Stubbed toe? ✓ Foot pain? ✓ Pinky finger sprain? ✓ Sciatic nerve pain? ✓ Neck strain? ✓ Time frame = 6 weeks... Stop Soccer? NO!!!

— Buchi ®™ (@ZazatheAce) August 6, 2012

This was their Olympics!

Gabrielle Douglas: a powerful explosion of pure energy and artistic grace, competed with exceptional finesse –a total sweetheart.







Michael Phelps: it is arguable that he is the greatest ever, but he is without a doubt the most-successful Olympian ever… says a lot.

                                                                                   

Usain Bolt: came into these games in doubtful his form; but as he talks a big game so he kills game! The opposition ran personal bests, yet ‘Lighting Bolt’ blew them away!

The Mesh

by Kwesi Brew (1928 – 2007)

We have come to the cross-roads

And I must either leave or come with you.

I lingered over the choice

But in the darkness of my doubts

You lifted the lamp of love

And I saw in your face

The road that I should take.

© Kwesi Brew

Will We Close The Book On Books?

By Stephen King; Monday, June 19, 2000. Time Magazine

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,997272,00.html#ixzz227uHdtMI

Book lovers are the Luddites of the intellectual world. I can no more imagine their giving up the printed page than I can imagine a picture in the New York Post showing the Pope technoboogieing the night away in a disco. My adventure in cyberspace (Riding the Bullet, available on any computer near you) has confirmed this idea dramatically. My mail and the comments on my website www.stephenking.com reflect two things: first, readers enjoyed the story; second, most didn't like getting it on a screen, where it appeared and then disappeared like Aladdin's genie.

Books have weight and texture; they make a pleasant presence in the hand. Nothing smells as good as a new book, especially if you get your nose right down in the binding, where you can still catch an acrid tang of the glue. The only thing close is the peppery smell of an old one. The odor of an old book is the odor of history, and for me, the look of a new one is still the look of the future.

I suspect that the growth of the Internet has actually been something of a boon when it comes to reading: people with more Beanie Babies than books on their shelves spend more time reading than they used to as they surf from site to site. But it's not a book, dammit, that perfect object that speaks without speaking, needs no batteries and never crashes unless you throw it in the corner. So, yes, there'll be books. Speaking personally, you can have my gun, but you'll take my book when you pry my cold, dead fingers off the binding.

Stephen King, is the author of more than 50 books

© 2012 Time Inc.

July 9, 2002

10 years ago I witnessed a murder; actually 2, as Rajman later died in 2008 –the Nigerian Police brazenly shot at our school bus (1414). I was in another bus (the NSTA bus) travelling directly behind the 1414, so I saw the shooting –the idiot (incidentally, all Nigerian policemen are idiots) was trying to shoot at the 1414’s tyres but somehow bungled it and shot into the bus, hitting two students. They were both rushed to a hospital, the incident happened in front of the IBB Specialist Hospital, where the doctors refused to treat them for some absurd reason. The police also shot out the tyre of the NSTA bus, and inadvertently shot the guy sitting beside me (in front of the NSTA) in the leg –luckily, the bullet brushed past his calves. I jumped into another vehicle, which Fredox was driving, and we sped back to campus; and the rest is history...

I know that I, along with a few others incited a riot that led to the closure of the school for the better part of a year, and I also know I was rather fortunate to have my actions that day escape the attentions of the Panel set up by the school. Everyone else (a few of my good friends) faced a panel but me; and while I appreciate the good fortune, I never felt lucky. Funmi (the girl who was killed) was my neighbour as a child; I know her mum, her brother, and her grandma; her mum was good friends with my mum and my aunt. Those of us that knew her well know what a gem of a lady she –exactly like her noble mum– no one deserves to die like, especially not Funmi and Ms. Amina did not deserve to lose her only daughter like that.

Rajman, who was also shot that morning, later died in 2008. He was a funny bubbly man, full of life and always nice to be around. When we went on an excursion together in 2000, he was the life of the bus –the same 1414 in which he got shot.

If I had to, I would do it all over again –incite a riot and maybe more, I have no regrets about my actions that day. Yes, it cost us a lot in FUT Minna, but Funmi & Rajman paid a price we could never quantify.