Dear Kabale waiter who stole my modem

Yes, how are you sir? You stole my Modem. You thought I had forgotten. But I have not. I still remember that morning a couple of years ago when you committed this hideous crime and somehow managed to get away with it.  

However this time I want to warn you ahead of time and remind you that should you dare touch any of my property without my permission, I will castrate you. I am not joking.

A brand new Christmas Song by Musumba Zak, Check it out

Christmas has gone and many of us have spent the day in different ways. Personally I decided to spend my Christmas trying my hand at composing music. I have composed a Christmas song. After composing the song I decided I should share with all of us by uploading the audio on soundcloud. The video will come out sooner than later. So keep waiting. This Christmas song is just 2MBs heavy which means any Ugandan with five hundred shillings airtime can buy 20MBs from MTN and those other guys download the audio, or share this festive season gift with their friends on twitter, facebook, whatups and all.  Otherwise, hope you enjoyed your Christmas and let me also take this opportunity to wish you a Happy New Year. Click here to listen to the song

Beautiful girls should stop complimenting writers for the articles they write

It is one thing to write a wonderful article. But it is another thing when a beautiful girl compliments you for writing that article. It is a satisfying experience. I swear!

However, I thought it prudent to caution my friends who belong to the fairer sex about the implications of those compliments. I am not saying that the girls should stop complementing the writer for the awesomeness they enjoy as result of his efforts but I think there is need for some level of moderation. Just a little moderation you know.

Okay, here is the deal. You see, when you compliment the writer for writing an article, he starts imagining different things. He starts to think that for the joy he has brought into your life, he deserves more than a mere compliment, at least a hug, my friend. If you really enjoy the articles and are simply not feigning the excitement, then I guess a hug is not something too big for him to ask from you. Just saying...

How blogging connected me to the numerous opportunities that exist on the web

A story is told of a man who played a prank on some lady. At night, the lady sure that the man was dead asleep, took all the man’s money from his pockets and stashed the money into her handbag. But later in the night, the man woke up and took all the money from the lady’s handbag including that of the woman and hid it under the carpet. The woman made off in the morning thinking she had made a killing but the man had had “the last laugh”. Such and many others are the kind of humorous tales that Tumusiime Rushedge also known as Old Fox told in his weekly column in the Sunday Vision back in the day. I never grew up reading his column. I actually started reading his column after his death when the most interesting of his stories were being re-run in honour of the contributions he had always made to the paper.

Playing hide and seek games with my new editor

When a writer is tempted to pick fights with his editor in the name of writing an article, you know he’s run short of ideas. But that is not the case here. As a matter of fact, I have not run short of idea.

Besides, my new editor and I have enjoyed a perfect working relationship thus far, obviously apart from the usual squabbles about the deadlines. Once upon a time, I was very good at beating deadlines. These days, I am sloppy when it comes to beating newsroom deadlines. Unfortunately, that paper for which I write has now got an editor who is stricter on deadlines. So, for the last one week, we have been playing hide and seek games with my new editor online. Now someone is going to ask me how they play such games online. Well, with the advent of Facebook, Twiiter, Youtube, Googleplus and all other social media networks that are driving us mad, anything is possible online these days.