Life, Logic, Fairness and being Screwed!

July 10, 2009 at 9:01 pm | Posted in bong, How To, King markiV returns, life | 8 Comments
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Before we even get started with the eulogies, let me make it clear- this is not a random rant about life and how or why my girl friend broke up with me. Nor is it about my laptop raising its body temperature to egg-boiling levels before promptly shutting off every five minutes, before I can get the eggs out of the refrigerator. Better yet, this is not the teary outburst of approximately half a year of coma. No. Though that should come about later… This, like all my other philosophical posts, is about philosophy. Let me go a step forward on that- this is the anti-philosophy of all philosophy. In the next few lines lies the absolute objective universal truth of all existence. Of God, the supernatural, luck, and everything else that we wake up praying to and go to bed cursing. Here lies Life!

But first, if you haven’t noticed, my blogging frequency at least to the untrained eye has moderately  reduced. Im not sorry… Of course that in no way implies that I did not have anything awesome to talk about- just that I forgot what.

Those that know me, occasionally, tend to think I am too much of an egoist. I do not openly disagree. Interestingly though, the past few years have given me significant chances to rework in that area. Not that I no longer hold my shield of ego within… But I have gained the ability to look at my ego as an independent entity that can make its decisions and often times take care of itself, maximizing its economic needs within the constructs of bounded rationality. Over the half a decade since I left high school my ego has been thwarted, squashed, thrown around, belittled, mocked, trodden upon, chewed, torn, slammed against the wall, politely been refused entry into discos and then some more… Of course there have been times when it has been hailed by the crowds, lifted high up in the air, admired and awarded. In most cases I try to be the true companion, motivating and cajoling over a drink when it is hurt and celebrating with a drink when it wins.

The point of argument and/ or debate is not whether such an ego is deserving. Comments in that angle that does not make the former happy will be truly moderated and such commenter, spammed.

It is just that you cannot much point fingers at that. Philosophy tells me Life has been here far longer than me and therefore is the bigger of the two. I do agree in all my humility. Where I come from the older are taught to be nicer to the younger- to give in to their whims and fancies. In which case Life here has just played the part of an adamant old oaf… An egomaniac. And such is the examples our elders are leaving behind!

They tell me life is a teacher and I must learn from the lessons taught. Well, the teachers in school probably did not have as much to say as the old guy, but at least they told us the chapters we would be tested in…  Moreover life isn’t exactly Wikipedia that I run to for a reference.

And then they tell me life is a bitch. I try not to even get imagining life as a women, probably a few hundred centuries old, wrinkled skin, evil laugh, black lipstick and tight red skirts. Yeeckk! Some bitch!

I’ve heard people say Life is a game. A game with infinite players, playing by their own rules and with no definite win, end or score. A game that does not have a season or even come with beer. I digress!

The worst I hear is when someone tells me “That’s Life”. It’s one of the few things that make me want to go up and punch them right on their nose. “No, THAT’s life”! It doesn’t even make sense- if what just happened WAS that famous Life, then people that have been looking for it all these years would have had no chance of knowing it because it just happened. Worse still, the rest of the planet and all those yet to be born are now tumbling down a definitely meaningless existence hence forth. Life has already happened. Moreover, if the person did truly believe he just found the Life that humans have been looking for (and my ex-girl friend asked me to get), shouldn’t the observer be far more excited at the discovery? And finally, even if that were indeed Life, by merely noticing it the other guy assumes himself smarter than Socrates, Pliny, Aristotle, Einstein and Steve Jobs. Which is just about arrogant because that’s me!

The point is, through the years I have heard a million odd proverbs and analogies to Life that just does not seem to conform neatly into what has become. For now, let us assume that there is a purpose to our existence. To be fair then, we must assume such a purpose exists for all of us. If we were to then build on chaos theory, then the actions of even a single person out of this purpose would break the entire equilibrium away, implying that randomness cannot be factored into existence at all. We are therefore led to believe in fate and destiny. Obviously then the concept of free will becomes irrelevant. Therefore the entire charade called life that most of us go through is part of an elaborate play written, directed and screened by God.

If that were true, then why would the nice God that created me put me through anything but a life of chocolate ice creams, booze and women dying to steal at least a glance from me? Why would he create a world where I would have to live in almost-no-internet conditions, do my own laundry, cook my own food and drink instant coffee?

As a preliminary answer, let us begin by assuming monotheism- a concept almost all major religions seem to concur about. If this God that staged these plays were the only God, he would then have to be the only audience as well. And so, just to make it a bit more interesting, twists and turns and counter plots and irreverential loops must be put in. And factor in a lot of stupidity. And more loops. A fair, balanced life just doesn’t make an interesting episode!

Either that or there really isn’t a God and these are just randomly permuted events, and humans have evolved as logical creatures out of pure chance, thereby breaking the anti-logic that created them in the first place. No fair!

And so I bring to you, after a six month sabbatical’s worth of thought- Nothing.

The Evil 25…

February 13, 2009 at 12:29 pm | Posted in bong, King markiV returns, life | 10 Comments
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So, yeah… I got tagged… Quite obviously, since my blogging frequency has come down to one a year, and considering I lost that two followers I had the day I started including rationale in my writes, it makes sense not to expect too much of a push from my fellow bloggers. Shame on you!

Well, this time, its a tag from Facebook, thanks to Giri. And the tag rules are almost too simple to not seem stupid. Except that they are…

25 Things about me! 

Oh, yes- I got a smart one… Let me use “Me” in third person. Like “Me” is an interesting creature, originally from the tropical rain forests of Beasant Nagar, and violently transplanted to the Just-As-Bad-If-Not-Worse jungles of AmrieKa.

OK. Stop. If you found this line of thought funny, I seriously suggest you mine Orkut profiles of high-school kids for soul-revealing humour. 

OK, that said Im going to answer this one in all honesty. And truth. And honor. As usual.

1. Im a genius. My third standard teacher told me that in the year 1992 (approx. when I was in third grade). And I’ve believed her word ever since. I don’t keep contact with her though, in the fear she might have sobered up by now!

2. I don’t like people. As in, not your ideal socio-path types, but I just generally look at fellow mortals as moving blobs of ideas, logic, a bit of knowledge, sufficient alcohol, spare change and bubble gum. Funnily enough, most of my social circles and the discussions thereof circle around why social circles and the discussions thereof are so pointless.

3. I detest movies. This is probably an extension of rule 2, but Im not really your theatre kind of person. You’d have to drag me by my big toe to get me go to the movies. I think its just the effort involved- youtube seems good enough!

4. I don’t care. And this one statement probably wouldn’t be shattering that thin fabric of crap-paper you call your heart if you ever knew me, and wouldn’t matter if you did not, but I just don’t. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I couldn’t care less to offer an explanation.

5. I am NOT lazy. I don’t exactly come across as the honey-let-me-do-the-dishes-and-the-laundry-while-you-work-your-appetite-to-eat-the-dinner-i-cooked person. But that is closer to “stupid” than “hard-working”. Most often I expect to be the person at the receiving end of this conversation. But that again is “Wishful Thinking”, not “Lazy”.

6. I have a moderately inflated ego. Just a bit. But well, Im a genius and I know it- what do you expect.

7. I get bored. Pretty easy. With stuff, work, humans… I think it is a creativity thing. Or, a real mental disorder. Either way, its at least fun!

8. I am not extremely religious. But my religion lets me do that!

9. I love exaggerating about the poverty levels in India and watch firangs’ eyes go all crazy. Like the other day I was telling one of my lab mates how the government rounds up all the poor people in slums in India and neuters them so we don’t have any poor people in the next generation. Got one of those priceless expressions!

10. I hate it when people assume I must know EVERYTHING about computers, programming, mobile devices, space shuttles and alternate fuel technologies, just because I got my bachelors in IT. Or even when they assume I must know anything about it at all. Haven’t you even HEARD of Charulatha Publications?

11. I have a very powerful faculty of reason. I can reason myself into doing anything stupid.

12. I love my temper. But who doesn’t, right? Except that I have spent years with the great Shaolin Monks, mastering my emotions, that now when I try to get angry I end up being more laughable than scary- the MoJo JoJo types. 

13. I think. A lot. 

14. I love hearing about me. Not from the ego-inflating part- Its fun to hear your juniors and those that just weren’t there “spice up” a bit of nothingness just to make their story look good and end up giving you a surreal larger-than-life legendary image, just because you were unfortunate enough to have been in the scene.

Note to my PSBB punch-makers: I did not beat him up in school. I hardly even pushed him. And I definitely did not run around the block twice chasing him and his hoodlums down with my gang. One- he did not have a hoodlum. Two- I did not have a gang. And Three- You cannot run around the block- there was a wall blocking a full round, remember?

15. I have an interesting mood pattern. Happy->Unproductive->Bored->Depressed->Productive->Happy. Repeatable.

16. I hate it when people take arguments personally. And I hate it to have to break down my logic more than once. Even if it makes me sound profound.

17. I don’t care about music. In fact, up until pretty recently, Id get a headache if there was music running in the car. I have an IPod I barely use, and a big sound system with sub woofers and all that that just lie around to remind me of my humble beginnings in technology. Im n0t giving them away.

18. I love my decision making/ taking capabilities. Instincts, Logic, Coin flip and Google. Not necessarily in that order though. “I-Wonder-What-This-Button-Does” kinds.

19. Im a scorpio. I love that sign and all but I hate all these astro-guys for their claims. What, are all scorpios supposed to be the same? Then what makes us any special? Except for Sagittarious though. Im glad I wasn’t born in that pig sty planet!

20. I ve never been too enthu about sports. Thats just a nice way of saying someday, I will rise to become the evil overlord of the world and will ban the Cricket, hang Arvind and Karthik* upside down in the Kilpauk stadium and have every former cricket player whack his rear end with the bat! And then burn them. The bats, I mean. For now.

(*Mottai maadi cricket champions circa 93-94, merely because they were each 6 years older than us, did all the batting, and made us “next gen” kids run down 4 stories to pick up the ball while they celebrated the glory of their unfocussed, badly aimed sixes from our 15X10 feet terrace!)

21. I kind of like history. From an anthropology angle. I hate geography. We had a history-geography split up in high school social stdies, with 60 for history and 30 for geography and 10% for civics and economics. Id get a nice 50 odd in history. My high school social never crossed the 65 barrier. Go figure!

22. I have an awesome memory for important facts. This does not include dates, numbers, names, faces, appointments, promises and the likes. 

23. I think I experiment a lot. Some people call it “fooling around”, but yeah- that’s just them!

24. Im a fast person. I need to get things done when I feel the heat. Right here. Right now. The ideal gestation period of my idea is between two hours and a week.

25. I blog. Markiv is the inverse of the name my parents gave me, in case you still haven’t figured it out. I know it isn’t the most creative, but I love my name. Especially when the firangs pronounce it like “Wee-Kh-Wom”. I don’t like it when the use the “Wee-Kkum” version. That’s a whole 60% reduction from the original.

All Hail Pee Eich Dee…

January 30, 2009 at 2:05 pm | Posted in bong, King markiV returns, life, work | 6 Comments
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Times’ been slow
Since I got my feet
Off fair grounds
And in, this deep
Leaving home
To get all wise
And before the year
Broken thrice
Crapped and pooped
In search of light
Stupidest decision
In hindsight
In comes the experienced
With wisdom, sound
Of years, stuck
Of being around
“But that’s the way
Its done, you see…
That’s the way
Of Pee Eich Dee..”

Smarten Idea-
More Ex, More Y
I need more Data
“Sir, one more try?”
A beta here,
And a gamma there
Differentiate alpha
And throw a square
But that’s just the beginning
Of this tale of woe
Partial it out
With the vector’s Doe
Wake up in the morning
And get all dressed
Then tear it out
“It won’t regress”
So the cubicle’s set
On the chair all perched
Google, Orkut, Facebook
In the name of research
Then there’s the break
As humans deserve
When you get all guilty
Try to graph that curve
“Its not linear, sir-
Its just not flat,
I can’t adjust that R-Square
Or derive Y-Hat”
Can’t question the process
Can’t scream “Why Me?”
Apparently that’s just
The Pee Eich Dee!

The day wears on,
To the break of lunch
Get off my comp
Break off that hunch
The fridge is empty
So eat out once more
Like we did yesterday
And the day before
What will it be?
We could have Chinese…
Tasteless rice
“More Tofu, please?”
Or we could go dashing
For veggies in bread
And try to remember
Those days, well fed
And there goes the billing
All my savings, spent
Seven wholesome dollars
And twenty one cents
Oh, did you expect
They’d give it off, free?
Just ‘cos I’m a poor victim
Of Pee Eich Dee?

So that all done,
Its time to rest
Admist five journals
And two more tests
That paper isn’t reviewed
And Mr.Lagrange can’t wait
But that FB game
Is too good a bait
Until you realize
Your work’s out of scope
And diversions keep pushing you
On the slippery slope
Deadlines to meet,
Motivated by fear
Wake up, realize
You’ve got five years…
Frequently questioning
The purpose of life
A longing glance
At that elusive knife
And to the end you think
What is it worth?
When all but boredom
You’re in forever, dearth…
A doctor before
And nothing much after
And you get down thinking
Does a name really matter?
Its all transient
But I’m going to flee
Adieu to you
Hail, Pee Eich Dee….

Death of Paranoia

November 24, 2008 at 1:50 pm | Posted in bong, life | Leave a comment
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The darkness is closing in. I can feel it. Today must be the day… I have been waiting for this moment for days now… Years… Scared, careful, nervous… I run down the silent lanes, trying to hide between the shadows. Why did I ever leave the crowds? Surely that would have been safer.

I turn around now, hoping to see him. I have never had much of a glance, but I know he is in there. I can feel him eyeing me, always ready to pounce on a moment of weakness. I must know. After all, I have known this dread since I was ten. Perhaps earlier, but I couldn’t remember.

Yes. Between talking to friends in the group, while walking back home, on the drive. I have felt him all the time… It has struck me at times that the imposter could perhaps be disguised as a true friend in the group. One could never be as careful. Groping around in the dark, searching for that tinge of vested interest. For in the dynamics of the world today, one can be destroyed in ways far more devastating than the bullet.

I am sure I have heard his footsteps following me. A talented agent, he sure is, but even the smartest make mistakes. Yet his greatness is in covering his steps just as quickly, ever ready to be driven back to alertness. And one must give some leeway for the patience through over two decades… Like a shadow… A masked terror of death that I still cannot but awe…

My pace gets quicker. I can feel his breath on my side. I have tried confiding the truth to apparent friends in moments of drunken trust. I have been certified paranoid, to the extent of doubting my own sanity. But it is only the truth.

I can trust no one. Not the silence of darkness, nor the crowds of murderers. I can sense the plan in motion. Time is closing in. The predator is tired of the wait. I must start running again. And this time, only faster…

The pain of the bullet is now sinking in. Suddenly I feel no more pain. I smile at my genius flip over the enemy’s guard. Unexpected, I tell myself. The feeling of cold steel burning in my flesh. I drop the knife from my hand. I have beat him at last. I have made his years of chase futile.

I stop. There is no one following me. The world is not out to get me. The crowds are running, late to work. No one seems to care for that bleeding victim. No time for another lunatic. I see the crowds, still about in a blur of red and black.

Perhaps I was truly paranoid all my life. Perhaps there was no one to begin with. Perhaps the enemy never felt me that important.

Insulted and unimportant the corpse falls into the dark lonely side street. A mere corpse.

WhatSnot and What’s Not…

February 25, 2008 at 6:16 am | Posted in bong, life | 11 Comments
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As you might have realized, the topic of discussion here now is probably one of the most misunderstood and insulted… umm… parts of the human body.

I wonder why Snot became such a disgusting subject. It displays quite unpredictable characteristics. It is sometimes rock solid, sometimes flowy liquid, and most often sticky semi-solid. Yet it has called for theoretical analysis in neither physics nor chemistry. It is the most easily replaceable thing, and still does not see such active exchange. Why, the Eskimos must be wondering why their tropical cousins prefer hands in greetings!

Its not like snot doesn’t bring its share of benefits either. Riding through the fish market? Mucus to the rescue. Just permit a sufficient layering and lo and behold! Good air without the smell of rotting fish filling your lungs. In fact, I doubt why gas masks use charcoal instead. I must write to the defense research wing…

Everybody is OK with mucus. Mucus is OK when it is buried deep inside the lungs. It is even ok when it is chemically prepared and poured on the face as face packs. It is ok if it is aloe vera and collagen. And it is seen as a delicacy when it comes out of ladies fingers. But it becomes all ungraceful and disgusting coming out of a fellow human being. Double standards!

Call it different names. Call it mucus as it slides through deeper than your fingers can ever pick. Call it phlegm as it gets packed around viruses and couriered though the mouth. Call it snot as you roll it into a ball and fling it into the universe. Mooku-sheli, Snot, Phlegm, Mucus, CPI(M). Just different names to the same thing!

I, like most fellow skeptics, believed snot was just a disgusting annoyance with no good to mankind. Especially against the savage parameters set by the womankind… I, my friends, due to reasons I am ashamed of to this very moment, did not have the opportunity to contract the half-yearly weather changing ritual of the flu. That is, until recently. With sufficient changes in temperature and a few additional nice habits that I picked up along the way, I have now become the week-long holiday resort for anything that spells Common Cold. And never enjoyed any ill better!

The biggest problem most people quote is a runny nose. Raised in a family of weather-change-indicators and close friends who generously acted as every virus’s PTC, I soon gained the sage knowledge that would change my life, and perhaps millions more, for centuries to come. A few patient minutes of pushing your nose up the AC vent and you could set the mix to a favorable state. I further learnt to resist all temptation to remove the mass and leave room for more freshly manufactured fluidity. Meetings with colleagues who think Rexona is a shoe company? No problem, if you got Super-mix smell filters!

Another issue people superficially claim is The Sneeze. I know all you guys out there cringe your nose as you read this. But you might just accept it. Everybody loves a sneeze… As long as it’s them throwing the spew out! That feeling as you concentrate all your thoughts onto your nose. That high you hit as you get that out in a rage that even surprises you? Orgasmic!

Headaches are a different story. There really is no nice way to explain this, but with all those good things it brings in, it should have some evil as well, right? After all, it’s a disease! But one little work around I came up with is a pretty game that makes you enjoy what you can. Just give your head a little shake. Just enough to agitate that bubble you feel floating on your head. A tilt to the right, and now to the left… Keep dipping deeper and deeper, and faster and faster, until you can hit your shoulders with either ear and feel neither. Now maintain this pace until you feel that bubble expand onto your entire head, and then evolve to conquer the upper body. You’d be off to sleep before you even hit the bed. You don’t need alcohol tonight. Rubbing alcohol, perhaps, with all that tilting, but definitely not alcohol!

And cough is the most humane way to end this joy trip. Didn’t someone once say true joy is in sharing joy?!

Before I close let me roll out a list of advantages that this magical creation can be used as…

  1. Smell- Filter
  2. Nasal-hair gel
  3. Emergency glue
  4. Interesting plaything
  5. Effective skin moisturizer
  6. Salty food substitute
  7. Nose-based whistle enabler
  8. Dumb girl turn-off-er
  9. Clay/ Silly Putty
  10. Excuse to bunk!

PS: Writing under influence is a lot better than writing as you wrestle body fluids (read snot) away from the keyboard!

No More Mushy Business

February 19, 2008 at 3:16 pm | Posted in bong, King markiV returns, life | 7 Comments
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No, this is not another post on love. In fact, this is just the opposite. Mushraff is out! And finally, you might say. But to non-skeptics like me, this is the end of a beautiful era. An era of unprecedented (presidented?) comedy and almost a daily dosage of fun… Especially over the past year and how!

In fact, given past data, I had almost typed a post out ready on how our old general would pull a rig here and one there and continue his rein until he died of Tuberculosis, assassination or public hanging as is the custom in the Pure Land. But to rewrite history? And how!

Apparently, following a few million miles behind anything significant, PML said it would be willing to join a ‘coalition’. With the victors who’s prime purpose in life has been to reinstate ‘democracy’ in Pakistan. I love politics.

“Obviously, the nation has spoken through the ballot. We couldn’t convince them. They have rejected our policies and we have accepted their verdict,” PML’s Tariq Azim Khan told Reuters. “For the best interest of the country, we’re willing to cooperate and work with anybody.” [Source]

Hasn’t the country been screaming this view for close to half a decade now? Some people will always need statistics to back their every breath.

According to some quick surveys, the reasons for PML’s defeat was Mushy’s unpopularity, inflation, food shortages and power cuts. I cannot believe someone would actually hate such a funny guy, but then, people have always been unreasonable. And if I were there I’d be happy that there’s inflation. At least that stands as proof of an economy to have existed in the first place! But power cuts? Are you kidding me? They got electricity already?

But jokes apart, I think this is truly a turning point in history. If the husband Bhutto ends up winning, I could even go as far as to include him in my conspiracy theory! Mushy, although mixed with a great deal of humor and temper bouts, has been quite a change in a nation where school level science has lessons such as ‘making gun-powder and IEDs from house hold gadgets’ and ‘how to kill a Hindu in three steps’. His pinnacle to world peace must have probably been the extermination of every fifth guy walking on the street wearing a black t-shirt. Lesser humans, lesser wars, right! [Not Bull shit]

The turnout was close to 35%, with only 20% rigged votes. Ingeniously, since most riggers were citizens themselves, there was a record count of 15% valid votes- another first in the state!

A bit of confusion over the 70 seats reserved for women and religious minorities. According to Congress wouldn’t the entire population there be minority?

Disclaimer:
The same as with other sensational posts- I am not me and have nothing what so ever to do with myself or the likes.
This is NOT the truth. This is MY opinion. Watch the 10’o clock news for an opinion that would be called the truth.
I love Pakistan and all her citizens. Especially citizens with guns.
The comments here are moderated. Don’t flame me.

PS: It would have taken me at least late tomorrow afternoon to have gotten this info from the papers, considering I did not even remember ‘D-Day’! Its all thanks to Swamy and Yiktik.Com that got the info clearly categorized and easily accessible. I’d recommend you to really give it a try. I’d also recommend anyone coming over to murder me to try him instead!

[Edits]

Read the papers. So Musharaff did actually get a stumbling defeat. But adding insult to injury is the state of current affairs in world politics- No more Mushy dictatorship in Pakistan, Fidel Castro says he’s bored of being dictator and killing American spies in Cuba, and Bush is off his term of being universal dictator. Looks like Obama is fast coming up on top, and thats going to spell a world of difference to the War on Terror. Speaking of which, did you realize that Obama is just one letter away from Osama? Coincidence?

 

The Tamil Disease

February 6, 2008 at 9:32 am | Posted in bong, life | 9 Comments
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I grew up on tamil movies. I really did, like for the longest time. I mean, tell me what you will, but any average tamil movie beats any other media (TV Shows, Radio, Books, Cartoons, Newspapers….) in entertainment value. Except maybe the Araittaiarangam that TR runs now…

But that’s not what we are here for. Tamil-dom stands for a number of achievements. In fact if Ramdoss and likes are to be taken at word value, the initial tamils came up with concepts of building, advanced astronomy, nuclear physics, quantum mechanics and sending guys up the moon. Tamilness has always been the synonym for scientific achievement. And I was just wondering at the minimal use of science in tamil cinema (except for miracles such as Vijayakanth flying, Sathyaraj being noble and Simbu acting) when I realized the role of media in spreading medical awareness.

Let me kick start this from the early 80s. That was when I was but a toddler and my only memories of TV are a hindi serial (some Mazoomdurr or something) where a guy rapes the same girl every week. But growing up without sufficient movies, I dug into a bit of the old and therefore have at least experienced the tides starting with the 80s and up until present.

Up until and even into the early 80s, the disease to get was Tuberculosis. TB. I mean, if you were a heroine and you could pump some glycerine, there you were. Spewing goo all over the place. But this wasn’t the kind of disease you really connected with. Imagine your hero. He is the invincible guy, an ideal Captain, Don, or at least the paettai good-deed-guy. Now you don’t picture him coughing up blood-shot crap all over the roads inbetween fighting the villains do you? It was probably all OK in the medival days when women chewing veththalai and spitting hot-red shit from their stained lips was sexy. But the coming of sophisticated actors like Malayoormamuttiyaan fame Thyagarajan (Prashanth’s dad) turned the tides, and pretty soon TB lost its stronghold.

The later 80s gave birth to one of the longest lived diseases in Tamil-dom. The ‘Heart Attack’! Now here was a novel non-disgusting disease that doubled up as the finality of lost love. Needless to say, the times saw the rise of non-fighting, non-macho, non-good-looking freckled stars. Mohan and Murali were quick to rise to the occasion. Up until the early 90s, heart attacks and weak hearts were the industry standards. The mother/ father always ended up with weak hearts. Occasionally the hero/ heroine would end up with a heart attack condition where their heart cannot handle even a small ‘adirchi’ (shock?). Therefore the non-heart-attacked would run around for most of the remaining movie singing solo songs about how they cannot confess the love they did not have up until the interval (when doctor removes his glasses).

Of course, tamil-dom eventually woke up to the ‘Gay’ demons. Actors could no longer be weak wuzzes. Murali tried a few semi action roles but it was more laughable, and since we had comedians like Vadivelu and Prashanth coming up the black man heart-attack game line just got extinct. Mohan tried a few shots here and there, with a few more movies of ‘Sing in the rain’, but with Rahman fast coming in, the freckles just did not cooperate.

The interim period that followed was a jumble of trial and error. Amnesia came in close to becoming the next big thing, but Bhagyaraj started making movies about it that people just forgot it existed (wow I got a pun!!).

With amnesia came the idea of taking stuff upto the brain. Neuro science hadn’t taken roots that far yet and so the doctors could crap just about anything and make it seem possible. This was the advent of weird brain diseases. Although a weed of this line still exists in today’s tamil-cinema-dom, the wave did peak at a point. Marked by ‘It is a medical miracle’, ‘Idhukku mela ellam andha aandavan vita vazhi’ and ‘24hrs aprom daan eduvum solla mudiyum’, there was a time when mental disorders became so clichéd that you knew there was a Maari-Amman song that would run parallel to that climax operation.

A little variation in this trend was the internal injuries. Probably the villain pushed the knife a few inches in, or the hero hit his head on a stone, or a lorry accident. There was always a need for blood, which the side hero would get on his motorcycle. Fight. Break the bottles. And Maari-Ammaa song.

The trend would have probably continued if only there was a variation in the doctors and their intonations. But it always had to be Naazar, the psycho-looking psychiatrist, Visu, the doctor who can’t shut up even in the OR, or Janakaraaj, the doctor who always does good to everybody but kills the universe with bad comedy. To make matters worse, Raghuvaran enters with a half doped, half villain sly and gives in his explanation of medical science… In that ‘I Know’ dialect of his!

To get a bit more specific, the period also saw the rise of Cancer. Now cancer is clean- no spewing, no throwing up, and no ghastly lesions. And up until the last breath you lead a normal happy life, albeit those flashes and headaches. Well, at least that’s the tamil Cancer. Just to prove a point, blood cancer was the disease of choice so the hero/ heroine could have a little streak of blood off their nose or voluntarily thrown up. The high point of blood cancer saw the turn of the millennium. Stars like Kamal who could never contract TB or heart attack could safely sport a dribble of blood down their nose.

As with all other diseases, the concept of Cancer had its period. However with the passage of time and falling levels of ignorance the doctors could no longer say ‘It’s a Medical Miracle’. Show me the cure dammit!

The cool wave then got to coma. People get in and out of it all the bloody time. Need some sympathy votes for the hero? Drop him into a coma for a couple of scenes and get him back when he probably has someone calling his name after a very long time. The directorial touch is the affected party (heroine) cries and the tears land onto the hero’s fingers. And they just shake a bit. Next thing you know, they are making out like crazy and the beep-beep machine in the emergency room goes off.

These days tamil-dom seems to be a little low on diseases. I can only remember one movie where anybody at all gets AIDS (obviously the villain). That makes sense too- after all, AIDS is a bad disease and only the Bad guys in tamil-land can get it. Blood-transfusions? Organ transplants? They just don’t exist in tamil-land.

I know I left out kidney failure too. These take a very minor role in tamil-dom that they aren’t worth too much of a mention. Except that kidneys are bad organs (only meant for peeing) and therefore kidney failure doesn’t happen too often in tamil-land either. Especially to fit and fine heroes who can only contract Cancer or Coma.

 

Disclaimer:

I know only TB is an actual disease in the list above, but tamil-dom science and medicine have risen to such levels that ANYTHING, even children, would now be disease. It is a medical miracle!

 

My Gran caused all these Rapes

January 7, 2008 at 6:58 am | Posted in life | 15 Comments
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A quick run around- the Mumbai molestation… The Kerala gilmaans… The Chennai silmishamms

Why are women being subject to so many more tortures than they had to endure even a few years earlier? I read a news cast that says that the women are to blame for wearing such revealing clothes and inviting trouble upon themselves. So much so, a rape victim is actually the instigator and therefore the cause of the incident.

Kudos there. That actually solves a major law and order problem. All cases now can be directly attributed to the flaw of the victim. That dude there snatched your chain because you were showing it out and therefore instigated him to it. The cheat manipulated you only because you were stupid enough. The assassin shot Benazir only because she poked her head out of the sunroof. Arrest the victims!

But lets take an honest ride and see where this stems from. A little over four decades back in the generation of my gran, and continuing up until less than ten years ago, the most massive extermination of women in known history took birth in our country. Genocide starting with kalli-paal-kelavis and peaking with scientific innovation of ultrasound and abortions, at least before the government woke up to it. The result? A major tip in the male-female ratio…

Now, that means there no longer exists one woman for every man. So much for divine love and soul mates. It also means that most of you male readers hawking this post right now would live up to a ripe old age in undisputed singularity. A few could become content Buddhas, delving into the greater pleasures of philosophy, science and alcohol. Some could turn the availability scenarios in sexual preference and look for similarities in partners. But most of the dejected masculine harboring jealously, pride and beer would wreak havoc to the few that do hold their prize damsels. And that, my readers, is exactly what has been filling our papers the past few months.

Without much ado, lets get into the subject of wider interest and personal expertise… Given that the few remaining women are getting more adept and competitive, and based on the logic that the greater mass still believes that the man should be higher up the social/economic/education ladder than the woman, that makes more men who fall through on the competition to go single.

Moreover given the fact that the little ray of hope for the lower rungs are still awed by the ‘mora-mama’ syndrome, that makes more relative-less men die relative -less!

As a final straw, based on the psyche that modern women would rather find themselves in association with an already wedded/ widowed/ divorced/ available man who matches their subjective criteria despite his abjectly not-so-single status pushes the free radical even lower.

If bad did not get to worse already, post modern women sentiments (read feminist) leads to a greater number of happy spinsters and like-like bonds in the woman fraternity, which creates a bigger hole on the deficit.

Pretty soon the demand -supply gap is going to catch on… With more single men, the future generation would either have to do with a drastic reduction in the number of women or have a system of polyandry.

Assuming that the demand side pressure wins the battle (a gal-guy many-to-one relationship), a case of polyandry would ensure multiple men wedded to a single woman. Emotions apart, this would rock the stability of the human species since the gene pool of ‘n’ men would require minimally ‘n’ gestation periods.

If the supply side wins the battle (a gal-guy one-on-one… not that you pervert), and women have their say, we could expect a gradual weeding out of the genes of men who do not fall on the minimal social ladder of women. Given the current encouragement for more women to rise up the steep, that is saying something. Two generations down we would then only find the upper middle class and the BPL peoples (since they still inbreed and so don’t get wiped out).

Either way we can hope to see women holding a powerful position on the future of the species and men shadowed to a point where they need to fight to pass on their genes…

And all this because a half century back my Gran chose to have a son!

Out of CTRL

A happening year if you will…

January 2, 2008 at 1:04 pm | Posted in bong, life | 11 Comments
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New Years have never been especially nice to me. My early childhood new years consisted of almost night long celebration at the only club my dad assumed worthy enough. That translated to a fun filled seven to eleven evening with hundreds of middle aged men and women carrying either toddlers or septuagenarians on their backs, playing lotto for stakes that included electic pressure cookers and non-stick cookware, and dancing to MAASHILAA UNMAIKAADALEEE…

Starting my high school years, I carefully avoided these trips (they are now extinct altogether) by planning alternatives with friends. In lieu of further length addition to the post, let me just put in quick pointers as to the yearly celebration patterns since.

2000-2001: Had a tough time deciding where to go. Finally settled at Qwicky’s G.N.Chetty Road until we were kicked out at 11. Had a new year countdown on my watch right outside Bhuvi’s house.

2001-2002: Again got confused with the many alternatives we had and singled it to spending the night at the beach. Got caught by the cops near Ashok Nagar for not having a license and ended up spending the midnight wagering the cop to let us out for the only fifty we had.

2002-2003: Got drunk at some galeej wine shop.

2003-2004: Class Tour at Kodai. Invested in a huge cake that was truly rock solid. So much so one of the guys ended up with a bleeding forehead…

2004-2005: Got drunk at the same galeej wine shop. Only it was now TASMAC.

2005-2006: Again indecisiveness ruled us to roam the streets of Chennai. Celebrated midnight at a petrol bunk in Nungambakkam.

2006-2007: Now that we were rich and all, we decided to get a taste of aristocracy, no matter how expensive and went to Courtyard Marriot. Two grand a night was a tad bit too much and we went to a cheaper place and had some good wine (WINE! The ends we go to for aristocracy!)

Back to the story now.

This year, we decided that we had waited far too long. After all, we were all well payed, old enough and terribly short of opportunities to throw our hard earned money on a dead end task. We looked around, singled on a moderately expensive disc and got our feet together. Clothes laid out, shoes, groomed hair, enough fuel in the car, and a sober friend tagging along so he could drive my car back home.

We go in at ten. My friend comes to hear that the booze goes on till 4 am. That is good enough to keep my juice flowing. We take it slow, walk around, observe the guys trying to manage their chicks who got high on round one. We take our drinks, get the grab… The music sucks but at least it isn’t just the FM playing in my car!

Its 11.20 pm. Im waiting for the first real count down, with real people… Im looking at the apparently hep and the obviously galeej and trying to match the responses when all the lights go off…

I guess you must have read the papers. The dance floor gave way at Savera. From my stance just a few meters away from the broken wood and splinters, I realized the horror the moment carried. The booze would now get closed down.

In a moment of despair, the faculty that sees prejudice, malice and reason breaks down. I, along with most others there pulled as many as we could to safety. I along with many others then promptly rushed to the beverage counter to get a couple more drinks before the inevitable happened.

At the strike of midnight, at least four people had been loaded into ambulances. At the strike of midnight at least five bottles were forced out from the holdings by the boisterous revelers. At the stike of midnight my friends and I sang an ancient poem we had been taught in pre KG and mourned the accident.

I learnt a couple of interesting things standing in the thick of the accident incident. For one, I realized the inherent flaws in communism and group tendency when the cycle-gap squadron of the mob decided to break the pots outside the hotel to express their anguish. I also witnessed the greater truth of human sentiments when the same group that had earlier reprimanded me for my insensitive nature in witnessing the scene later walked out with a bottle in hand under the auspices of the chaos.

Overall, it was a pretty passable new year merely in terms of experience and excitement. I heard one of the guys died that night. I’m really sorry about the anticlimax. Let his soul rest in peace.

As an epilogue, my car tire blew up on the way back. Thankfully I did not realize this until I had reached home.

Happy 2008 everybody. At least try not to kill yourselves.

PS: We got the money back! Free booze for what its worth!

Who’s the Daddy? Conspiracy Theories…

December 28, 2007 at 8:30 am | Posted in bong, life | 17 Comments

Conspiracy theories are only all too common to stem from any public happening- most often tragic ones at that. And thus, I am sure, mine and the thousands of millions to follow over the next few weeks would only hardly touch the tip of the ice berg of an issue at hand.

Now lets start with the fundamentals. Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated. Nothing out of the ordinary in a country where coups, instability, conspiracies and fundamentalism are but ordinary. And already we can see fingers pointing at every direction possible. Now without a stronger premise, lets just get into the superficial reasoning behind such an arrogant episode.

Of course, contender number one would be the good General. His craze for power and love of the seat need no further extrapolation. And Bhutto was, after all, his primary opponent at that. But hold on a second. Lets drill a little deeper.

If there is anything General Mushraff has ever proven, he is not an idiot. A little complacent and arrogant perhaps, but definitely not an idiot. The tirade of sympathy and PPPs and PML(N)’s clear steer on the tide to follow now is obvious. Now then why would someone as wise with the workings of the state resort to such, as to taint his chances and give such a boost to his opponents? Especially when his rigging and manipulation techniques are too well known?

The other contender is any one of the millions of terrorists abounding the country within and without. Lets sit in the shoes of one of these guys. Democracy, coups or apparent democracy, these guys have always gotten their booze. Up until the current president joined hands with the evil west and started exterminating their forces by the dozen. Madrasas closing, border forces spiced up, evil western thoughts and ideas infused, and even the unforgivable sin of joint exercises with the agnostic Indians. A new government would mean new policies and perhaps a return to the glorious life with more Madrasas and more idiosyncrasies. Who would they then rather have off? The dictator bringing in evil thoughts, or a woman who has proven track records of corruption and failure running in the family?

By the simple lack of motive, I am of the opinion that Bhutto’s death reaches far wider than superficial vendetta or ‘get-her-out-of-the-picture’ processes. Now that I have come so far into the subject, let me go further into my conspiracy theory.

Who stands to actually gain, monetarily, emotionally or in political mileage through her death? Who actually benefits by not just getting her out of the picture, but getting her out with such a popular and public ousting?

Now lets take the picture of another ex-leader. Simple laws of ego state that such a person, united or otherwise, could never really play second fiddle. Moreover, trends and statistics say that this person in question would need a miraculous wave of emotion amongst the public to gain any hold even otherwise. I guess it would make perfect logical sense to fabricate an assassination of the popular darling of the masses, throw the blame on the popular villain and sing along in the heat this generates. Of course, to avoid trace backs I would have to intelligently stage attacks and assassination plots aimed at myself that I would miraculously escape. Or even better, knock a couple of useless supporters and turn to game to my side.

On December 27, in a CNN interview just hours after the assassination of Ms Bhutto, Sharif said:

This is not a sad day. This is the darkest and gloomiest day in the history of our country.

Amidst the shock of the death of former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto Mr Sharif has announced that he will boycott the January 8 elections and has called for President Pervez Musharraf to resign due to the lack of security leading up to Benazir Bhutto’s death. Sharif rushed to the hospital where she died, comforted her supporters and sat next to her body. Sharif called Bhutto his sister and vowed to avenge her death.[1]

Shortly after the murder of Benazir Bhutto, Xinhua News Agency reported that four of Sharif’s party workers had been shot dead at Karal Chowk in an attack on a procession to meet him. Although the gunmen were described as “unidentified”, Nawaz Sharif accused Musharraf supporters PML(Q).

[Excerpt Source Wikipedia]

Standard Disclaimers:

  • If you are in Pakistan, have a Pakistani IP or the likes, I do not exist.
  • If you are, in any way, associated with politics or the likes, and this post does not appeal to you, my ID has been hacked and this isn’t me writing in.
  • If you are an assassin, a trained fighter, sniper or the likes, I appeal to your moral sense of right. Im retarded and it is improper to kill one in not so fair a mind.
  • Im drunk.
  • I do not exist.
  • This is not my IP.
  • I can make a disclaimer longer than the post.
  • Go away.


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