Skip to main content

Thomas Crooks, The Trump Shooter, Is A Nigerian!

  Thomas Crooks Thomas Crooks was just an ordinary guy until he listened to his overtaxed brain.  Brain: Do you know you can be famous? Crooks: How? Brain: By attempting the infamous!  So, Crooks picked his father’s AR-15-style semiautomatic rifle. He listened to his confused brain again and headed to a rally nearby. Minutes later, he did a crooked thing by firing at Donald Trump!  Crooks wasn't a known professional crook. But he obviously had a enough crooked mind to store explosives in his car and home.  Yes, the Trump shooter was one man. But his name, “Crooks,” gave the impression of a multiple negative character. His crooked act and plans probably justified the addition of letter “s” to a his name, making him one but many crooks! Crooks’  “crooked shot missed Trump by an inch. Thomas Crooks was probably so crooked that he couldn't think straight. But thank God he couldn't shoot straight, either. Otherwise, the world would have missed a daring, straight...

N20 MILLION GIST AND THE REAL DEAL!

This represents N20 million


Ladies and gentlemen, gather here,let’s gist. Okay, you already know the digital realm is currently reeling from shock. Yes o. A young lady  boldly claimed she rakes in N20 million from one man in just a week. Yes, you heard right. Twenty. Million. Naira. In one week! 


So, let's talk about the real heroes here – we, the spenders!  Flavour challenged me the other day: “how much is money?” Ater that, I started dishing out cash with the finesse of a seasoned philanthropist. Yet, no one trumpets my generosity to the world. 


The other day, I embarked on a spending spree that would make Bill Gates envious. Did anyone announce it on social media? No. Did I expect a medal? Absolutely not. I simply did what any serious man would do. I bought school bags for my daughters. Yes, you heard me. Stylish, durable school bags, ensuring they stroll into their classes with the swagger of future leaders.



I treated my sisters to ice cream, because, let's face it, I hate the frosty milk inside the sweet, creamy goodness. And let's not forget my wife, who received a delightful brisket bone, a delicacy that would make any meat-lover swoon. I also gave her a solid N2,500, too – no questions asked, no explanations needed!


Next, I picked some biscuits for my mum, because some old ladies like tea and  classic Nigerian snacks - for their milk teeth(?). And,  my girlfriend? She got data, urgent 2k and, well, spag! No questions asked, no drama, just swift financial support. 


Lastly, I couldn’t forget my female dog. Yes, she got her favorite indomie. Not just any indomie, mind you – the premium, double-egg, and sausage-laden variety.


Saida-boast!


Before I knew it, N50m was gone! Just in five minutes! So, let that girl not mistakenly mention my name in her senseless story o.


Now, I admire a good hustle. So, let’s pretend to believe that our boastful sister. After all, we are not only expected to be our brothers’ keepers but also our sisters’ goalkeepers!


Okay, in an economy where some of us can’t remember the lyrics of an old-new anthem, or even the PIN to our ATM cards, here's a girl who has men queuing to stack cash at her feet as she walks to the saloon. Really? Story for the gods!


It's baffling how we've come to a point where mindless extravagant tales of financial indulgence make headlines, while the real acts of love and support go unattended. 


What kind of person turns herself into a human ATM, where the transaction fee is measured in millions? This isn’t just a questionable career choice; it’s a masterclass in misguided priorities.


This scenario is as baffling as it is entertaining. Yet, while she basks in the glow of her self-proclaimed financial prowess, let's check on the impressionable young girls who live on social media street.


Call it high-stakes hustle or what you may. That girl's simply promoting a platinum-plated form of prostitution. So, young minds, apply caution: not all money is worth it. In fact, some come with tangled strings, they could snare even the savviest among us.



 Meanwhile, let's not kid ourselves; blame some men for encouraging such easy virtue. While these “agba ballers” or “odogwus” are busy blowing their fortunes, allegedly, at her feet, the real kindness and generosity to the needy are grossly neglected. The common good is nailed!


Some men, it seems, have too much money and too little sense. N20 million a week? For what? Is she a shareholder in Dangote Group? Does she have the Midas touch that turns everything to gold? Or maybe, just maybe, some of these men are simply paying a premium for their poor judgment. 


In a world where the worth of a man is increasingly measured by the depths of his pockets rather than the content of his character, we need to reassess our values. It's high time we focus on the real acts of generosity, the kind that don't come with a price tag or a social media boast. 


Careful not mess with the young minds!


So here's to the men who spend wisely and generously, for common good. The fathers who invest in their children's future, the brothers who bring joy to their sisters' lives, the husbands who support their wives without question, and yes, even the boyfriends who buy indomie and brisket bone. 


And, to our N20 million naira queen, we offer a hearty round of applause for her imaginative storytelling. But while she’s busy crafting her next viral sensation, perhaps she could take a page from our book – the book of quiet, meaningful achievenents. Because sometimes, the loudest wealth is the one that doesn’t need to be shouted from the rooftops.


 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Losing My Senses

    I’ve been thinking. In the face of much disenchantment, what would happen if I lost my senses. Like many a depressed Nigerian, the mind veers off sometimes. Then, I wonder if life would be better without “number 5.”    If, for instance, I lost my power of “taste,” I could eat just anything, couldn’t I? That, I’m sure, would be the solution to the Obasanjo-induced hunger in the land. I could swallow stone, the way I do  eba , and still go on strong. On the other hand, I may not even be hungry, since I’d have no feeling,  abi ?  Indeed, I won’t need to know if a particular food had salt or fish or meat in it. It wouldn’t matter if the dish were Yoruba, Igbira, Efik, Igbo, Ibibio, Hausa, etc. Just stuff the thing down the throat, drink water and say thank you. I could drink tea with vinegar and lick my lips like I just had a breakfast of sugar sauce. All those would save me the problem of having to buy those tiny things that seem inconsequential but a...

Go to London and Die!

  My daughter just loves jingles. For instance, once AIT signature tune starts, she surfaces before the TV set - prancing like a calf.  Super Story, Binta and Friends , etc also have a similar effect. She’s barely two, but m-e-e-n, she has already cut her own jingles. Samples: “I want to poopoo”; “I want to eat because I’m tired”; “You harassing me?”   But the other day, the girl ran from the TV. As if she saw a Chimpanzee. Or a masquerade. Or a ghost pinched her from behind. The way she shouted, you’d think she entered a “London trap” – like Alamieyeseigha. By the time I ran to the TV, a CNN newscaster was talking about a horrible New Orleans woman named Katrina.    Another day, the moment I switched to CNN, my baby turned to go. Just as a figure blocked the screen, shaking both hands like an  okrika  seller. The girl ran. I’ve blurred vision but somebody said the figure was General Olusegun Obasanjo. But then, you know how Nigerians lie against the p...

Sometimes, I Forget My Name

    My wife and I get into a fight often when she misplaces her wedding ring. But I go mad when she forgets my baby somewhere and expects me to find her. “Skott dear, have you seen the baby? I hope I didn’t leave her in the bathtub with the tap running?” But I hardly can remember we have a baby until she shows me a picture with a “missing person” label. A nine-month-old girl who even forgets to say, “good morning daddy.” She only smiles every time she sees me, making my wife furiously jealous. And I can’t remember what for.   I am hardly sure of anything these days. I greet people “Good morning” and they tell me it’s already afternoon. I say some things and people say I lied. But I suspect the only time I ever lied was when I promised my wife I would “shift” power to her after our marriage. She reminded me the other day and I told her I couldn’t remember. Ok, I also lied when I filled an employment form. Under “Nationality,” I wrote: “Nigerian.” Now, I’m no longer sure. T...