Sometimes I wish I could just sleep at night, wake the next day, and then there is no more news. That means no newspapers, no TV, no magazines, no radio and, definitely, no new media. But we all know that’s never going to be.
On Saturday, I received an email from my 18-year-old daughter, which she titled, “My bleeding heart.” When I saw the title, I stopped everything and opened it. I could feel blood rushing to my head as I started to read:
Forget the staging of placards in Sokoto asking former President Goodluck Jonathan to come back to power tomorrow. The jesters have earned their pay and gone their way. They know that not even a Trumpian miracle can put together again the thousand broken pieces of the Jonathan era.
In Anthony Sampson’s bestseller, The Seven Sisters, sleaze and oil go hand-in-hand. If there was a Nigerian version of that book, not only will sleaze and oil go hand-in-hand, they’ll be inseparable bedmates and incompetence their guardian angel.
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