The Ugandan IPC Conundrum -- Chapter one

The Ugandan ipc conundrum
Shh! What you are going to read in the lines below is absolutely top secret. Absolutely top secret. It is so hidden only 2 people in the greater Ntinda area know the truth. The two of us have x-ray vision, we see what lies beneath the lies that have been forced upon all of us. If ignorance could kill, we would have eaten you at least thrice (I believe in reincarnation. I also believe that the more ignorant you are, the sweeter meat you return as in your next life-I'll explore this later). Thankfully, here I am with a blue pill in my hand. No more matrix, no more ignorance, no more reincarnation as duck.

Bambi, you think you know what I am talking about. You probably have an opinion you are holding onto so you can compare with my conclusion. Poor poor you! Anyway, your mind is not equipped to deal with this information, first because you don't have x-ray vision; second you are neither me nor my friend who also sees. Now to discuss this ipc problem before the powers that be send crack commandos crashing through the skylight in my house seeking to muzzle me and bind my eyes with a lead blindfold. ipc refers to iNSPIRED pOLICE cONSTABLE. The first letters are small because this is a secret. I am putting you in trouble by telling you this stuff but that is the price of ignorance. If the truth will kill you, at least take pride in the fact you that your death will create more fossil fuel for our beloved nation in a few million years.
Have you ever been stopped by an ipc? You may not have recognized them in their saintly white (apart from Ntinda, I think the dust has something to do with this) but they stand by the side of the road and raise their arms in Nazi salute to passing cars. Now here is the first secret. The lifted arm that stops your car is actually the ipc saluting his superior in the car in front of you. Don't you ever wonder how they select which cars/drivers should be checked? I think I might be rushing ahead of myself so I will backtrack and first explain the hierarchy of the ipc organization (it has absolutely nothing to do with the Uganda Police Force).

The lowliest ipc is the ripc (pronounciation guide: ripsy), the roadside-ipcs. You'll find them chatting in groups by the roadside, nonchalantly drawing straws to see what charge they will sic on the next driver. Above the ripc is the lipc (guide: lipsy), this stands for loitering-ipc. These are the operational brains of this operation, they dress in leya (or layer) and drive their unmarked Ipsums and harrier cars around. I think they might be funded by JICCA, hence all the Japanese cars – this is yet to be confirmed. When they mark you for interdiction, they overtake you and drive towards the nearest ripc squad, using bluetooth to keep your car in line until the salute that also stops you. The lipc report to the c-ipcs (guide: sipsy), the evil controller-ipcs who sit all day on expensive notebook computers in trendy cafes pretending to surf. They monitor the l-ipcs movements and ensure that they each stick to their routes for the day and that they meet their quotas. Stay away from dashing young men in cafes with ipads!

We don’t know at this point who the c-ipcs report to but we promise to break more news on this shadowy organization as we get it.

The 3 step rule

Shalom friend, I am not a violent man. When you get hit by someone, follow the steps below and start your personal journey to a violence free existence.

The 3-step rule
1. Look your assailant in the eye (if he punched you in the eye, just turn your head in his general direction).
2. Search your brain (and heart). Do some real *deep thinking*. Was the punch justified? Are you sleeping with his wife? Did you steal his phone?
3. Now...kill your assailant. I am serious, kill them dead. Now, you are just 6 billion (and some) killings away from your own violence free life.

These rules have completely transformed my life and I am sure they will do wonders for yours too. I am a wanted man but you have my assurance, no one engages in any form of violence near me.

P.s.
This my shortest post ever. I am pleased.

10-7! 10-7!! Help

Hello there,

this is me being peaceful. Today I am maintaining a sense of mental decorum, no rubbish in these here posts. No sir, today, I am being objective in whatever I am discussing. Which brings me to the problem at hand, I can never figure out what I want to write about before hand so I think I'll just abandon all the stuff I said earlier and teach you the hook to my new song about Golola Moses of Ntinda, Uganda. Here goes...it must be sang to the tune of Drake's "Find your love".

1st verse:
This is Golola Moses
Gwe gwe gwe,
I own the hottest temper,
gwe gwe gwe
I am the champ kick boxer
Gwe gwe gwe
and I know you joke about me
Gwe gwe gwe

Hook:
You're tempering a temper,
Don't you value your life
You're tempering a temper,
Don't you value your life
You're tempering a temper,
Don't you value your life
You're tempering a temper,
I'll kill you dead, then deader then deadest

My kicks are sweet connections,
Gwe gwe gwe
one to the head and you're toast
Gwe gwe gwe
so make sure you're far,
gwe gwe gwe
When Golola goes a-kicking

Repeat hook until you die. Don't stop or else

Drake did a fair rendition of Golola Moses' song. If anyone tells you otherwise, report and the main man will pass him away.

Now I promised only sense and I've delivered. If this is not dead sensible, I don't know what is. My next post will be an in-depth analysis of Uganda's political situation...in keeping with my resolution to transform this blog from the ramblings of my decadent mind. Shalom and remember to love your neighbor and hate your landlord.

To Keira

Hey Keira,

I miss you so much. Tonight I am like the saddest former father ever. You were so young and so pretty and you'd just learnt how to not disturb your daddy. Why the fuck you have to leave so soon. How the hell am I supposed to recover from all this pain that I am feeling? I survive day after day, pretend everything is okay and humor will heal me eventually. It's been a year and humor or anything hasn't done sh*t so far. I am sadder than I've ever been before. I am crying and crying and I doubt I'll ever stop. If you've lost someone really close to you, you know what I am talking about. RIP Keira Kanyana Wanyenze, I am gon miss you for the rest of my life. Damn! I am gon miss you for as long as I am me. I know you probably looking down and wondering why your daddy's crying. Babe, I am crying coz you are not my baby anymore, apparently, you someone else baby now. No more holding you or playing songs from the playlist you used to fall asleep to. It's done. We can't chill in the couch anymore while you listen to stories I made up just for you.

I am so sad. Tomorrow is a fucking public holiday and I just don't give a f*ck. I miss you and love you so much I don't know what to do. Damn! I even learnt to change your diapers. All these tears, this dehydration is really not for you. It's for me, you're probably very pleased wherever you are. I just can't help thinking about how it would have been now. You, a year old, just saying your first words...me teaching you how to call people lumpens and hooligans and how to say sorry before they start beating you up :-) I gotta run now. I love you, I love you a lot. Try not to get into any trouble now. Although, if the punishment for getting into trouble is getting sent back to earth, get into a lot of trouble. I am gonna miss you a lot. Love ya.

P.s.
I still have your playlist on my notebook. One day perhaps, we'll waltz to it again. I miss you.

Love,
Your daddy.