(Congratulations, Mr. Museveni! On the occasion of your victory party, I thought it appropriate to re-blog this post from two years ago in your honor. Book the date!)
Mr. Museveni, hang on. Hang on! Don’t rush out to buy a new kofia for the event. The wedding is on, sure, just not yet.
You see, Mr. President, my better half and I have agreed not to get married until you leave power. We know it won’t be in 2011, but that’s okay. Take your time. It will give me the opportunity to work off the extra fat and to get a plush job in the National Social Security Fund. That way I can look my personal best and he and I can rip off a few working suckers to afford a yearlong honeymoon in Cape Verde.
My fiancé doesn’t mind …
… I’m sorry. It seems I have been disingenuous in mentioning a fiancé.
Mr. President, I don’t have a husband-in-waiting. I’m searching for one, but the hunt is hard. You understand, don’t you? You said, a few years ago, that you were looking for people with vision. I felt your pain when you admitted to being tormented because only you had the power of foresight for Uganda. I identify, Mr. President. I identify. There are no men who live up to my one and only requirement that they be men. Masculinity and vision are hard to find these days.
Still, I want you to come to my wedding.
