Uncle Chim Tuna Responds To Pulse Writer Who Attacked Ghafla! In Today’s Pulse!

Before we begin, allow me to say that I respect Pulse Magazine. Period. I however have no respect for the writer that writes under the nom de guerre “Esscalibar”. I used to read the segment when it was written by her predecessor and I have to say that I used to enjoy it.

When the writers changed I kind of didn’t bother anymore. And before she goes off an a tangent about not reading my work on Ghafla!, allow me to point out that today’s submission is about just that. I only read the segment today because someone called me to inform me about it. With that said, it’s time to check she-egoes.

Today’s write up was a thinly veiled attack on Ghafla!. Granted, no names were mentioned but that’s only because the writer was too scared to take shots like a vertebrate. She took exception at some photos I posted on Ghafla! of two girls at NaxVegas kissing. Photos I got off the Pulse’ own facebook page. here’s what she said:

“With blogs pushing the rumour mill world to a whole new high without having to care about the damage or consequences they may have to face from their “caught-out” celebrity victims… (ad nauseum)”

I’m guilty as charged there. The exact amount of concern I have about the consequences one’s own intelligent actions have on them are equivalent to number of titles my beloved Liverpool will win this season. Nil. Nay! I care about the consequences to these people as much as the number of lumbar vertebrae esscaliber has. None.

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(You can read the story I am referring to here) I atleast give my names and contacts on Ghafla! so that when something erroneous is written up I can be contacted and a correction and apology is made. You write under a rather cliche pseudonym. Esscalibar.

Esscalibar went on to say, “Sometimes I think the people who write such gossip blogs are heartless”. I am actually not. The Ghafla! team and I enjoy long walks on the beach as we recite poetry about rainbows, unicorns and fairies as we skip into the horizon hand in hand as the sun sets.

No. I’m as cold and frigid as can be. I am the hatchet man. When a dirty job needs doing, I get it done. Do I enjoy it? Sometimes. Is it necessary? Yes. Do I feel remorse when I post articles about indiscretion? Not when the parties involved have attained the age of majority. For goodness sake, if you’re old enough to vote, you are old enough to reflect on the consequences of your actions.

If I drink and pass out naked, post that picture. Will I get angry? Yes. At you? No. At my friends for leaving me in such a state. I was angry at Robert Alai for posting this alleged picture of me because I was not at Blankets and Wine. Did anyone care that this wasn’t a picture of me? No. Did I cry and moan? No.

And you can read that story here.

I put that picture on Ghafla!. It went super viral. Mother Teresa and the whole host of saints blew up my phone trying to infect me with warm fuzzy feelings and marshmallows so I would take down the picture. They soon realized their efforts were in vain. Here’s a hint though, when you want to appeal to Ghafla!’s humanity, call Kibali Moreithi. He’s the only good guy. The rest of us are rational. Where emotions reign, there can be no objectivity.

If a story runs about a celebrity’s extra marital affairs and there is damning evidence, you can be sure that story will be written by either Mista Majani or myself. Am I therefore guilty of destroying that person’s marriage? No. Will I feel bad? Only the guilty feel bad.

The way I was raised, love and fuzziness is a privilege for only those I hold dear.

“Having watched this, I can only sympathize, not only with the rumoured celebrities, but also with the real investigative showbiz writers whose credibility is sometimes put on the line when bloggers borrow from their items and blow the them out of proportion (blah blah blah)”