Kampala’s Cracked Masks

Listen! Listen, you who navigate potholes deeper than your pockets! You who sweat under the sun while the fat cats sip champagne in air-conditioned SUVs! Kampala, our city of seven hills, where the Nile’s whispers are drowned out by the clatter of empty promises. Here, the soil is rich, but the hands that till it are calloused and cracked. Here, skyscrapers pierce the heavens while children sleep in the shadows of their greed…

A Rant of Ridiculous Proportions

Remember 2023? The year we were promised flying cars and robot butlers? Instead, we got…this. A glorified VR headset that projects your Netflix onto your retinas while simultaneously turning you into a walking advertisement. But hey, at least it blocks out the existential dread, right?

Now, don’t get me wrong, the tech is impressive. It’s like strapping a miniature supercomputer to your face. Problem is, that supercomputer can’t tell the difference between a masterpiece and a meme. Your carefully curated Instagram feed? Now a 3D assault on your eyeballs. Your grandma’s cat video? Prepare for a full-sensory immersion into feline derpitude.

But the real kicker? The marketing. They’re selling this thing like it’s the key to unlocking Shangri-La. Metaverse meetings? More like meta-vomiting after staring at your boss’s avatar in pixelated glory. Collaborative 3D painting? More like watching your neighbor digitally finger-paint a stick figure while judging your every stroke.