Amazing 3-D Pencil Sketches That Literally Leap Off The Pages

Self-taught Dutch pencil artist Ramon Bruin has taken art to new depths. His drawings bring new life to what would normally be just a piece of paper. Like the work of M.C. Escher, the pencil drawings pop out in an optical illusion and play with viewers’ eyes. From a Clipper ship that sails across a table to a man playing tug of war with a pencil, the illusions he creates are endless and something to behold, with a little bit of comical flare for humor. Here is a select few of the artist’s drawings,

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CYNTHIA MORGAN Releases - KUCHI KUCHI - VIDEO

http://t.co/ZOckk6VDlB
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCFzgZlIAFM&feature=player_embedded 

The New Female Artist on Jude Engees Entertainment Square Records have just release her single Kuchi Kuchi (Video) Download and Enjoy

NOLLYWOOD ACTRESS RUKAYAT SANDA IS +1 TODAY

Producer and Nollywood Actress Rukayat Sanda is a year older today. The Banking and Finance graduate of Lagos State University made her way into the industry in 2004 when she featured in the movie Angel and the Beast. She has remained unstoppable since then.

Her latest movie  is In Her Shoes.

Happy Birthday, RUKAYA SANDA

Confession of suspected pipeline vandal: I needed money to save my wife’s life

Owoye Ebiwe, 20, from Ondo state, was among the ten suspected pipeline vandals paraded  Monday by operatives of the Inspector-General of Police Special Task Force on Anti-Pipeline vandalism Unit. The suspects were reportedly arrested at the verge of siphoning petroleum product from a pipeline belonging to the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation, NNPC, located in Elekete area of Ogun state.
While all the suspects freely opened up confessing their alleged involvement in the crime, Ebiwe was unusually calm. While that lasted, he bent down, scribbling what did not make sense on the wet ground.
When approached, he raised his head  and behold, he was shedding tears.  Asked why he was crying, he lamented the woes he claimed had befallen him and eventually led him into the unpalatable situation he found himself.

*Suspect Ibiwe

My story: According to him, “ As I speak with you, my wife is dying in the hospital back in Ondo state. She needs money for treatment. You see, I ventured into this all in a bid to save my wife. I am an orphan. I have been struggling to make ends meet without making any headway.    I have five children but lost one recently because of lack of  fund to provide medicare. And now, my wife is on danger list. If she dies, tell me, who will take care of the children? She was initially taken to the hospital but because there was no money to pay for the drugs, we had to bring her home to administer local herbs on her.
“In trying to suggest a possible solution, one of my relatives, asked me to come down to Lagos;  that there was a business that would fetch me money to take care of my wife and family. Without asking what type of business, I borrowed some money and left Ondo on Sunday, for Lagos. When I met him, he just said I should follow him to the place and like an obedient servant, I did, until I found myself in the creeks. That was when he informed me that some people would soon come with boats and jerrycans;  that all I needed to do was to wait by the shore and bring the jerrycans out of the boats. The place was like a market place because I saw other people waiting for their members too.
“That was when it dawned on me that it was vandal business. Honestly, I did not know it was a big offense. All I was told was that I would be given a reasonable amount at the end of the day.  That my relative told me he had money to buy the products; that all I needed to do was to bring the jerrycans out of the canoes and also help to sell to ready buyers at the end of which payment would be determined on the quantity sold.
I was there with him and Luke, waiting for the arrival of the boats when we were rounded up by the police. You can now see why I have been crying,” he stated.
Location of markets: While the trio were arrested at about 9pm, along side another three-man gang identified as Isaac Abejae,Towei Terryprecious Osuwo, four others said to have stormed the area the previous day, where they succeeded in siphoning petroleum product into sixty-two jerrycans were also arrested on their way out of the creeks.

*Suspects: Power Segmefe

One of them, Power Segmefe, 26, disclosed that they were on their way to sell the products to ready buyers in Majidun area of Lagos when luck ran against them.   Like Ebiwe, he stated that he was tempted to join some vandals he met , following an urgent need of  help his ailing father.
Hear him,  “My father had an eye problem and had since stopped going for his timber work. I took over from him. On that fateful day (Saturday), we had gone for timber at about 6pm . When we got to the water area, I overheard a man saying the job was a lucrative one  if carried out successfully. He  told me he was with some jerrycans and would sell  50 litres to me at the rate of N1500 per jerrycan. I told him I was interested and stayed with him all night.
He told me I could sell them at Majidun and Ikorodu;  that buyers usually throng there in the morning. I was tempted by the profit I would make and concluded that at least it would help get my father the prescribed  medication for his eye problem.”
“So , next day at about 8am, as I was moving the filled jerrycans to Majidun to sell at N300,000 per 50 litres jerrycan, I was arrested. It is even better I was arrested because I do not know how I would have faced my father to tell him that the money that was borrowed was gone just like that.”
The suspects, according to the Unit’s Commander, Friday Ibadin, would be charged to court soon.

Hon. Makinde marries Miss Osun State

Nollywood actor turned politician, Hon. Rotimi Makinde, representing the Ife Federal Constituency in the lower House of the National Assembly has taken his somewhat whirlwind romance with the reigning Miss Osun State, Miss Oyebanke Oyelami to the level as the couple is set to be united man and wife this Saturday at the Adah Golf Course, Ile-Ife, in Osun State.
Their romance has attracted some criticisms from people who believed the Honourable legislator dumped his former wife for the beauty queen. But the Honourable has come forth with a strong defence at a recent discuss where he explained why he has decided to marry the 23-year-old damsel.

 

Hon. Rotimi Makinde & Miss Oyebanke

“Naturally, it is not in my habit to discuss my family especially my wife who bore me my grown up kids but just for the records, people need to know that my wife has left me ever before I got elected into the federal house of representatives and I’ve since given her the benefit of doubt for reconciliation but all were to no avail, hence my decision to move ahead and not without the consent of my children…can you believe that, it took me a while to chase this lady, I have never seen her rare type before, that’s why I didn’t waste any time when she eventually gave me the chance” he said.
The wedding reception followed by a night party is billed to hold at same venue from about 6pm where top entertainers, Sir Shina Peters and Obesere are expected to thrill . Ankara Aso-Ebi which sold for about N4000 is the uniform for the day. Top Nollywood stars and high profile political personalities are expected to grace the occasion.

Tanker driver arrested for defiling 2-yr-old girl

CALABAR — A 41-year-old tanker driver identified as Bashiru has been arrested in Calabar for allegedly defiling a two-year-old girl  and infecting her with a sexually transmitted disease.
The incident happened in Okom Ita, Akamkpa Local Government Area, Cross River State, when the two-year old girl  (name withehld)  strolled from her mother’s room  into  Bashiru’s apartment to play with the man she calls “uncle.”
Margaret, the toddler’s mother who narrated the incident to Vanguard said she did  not stop her daughter from going into Bashiru’s room because she considered him a neighbour  who could not harm her daughter.
She said: “We have been living together for some time and now, so when my daughter went into his room I did not stop her even when she later  came out and complained that she was having pains in her private part. I thought it was ordinary pain until in the evening when I wanted to bath her and she began to cry when soap touched her private part.”
Margaret said when she reported the incident to the police, Basiru  was arrested  and taken to the Akamkpa police station .
Mr Hogan Bassey, the Cross River State Police Command spokesman confirmed the arrest of the man and said the matter was under investigation.

The Nurse Who Loved Me A Short Story By Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo

After years of pursuing men, you believed in a man being dropped right into your arms. It was the Almighty’s purpose for you. And that was how you met him. It validated your belief. It hardened your heart to everything else anyone was saying, including Ihuoma, your girlfriend. From then on, everything else was undue mocking of tired people. And coming from Ihuoma, who had not fared any better in the hands of men, you had no problem waving it aside. You had no fear that, like she said, you might be cracking a kernel for a fowl.

You were a nurse, a degree holding Registered nurse. You never forgot that you ought to be rich. You worked round the clock. Every shift American nurses would not do, you would accept. Holidays and all, you were available. In fact, you love the holidays because you get paid double the time. And at sixty dollars an hour, a double meant more than a new hairstyle. It meant a day at the spas, a visit to Bloomingdale's and another bottle of Agent Provocateur.

You drove a big BMW, SUV model. Most men who had the opportunity to get near you were intimidated by your confidence and poise. Those who were not, who dared to approach you with brilliant pick up lines, you had doubts about their sincerity. You could not figure out if they were coming to you because of your hard earned money or to take advantage of the residency status which you had earned as a nurse.

It wasn’t long ago when he told you that you belonged to him. You assumed that it meant that he belonged to you.  You were an African, but you now live in America. You cook with the microwave and you bathe inside the bathtub. You fetch no firewood and you draw no well water. You eat hamburger and not foofoo. You wear jeans and not buba. No proverbs were created around computers, ipods and GPS systems. So you accepted that it meant that all proverbs were suspended. You had crossed seven seas and seven rivers. You had left behind the seven idioms of the seven shrines of your homeland. You were now in the land of the free and the home of the brave. All old things have passed away.

So you allowed him to etch a tattoo down your waistline. He tattooed you that first night he made love to you. You let him draw a big stop sign. He painted it red, too. When you wore a tank top, the red sign showed at your waistline. Your panties often split the sign into two. Further down, he wrote a special note. He ended it with an exclamation mark. His note says: Private property – do not trespass. Scorpions on guard, ready to sting objects as little as index fingers - men beware! Then you lay there for three hours as he drew a scorpion. You did not mind as he scraped off some pubic hair to find space for its tail.

He asked you to tattoo him too. But you were no tattoo artist. You were just a nurse. You told him not to worry. You did not need to draw your face around his penis to be assured of his faithfulness. When he asked you what you would have drawn if you had wanted, you lied to him. You did not tell him you would have drawn a long stem of rose. Instead, you said to him, “I would have drawn a gun and simply written beside it, in capital letters, BANG.” You knew you were lying. But lying had become part of your life. Your true self had not taken you anywhere.

You were not always like this. In fact, when you came to America, you carried with you, like a little shell, all the norms you learnt at home. You dared not look a man deep in the eyes. Your Mama taught you to carry yourself with grace. Growing up in Enugu, you were able to resist the pressures of your peers. You still hear your mother’s voice. “Uzo, don’t be like those loose girls who are spoilt and are not good for marriage.” But her voice became faint as each day passed. You had managed to confine her voice to a small cubicle where you place things of the past.

If only Mama could see you, she would not believe what you had become. You had become a grown up woman. A woman, ten times the woman she was. You knew what you wanted and how to get it. You did things that she could not imagine in this life and maybe, in the life to come. Somehow, you had learnt to please yourself. Sometimes you worry that you might be in a rush to recover the years you spent trying to please Mama. You do not regret those years. Without the restrictions, you probably would not have won the scholarship that brought you to America. But you were happy to throw away all inhibitions of the past.

He was the one who opened your eyes. He was the one who led you to places you did not know existed. In moments of bliss, you did not fail to remind him that he spoilt you. You liked to be spoilt. You liked to be pampered. You liked to be worshipped. You liked your man to think of nothing else but you. And you have succeeded with him. Like a tortoise, you had made him desire you. He desired you so much that he had agreed to lift the earth onto your head. Your only challenge was finding a place for him to stand as he did that.

You were not just a taker, you were also a giver. And that was how you met him. You were doing a graveyard shift at the trauma center of Union Hospital in Lynn, Massachusetts, when he was rushed into the hospital by paramedics. He had been shot by a Latino gang member right inside his barbershop/tattoo parlor. You were assigned to him after surgery to remove a bullet lodged in his thigh. A foot higher, the bullet would have shattered his manhood. When he came out of surgery, it was the first thing he said to you. And you laughed.

You cared for him that night. You cared for him as if he was your brother. You continued to care for him in days that followed. He had nobody around. His two brothers and sister all lived in London. You knew this because you were the one who bought the phone card and dialed the numbers for him as he informed them of his ordeal. They called. They sent him flowers. But they were too busy to fly to America. His parents in Nigeria were too busy with local politics to come, either. His friends came when time permitted. But you were the one who was always there.

When he was discharged, you continued to visit him at home. You cooked and baked. You made meals, soups, and porridge. You helped him clean his house. You dressed his wound. You even helped him run his barbershop before he finally sold it. The gun shot he said was just a warning. But for you, it was a sign you had wanted to see for so long. At first you did not know why you were doing those things. But you were sure they were the right things to do.

It had been a long time since you last did something because it was right. You had learned that, in America, because it was right wasn’t a good reason to do anything. In America, experience had shown you, people did things mainly because it felt good. You had paid a heavy price before you learnt this. The scars on your soul, the patches on your emotion and the wrinkles in your smiles were constant reminders.

Caring for him felt good. Considering where you came from, what you had been through, it did not make sense. But deep inside your heart, it felt good. That was how it started. That was from where it blossomed into a love affair.

***

Everything was going well until his mother came to visit. It was his mother who unmasked you. It was his mother who told him who you really were, that poor wawa girl whose mother sold bean balls, akara, in front of Chief Obiozo’s house. Yes, it was you.

His father and Chief Obiozo were friends. And so it was that he was a friend of Chief Obiozo’s children. He did visit Chief Obiozo’s house many times. You were a secondary school student then, some seventeen years ago, and so was he. You admired him. From the boy’s quarters where you and your mother lived, you saw him drive in several times with Obiozo’s children. You were jealous when you saw beautiful girls in his arms. You wished you were one of those girls.

When they threw parties, you peeped through your little window and wondered how great their lives were. But you remembered what Mama told you, that you were given a different destiny - whatever that meant. You knew that your place was lower than his, even though you were in the same class, but different schools. He was attending the elite College of Immaculate Conception, Enugu, while you were at the lowly Idaw River Girls Secondary School off Agbani Road, also in Enugu. In spite of your different stations in life, you knew about boundless goodness that surpassed all imaginations.  You knew this because your father, a driver for Chief Obiozo, died during the Biafran war. He was Chief Obiozo’s aide de camp. You were told he gave his life for Chief Obiozo to live. Faced with a bleak future, Chief Obiozo took you and your Mama into his house. He contributed to your education and you were almost like his daughter.

Almost you would say, because you were not part of Chief Obiozo’s children’s parties. You were not friends with their friends. If you were, you would have been in his life before now.

And when Chief Obiozo was not at home, you were more of his children’s servant than their friend. You remembered one night, during one of the wild parties Chief Obiozo’s children threw, when Kenny, Obiozo’s first child, called you in to perform a chore. You could not remember what the chore was. But you remembered going into the kids’ wing of the big house and seeing a living room full of beer bottles and cigarette butts. Half –naked girls were lying on the carpet. You remembered seeing him there. You remembered him because he came to your rescue when one of Obiozo’s children grabbed you and started fondling your breasts. You did not like what he said that night. You did not forget it, either. But you were still grateful that he rescued you. In fact, you have rationalized what he said so much that you have convinced yourself that he only said it to protect you.

“Leave that ngbeke alone,” he said. It had the same effect on you then that “leave that nigger alone” would have had on you today. Only that now, you knew you would be grateful to a white man if he said that and saved you from possible rape in the hands of another white man. That was how you rationalized it and compartmentalized it. You have packaged it and keep it where you keep things of the past.

And then, his mother came and revealed them all.

You were kind to his mother, too. When she came, you took time off work. You drove her around and showed her places. You shopped for her. You bought her expensive jewelry and clothes. You took her to every mall and every outlet in New England. She only needed to look at an item twice before you picked it up for her. You took her to the museum. You took her to Faneuil Hall and New England Aquarium. At Boston Wang Theatre, you saw the Broadway show, Les Miserable. You rode on the Boston Duck Tour. You saw her laugh as the duck became a boat in the river and a bus on land. She marveled at that. She called it American wonder. You were glad she liked it because she did not like Salem, the Witch city. You gave her a good time.

You thought things went well. When she was leaving, you gave her money, too. You were not trying to bribe her. You were not even acknowledging that the path to a man’s surname often started with the approval of his mother. You were doing it because, on so many levels, it felt right.

She seemed grateful of all you did for her. After each outing, she gave you a little more crayfish. Then she gave yougarri. By the time she gave you ogiri, you were sure you firmly had her in your camp. Not that it was your goal all the while. As you accompanied him to the airport to drop her off, she surprised you when she gave you some yards of lace and material for a wrapper. Even though it was the cheap aba na anya material, you were very grateful. As you hugged her for the last time, you called her Mama. It wasn’t the first time you called her Mama, but this time, it came out deeper.

***

By the time his mother visited, you had known him for over two years. You had seen him grow from nigger-wanna-be to a well balanced black man. It started with the gun shot wound but you had a lot to do with the final outcome. When he had the Barbershop, he also drove a cab. The two occupations placed him in direct contact with the most violent people in the society. You helped him in his transition. You bought him equipment he needed to become a DJ. It was what he wanted. He did that for a little while but business was not booming. He abandoned it.

You encouraged him to go into nursing. He resisted many times. He was afraid of math. He hated biology. You made him take the North Shore Community College LPN entrance examination. He failed. Thrice. He gave up.

He said he wanted to be a computer network administrator. You paid five thousand dollars for him to attend a training institute. He completed his courses. He studied hard and obtained his A+ certification. By the time he was all done, the computer boom had fizzled out. Those who were surviving were those who got in not for the money but for the love of computers. He got in for the money and when the money was not coming, he put away his chips.

Finally, he settled into real estate. He became a realtor. He wore suit and tie, expensive shoes and went about asking people to buy houses. He was good at it. He had sweet mouth. And it helped that he was handsome. It made wives to encourage their husbands to listen. Many listened. He made many sells. You agreed with him that he had found his calling.

But then, all his friends and acquaintances who had good credit and could afford the down payments all bought houses. His options began to narrow. You helped him buy two houses. It was a small business of renting for him. A cushion. You also helped him start a staff recruiting agency that sent nurses and direct support staff to nursing homes and group homes. For a long while, you and your nurse friends were his core base of nurses.

As you helped move him towards more stable and responsible career choices, you also noticed his stabilization. It was gradual. He reduced the number of days he went to the gym and began to see himself beyond the puffiness of his muscles. You could see the changes from the nature of the hair cuts he was getting. You could also see it from the size of the pants he wore. As he slid from the hardcore hip hop worldview to a middle class black outlook, the size of his pants reduced. His pants also climbed up his butt. You were glad that your man was coming home. You were hopeful that he was settling.

***

But as soon as his mother left, you noticed a change in him. He wasn’t as open as he used to be. You asked him once what was the problem and he said he was being pressured by his mother to get married. You tried to console him. You tried to tell him all parents were designed to think like that. You tried to tell him that your mother had also been pushing you in the same direction.
You did not tell him, Hello? What’s the problem? You did not say I’m here! No. You encouraged him to listen to his mother and yet to make his own decision.

When he suddenly announced that he was going home and would stay for two months, you did not have any worries. After all, it had been a long time since he was home. You volunteered to help him run his businesses, but he refused. That surprised you because you had been helping him in the past. But you did not read too much into it. Not even when his agency stopped calling you for work. You did not care because you were never short of hours.

He went to Nigeria and called you once. You did not hear from him again. One month. Two months. Three months. You were worried. You sent him an email and he did not respond. You visited his house and there was no sign that he had come back. You visited his staffing agency office. It had been closed. You made enquiries. You spoke to his friends but nobody seemed to know anything.

Even though you missed him so much, you gave him his space. It was very painful as your birthday came. Last year, you traveled with him to Disney World. It was there that you marked your thirty-fourth birthday and he celebrated his thirty-sixth, which was two months after yours. You missed him but you also knew in your heart that he was God’s gift to you.  Agaracha, wanderer, you told yourself, must come back.

Then four months after he went away, during your birthday party, someone gave you a strange gift. It was an envelope with a business card inside. You looked at the business card and it was his. It showed his name, his new address and phone number in Worcester. A note on the back of the card said he had returned from Nigeria with a nineteen year old wife and they both live in Worcester.

You stormed out of your own party like buttocks stung by a vicious ant. You entered your car and drove to Worcester. You could not recall stopping at any traffic light. You could not remember paying for toll at Tobin Bridge. The last time you were in Worcester, you had come with him to attend a pre-wedding party of a Kenyan friend at Lucky Dog nightclub.

You got to the address and saw his Mercedes car parked in the drive way – a car you made the down payment for. You sat outside his house and watched, while your blood boiled inside. From the window you could see two figures moving around the house. You called the home number on the card. You saw him walk towards what must be the phone. He paused at what must be the phone’s caller ID. He did not pick the phone. You waited for two minutes. You called his new cell phone number. He did not pick up the phone.

You sat in the car for a long time with your eyes focused on the house. As tears began to build up, you saw the two figures inside what looked like the living room area. He held her hand and they began to dance. The scene sent goose pimples across your skin. You called again, this time dialing * 87 first to conceal your phone number. He walked toward the phone but did not pick it up. You saw them swinging into what looked like the bedroom.

You wished you could be invisible. You wished your phone was a gun. You wished you had enough gas to pour round the house and set it ablaze. You wished you could invoke the tornado of 1952 on the house. You wetted your fingers with your saliva and rubbed your eyes. You were not dreaming. You called again. This time, the male figure did not walk toward the phone. He switched off the light as the two figures gently landed on what must be the bed. You knew exactly what would follow. You have been there.

You started your car and drove away as erratic as a sliced worm, wondering amongst other things if he had given her a tattoo too. And if so, what her tattoo might say; Scumbag?

As you drove home, tears trickled down your eyes. Every mile away from Worcester, it seven steep hills fading behind, you imagined the undertakers preparing your first love for burial. This is one funeral you will not attend. You had waited for eternity for those tears to flow. Now you feared it would flood Lake Quinsigamond. But weeping was all your soul needed to be free.

At Tobin Bridge, across the Mystic River of Massachusetts, the spirits of those who could not bear loads like this besieged you. They said, “Stop the car. Climb out. Take a jump off the bridge. Immerse your tired body into this cold water. It will cool your soul.” There were many voices. They were loud, cluttered and making eerie noise across the cantilever truss. You heard a voice like that of Charles Stuart. His murdered pregnant wife sobbed in the background. You heard a splash as his body made the 115 ft plunge into the river, causing receding ripples just as Boston police circled his home.

You slowed down your car. You pulled up by the emergency lane. You clicked the door open with your tear-soaked hands. The night was chilly. You looked out and saw darkness as creepy as a monster’s claws. Suddenly, the voices stopped shouting and began to whisper in seductive tones. You put your foot out and it felt unsteady touching the frozen bridge.

From afar, you heard police sirens singing a dirge. They were coming toward you. They were driving up fast. You ducked into the car like a scared snail burying its head in the shell.  You started the car and drove off in panic. The voices jumped into the car with you and began to call you a coward. You assured them you were not a coward.  You debated with them. They insulted you. You continued to drive, fidgeting and frightened. You turned on the radio to interrupt the voices. On the radio, the alternative rock band, Failure came on. They were singing, “The Nurse Who Loved Me.”

“Say hello to everything you've left behind
It's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it
I'm taking her home with me, all dressed in white
She's got everything I need; some pills in a little cup
She's fallen hard for me; I can see it in her eyes…”

Those were the last words you heard before you smashed into a pavement few yards off the bridge.

Prison Break Actor Wentworth Miller Revealed He’s Gay

Wentworth Miller (Chelsea Lauren)

Wentworth Miller is not staying silent.
The "Prison Break" star, 41, has revealed that he's gay as an indirect response to Russia's anti-gay laws.
Russia passed a law last month that prohibits the public discussion of gay rights and relationships anywhere where children can hear it. In June, the country adopted a law that bars the adoption of Russian children by same-sex couples and couples who reside in a country that has LGBT acceptance policies.
When Miller was invited to be guest of honor at the upcoming St. Petersburg International Film Festival, he wrote a letter, which was posted on the GLAAD website, explaining exactly why he wouldn't attend.
"Thank you for your kind invitation," he began his letter to the festival's director, Maria Averbakh. "As someone who has enjoyed visiting Russia in the past and can also claim a degree of Russian ancestry, it would make me happy to say yes. However, as a gay man, I must decline.
"I am deeply troubled by the current attitude toward and treatment of gay men and women by the Russian government," he continued. "The situation is in no way acceptable, and I cannot in good conscience participate in a celebratory occasion hosted by a country where people like myself are being systematically denied their basic right to live and love openly. Perhaps, when and if circumstances improve, I'll be free to make a different choice."
Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Miley Cyrus, and other big names in Hollywood have long championed LGBT rights stateside. Do you think they'll continue to travel to the country to promote their projects?