Punocracy

… where sa-tyres never go flat

From Our Allies

On the subject of x and y (chromosomes)

On the subject of x and y (chromosomes)

By: Ogboriefon


There are several ways that a man can prove himself useless. He can love Nicki Minaj, think pink is cute, enjoy k-drama, love cooking or (this disgusts me to even mention) be capable of tears. God forbid that you ever get entangled with a man who is capable of tears. The men in the above list are useless but the most useless of them all should be a man with female children. Weak men with weak spermicide who marry women with weak eggs to birth a weak shame. Tueh! I spit on them.

Your wife already committed the crime of being a woman. Instead of her to just crawl into a corner after marriage and wash off the shame of that heinous crime, the crazy woman is actually just birthing criminal reinforcement in your house! Can you believe the audacity?! Instead of the mother witch to repent her ways, she is just spitting out more witches — evil bird birthing evil birds (I kid you not, that is a real Yoruba proverb).

It is not really her fault though (can you detect the sarcasm? hehehe). It is the enemies. They’ve ganged up on you. They want to shame your ancestors. Have you seen how Iya Biliki Alata looks at you when you walk past her stall everyday on your way to your mechanic workshop? Those looks are enough to kill the men in your balls. You can poke her eyes out later but now you need a dire solution to the witchcraft of your wife that has collaborated with Iya Biliki Alata to rob your family legacy of bouncing black skin boys. Not while you’re living!

There are ways to tackle this. First, drag your wife to any medical office that has gynecology written on it. Don’t be like some ignorant idiots who drag the wives to physicians only to be redirected to the gynecologist. It won’t speak well for the intelligence in your family legacy. Gynecology is just a fancy name for people who have nothing better to do than sit on the other side of a desk and pore into people’s nakedness. Which means they may not be very smart. So once they roll their eyes as if they get many men with exceptional ideas like yours, and start pouring out things like X and Y chromo-whatever, just grab your missus and run. Technology joined the league of your enemies. You poor man.

How many Yoruba movies have you seen? With ideologies like yours I’m willing to bet the answer is “many”. Good. Then you must know of that common scene that is a nightmare for medical practitioners — the scene where the doctor tells you to “stick the house’s leg in it”. Your own doctor didn’t prescribe that but they can go to hell. You should know the next place to go since modern medicine has failed you.

The gods are more experienced in matters like that. Do not go to an Osun shrine though. It will be ironic going to a goddess to request a stop to your wife’s habit of spurning gargoyles. She can strike you down if you met her in a bad mood. So go to the gods with toxic masculinity. I know you dislike them because they are nothing like you but just go. It’s all for a greater purpose. If your Muslim wife refuses to eat any of the lizard liver concoction sent to her, remind her of your motto:

“You either give me a male child or pakout!”

If the lizard livers and snake intestine still do not work, the gods must have received a bribe behind you. With ordinary cornmeal and palm oil, those ones will change their patrons. But you know who does not receive a bribe? The white man’s god. Jesus, Yesu, Jesu… Anyone you want. Cast all your fears unto him.

Be careful with the places you go to meet the white man’s god though. Don’t go near any of those churches with the fancy names. Those ones will tell you to stand before the whole congregation before giving you the miracle that you desperately need. Your golden family legacy forbids that you stand before people to tell them you’re too weak to produce a single heir. You have to either go to the real local churches with their multitude of candles or the ones without the footwear. Strange right? But all religions are. Miracles live in strange place.

You have to understand that Jesu is a very disciplined god. He has a weird anger or a well deserved beef against food. So your request for his help will come with a lot of white fasting. But that is none of your business. Your missus is the one with the problem, so let her face the fasts. Linking her up with the prophet/ess is a privilege that she better be grateful for all her life. You’re nice like that.

Just to achieve a complete result, you can meet Alfa Kadiri or Sheu Asani in the smoke and tumeric-filled one bedroom apartment. Sheu Asani has three wives with ten male children. He is probably the best choice. You check out a philanthropist’s clothes before accepting clothes from him. How do you accept Dior from a man wearing a Prada rip-off? Think about it.

Do you feel weak after all these run-arounds? You want to give up? Really?! Do you want your home to be filled with dirty conniving witches who will one day gather firewood to boil your destiny and that of your forefathers in giant cauldrons in the middle of the night? No, right? Then get up my man. The battle has just begun!

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