@Teeniiola She don forget say she be accomplice ni πππππ. All that is needed for the guy to ddo is to point a finger at her and show bank statements. Too easy too simple
@yabaleftonline Dear women you can see the signs all around him, please do not wait for his wonders for you may not come out of it alive. Caveat emptor
@instablog9ja Imagine the husband seeing her video at work while doing a very hard job. He go just weak οΏ½οΏ½οΏ½πΏββοΈπ€¦πΏββοΈπ€¦πΏββοΈπ€¦πΏββοΈ
@egi_nupe@esther_stan Someone who was literally the lead actor in one or two movies, and she assumed she has never worked ππππ
Awon jokers aye π€‘
LEGENDARY JOE - ARE HIS WRITINGS AI WRITTEN?
1. Whenever a manβs craft transcends the ordinary, the mediocre quickly gather to trade in rumours of sorcery or tricks. They said the legendary Baba D.O. Fagunwa communed with the spirits of the marine kingdom to fetch his timeless tales π.
The tree that bears the sweetest fruit must endure the most stones. This skepticism did not begin today, and it certainly will not bury the stride of the Legendary.
Extraordinary grace has always baffled the pedestrian mind.
2. Observe closely: those who peddle these whispers are often those whose own names are completely detached from anything of substance or worth. They merely project the cold weight of their own insecurities and unspoken envy.
They question their destiny: "How can one man flourish so effortlessly in this divine gift, while I have no drop of talent to boast of?"
βMy brother, I am not the architect of your ungifted profile. If you invested half the energy you squander on envy into searching your own soul, you would surely find a spark where you, too, could outperform the rest.
3. I have been writing actively since early in the millennium, and by "active", I mean writing letters, essays, articles, for classmates, teachers, friends and parent alike.
If I am to be accused of anything, let it be laziness, otherwise, there is no reasonable excuse why I should not have authored at least ten books by now. So yes - manage your envy accordingly. We did not start today.
4. When I wrote Toefl in 2012, the examiners did not just grade a test; they witnessed a deluge. I scored full marks for writing, submitting 3,000 words for an expected 300 word article.
I only missed a flawless overall score by a mere twelve marks- six lost in Speaking because I was born with a proud, natural stutter, and six in Listening because the British accent threw me slightly off course.
But as for the written word? I was not trained folks; I was born a writer.
5. All said, writing with the aid of AI is no crime. "The world moves, and we must move with it." Technological advancement is designed to elevate our innate skills, sharpen our talents, and simplify our heavy tasks.
It is the exact same rigid mindset that once made people condemn automatic transmission vehicles, claiming you had to sweat over a manual stick shift to be crowned a "real" driver.
βMy only caution is this: a genuinely talented writer must never completely surrender their creative soul to a machine, lest we rob the literary world of its raw, irreplaceable originality.
6. But as for me - The Legendary J.O.E, any good writer or reader who feasts on my articles knows beyond a shadow of doubt that no algorithm can replicate my spirit.
An artificial tree can mimic the leaves, but it can never yield the fruit."
βI belong to that rare, endangered breed of literary architects who seamlessly weave a combination of figures of speech, deep African proverbs, unforgettable quotes, and biting satire into the fabric of every single piece. Your AI cannot manufacture that depth - at least, not yet.
7. But let us even play the fool for a moment and assume, without conceding, that a machine drafts my essays. That very same AI is at your fingertips, entirely free of charge. I dare you:
Do yours, give it the prompt and then place it beside mine and let the people decide whether both rivers drink from the same source. π
A poor farmer blames his tools...
Good Morning Severally...
@LegendaryJoe βI belong to that rare, endangered breed of literary architects who seamlessly weave a combination of figures of speech, deep African proverbs, unforgettable quotes, and biting satire into the fabric of every single piece. Your AI cannot manufacture that depth -at least, not yetβ
DO NOT TEACH US HOW TO SCREAM
I sincerely do not want us to establish or reinforce the dangerous narrative that until it happens in the Southwest, it has not happened at all.
That whatever is not amplified by the Yoruba voice is somehow unworthy of national attention. That our pain is the measuring rod by which every other pain must be validated.
That is neither fair nor healthy for a country already carrying too many wounds.
For example, a generation of anarchists has repeatedly attempted to recreate the chaos and mayhem of EndSARS. But since the Yoruba have made clear that their soil is no nursery for sponsored disaster, every subsequent attempt at a nationwide conflagration has withered into spectacular futility.
Yoruba are among the most widely traveled peoples on this continent and beyond - yet among the least traveled within the borders of their own country. And still, our land remains the most visited, the most courted, the most inhabited by strangers seeking the blessings upon our land.
Why?
Because the greener pasture others cross rivers and deserts to find - it is already here, beneath our feet.
The state where they boast of 24-hour electricity should invite all its indigenes home permanently. They will refuse. They will still choose to stay right here, in the Southwest.
But this exceptional reality should never become the standard by which insecurity is measured.
There are communities in this country whose encounters with violent criminality did not begin yesterday. Some of those scars date back to independence. Others are older than amalgamation itself. Yet no national crusade of outrage was declared on their behalf. No organised festival of sympathy emerged to elevate their suffering into a collective emergency.
There was a season - not long ago, when the entire Southeast was swallowed whole by terror so suffocating that their people could not bury their dead in dignity, could not wed their daughters in peace, could not lift a shop shutter without trembling.
And through all of it, not one of their celebrated sons or daughters mounted ring-light to mourn the ruin of their own cradle.
Insecurity is a deeply emotional subject. It is one I neither claim superior knowledge over nor possess the cruelty to dismiss. Every innocent life lost diminishes all of us.
But I must say this;
Do not harvest political and social capital from our collective wound.
If you held your tongue when terror devoured your own - do not arrive now to instruct us in the grammar of grief. Do not discover your voice only when the matter wears a Yoruba face.
He who sealed his lips in the hour of his own sorrow has no authority to teach another how to scream.
Good Afternoon Severally...