bellarono

Bill & Becky’s Daughter, Wife, Mama Matt, Sit-Down Comedienne, Banker, Marketer, Farmer, Hip-Hop Connoisseur, Humanitarian, Writer, Birder, a child of GOD😎

[bellarono @bellarono]

🔥🔥🔥

[Mike Litoris (Ikoku Merchant 🔌) @Neddy_ali]

Barsssss

[bellarono @bellarono]

Growing up my brothers were chastised by my Dad, told that nothing positive ever comes out of living in the bar... now here comes this guy! ...kumbe they were just focusing on the wrong thing.
🤓👊🏾🇰🇪 #DavidMunyua 🔥🔥🔥

[PDC Darts @OfficialPDC]

Guess who's back? 👀🇰🇪

[bellarono @bellarono]

🤣🤣🤣 Brilliant

[🎩Laird of the Manor🎩 @LairdOfThManor]

As you are all aware, I preside over something of a domestic menagerie, seven children to be precise, which is less a household and more an ongoing sociological experiment. Today, I found myself engaged in a heated altercation with my eldest son, whom I was vigorously and, I felt, quite magnificently scalding for some misdemeanour whose particulars have since vanished into the fog of senility.

I am a proud man of 5’11¾”. My son is 6’4”.

At the conclusion of my undoubtedly erudite reprimand, this bumbling behemoth had the unmitigated temerity to pat me on the head.

PAT. ME. ON. THE. HEAD.

I cannot adequately convey the depth of my present indignation. I have not been this affronted since someone suggested I might benefit from a sensible haircut.

There will be consequences. I have not yet determined their nature, but I can assure you they shall be magnificently disproportionate. The family council will be convened, ancestral grievances will be unearthed, the hereditary peerage may be consulted, and somewhere in this house a perfectly innocent vase is about to become collateral damage. I may be only 5’11¾”, but I remain the head of this household, and I shall not be reduced to the status of a patted minor noble by a six-foot-four usurper who still requires my Wi-Fi password. 🎩

[bellarono @bellarono]

Oh my God this has cracked me up... 🤣

[Justine Moore @venturetwins]

Unfortunately my new favorite show is the AI gorillas on TikTok who are fake dating

[bellarono @bellarono]

🔥🔥🔥

[Melodies & Masterpieces @SVG__Collection]

67 years ago today, ‘Take Five’ by Dave Brubeck Quartet was released as a single.

It went on to become the best-selling jazz single of the 20th century.

[bellarono @bellarono]

#Confidence is everything!!

[Interesting things @awkwardgoogle]

A tiny 13 kg Chinese muntjac deer playfully challenged a 1.7-ton rhino named Maruśka at the Wrocław Zoo in Poland

[bellarono @bellarono]

Taking me back to Chicago house scene Circa mid 90's - whole club rocking like this... #TheWarehouse with the #GodfatherOfHouseMusic #FrankieKnuckles IYNYN 🔥🔥🔥

[Immortal @Geezy2k19]

This is how BLACK ppl dance to house music…you are Swaggerless an uncultured so this why you say shit like this you cornball

[bellarono @bellarono]

10 YEARS OLD!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
#GirlsRock

[Massimo @Rainmaker1973]

10-year-old Victory Blinker who set the Guinness World Record for the youngest opera singer in the world, sings Mozart’s 'Der Holle Rache,’ considered one of the most difficult arias to sing.

[Melodies & Masterpieces @SVG__Collection]

Today is the 21st of September.

[bellarono @bellarono]

When our terrier finds a puddle outside...

[bellarono @bellarono]

@Kabugo_ @AnnetNakulima Fear has been charging you rent.
🔥🔥🔥

[bellarono @bellarono]

@kamauwaruhiu Now I have to catch the midweek service... 😏

[bellarono @bellarono]

@MihrThakar #9 & #10
Sir, now your getting personal.

[bellarono @bellarono]

🙋🏾‍♀️😋👊🏾

[OkieMaga_Patriot46 @Okie_Patriot46]

I need to make a very PUBLIC announcement on behalf of younger GenXers and older Millennials.

If you see someone in their 40s or 50s who seems a little boring now, I need you to understand something...

We already got it in.

Like...GOT. IT. IN.

We are not sitting home on a Friday night because we never knew how to have fun.
We are sitting home on a Friday night because we have seen enough.

We went to parties in houses that should have been condemned and were almost certainly owned by the local drug dealer.

We saw police lights and RAN and not across a nice, flat field.
INTO THE WOODS.

Do you understand the athleticism required to hurdle uprooted tree roots in platform shoes while simultaneously trying to keep your low-rise jeans from sliding completely off your ass?

And somehow...we never spilled the Zima. We never spilled the Boone’s Farm.

That was TALENT.

We slept on floors in strange houses because the designated driver either never showed up or, in a shocking turn of events, was drunker than everybody else.

There was no Uber, Life360 or Find My Friends.
There was just somebody named Mike saying, “I know a shortcut.”

And we FOLLOWED MIKE.

We closed down bars and then decided the night was still young, so we drove to Atlantic City, where we somehow managed to get drunk, sober up, get drunk again, sober up again and then get drunk a THIRD TIME before breakfast.

And according to our parents? We were at Michelle’s house.

Eating pizza and watching movies.

Michelle’s mother unknowingly covered for approximately 17 people every weekend. If there even was a Michelle.

We drank things called Purple Passion, Mad Dog 20/20 and whatever somebody mixed inside a giant plastic garbage can. Nobody asked what was in it. You grabbed a red Solo cup and trusted the process.

We went to clubs until the lights came on. Do you know the psychological damage of seeing a nightclub with the LIGHTS ON? Nothing good happens after those lights come on.

We danced for four straight hours in shoes that permanently altered the structure of our feet.

We made entire plans without cell phones...no texts, dropped pins or group chats...just an extremely questionable sense of direction.

We rode in cars with 11 people when the vehicle legally seated five. Someone was always sitting on someone. Someone was always in the hatchback.
And there was always one friend yelling, “DUCK!” when we passed a cop.

So yes...now we like being home.
We like sweatpants.
We like cancelling plans.
We like saying, “That sounds fun!” with absolutely no intention of attending.
We like restaurants at 5:30 because we can get a good table.
We like being home by 8:17.

And if someone texts at 9:30 PM and says, “What are you doing?”
Sleeping...we are sleeping.

Because this is not boring my friends...this is retirement.

We already played, partied and danced on the bar.
We already ran from the cops through a wooded area dressed like a Spice Girl.

We have stories that cannot be posted because there are still people with careers, marriages and reputations to protect. And thank GOD there were no camera phones.

So kids, when you look at your Gen X and older Millennial parents sitting peacefully on the couch watching Dateline at 8 PM and think:
“God, you guys are boring.”

Sweetheart...oh sweetheart.
You are looking at retired legends.

Put some respect on our names. We're probably the reason Life360 was invented.

xoxoxo (posted from someone else on FakeBook) 🤣 #genx #oldandtired

[bellarono @bellarono]

👇🏾

[Uncle Billz @UncleBillz]

🚨 THE NINE COFFEE BEANS RITUAL: COFFEE, GRAVES, AND THE MAKING OF A KING IN TOORO.

In the Tooro Kingdom of western Uganda, coffee is not only a crop or a morning drink. It is a royal instrument. When an Omukama dies, the kingdom enters nine days of mourning, and on the burial day the chosen successor walks to the grave, the Iziba, and places nine coffee beans inside it, one at a time.

The ritual is one of the clearest public signals of who the next king is. According to Moses Musinguzi, spokesperson for the Babiito clan, the new monarch is not announced by press conference or radio. He is revealed through the rites. By the burial day, the prince will be among those performing the burial rituals, and the one who casts the beans is the heir the clan has accepted.

The setting is the Karambi Royal Tombs, known as Amagasani, the resting place of the Babiito dynasty. The Omusuna, the chief ritualist, prepares the grave and guides the heir. Access is tightly restricted. Nothing else goes into a king's grave, no soil, no flowers, no ordinary burial. Only the heir performs this act, and it is said to be the last time he will view a dead body or attend a funeral.

The number 9 runs through the whole transition. 9 days of mourning. 9 beans. In 1995, when King Oyo's father, Kaboyo Olimi III, died, the young prince performed the same rite before ascending the throne on September 12th, the same date now set for Oyo's own burial.

Coffee also appears elsewhere in Tooro life. At the Kweranga marriage ceremony, roasted beans are served to 9 people from the bridegroom's side as a welcome. In blood-brotherhood oaths, coffee berries carry the mingled blood. So the bean is a symbol of hospitality, covenant, and now, succession.

In the current succession dispute, some cultural figures have even proposed using the grave-and-beans rite as a kind of traditional paternity test, a genuine heir supposedly survives it, an impostor does not. That claim is contested and belongs to oral tradition rather than documented law, but it shows how deeply the ritual is tied to questions of legitimacy.

For the Batooro, the 9 beans are continuity. A king is put on the throne, not elected. The beans mark the moment the living hand the dead to the ancestors and the living heir steps forward to take his place.

[bellarono @bellarono]

Never have 9 coffee beans elicited such drama...

[bellarono @bellarono]

🤯😍

[Nick Volpe @nvolpewild]

FIERY-CAPPED MANAKIN!!! 🤯
One of the best birds in the world! 🔥
What an honour to meet it this morning! 🥰

[bellarono @bellarono]

Coco Gauff!! 🔥🔥🔥

[The Tennis Letter @TheTennisLetter]

COCO GAUFF FINISHES OFF A 39 SHOT RALLY WITH A PERFECT DROP SHOT.

🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

[bellarono @bellarono]

👀
https://t.co/ynKav1bDMx

[bellarono @bellarono]

@kenyanpundit This is actually a flex! IYKYK 🤓👊🏾