the air. "I won't tolerate the kind of deceit that poisoned my parents' relationship." Chidi was a good man, fundamentally kind, but his unwavering need for absolute truth created a suffocating dynamic. He couldn't grasp the nuance of protecting someone's feelings, the delicate dance of love and self-preservation. In his eyes, honesty wasn't an act of kindness, but a test of loyalty. The weight of the past five years pressed down on me. Never had we faced such a crisis. By the time the nurse arrived with the next dose of medication, it was 3 am. Exhaustion finally claimed me, offering a brief respite from the turmoil. The morning light brought a fresh wave of anxieties. Before the doctor arrived, I had cleaned myself up, the lingering scent of the hospital clinging to me like a shroud. Nancy, my sister, arrived, but Dora was absent, caught up in some unknown obligation. My father stirred, his body racked with pain. Though his voice remained silent, his eyes held a flicker of accusation. Any attempt to help him was met with a flinch, a rejection that cut deeper than any spoken word. Nancy became his reluctant savior, guiding him into her car for the CT scan. The results wouldn't be available for another agonizing seven hours. |
| Culture › The Impact Of Social Media by Roycemadeit(op): 10:08am On Jun 04, 2024 |
The Impact of Social Media Social media platforms such as Instagram and TikTok have revolutionized how individuals connect, share, and perceive the world around them. However, these platforms also wield significant influence in shaping societal values and perceptions, particularly regarding luxury and materialism. The relentless stream of curated content featuring influencers showcasing their lavish lifestyles creates a pervasive pressure to conform to unrealistic standards of wealth and success. 1. Amplification of Luxury Standards: Social media amplifies the pressure to conform to luxury standards by inundating users with images and videos of influencers living seemingly perfect and extravagant lives. From exotic vacations and designer wardrobes to ostentatious displays of wealth, the curated content on social media platforms creates a false narrative that equates happiness and fulfillment with material possessions and external validation. 2. False Narrative of Happiness: The curated nature of social media feeds often presents a distorted view of reality, where only the most glamorous and envy-inducing moments are showcased. This perpetuates a false narrative that suggests happiness and fulfillment are contingent upon achieving a certain level of wealth, status, and luxury. The constant exposure to idealized images of opulence can lead to unhealthy comparisons and a distorted sense of reality among users. 3. Unhealthy Comparisons and Envy: Social media platforms facilitate constant comparison, as users measure their lives and accomplishments against the carefully curated images of influencers. This comparison culture breeds feelings of inadequacy, envy, and FOMO (fear of missing out), as individuals strive to keep up with unrealistic standards set by others. The pressure to project a flawless image and maintain a facade of success can lead to heightened anxiety, self-doubt, and dissatisfaction. 4. Breaking Free from Materialism Breaking free from the cycle of materialism requires a conscious effort to reassess values and priorities. This involves: -Recognizing Manipulation: Acknowledging the manipulation tactics employed by luxury marketers and influencers is the first step toward reclaiming control over one's consumption habits. Understanding that the curated content on social media platforms is often designed to evoke desire and envy can help individuals develop a critical perspective and resist the allure of materialism. -Focusing on Genuine Fulfillment: Instead of chasing after external symbols of success and validation, individuals should focus on cultivating experiences and relationships that bring genuine joy and fulfillment. Whether it's spending time with loved ones, pursuing hobbies, or volunteering for a cause, true fulfillment comes from meaningful connections and experiences, not from the accumulation of material possessions. -Building Internal Values: Building self-worth based on internal values such as integrity, compassion, and personal growth is essential for breaking free from the grip of materialism. By prioritizing character development, authenticity, and self-acceptance, individuals can find greater satisfaction and fulfillment in life, independent of external circumstances or possessions. In conclusion, while social media platforms offer unprecedented opportunities for connection and self-expression, they also perpetuate unrealistic standards of wealth and success. By recognizing the manipulation behind luxury marketing, prioritizing genuine fulfillment over material possessions, and building self-worth based on internal values, individuals can break free from the cycle of materialism and cultivate a more meaningful and authentic life. |
| Literature › Re: The Beauty In Patriarchy by Roycemadeit(op): 9:54am On Jun 04, 2024 |
The Lagos sun beat down mercilessly, turning the clogged streets into a simmering furnace. The air thrummed with the cacophony of klaxons and curses, a symphony of impatience that mirrored the frantic rhythm of my own heart. Each stalled car, every weaving motorcycle, was an eternity as I battled through the city's unruly belly towards Ago Palace. My father, the man who'd woven the fear of God into the very fabric of my being, lay injured, and the thought of losing him was a monstrous weight upon my chest. Buba Dami Hospital, a stark sentinel against the grimy sprawl, offered a sliver of hope. Relief washed over me momentarily as I found my sisters huddled in the waiting area, their faces etched with the kind of worry that spoke of weighty matters. Yet, a familiar face was absent from the gathering. "Chidi?" My voice emerged rough, a reflection of the unease gnawing at my insides. They shared a tale of my husband vanishing without a word. My phone echoed the silence – Chidi's number as lifeless as the air hanging heavy in the room. The familiar yearning for escape, the siren song of the small bottle glimpsed through my mind. One of my sisters thrust her phone forward, the screen glowing with Chidi's name. "Where are you?" The words scraped out of his throat, raw with a desperate hope. "At Ago, at the hospital," I clipped a reply. "I want you to…" "Good. Don't bother coming back, get admitted because you are sick" he snapped before I could finish, his voice laced with a venom I did not recognize. "Drown in your poison... you and your father... lunatics!" The world tilted on its axis. Chidi, the voice of reason, the steady hand, calling me…sick? Wishing me dead? A cold sweat slicked my skin as the phone slipped from my numb fingers. What had transpired to twist my husband's spirit into such a knot? A concerned nurse, draped in starched blue, materialized beside us. My father, she informed us, had stirred from his slumber, but quietude was paramount. The sterile room felt like a tomb as I finally laid eyes on my father – a frail reflection of the man I remembered. A pang of regret lanced through me. If this day marked his departure, our last encounter would be a faded memory, lost in the mists of time. The doctor, a somber figure, spoke of tranquilizers and antibiotics before inquiring about Chidi. Forced to explain his absence, I mumbled a vague promise of his arrival "come tomorrow." As the day surrendered to dusk, my sisters, with promises to return for the CT scan, took their leave. They had families to return to, a comfort I craved yet could not claim. I stared at my empty hands, a silent cry trapped in my throat. The warmth of a hearth, the embrace of loved ones – luxuries beyond my reach. Tonight, the sterile confines of the hospital would be my sanctuary. A sanctuary filled with the relentless hum of machines and the antiseptic sting of disinfectant, a far cry from the life I yearned for, but a stark reminder of the fragile hold I possessed on the one person who mattered most. |
| Christianity Etc › Re: When You Have To Save Your god Because It Cannot Save Itself (Photos) by Roycemadeit(m): 3:43pm On Jun 02, 2024 |
Image123:  Jesus: the flying dead |
| Christianity Etc › Re: When You Have To Save Your god Because It Cannot Save Itself (Photos) by Roycemadeit(m): 10:03am On Jun 02, 2024 |
jesusjnr2020:This God made man from dust yet there is almost not difference in the flesh of man and other animals, of course they are alive too  . This imaginary and fictional God didn't make the darkness from which they say he made light. This God was creating worlds as the man he has not created recorded . God when dey do meeting with devil  . Folks can only believe in God, they can't know God. Stop lying |
| Romance › Re: As A Married Woman, I'm Tired Of Sleeping With Different Men by Roycemadeit(m): 8:37am On Jun 02, 2024 |
God1000:This is the classical definition of marriage by society, yet there are pertinent questions—such as who created this institution of ownership and why? Culture and tradition do not evolve spontaneously; they are invented by people. Someone initiated the idea of legally owning a partner's privates, often in a one-sided manner. Today, this concept dominates societal norms. If a married man openly discussed his wanton behavior, society would be less likely to frown upon it. To truly live for oneself, a person must decide what is best for them and follow that path, rather than living a lie. Consider this: when the rules of ownership were established, you were not consulted, yet you are expected to live by them. Adhering to these rules, regardless of their merit, may leave you feeling incomplete. Telling a child "don't do that" often results in the opposite behavior; punishing them may only instill fear or drive them to be more creative in avoiding detection. I appreciate how she spoke out. This should be the foundation of marriage—the recognition that our lives can change endlessly, and we can only be true to ourselves if we make decisions independently of societal expectations. |
| Literature › Re: The Beauty In Patriarchy by Roycemadeit(op): 8:07am On Jun 02, 2024 |
The story is done. However, seeing that I have a following, suggests that the story could go on. ****** Behind Chidi's wide stares were the gears in his brain working overtime. Most of what he heard today was completely new to him. I had always seen Chidi as naive—a trusting man. A man who believed in the goodness of people, who thought others were as open and sincere as he was. He had yet to come to terms with the reality that people often mask their true selves, that they are more defined by their secrets than by their outward actions. So far, he hadn't said anything about what happened at the therapist's office, and that was exactly what I wanted. He drove us home in silence, even when an Okada rider tilted our side mirror while maneuvering through traffic. He didn't react at all. I couldn't tell if he was angry, disappointed, or simply helpless. But did it matter? I was feeling all of that and more, ever since I realized my curse as a woman. In truth, I didn't expect Chidi to say anything immediately. That's not how he is. He always waits until he has a clear head before speaking, rarely acting on impulse. Yet when we arrived home, he quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes and drove off without a word. This was unexpected. I had thought he would sit on the divan in silence, then slowly build up to the crux of the matter, like he was preparing me for a soft landing, assuring me that I could express my thoughts without fear or judgment. Leaving the house without saying a thing was strange; Chidi would never do that. The peace I felt when I confessed my secret was beginning to crumble. Where could he have gone? Who might he be seeing? My father? The pastor? A flood of questions surged through my mind. But why did I care? Before he returned, I would be gone. Two hours passed, and Chidi still wasn't back. The untouched bottle of poison sat ominously on my makeup table. Was I really going to drink it? Yes. Would it be hard for Chidi to bear? Yes. But he would move on eventually. My phone rang, and it was my father's number on the screen. I picked up, expecting my father's voice, but it was Chidi. What was he doing with my father's phone? My questions were answered almost immediately, and the news was devastating. I couldn't believe what he had done. |
| Literature › The Beauty In Patriarchy by Roycemadeit(op): 7:24am On Jun 01, 2024 |
"I hate that I am a woman, and I do not understand why any woman should be loved." My husband gasped, his eyes wide with confusion and hurt. I sank deeper into the sofa, my words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Silence enveloped us, and I waited for the storm to break. "I certainly understand you, Maria," Franz began softly, his gaze shifting from the ceiling to meet mine. "Believe me, this is not strange. What is strange is that you never mentioned when you began to hate being a woman..." "Ding dong!" The gentle chime of a clock cut through the tension, signaling the end of our session. Franz walked us to the door, his eyes filled with unspoken concern. "See you next week!" he called as we stepped off his porch. I swallowed hard, knowing this was the last time the Doctor would see me. Convinced that a few therapy sessions would help, Chidi had sought out Franz. How naive. Therapy couldn't fix what was fundamentally broken. Chidi had been brainwashed to ignore reality and believe women deserved love. My father had seen through these lies, and he beat us to instill this truth in us, bruising our bodies to match our bruised souls. Unlike my mother, I could neither atone for my sin nor find peace in death. There is nothing better than man. Man is the zenith of God's creation; woman, an afterthought, brought him down and channeled evil into the world. When feminists and their apologists scream for gender equality, I know it's the devil leading them to damnation. They can try, but nothing will sway them from their ordained path as subordinates to men. My oldest sister, deceived by the devil, tried to escape and died before she got far. My father, a righteous man, never wavered. He made sure we knew how inherently evil we were. When I discovered I had ovarian cancer, I knew there was no way to redeem myself and that I was destined for hell. The sole purpose of my existence, I could not fulfill. And my husband didn't beat me, kick me, or cut me as my father did. At least that would have lightened the punishment awaiting me after I drink from the small bottle in my bag. |
| Music Business › Re: Where Can I Find A Good Music Producer That Charges Below 30k For Production? by Roycemadeit(m): 8:24pm On May 12, 2024 |
Khayil: |
| Literature/Writing Ads › Re: Tongue Cuffed: A Movie Script For Sale. by Roycemadeit(m): 8:24pm On May 12, 2024 |
Khayil: |
| Literature › Re: Oscar By Roycemadeit by Roycemadeit(op): 7:01pm On May 02, 2024 |
Part Two Nazz's frustration boiled over, his pent-up anger finding release in the form of a primal scream and a violent crash upon the table. Though outwardly composed, inwardly he seethed with turmoil, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. In the dim light of the adjacent room, he exchanged his disheveled attire for something more inconspicuous, the weight of the firearm in his hand a chilling reminder of the path he was about to tread. With practiced precision, he checked the safety, his movements mechanical yet tinged with a sense of grim determination. *** Meanwhile, in another part of town, the morning held a different energy. For Anthony and his companion, the promise of intimacy hung thick in the air, their bodies drawn together by a magnetic pull of desire and longing. Their burgeoning relationship had been a delicate dance of restraint and temptation, each encounter leaving them craving more yet held back by the fear of crossing an invisible boundary. But today, fueled by a newfound resolve, they surrendered to the passion that simmered beneath the surface, their inhibitions melting away with each fervent touch. Yet, just as they were on the brink of surrendering completely to their desires, the intrusive sound of the doorbell shattered the moment, pulling them back to reality with a jolt. Anthony's annoyance was palpable, a fleeting interruption threatening to derail their carefully constructed intimacy. "Calm down, young man. You're lucky I haven't started yet," she cooed before rushing to answer the door. However, as she opened it, her expression darkened into a scowl. Though she contemplated running, shouting, or throwing a jab, her heart betrayed her, pounding so fiercely it felt as if it might leap out of her chest and singe her hair. Yet, the man at the door simply breezed past her without a glance. Nazz took their breakup especially hard, exacerbated by the discovery of her relationship with Junior's friend. Seeing him not only revived fading memories but also intensified the recollection of the screams, slaps, and punches he had unleashed in fits of rage. "Anthony, I need to talk to you!" she barked, stepping outside the room. Anthony politely shook the outstretched hand of the man before hurrying after her. "Anthony, you know what he did to me, and yet you invited him?" Her eyes pierced into his curious face, filled with accusation. "Babe, I didn't invite anyone. You know I wouldn't be so insensitive as to invite your ex to my home, let alone my birthday," Anthony responded earnestly. "Then how is he here? You even shook his hand. The person who nearly killed me, and you didn't ask him to leave?" she hissed in frustration. Meanwhile, Nazz heard nothing but rapid, muffled conversations behind the closed door. He was tempted to eavesdrop but dismissed the thought. Instead, he began to mimic Liz's voice in a falsetto, asking rhetorical questions: "Why is Nazz here? How did he get here? Who invited him?" Despite the absurdity, his sculpted face remained stoic, devoid of even a hint of amusement. With disgust etched in his cold, dark eyes, he scanned their single-room apartment. "Why are you talking like this? Maybe we should wait for Julie." "Julie?" "Yes, I could call my ex and turn this into Anthony and exes birthday party," he said, mimicking the shape of a signpost with his hand. "Honestly, I'm disappointed. Do you think I'm that foolish?" "But it's been months... What did you expect me to…” |
| Literature › Re: Oscar By Roycemadeit by Roycemadeit(op): 6:22pm On May 02, 2024 |
Part One Nazz stared at the name "Elizabeth" on the page, feeling as though it held some profound significance, yet unable to grasp its full weight. He knew he had to continue, to unravel the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions that had ensnared him for so long. But every attempt felt futile, like trying to piece together a shattered mirror. He closed his eyes, trying to summon memories of Elizabeth, but they danced just out of reach, elusive and intangible. How had she become such a pivotal figure in his life, and why did her name now seem to mock him from the blankness of the page? With a heavy sigh, Nazz conceded defeat, his resolve crumbling like the stale bread on the table. Perhaps it was time to confront the truth he had been avoiding, to acknowledge that some wounds could never fully heal, no matter how hard he tried to bury them beneath layers of isolation. As the weight of his solitude pressed down upon him, Nazz picked up the pen once more, his hand trembling as he wrote the next sentence. It was time to face the demons that lurked within the shadows of his mind, to find a way to move forward even in the absence of salvation. And perhaps, just perhaps, in the act of confronting his own vulnerability, he would find a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. *** Nazz's childhood was a gilded cage, adorned with all the trappings of wealth but devoid of the warmth and love he so desperately craved. His parents, consumed by their own pursuits, were mere specters in his life, fleeting presences that left him feeling empty and alone. The scars they inflicted upon him, both physical and emotional, ran deep, etched into the fabric of his being like a cruel reminder of his inadequacy in their eyes. His acts of rebellion, however misguided, were cries for attention, for validation in a world that seemed determined to overlook his existence. But instead of understanding, he was met with punishment and isolation, condemned to endure the torment of bullies without the solace of familial support. It was only when he found her, the love of his life, that Nazz glimpsed the possibility of happiness. She was his anchor in a sea of uncertainty, the one person who saw beyond the facade he presented to the world and embraced him for who he truly was. Together, they navigated the highs and lows of life, weathering storms of mania and despair with unwavering devotion. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. The loss of her, torn away from him by the cruel hand of fate, left Nazz adrift once more, lost in a sea of grief and regret. The gaping void she left behind threatened to swallow him whole, leaving him to ponder the cruel irony of a life that had once promised so much, only to deliver heartache and despair in its wake. |
| Literature › Oscar By Roycemadeit by Roycemadeit(op): 6:11pm On May 02, 2024 |
All rights reserved:no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the prior approval of the author. ©roycemadeit |
| Business › Re: Deji Akinyanju Is The Founder of Chicken Republic by Roycemadeit(m): 1:17pm On Apr 08, 2024 |
Truths9ja:Controlled? These individuals didn't finance themselves solely, more so... They run on franchise. An Igbo man could own that Chicken Republic next to you. 1 Like |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 1:40pm On Mar 09, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:You are funny... I done die from laughter ooo |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 12:04am On Mar 09, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:Na football the talking snake they play? If sand enter your mouth, you no go spit an out... Talk-About-Eating-Dust-For-Brunch... |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 12:01am On Mar 09, 2024 |
killsmith:I suppose you are right |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 11:55pm On Mar 08, 2024 |
Aemmyjah:Really, in what passage please. |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 11:53pm On Mar 08, 2024 |
On a second thought, it's not worth it that you should bother with the species, I want you to remain literate and non-robotic! |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 11:50pm On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:Nah... Since the curses are factual... Tell me the snake that eats dusts. If you can't, you have a lot of unlearning to do... |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 11:41pm On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:My friend, I really apologize for the brainwashing you have undergone ... The talking snake was cursed to eat dust...to add credence to the factuality of the curse, WHAT SPECIES OF SNAKE EAT DUSTS? Every mammal gives birth to their offspring in pains, the woman is not exceptional. If only you had a little knowledge as regarding the birth carnal or the cervix of the woman, you would understand why she passes through pain... How else was five-inch diameter head and 10-inch shoulder of a newborn pass through the birth channel without its mother feeling pains? Funny how I never wished anything upon you but you just had to, maybe to convince yourself that your dumb tale of Eden is true. The waste you have piled up in your head has led you to believe that the tree knowledge is figurative, just as the tree of life, that God had to send cherubims to guard the garden ... ONCE AGAIN I APOLOGIZE AND CONGRATULATE YOU FOR BEING A NEAR-PERFECT ROBOT! |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 12:39pm On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:Oh, the bible uses figures of speech ... Are the curses also figure of speech? |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 10:22am On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:The chance of gaining knowledge from tasting a fruit is slim, except when discerning its freshness or spoilage based on taste - if they are poor of sight. Furthermore, distinguishing between good and bad relies heavily on prior experiences. Experience acts as a guide, revealing the consequences of actions and aiding in decision-making. This underscores the significance of true history; neglecting it for fiction leads to futile cycles. Now, let's entertain your fictional narrative. You argue that knowledge of good and bad existed post-fruit consumption. However, consider Jacob deceiving his father for blessings: without a defined moral code, his act wasn't deemed sinful. Yet, if he lacked awareness of wrongdoing, he'd have disguised himself. Thus, the absence of punishment for covetousness suggests divine favoritism, casting doubt on God's fairness. |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 9:31am On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:It was not law but knowledge... yet, you say they needed to make law first to judge Jacob |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 9:30am On Mar 08, 2024 |
Dtruthspeaker:Was Jacob wrong to have decieved his father to obtain his blessings? |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Deities And Creators by Roycemadeit(op): 6:01pm On Mar 07, 2024 |
MaxInDHouse:Abeg, laugh yourself small |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 5:59pm On Mar 07, 2024 |
MaxInDHouse:Really? I thought you were not knowledgeable about the bible... Did you not read that he deceived his father to obtain his blessings  |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Deities And Creators by Roycemadeit(op): 5:53pm On Mar 07, 2024 |
MaxInDHouse:A God who repented... Doesn't know tomorrow... Genesis 6:6 (KJV): "And it repented the LORD that he had made man on the Earth." |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Trust Not God by Roycemadeit(op): 5:41pm On Mar 07, 2024 |
MaxInDHouse:I didn't mention inheritance or birthright... I said blessings... This is still you justifying that JACOB was right to covet his brother's inheritance to the extent that he could not share a meal with him in love. |
| Christianity Etc › Re: Deities And Creators by Roycemadeit(op): 5:38pm On Mar 07, 2024 |
MaxInDHouse:Woah!!! Your holy God exhibits sin and You rationalise it to be for the right reasons... Omo, this is incredible... You know the funny thing is you say it is wrong for us to be jealous towards each other, yet it was JEALOUSY that led Jacob to deceiving his father to obtain his brother's blessings... in this vein you said it was permissible... very hilarious |
