Different Strokes

I was about to sleep, all happily singing oh yeah, oh yeah
But even within my relentless yawning and persistent typing
It is my bitter realization that we were sad in the post jail state for different reasons
Or, different strokes i'd prefer to call it, because honestly its less a reason and more a reaction
Which expresses but a fraction of the base, mundane, cultural norms of society, such traction
Which compresses the friction into moments apart. The irony is that these compressed moments
Are spread all over the week, wantonly scattered, 100,000 pieces everywhere
But i'm also convinced that you do not see or understand what I speak of anywhere
And ever since that day their has been this lil void, I imagine that it must be filled somehow
And I guess its my fault, and now its like an astroid from the sky
Hitting and pounding on the trust, sanity and perseverance which act as the threads
Which makes up this rope which ties us together.
Had this been a regular evening i'd have put you to sleep
And apparently in my absence It makes sense to appeal to the world
And get this court case adjourned, because everyone is more than concerned
So they must know, no! They must KNOW!
This longing you feel, this void left by these, by this incident.
Ah, so nieve that I beg; God help me please
The sky will not fall in place randomly, amazing you even thought that was plausible
I really want you to understand that that permanent warm feeling is impossible
But in the absence of this understanding you would remain as vulnerable
To the world as a victim of Immune Deficiency Syndrome, extremely susceptible
Amazing that you still don't know what this is about, but when I wake up probably I may say more
But bah humbug, leave me be.

A Boy and His Spray Paint

He hated the world for it was a crass reflection of his own soul
A thought he was determined to deny entry or exit of his mind, 
But today his mind was too tired, his hands were cold because his zeal had grown old
Wrinkled, his motivation  cramped, his face stamped with disapproval
His thoughts just as cold as his hands, angry at his bitter refusal
He did not want to let himself think, he stormed around the house looking for ink
He needed to release these frustrations, life's lacerations that beat down his back
With a broken expression this search continued for hours, 
A boy relentlessly scouring his back yard undeterred by the rain showers
No rain  in months, but now the drought was over and earth rejoiced
He still was unhappy, and cursed everything that was moist
Unsure if this was the time of his life to experiment with drugs
Unsure if he needed a new girlfriend who will help him out his poverty
His emotional squalor , this debauched lifestyle of mental chastity

I remember the first time I saw him, silhouetted in the distance
Time nor place never stick with me, but I remember in this instance
Standing in the middle of the world determined to find the ink
He moved with such swiftness that my eyes missed him when I did blink
As he drew nearer I noticed it in his hand. The marker
I wondered, what would a man of his stature want with a marker?
For he was a tall, sturdy figure. Full of character
Eventually he tucked his marker in his pocket  when he found what we was looking for
Not a cartridge of ink by now the thought of that soo faint, but now he has his a can of spray paint.
He looked around to see who was looking, because this was clearly his for the taking
Immediately, as if  magically his skin brightened like a white jersey in the sun
He began to shout hysterically:

I feel like Calder Hart now except with out the commission of inquiry

With these powers I will spread my message like rain showers

And what ever I touch will blossom and bloom. Here I come world, give me some room!

I come to Graffiti the world and colour it how I want, sorry to be this blunt 

But what you need is of little importance compared to what I want

This can of spray paint right here will give me the power to overcome what ever tribulation

When I see the poster that says $100 for a shuttle pass, I will spray it with paint

When I see CNC3 owns the media rights to cover mass. I will spray it with paint

When I see Tiger Woods about to leave a voicemail, I will spray him with paint

If a girl coast on me in a dance, I will cut she tail, and then I will spray her with paint

When I see gas eh raise, bread drop but maxi fairs gone up, I will pray the maxi with paint

When I my mark for fundamentals of reporting, It is now self I will spray it with paint

Wether you are or you aint, When in doubt SPRAY IT WITH PAINT.

I will graffiti the world wether you like it or not, come out of the fire If you can't stand the heat

Stay on your toes don't just stand on your feet, come out of the fire If you can't stand the heat.

WOW -- Not as much awe struck as I was star struck; frozen in that moment
Thinking of it now the entire story never dims, although my memory is faint
Thinking of him now, it wasn't a man, but merely a boy and his spray paint

Govt to Make 20 Schools same-sex in five years!

That was the article written by Sascha Wilson in Today's Guardian.

The News is in short:

• The Ministry of Education will convert 20 out of the 90 government owned secondary schools into same sex schools
• This will be done over a five year period of time
• Gradual implementation starting from September 2010
• Students will have the same range of subjects to choose from
• This is done because studies reveal that males perform and learn differently

So wait, wait wait... Firstly I need to address all those individuals who scorned the all boys and all girls schools. Casting down students of these as though passage into such a school meant the automatic disregard of all heterosexual inclinations. I remember vividly Mrs Ornella Mendoza, had not even met me at the time calling me a "bulla" at Net Cafe downstairs Campus House. Probably two years later the same Ornella and I were engaged to be married while she still attended her Bishops, ring exchange and all. But we all know how those teenage relationships went...

SO now that my personal grievances are out of the way, would this solve the problem or create a new problem?

Well I went Hillview College and I honestly believe that my schooling there was second to none. Just in my diction and in my perspectives on life alone, Hillview has done more than I can mention. But ironically I attribute none of this to the absence of girls in my school.

I Imagine the advent of boys schools in the modern Secondary School Era is said to be to help boys focus without the distracting influences of girls during their hormonal changes and issues. But the truth is, if a boy wants to be distracted by a girl he will regardless. At least in my opinion. We live in a real world society and in this real world boys and girls live and work together. So lets say hypothetically speaking boys and girls do have a very different pattern of learning.

How are these boys and girls to function in the same economic climate where each must learn how to live and make ends meet at the same time?

Or more specifically in the job environment, is it unwise to put males and females on the same team for prolonged periods of time?

Should we have a totally male department or a totally female department?

Should university students have gender separation within classes?

Is it not an old english method to have all boys and all girls schools?

Good Questions I know. I know also that inter personal male-female development is impaired when the gender disparity is seen as a norm. I remember in Hillview my friend Stefan Guevera and I secretly taught some of our colleagues how to talk to girls, greet them and not come across as extremely obnoxious. All this in a behind the classroom, lunchtime pimp school. Not that I was any expert at that time, but I understood the basics. Simply be yourself because most girls stopped biting since they came out the crib. So you can maintain conversation with them. Also every girl does not have to be your girlfriend. Imagine these concepts were farfetched for some boys who were doing 11 cxc subjects at the time. It is not some big bang theory, in reality there still exists boys who attended all boys school and continue to have problems talking to girls throughout their life.

Granted, it is always said that it does not matter which school one attends for the brilliant have come from Junior Secondary Schools, the slowest have come from prestige schools, and even the most timid may have attended a co ed school. However we must admit that the direction the majority is thrust in is determined by the school one attends. Actually in Trinidad especially, the culture is so unique to one's alma mater, in Tertiary education many can tell without having prior knowledge which school one attended. Simply from the 'modus operandi' or the "ways" of a person.

When this 'project' is implemented, I do imagine an influx of students at Elders and SACC for evening classes. Mr. Sookhan's Math class may very well spill into the main road because somehow, for me at least, lack of girls in school does leave a kind of emotional gap somewhere there. Boys need to develop and put girls into perspective and learn to concentrate even with these girls around. I remember in Hillview for Convent Sports(which was held next door\over the wall from our school) no one ever heard what Sir said up to this day. All ears were tuned into the whistles and sounds of 1000 girls right next door frolicking in the savanna. I do not believe all Hillview men were thursty men. But simply the wonton deprivation of these girls from us all day put thoughts of doing anything else when they were around entirely out of the question.

Boys and girls live together in society and they must learn to live together in school. Boys must understand that if they learn slower they must step up the pace. Lets NOT slow down the pace because more boys fail in school!

I honestly hope that Education Minister Esther Le Gendre does play her cards right on this one. And to all those children who sat the SEA exam today, including my little sister, I do hope you all know what you all are getting into!

Black is White

Tonight we have a panel discussion featuring Ken and Kemuel discussing their views on Afro-centricity.
Afro Centricity is described as a world view which emphasizes the importance of African people, taken as a single group and often equated with "Black people", in culture, philosophy, and history.

Ken:

Misconceptions, Misconstrued thoughts all around us, So much so its hard to tell what's real from what's not?

Who can separate the important from the frivolous, when society promotes its way into an entertainment melting pot?

Kemuel:

One half would argue that the purpose of it all is to have fun, so we toil in the sun or in school

So that we'd have enough capital to attract attention to effect some kind of satisfaction

So its all run run, get that money, spend that money.. ahh.. ok, now I feel happy

And eventually life slows down into a walk and the money no longer soaks it all up

And then the individual is left to wrestle with their respective frustrations

The Other Half would say its just surviving society's vicious lacerations

While stealing whatever entertainment available to cushion our bitter reality

Because if we face it without some counter force life would be one great tragedy

But throughout this glorious life it has been hard to tell which Black emerges victorious

Some start up as the very worse cleverly climb up and out the hood

Struggle to buy a car, but then I can't find my negro, he is lost under the hood

Others make it past the transport, and succeed enough to secure a place to live

And with the support of the entire community end up with enough money to give

But in between this charity, and living the middle class life they end up slaves to maintenance

All must be done to maintain what we have, the little disparity between us and the poor. Our sustenance.

And the basketballer and rapper types to my knowledge end up worse off than all other Blacks

Because while the poor works through college to stay out of the slums and shacks

And get some vague grasp of their own reality, the rich vogue is not ours exactly

Ken:

Ah! Incognegroes keep grabbing at what was fed down to us

And our culture bleeds and our needs pale compared to putting rims on that bus

Some bitter stereotypes we conform to, spend-rifts at best as rich as MC Hammer

In truth we never paint the picture,nor do we really follow the scriputes

Our version of black is handed down to us not by our forefathers

But this television, Internet, Radio trap called Media

This bible we follow is the world's most interactive encyclopedia

And after hours of interaction we adhere to the ideals of someone else

Even the ideals of ourself.

After hours of interaction we adhere to the ideals of someone else

Even the ideals of ourself.

Kemuel:

For once I agree with Ken. Some one please pass me some crix biscuits and match sticks

I'ma light up the minds of the pessimistic, myopic idea generation media driven children

Ask yourself, what is Black, what is your idea of Black?

Confused, maybe our concept of the color or the image has been subdued

So much so its a difficult concept to grasp completely, this Afro-centricty

But for spite the world has us believe differently

But believe me when I say tonight that Our Black is actually very, very white!

The Postmortem:

My synopsis is that we only lose if we succumb and leave things as they are

And we believe in this outcome of what we see, and never look far

Or simply beyond what the eye can see, their exists so much between the lines

Remember we are at war with the informants, so from here, behind enemy lines

Lets look beyond the fried chicken, fly vixens and smell what's brewing in the kitchen

Wake up and be a non conformist, develop your own Ideas

Because once you do it, I can do it.. this inspires

We can get a million dollars from a philanthropists

But our life can always be controlled by a ventriloquist

Ode to YOU

I loved real hard once, but the Love wasn’t returned
Found out the Man I’d die for, wasn’t even concerned
What you want might make you cry
What you need may pass you by
Lauryn Hill’s Record repeats, repeats in my mind
Repeats, repeats while I try to find…what choice to make?
So hear I am, confused and misdirected in this dilemma
With 3 boiling voices that needs to immediately simmer
3 voices I’m left to bear, three voices are all I hear
The voice of the world, your voice and mine, three voices I need to leave behind
Their tones are Judgmental, Possibly Genuine, and Filled with Fear
I’m not often in this situation, so my decision will be rare
And made wisely, thoroughly thought through with deliberate care

The voice of the world, is prejudice
The love that you want just shouldn’t exist
It has many assumptions; it doesn’t know what’s real
Just confusing my heart on what to feel
Manipulating then devouring my already dilapidated psyche
Contributing ambitiously to the yes and no from me
i'm going insain...i can feel each nerve as it pinches my brain
i'm sweating profusely why did you have to come forward to me

The realist perspective on a relationship
To me it may be a dream even with the shit I’d put up with
But from the outside you’re able to see the flaws
When it storms it’s not a drizzle the rain really pours

You SAID:

Trust comes with time…if that’s what you’re worried about

Just give in to me…be hopeful…release your doubt.

All this in between your cute little sighs
And I’m thinking, are the water from your lips filled with sweet lies
I hope not because I need to quench my thirst…
Need a kiss without venomous lies from a tongue that won’t curse
So many things attract me to you…
I’m willing to go through all the overbearing shit you do
I’ve already invested so much time and will much more
I don’t want another girl…baby I’m sure
Sigh…that’s your voice…that claims to be genuine
More confusion, I’m indecisive although I want to give in
Kris this is not a game; neither you nor he can win
But boy… loving you might be my greatest sin
Because I feel in the end there will be inevitably hurt
I’m afraid of it but I don’t know which is worst
This undying Fear or my death to Love
Going head first with out a glove
I don’t want to die
But I want you to know that I want you… no lie
That’s just the chance I’d have to take
Still contemplating the choice to make
Because although I don’t want to Die your Love Might Just Kill Me
I should jus sedate myself, let your love kill or build me
Here comes that thing again whenever I think about my fears
That hard big lump stuck in my throat right before the tears
I can’t explain this emotion its things are too hard to say
I wish it could be as clear as the light of day
But then that’s Love or something like it…excessive complications
Misunderstandings stress and screwed up situations

Now the most essential voice my voice that has already been left confused
It says you want to love me but it’s afraid my heart will be abused and I’ll be used
By you just another docile girl you caught despite her intense struggle with you she’ll be remembered as nothing more than just a non-challenging addition
Just a conquered piece of meat to add to your collection
And I’ll be used and left in pain, again…drenched alone in the rain
Withering away like my sanity…the most parts of my mind is insane
I can feel your fingers upon me gently strumming my pain; I’m divided down several lanes
I’m being swallowed by what I feel from you I feel so foolish about this
Being vulnerable and passive with every passionate Kiss

But so far:
You’re just so good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you
You be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much
My last love has arrived, I thank God I’m alive
Your just too good to be true, Can’t take my eyes off of you
Caught in the way that I stare, there’s nothing else to compare
The sight of you makes me weak; there are no other words left to speak
Lets me feel like I feel, Please let me know that it’s real
Your just too good to be true can’t take my eyes off of you!


..........................................
Sigh…sigh…sigh, there’s nothing left to explain
Any questions just read the poem again…
I’m dieing, slowly, painlessly for now, but surely
I’ve made up my mind to define my own destiny
So I’ll die, no more thoughts I won’t cry
I manage a last gasp as my ears open wide


Written By Kristal Alexander

1stly, on losing my facebook account

It affected me, the things lost briefly
But i remembered that my account was me primarily
In other words, I supplied the content
Upon which hoards of mine and your time has been spent
But since, I'm still here, I can simply do it all again!
Well since i lost my 32 notes.. yes my THIRTY TWO very well thought out works of art.
(Jah.. bombo Clart!)
My 1st Installment for Ken Sambury back in 2009 was:

The TELEVISION!

Even now as I call her, and the voice mail forwards me on
I respire, hesitate to retire and go to sleep all forlorn
Somehow in dialing the number; I remember i've been warned
But even as the mission is already impossible, I sense the highly improbable
Would somehow become reality or maybe my mind is too gullible
I'm in doubt but i'd be optimistic enough to see into the future
And focus on the times ahead, when i'd sit in the livin room
In eager anticipation because there won't be another deciding factor
But at the moment, we are on the wrong page, or probably the wrong chapter
Because behind the smiles, instant messages and phone calls
I shudder behind these walls, dreading the imminent, still i never cease to be persistent
I tell myself fuck the weather, although quite inclement, i'ma break through
I'd put on my rain coat, and use an umbrella even though i know u don't like them
Because, somehow even in the rainy weather, i wanna feel warm inside ah u
But at the end of the days 5 years is like concrete, but i'm sure i'm like bestcrete
My business can make the cement to build the foundation for more
But still, with cement alone, i'd still need somewhere to build my store
So even with this earnest desire, i can only stand and admire
What another man worked so hard to aquire, and just wait for the time to transpire
Because the one thing that's sure is that this feeling will never retire
If true love is warm, real love is heat, what i feel is fire
But what is love?
Just a four letter word that we all strive for
In the pursuit of happines, we all strive for more.
I need some guarantee, some love insurance or at least some kind of re assurance
That i'd remain with what i.ve obtained through perseverance
I just want to see my Television. Because this is my mission!
I want nothing obscure my vision, but looking on i notice the events that occur
And slowly, gradually, my 20/20 vision begins to blur
I think you should be mine, i don't want to share
I don't know how to share, reality bites, and i.ve been bitten everywhere
Now i nurse my wounds as my heart bleeds and grimace in despair
I need to steal you away, so we both could simply disappear.
Sharp tv is lame. The other brands are fake. I want the one the Chinese took their time to create
A sony color tv is what I need!
But how shall we proceed, when at god's speed we'd still be a little too slow...
Please, hun. Let my heart love freely.
Turn on my TV!

Part 2

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 Written on Sunday, 04 January 2009 at 11:18 | |

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Listening intently to my music a little too loudly, up at this hour, quite ungodly
She is like sweetness and sin
Like black cake, with a bit of hardwine within
Just beneath the surface, past the preface, the gift and the curse
Exactly who i'd not want as my wife, for better or for worse
The wrong key for the song of my life, but perfect for this verse
As i delve beneath the outside, and our personalities collide
I do all i can to avoid the bitter end, that "honey, i've tried"
Because i know there is something real deep inside,
In the process of my journey to the center of the earth, real deep inside
I'm not just burnt, worse than pains when givin birth, my heart is fried
But, i still stay for what its worth, because my goal isn't to get u to open wide
But to connect differently, so when u reflect, apparently it would seem, that this perfect Ken was not a dream
Today my mind races, my thoughts grow, I call it intellectual fertility
My heart paces, my efforts die, I call this an exercise in futility
She must feel the same somehow, i'm sure... Certainly
But maybe, probably, the time is not now. Damn this uncertainty!
So as my idle jests settle and my feelings boil over this kettle
These tipsy thoughts reflect real meaning, in between all this Christmas cleaning...
Today, i am "still dreaming"
Dreaming of cable tv, transmitting directly to my bedroom
Wide screen, in HD fitting perfectly, not taking up my headroom
With surround sound, so I can feel each heart beat, i would listen to her heart pound
As it beats, although the world dies & the ozone layer depletes
It's be satisfied once its me and my tv between these sheets
So each night i'd rest assured, that i'd rest assured
I mean fully secured in my own world, my eyes glued to the television
Somewhere in between there i'd wake up from my dream
Look around at the pale world and my radio
Saddened that my reality can easily shatter
Listening closely, hitting my tv, it doesn't work, no audio
How could I think love was served on a platter
True true, I think to myself i'ma just go get her
If only it were as easy as theorized, if only i realized
That this great exersize in futility, is a little stretch on vanity
Where I struggle to touch the sky, and my sky disappears
And I see the world's indifference admist all my fears
So, as I grow older, my heart grows colder. A victim of that vicious cycle
So for now I end the chapter, turn the page, as a matter of fact, I close the book
Tonight I close my eyes, because no matter how i watch, no matter how often I look
Although I examine my surroundings completely, I still can't see my tv!

AHHHHh chooo

Still on my maroon couch as though I never got up from that spot. Still marooned as though I was nothing but a spot within the international framework of things and happenings. Struggling to piece my thoughts together in understandable prose and not simply high sounding affluence tailored to suit my whim. Eventually in between those sneezes I found some middle path of thought processes which I have now condemned to paper. Clearing all possible distractions I look outside and close the doors, but my Kristal still coons over skype. Shouting horse, horse behind me and then apologizing right after. Honey, i'm out for 20mins I say, its clear on the display. Honey I need to hear you voice she continues, and the fight ensues. Not between us both, for alas I am way to tired for war. But its an internal struggle between my love for conversation and my gracious desire to record this conversation. 
Music soothing my ears, quelling my emotions and somehow giving me that vix vapor rub down I so longed for. Its Tuesday evening and my energy is waning with three working days still to go. But again Kid Cudi to sooth my sorrow, so between now and tomorrow i'd forget my sickness even existed. My forefinger eager making its way up my nostril in a reflex action, not bothering to communicate this to my brain. For to maintain this relaxed disposition my mind must be focused. I think focus is my theory for life. The basis of my Ken Sambury philosophy. It all began long long time ago, when I still lived back home. In hindsight I can see what my father wanted, but the only problem their is that this is what "he wanted". I would enthusiastically seize mother's car keys, for every youth knew the way to driving the car was to wash the car. Dig through the cupboard picking out my instruments with much thought of its usage. I keep telling myself, I once saw a crack head wash a car with one bucket so since I have the hose, the shami cloth, the scrubbing brush and a full bottle of sqeezy a sparkling clean car was inevitable. First i'd turn the brass pipe and let the water loose in my breeze detergent bucket. IN the middle of this i'd run inside because I heard my cellular phone. Out of breath by the time I got to my room. Out of breath because of the almost impossible acrobatics leaping over the dinner table and through the "space saver" into my room. My phone was my portal to life and love, it could not remain unanswered. Just a brethen, so the call shouldn't last that long I would think. Walk to the fridge to choose my selection of juice.. hmm orange, grape, grape fruit. Slurp, Slurp and fifteen minutes would pass. Conscious not to wash and talk on the phone simultaneously because to see my nokia fall in water was my greatest phobia I would drop the call. Back outside the bucket now overflowing for minutes causing a nice wide river down the yard. And like any fifteen year old I would immediately make a paper boat and let it set sail down the drain. Granted the survival of the boat out of the garage alone was phenomenal I was forced to follow my creation down the street. Eventually I .......... will be continued in the morning!)

Ode to Frustration - Resiliance

It Feels like I wrote this before, but then again
Its the exact same feeling, the same complaint
Which causes the need for immediate restraint
Time to stop saying, its all good, because it just aint
And even as I commit to graffiti the world with glowing paint
I sit in life's school to write a mathematics exam
And as i struggle though situations I remain calm
Without raising too much of an alarm, I add the common factors
And look for the real figures inbetween all these actors
Its amazing that there exists one great universal set, but so many characters
That all never fit within the same subset or have the same effect
On the entire equation, although I just wrote "none of us are as smart as all of us!"
Here I stand in my brazen Kit, burnt by hell fire, still immovable
Super soaked but still effectively and subjectively impermeable
Tonight after the big big meeting, and all the revealing
Stealing my thoughts from my imagination, because it sent me reheeling
Usually Illuminated and Illustrious, but I need a deeya to be exact

Because only thing to stay before and after the fact, perfectly intact
Such a neat bronze fit, all lit by that one initial match stick
But solidly standing up to the breeze, sucking in all the oxygen it needs
So much soo that the air around it begins to wheeze, suffocate almost
because the candle wick makes it clear that it is BOSS, not to boast
And I think that is my modus of operandi till I stop walking straight and kilkitae
Such a bitter sweet freestyle, quickly, abruptly sant-y mani- t-ae


So when I say mathematics, i refer to the square matrix
Those battered words written inbetween square suffixes
Its like Jonathan said, there is a strategy for the cube, dictated by Mr. Rubix
The formula from multilinear algebra to find the determinant
When i've subtracted the constants and i'm done-- damn,  i feel brilliant 
And I hold up my claim to fame and remain stiff and resilient 
Because this morning I feel as though I am beaten to a pulp
That i'd certainly give my everything which would definitely be 'just' enough


But sometime later, sitting here, my music on steroids pumped to its loudest
Excitement on steroids hype to its highest...


The beginning of the storm. Part 2.1 [the callers]
Caller, Line One

I need to know: What of the other issues to address? Why are we talking about Ken? Their is crime, prostitution, persecution! 

Well how much longer shall we recite the news over and over?

"Shots fired, police ran for cover, the assailant escaped to East Morvant"

Ironically however, its amazing how in the midst of this storm anyone is able to remain sturdy

No, this is not narcism nor elitism, Instead I believe that each of us has a unique story, this is his

Who are you to judge, chastise or forgive? 

Official Facebook Petition - SIMS 3 Stop Taggin me!

Dear Facebook,

This is my first letter to you all since you all deleted my account that faithful November 2008. It has been a long and hard struggle re-connecting with my friends, family and business partners. I have not and maybe will never forgive you for unceremoniously trashing my 84 photo albums, 32 notes, classic messages and the like but my addiction is too strong to leave you alone.

This addiction is hard for me to describe, but stems from the subtle jubilation that i'm sure a large percentage of the computer literate world feels when we receive the "facebook notification". It stems from the human desire to feel a part of society. We all, somewhere inside want to feel accepted and wanted within our own circle. I understand that this facebook notification massages our emotions subtly making us feel wanted and accepted by others who often prompt these notifications.

The production of facebook applications proved to be an innovation in social networking and a revolution in online gaming, with several users spending hours under the influence of fighters club or farmville. I must say that I do appreciate your facebook service and herald it as the world's greatest saver and waster of time. I also do appreciate provisions like mini feed and wall posts which make macko-in sooo much easier. I tout facebook as the catalyst for social life in general!

However there exists a being that threatens your very existence by annoying the living daylights out of your users. His name is SPAM. Distant cousin of Hanna and Pamla, Spam is equally as self centered and dirty! Listen, facebook.. I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT! I am not sure if SPAM is Male, Female, Transgender, I dunno!

But facebook I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT!

Spam religiously assaults its users, and sadly I also have fallen victim to such assault. Early morning SPAM comes through my computer and HITS ME WITH PILLOWS! WTF! Facebook, ah tellin ya.... I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT! One of these days I will hit Spam back so hard, I would send him right back up his IP address! Imagine early Sunday morning I wake up to a barrage of "Literal Pillows" hurled against my wall! Its ridiculous the audacity of my assailant. Using mindless slaves like Leigh-Francis Andrews somehow coaxing these slaves to allow Spam to use their identity and post on everyone's wall, and run up in their house, jump out the computer and hit people with pillows!

This is a crime, punishable by law. Listen, facebook, its not just me saying this, My sentiments are echo-ed by many many users. Countless times I've threatened and have rallied many supportive comments!

That was Saturday gone. All day today however I notice all of a sudden every man jack and their grandmother playing SIMS. Look, facebook, I do not want to play Sims. Spam is so unruly and blatantly, brazenly disrespectful that Spam is now commenting on pictures of me now! This thing is getting out of hand!

Today I wrote:

Its NOT just me! Look:

So I went to my settings to change it, and I blocked Sims 3[the facebook application]. Low and behold I was tagged in a picture by Sims 4! Facebook, these developers are clearly pulling wool over your eyes. It looks like they are pulling an entire sheep over your face, the way this thing is going!

But facebook, I want to know, what could have caused my dilemma!? In other words "iz wha i do so da make me deserve dis!?" 

Facebook, basically.... *sigh... I am saying with my whole heart and whole soul.. listen .. AH CAR TAKE IT! AH CAR TAKE IT!

Kindly allow us users a very nice "disable all new applications" button. So anytime a new application wants to post on my wall, I can simply ignore it till the year 3012. This is what causes the earthquakes all over the place! The very ground we walk on is spitting us out, for allowing Spam to take over. SPAM must be stopped before he sends the entire faceook civilization back into prehistoric hi5 days. I shudder at the very mention of hi5. 

Facebook. DO SOMETHING!

Tell SIMS 1 -3 Stop Tagging me! I do not want to be hit by a Pillow, I do not want to see that hot video on FunSpace! 

AH CAR TAKE IT! AH CAR TAKE IT!

AH CAR TAKE IT! AH CAR TAKE IT!

I CANNOT TAKE IT!


NB. Below is a list of people who have commented on my post @ blogger.com. Their comment acts as their digital signature in support of the sentiments expressed in this letter. We ALL want you, facebook administrators to step in and purge the system.

Yours Egotistically, 

Ken Sambury

PS. All us users have the power to stop the damn applications from spamming each other. Simply do not click "ALLOW Application TO POST ON Friends Wall" If you are to stupid to recognize this, I'm sorry I would delete you. 

Would you allow a website permission to use your email address to send emails?

So why would you give a facebook application permission to use your friend's walls and tag them?

Comment on this article to sign the petition!