Aah - Toe! The Sequel

In the continuing trend of sequels, in all spheres of cinema, I too shall create a sequel.

This one's a personal experience.

So I'm waiting for a bus back from my guitar class, to get home. These buses aren't very frequent. One every fifteen minutes, or something, and it takes near an hour, sometimes an hour and a quarter, to get home by bus at that time of day.

So I'm waiting for over a half hour, and I decided to spend some money, and grab an auto home, or I might as well be getting home the next morning. Standing on the side of the road, at rush hour isn't a very enjoyable experience, but necessity is the father of all... necessity. Hence I was standing on the side of a road during rush hour. After getting yelled at, spat on, and plain ridiculed for how far away my house was, one kind soul offered to take me home.

Hurdle number one successfully cleared.

Now came the haggling over price.

(Note - Conversation has been translated into english, and has been embellished somewhat)

"How much do you want to take me home?"

"150"

"150? My dear man, you're out of your mind. I'll give you a hundred."

"A hundred? You poor misguided soul. Have you seen the traffic? You'll be lucky if you get home alive. 150"

"No. I've only got a 120. I'll give you a hundred and ten."

"You're going home, so you can go in and get some cash. 150."

After another five minutes of inventing excuses and reasons to not pay a 150, I ended up agreeing to give him a 140. Damn.

Anyway. 

So this isn't just one guy in the auto. Its two. Tag-team auto driving, like I've never seen before.

So I get into the auto, and no sooner are we (not so) up up and away, when we encounter the mother of all traffic jams. So one of the team gets out, and goes to find the source of the jam. He figures it isn't going to end any time soon, so asks his team-mate to take a u-turn, and get the heck out of there. But we're next to the median (made from those ridiculous metal stand things), but our ingenious auto man just moves the median out of the way to facilitate our u-turn.

We're then stuck in traffic going the other way. He doesn't like the way things are going. He wants more business.

Hence a couple of minutes later, I find myself seated next to this old couple, going elsewhere, which is apparently on the way home. Wonderful. 

Luckily I've got my iPod, so I don't have to make conversation.

Apparently not. I turn to be faced by two pairs of moving mouths, apparently directed at me, because the movement of the mouths is followed by expectant looks.

After some ridiculously painful small talk, we finally get to wherever they're going (in an auto I hired in the first place) get wished luck for the rest of my life, and we continue our journey.

When we get home (after a whole load of the scariest driving I've ever seen) the guy has the cheek to ask me for another ten bucks.

"Ten more? Why?"

"We took a detour."

They took a detour. For which they were paid a handsome sum of fifty rupees.

But let's forget that. 

Somehow I am to blame for him asking those nice people to get into the auto, and them taking a small detour to their house. 

Really, where do these people get it from?

Firengis.

So I've come to realise, there are actually two kinds of foreigners.

Foreigners who are Indian, and ones who aren't.

Okay, seriously. 

Two kinds of foreigners. 

One's who are interviewed by the media, and ones that aren't.

Right about now, you're probably going "But surely that's just chance? How can you classify them this way, when it isn't upto the foreigners in the first place?"

Well... there's a reason they're interviewed by the media. 

They like India.

Or they have some nice things to say about India.

Or they pretend to have nice things to say about India, and actually just want to see their names in print (Even if it is in India).

Now the one's that are interviewed by the media, just have nice things to say about us. 

"Oh, your culture is just so rich!"

"I really wish more people would appreciate your music"

"The art is very vibrant in this city, and country, as a whole"

"India is in touch with its culture, even in this day and age. Wonderful."

"I love being here... the locals are just so helpful."

And while interviewing all these people, we believe that we're interviewing a foriegn person in our country, and what they think is representative of their country, and hence we are highly thought of all over the world. Now, while this isn't wrong, it doesn't conform to being right, either.

We're being hypocrites.

If we do interview the ones that don't like India, we'd learn a lot of ourselves, and what we do wrong. 

The knee-jerk reaction to the above statement would be to say :

"Look, its our nation. We can do as we please. They visit us, they'd better learn about us."

While this is mostly okay, i.e. if you're a guest at someone's place, try not to offend them, its also not done to treat the guest like your dog's dog, if you're the host. 

So.

In the same vein, it isn't really done to inflict all our Indian-ness on some poor soul, who has come here completely not expecting in the least to be assaulted. In more than one sense.

No, it's only after we listen to the ones that don't like India, that we can do something collectively to be a little more receptive to foreigners. (Unless they're morons, and complain about the food being too spicy. Grow a stomach, pansy).

Why would we want to be more receptive to those people, who are completely against every ideal we hold dear in our motherland?

Simply because they aren't against every ideal that we hold dear in our motherland. 

And they often learn, and study our culture far better than we can. 

They document it better, anyway.

This is a good thing.

So ending the hypocrisy would be a good idea.

Loquacious

"But in a culture like ours, language is exclusive, not inclusive. Those on easy terms with words are distrusted. I was always encouraged to believe that cleverness and elegance with word obscured and twisted decent truth." 

- Stephen Fry

Reading his autobiography, this statement strikes me as ridiculously true. In all the fables I've ever read, all the children's stories, the villian (if possible) is potrayed as a glib, smooth talking wolf-like person. Someone who could run circles 'round your head with stories, and convince you to do something not conducive to your self. 

Ridiculous.

People have been telling me this since I was ye big, telling me that a person who talks to much shouldn't be trusted. Although talking too much isn't a yardstick, its talking to well that makes people get their guard up. 

Now in college, I had this problem. I didn't finish some work, and it was overdue by a couple of four weeks... and I explained to them, at the end of the four weeks why it was so late. To my credit, it was 90% truth, and 10% exaggaration, to warrant the four weeks. They had issues believing me, because I spoke so well. 

This often happens. I've got a large vocabulary. Larger than a lot of people, at any rate. Most people have a great grip on the language, but they don't really go beyond that. I take a certain amount of delight in words, hence the reasonable size of my vocabulary. At this point, I must hasten to add that by no means is my English fantastic. It has been brought to my notice that my grammar isn't great, and that my pronunciation could be topped by a chimpanzee with a slur. 

Now when I speak, I generally use a lot of words which I like. Words which aren't usually heard in everyday conversation, and hence by training, my teachers are prone to not believe me. 

Thinking about it, it seems like this is probably because glib people are generally smarter than non-glib people. People don't like smarter people, because smarter people make them feel dumb, hence glib people are looked upon as perpetually trying to put one over the other guy.

In defence of other word-y people, I just have to say this : We might be smarter than you, we might not. But we only occasionally try to put one over you guys, and even then (speaking for myself, now) its only just for fun.

Don't hate on us.

A Wintry Somnumbalist

Some people just can't take... well, I don't quite know how to complete that sentence.

So here's the story.

I was waiting outside the Dean's office at college, when this guy comes striding out of the office with a very important look on his face, and heads straight for the guy sitting next to me. The conversation is as follows, starting with the important chap.

Chap : Are you Varun?

Guy : Wha-? (Like he's just been woken up)

Chap : Are you Varun?

Guy : *looks confused for a bit, and stares into his phone for a bit*

Chap : (Yelling) Hey! Are you Varun?

Guy : *Looks slightly shocked*

Chap : *Gets quite annoyed*

Guy : (mumbling) yesgfpsnosphmhsn.

Chap : What? (Really annoyed now)

Guy : What?

Chap : Are you Varun?

Guy : *realisation dawns* Oh! No.

Chap : *makes a move to raise his hand, which has formed a fist, and then stalks off, no doubt cussing under his breath*

Its guys like these which make the world such an entertaining place.

Knee Jerks

So big news of the week - Obama won.

Hooray, and other assorted noises of joy and happiness. Not only for America, but for the world. 

Why, you ask?

Read the papers, fool. Its been there for the last... eon. I'm no expert on the topic. Not even close. Well, I doubt anyone can really be an expert in politics, but they've gone into it enough number of times for me to say all that again here.

Meanwhile in India, the politicians are having a whale of a time jerking their knees to anything and everything. 

What really astounded me was to see the following headline in a national newspaper "When will India find its Obama?"

What I figured I would be reading was an article about the stale politics in India, and how we are desperately in need of some new people, who aren't all about extorting the people at every elections. 

What I got instead was an article about how likely it was that India would get a dalit president. 

Ouch is all I was thinking, all through the article. Which I didn't read past line two, by the way. 

These people have joyfully ignored Obama's achievements in terms of him convincing America that at a relatively yound age, he was fit to be president, and his policies, and how he would try and lead America out of the stone age, and have instead chosen to see only this - A black president. 

A president from a minority community. A president from people traditionally marginalised. 

Is this what it's all about? A president from a minority community?

This is sick.

It's also a complete knee jerk reaction. They've got a minority president. Quick! Find one from here!

Quite sad, really.

I had a joke lined up, punning on the title. But I have no opportunity to use it.

Of Failed Story Attempts...

Suffice to say that I thought my two attempts at a story were sufficiently rubbish for me to abandon the idea with vigour. 

I shall resume my slovenly (albeit unhelpful) commentary on various useless things I (read : my mind) encounters every now and then.

... and I've struck upon hip-hop and rap.

Or to be more accurate, the culture that goes along with it.

I mean, to be annoyingly precise, the baggy pants, and the HUGE tee shirts, and the magnificently large and wasteful necklaces, and the extravagantly stupid 'grills' (grillz, in lingo, I'm told). 

The clothing bit is fine by me. I don't particularly care, because it follows my own personal belief. The baggier, the more comfortable. Hence, the better. What I don't get is why they have to stoop and shuffle like they're deeply afflicted by rheumatism. Boggles the mind. They're going to walk the same way in another 60 odd years... why do it now? 

Oh, probably practice, now that I think of it. I'm sure there's a Rheumatoid Olympics, which they want to enter, and they want to start practising now. 

So that's explained.

Next on the agenda - the chains, and the 'bling-bling, yo'. 

My first reaction is 'Wha-?'

Essentially what our slightly retartded and rheumatoid friends are doing is making it acceptable for men to wear jewellery. 

They've got necklaces the size of my car hanging around their necks... which explains the stoops.

But let us not linger on their modes of locomotion, I'm sure people are sick of it by now.

They wear braces, apparently. Which no normal person wants to do, even if its out of compulsion, but these people hop to it like... bunnies to chocolate? The direct comparison eludes me.  Point is, they do it, with vim and vigour befitting the most illustrious soldier in battle. 

And these aren't just braces. They're braces made of diamond. 

So they're loaded with brains too, then.

To calrify a point even further, they're wearing braces, made of diamonds.

Remind my again how that's smart...?

You've got the most expensive stone on the planet, nailed to your teeth. 

Doesn't exactly speak of abounding intelligence.

To conclude, here's my own cover of a famous rap song.

Yo, 

Yoyo.

Yo..... YO!

(Swear, in appropriate amounts. Depending on fame of singer, increase number of swears)

Ma' homie.

'sup nigga?

Nigga, nigga nigga.

Nigganigganigganigganigganigga YO!

Yoyoyoyoyo nigga.

Yea'.

Hey, Hey, Everyone Wants To Be A Rock (Star)

A sort of story I'm working on. Rather large, so I'm putting it up in parts. Still haven't finished, so updates as I finish.

Thud.

“Ow.”

Hm. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Stage diving.

Yeah, that's what the crowd loves, isn't it? When their favourite guitarist/drummer/singer/pole dancer flings themselves off stage, to land in the audience, face first, and get manhandled by a million and odd people?

Hell yeah! Sign me up anyday, is what I said. But stage diving does not come to the inexperienced. It requires practice, as much as it may seem not to.

Not to get various parts of your body yanked off by rabid fans, that was an art, my friend.

But the most important part of stage diving, is the crowd.

Which I seemed to be missing.

“Where's the dangblastedsnarkin' crowd?!?”

“Wha-?”

“The crowd, Beavis. The crowd.”

“What crow?”

Sigh.

“Let me explain this to you. Rock shows have nothing to do with birds which go 'kaaa'. They've got an audience. Any questions? No, an audience has nothing to do with cars, either. They're the people who watch. Yes, them. Now for a stagediv- that's what I was doing now, you monkey. Jumping of the darned stage! Yeah, that. Okay, stage jumping then. So stage jumping involves a crowd, since I dive face first into them. They then carry me, and worship me like the God I am. What? Why do I jump face first? 'Cause its cool. Yes, its moronic. But its cool. Its what 'turns them on' to use a well used phrase. No, hopping on stage will not do. Get me a crowd. Now.”

So that threw stage diving practice out of the window.

Great.

What else did I have to do before my moderately gigantic gig tomorrow?

Oh, right. I almost forgot.

The band.

With two of the four apparently 'taking a break six feet underground' as Sood kindly informed me, I doubt they'd be willing to do the concert. So I needed to find replacements. Fairly quickly, too.

What to do, what to do?

While I was pondering these questions of philosophy, there was a god-almighty-goodness-gracious-me-I-think-I-just-wet-myself explosion behind me.

I turned around.

“Mother-”

“Flock!” a voice behind me yelled.

I looked again.

Turns out Mr.Voice was right. A flock. Of geese. All carrying a bottle of what looked like mustard in their little beaks, and what appeared to be some sort of explosive device in their claw-things.

So this is what theivery had reduced to. People using flocks of geese as disctraction, for what was obviously something more sinister.

Turns out I was right. Shortly thereafter, I was surrounded by darkness.

“Who turned out the lights” I asked, rather cliched-ly.

“Shet yer mouth, fatty. This is a hostage.”

This baffled me.

“This is a hostage? That's wonderful, Feynman, real smart.”

Prod.

“Ah shet yer mouth” I heard yet again “youse ain't got no say in this”

“No say in what, my intellectually challenged friend? All I know is that I'm in a sack, and this sack smells repulsively of potatoes, I might add. Atleast you could have got me a clean sack, me being a rockstar and all'

“Aah, yer all washed up”

Thud.

Silence.

A sound of an engine being started up.

Hm, I was in a van, or a bus. Or a pretty darned large car.

But I was shoved into this motorized mode of transport, is the point.

Shortly after that, I get shoved out of the motorized mode of transport, still trapped in darkness. My eyes have gotten pretty used to the darkness, and I'm seeing... darkness. Wonderful. So I was in a sack.

“The boss wants to see youse” said Butthead. Beavis and him would get along like Smoke and Water, methinks. Probably won't have as good a rhythm, though.

“Who's the boss?” I asked, not, obviously, alluding to the rather sickening T.V show of the late eighties.

“He'll tell ya. Now shaddap yer mouth, fatty.”

More prodding. Sometimes not in the most comfortable places, either. 

Electrocution

He walked in from the storm, drenched to the skin. 

He was pretty sure his bones were wet, but that was probably more his blood's fault rather than the rain, he sensibly thought.

God, it was hot in here. Why didn't someone turn on the fan?

Ah, there's the switch. 

*switch*

So this is what flying feels like. Its grea-

*whapcrack*

"Ow."

*thunk*

Hey! How'd the switch get to the other side of the room? I was there just a second ago... 

Pretty stars. The way they dance is just so... pretty.

And that figure standing next to that one star, it looks like...

"Maurice? Maurice Brinckenhauer Alridge Marmaduke?"

"No" answered a gruff-sounding voice.

"Maurice, I must say, you're voice is starting to sound a lot like gruff's"

"No" answered a gruff-sounding voice.

"Maurice, you used to be so verbose. All those conversations we had under that fungal growth... why so monosyllabilic?"

"Well, it all started at computer camp.."

"Was it in '84?"

"Yep. Met this girl there - "

"Really."

"Her name was Judy"

"Fascinating."

No, wait. This obviously couldn't be real. Maurice hated computer camp. 

Strange.

"Why is Maurice acting so weird?" he asked the pinstriped weasel next to him.

*grunt*

Oh, right. It was a weasel. 

Hm.

In all his excitement, he didn't notice the fan didn't switch on. Until now.

Great. Now I need to get up and walk all the way across the room.

Getting up and realising he was still pretty soaked through (stupid rain) he squelched across the room. 

*switch*

So this is what flying feels like. Its grea-

*whapcrack*

"Ow."

*thunk*

Sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

An Update.

This is the latest in the 'An ...' series.

No joke.

In the midst of the chaos that is this update, I realised that the last time I really sat down and wrote something well was... well, was a while back. 

Compared to the tripe that's generally on this blog, one of the July updates was pretty good. 

Hm.

Ah. Here's a test. See if you can make head or tail of the following statement.

"It is impossible by means of inanimate material agency to derive mechanical effort from any portion of matter by cooling it below the temperature of the coldest of the surrouding objects"

While studying, hurriedly, this is the last thing you want to come across. A string of seven words which takes you about half and hour to decipher.

And then you find the whole thing is explained three lines later. 

Frustrating, to say the least.

The prerogative of scientists to embellish their phrases with unnecessarily long and cumbersome words seems banal. Just since their average intelligence might or might not be at a loftier level than most, it does not rest on them to furnish their sentences with unnaturally long words. This habit of theirs entices ululations of frustation from me, and I strongly believe this practice should cease with immediate effect, to save mental trauma on the part of me, and several other students.

An Idiot Pt.2

Well... I may have been wrong about the endless non-update-ing-ness of this blog.

Yeah, updating is a word. But it looks longer when I say update-ing.

Why did I throw a tantrum and shut down this blog? 

Well, I thought there was no point to continuing this anymore. I thought since no one really cared about this blog, and I don't really care either, there isn't any point.

But then there's just so much to write about/rant about. And I realised that this blog wasn't for other people. I started it, just so I could have somewhere to write, apart from a notebook. Although of late, it's been more for 'other people' than me, and I've derived less enjoyment from it than I used to. So I shut it down for a bit.

Then is struck me, I really didn't like not writing. 

So here I am.

To make your lives hell again.

(P.S - In case you haven't got it as yet, the title of this post refers to me) 

... And Death

I've just realised that this blog exists for no reason at all.

Well, it does have one reason. It provides me ranting space. But none of you really care about that.

... or this blog, come to think of it.

So, following my principles, since this blog has no identifiable reason for its existence, it shall be not-updated until I figure out why I started to write here in the first place.

Good night.

An Idiot.

Okay, don't get me wrong, I'm sad, and I feel for the victims, and other politically correct emotions, but I'm also laughing my guts out.

"But about what, O great Chutzpah?" I hear you ask.

Let me tell you.

There was recently a shooting in a college in Finland. Guy in ski mask, with a large bag, strolls into this college, and into a classroom filled with students taking tests, and casually opens fire at about 11 AM. He then proceeds to try and kill himself, and fails.

There are many, many things I find highly amusing about this story. Firstly, who lets a guy walk in to a classroom, wearing a ski mask, in the middle of summer? That isn't very smart. Obviously these people haven't watched too many hollywood massacre/shoot-'em-up stories. 

Second on the list.

Exactly how dumb do you have to be, to be able to kill nine students (atleast, according to the news report), and then fail to kill yourself? Really, how hard could it be, to put the gun to your head, and pull the trigger? This guy apparently has the brains of a retarded fruit-fly. 

And lastly, 

Why in the world would this guy bother to wear a ski mask, if he was going to shoot himself in the end anyway? If you're planning on escaping, wonderful, get that ski mask, wear that ski mask, shoot those people in that ski mask, and run like hell (in that ski mask). 

But he was going to shoot himself in the face anyway.

Which he failed to do.

The state of the criminals in this world just depresses me.

A Rant Pt.2

The (not so) eagerly awaited Rant Part Two.

This has nothing to do with Rant One. I just had two rants, so I thought I'd sequence them. 

Right. 

Onto business. (Or is it into?)

Our country is run by idiots. Massive, mind numbing morons. Who have fluff for brains. I wouldn't give them enough credit to slice bread without killing themselves, and they're running our country. 

This is ridiculous. 

And I'm not only talking about India. Look at our dear friends, the United States Of America. They've got dog poo for a president. Pity. And they call themselves the most powerful country on the planet. Pah. 

But as much of an idiot as Ol' George may be, things look up for America, thanks to Obama. But there's no way I'm going into that here. Its been gone into far too often by far too many people. 

No, back to India. Firstly, we've got a waif for a president. And she also happens to have the personality of a Goldfish. Yeah, she's our first woman president. Hooray. Joy. Let's all sing praises to her, because she overcame the male chauvinism. 

No.

What's the point of having a president, when she doesn't do anything? She doesn't look like she's capable of performing a task more complicated than clipping her own nails. And she's our president. 

Things are looking up for India to become a superpower, then.

But this really takes the cake. I'm not sure if this guy is part of our government, or someone else's. Wait, he was speaking good english. Probably someone else's. But this is what got me really, really, really angry. 

This arrogant son of a whatnot has the gall to say that the creationist theory of the Universe should be taught in schools, along with the Darwin theory of evolution. And he's a minister for something. A minister. He's supposed to have some brains, isn't he?

He goes on to justify his statement by saying that just because there isn't scientific proof for the creationist theory, doesn't mean it shouldn't be included in science textbooks. 

Yeah, because all science textbooks deal with religion, and with other scientifically un-proven 'facts'. 

Religion in schools is another thing all together, to be dealt with later. 

This guy should be lined up and shot. Or strapped to a chair, and thrown off of a cliff. 

Its almost as if he's running on the principle of 'The louder I talk, the more right I am'. There's a reason the creationist theory isn't in textbooks. And that's because its not proven. Its not even a scientific theory.

There's good enough evidence for the Big Bang theory, for it to warrant a place in textbooks. Its a well accepted theory too. And this monkey comes along and tries to shove the creationist theory in there along with it.

But if you're going to have the creationist theory, you might as well have the Hindu, the Muslim, the Buddhist, the Jain, the Zoarastrian and the Confusian theories along with it, right?

Or what about the theory that the world is supported on the back of a gigantic theory?

That should be number one, since its probably the oldest theory.

After all, just because there isn't scientific evidence for the theory, doesn't mean it shouldn't be in the textbooks...

A Rant Pt.1

This is part one of two.

I say of two, because, obviously, there is another one coming. And these are the good rants. The one with all the anger in them. Hopefully, it will make good reading.

So here we go.
Rant One.

Law. And consequently, order. To be precise, Law And Order.

I'm completely in favour of it. Totally. If there weren't any law, there wouldn't be any order. If there were no order, there'd be chaos. And if there were chaos, we'd all be wearing make up and going 'Do you know how I got these scars...?'. Not particularly sane, I'd say.

But more than a problem with law, is the application. Now, laws are often phrased well, so as to leave no loophole, but then there are these ones with tremendous gaping craters in them. I could drive a tank through those loopholes, and not touch the sides.

This, again, isn't my real problem. Loopholes are loopholes. Let them be... they'd make fun rollercoasters.

People should be consistent when they apply a punishment, or apply a law, and hence derive a punishment.

To take a very trivial example... the FIA. They just randomly seem to dole out punishments, often disproportionate to the degree of the breaking of the rule. And there seems to be a certain element of favouritism. But this is a topic of endless debate. All discussion on this ends here.

More seriously, the Hiroshima bombings. About half a million people were killed on that day, and the week that followed, and millions more were affected by the radioation, and crippled for life. Not to mention their kids, and grand kids, who'd have had to go through life with half a brain.

And the Americans did this to 'end the war' and 'end the evil' and other very noble phrases. But it still killed a couple of million people, and is killing a couple of million people. I'd estimate about 7 million people, dead, dying and injured.
And nothing was done to them.

Nothing at all.

Nada.

Zilch.

But Hitler killed 10 million jews, and he was hated by the whole world. The whole world declared war on him, because he started to murder people outside his own borders. And in pretty large numbers as well, he was murdering them. Genocide, I think its called.
But murder he did... and he got stepped on for that. Sure, its twice the number of people affected by the Hiroshima/Nagasaki bombs.

But the bombs worked their magic in a couple of minutes, and that's had effect till today. Hitler did everything manually. Didn't have machines do it for him... if anything, the Americans were lazy.

Okay, seriously. I'm sure something should have happened to them (the Americans). Shouldn't they atleast be fined?
But if they are fined... who would they be fined by? The UN?
What makes the UN think they've got a right to fine us?

But then, we come to the crux of all government.
But that's immaterial here.

My point is, something should have been done to the Americans. They killed half the people the Nazi's did, except more subtly. They've got more class.

The disporportionality, and the rationalising of the decision, by saying it 'was to end the war' just infuriates me. Its like me culling a million people, because they had AIDS, or something.

It makes perfect sense. Stop the madness, destroy the source, or just hurt the source so hard, that it sooner or later stops working. It makes logical sense. But then we aren't logical, are we? We're moralistic, and emotional, and other things that detract from our lovely logical sides.

And this is why we cannot make sane decisions, ever. And this is why we should never be allowed to. But sadly, we've decided someone else must rule our lives, but they're human as well. Just more popular.

So this all makes no sense to me.

Help.

Aah-Toe!

... a common enough cry on the streets of Madras. And Delhi. And Bombay. And Bangalore. Heck, in pretty much any city in India.

But what really are these strange three wheeled creatures that roam our city at night? (And by day, and by the afternoon, and dawn, and dusk...)

Three wheels, a body made of the most rickety and unstable substance known to man, and one headlight do not a vehicle make. But apparently they do.

Death traps is what they are. From the wheels that look like they've been taken from a cycle, to the frame, made from plastic straws. Not to mention the demon drivers from hell. They seem to have been blessed with the brains of a groundhog. And the reflexes of a pod racer, thankfully.

And there's this whole culture associated with these guys. The spitting, the screaming, the murder, the boozing, the late night racing... they're like a clan all by themselves. Except they hate one another. Which doesn't make for very friendly boozing, spitting, screaming, murder or late night racing. Not to mention the bargaining. The seemingly sudden rise in inflation when he quotes his price would leave you staggering. And when questioned, he'd give his usual plethora of answers.

"The fuel costs a lot"
"Yes, I agree it does, but you're taking me down the street. My Rolex seems little high a price to pay for that, don't you think?"

"We have to take a circuitous route back"
"But when I came, I came on this incredibly short route, and didn't have to mortgage my house"
"But on the way back, its longer than on the way here. That's how the roads are"

Defy logic they do.

Not to mention the flagrant disregard of rules, which apparently makes you a good auto driver, because I can't think of any other reason that they'd do this. Its lunacy. Its like getting into a roller coaster, except without the seatbelt, and without the safety of a track, and without the knowledge that you're going to end up safe and sound, where you started from.

Or probably Auto drivers have to take a special license, or do special challenges. 'Infuriate as many people on the road as possible in one minute' sort of challenges. And only those who pass get to drive on the streets. There seems to be no other explanation.

Boggles the mind, it does.

Doomsday Prophets et al

I haven't blogged in a while. That's because my brain went into a state of ferment. Its generally vegetating... now it was fermenting.

I've just studied a couple of poems that deal with nature, and how mankind is ruining nature, and how we don't appreciate nature, and how we don't see God in nature, and other assorted arguments for nature.

And these arguments make sense. We've lost touch with nature, and we cannot go back to living in trees, because that's not what we do. We live in houses, with leather sofas. Heck, even the sofas aren't made from things that live in trees. That's a pretty sad state of alienation from the planet that sired us. And we cannot do without our 'privacy' and our 'creature comforts'. We need them.
My point is that we've lost touch, and we haven't really tried to regain that touch, so now we've passed a point of no return, where we cannot go back. Although try we will to save the tigers, and the whales, and the dolphins, and other assorted animals. And prevent global warming, and people on the coasts from drowning. And protect ourselves from swarming insects. We try. We almost always fail. And success is short term.

And at this juncture, we cannot really do much to save nature anymore. I think its far beyond repair. We will continue to loose species at an 'alarming' rate. We will inject greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, and further the cause of global warming. And we should all feel sad for ourselves, and blame older people, and the other generation. And feel sorry for ourselves. And try to fix what we can. And feel sorry for ourselves.

I'm not saying we shouldn't try to fix it. We should try to fix it... unless we do what I think is the other option we've got.

The other option we've got is to completely industrialize and urbanize the world. We're really smart people, humans. We built buildings, for heaven's sake. And bridges. And other such industrial marvels. We've got water in the middle of the desert. We've got mid-air refuelling. We've got faster-than-sound speeds. We've got buildings that reach Mars. This is how inventive we are. And we're also the ones who murdered nature, and who completely destroyed most of it.
But those people are the same people who managed to get water in the middle of the desert. We've conquered nature, if you like. More or less. We just haven't completely conquered it, and that's affecting us, through the form of random natural disasters.

But I'm saying completely humanize the world. We need to leave not one trace of nature on this planet. And a couple of generations down, no one would be the wiser. And we'd finally achieve our dream of owning this planet. Although is beyond me why anyone would want to own a large rock. Which spins. In the middle of nowhere.

But I digress. If we could just harness nature in its entirety, then we wouldn't have to worry about global warming, because we would control the 'global' in global warming. We wouldn't have to worry about tigers. They wouldn't exist. We wouldn't have to worry about flies, and mosquitoes, and malaria. They wouldn't exist either.

Nothing major in either direction is going to happen in the next hundred years, so this really doesn't concern me, but I just find it endlessly fascinating that we half heartedly try to 'control' nature. And we've half- succeeded. We just need to succeed more often. Then we'd be set. Or we need nature to dictate what we do. Then we'd be set.
This in-between path is going to get us killed faster than we care.

Not that I care, because I'd be dead at the time anyway.

Just be warned, future generation of people who will not read this blog, because it will be obsolete then. Be warned.

Creationism

I know that's a word. And I also know that I've used it out of context.

What this post is about... (now that's cheesy) is the lack of imagination. I know I've talked/typed about this before, but that was solely in India, and the whole Bolly-Holly-Tolly-Molly issue.

This is completely different. This is a combination and greed, resulting in a massive lack of anything original.

To take an example from TV. There's this show called 'Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?' airing in America. This is a fantastic idea. Absolutely wonderful, for a game show. Apparently it was Howard Stern's idea, which then aired on NBC or FOX or one of those networks. And I am in absolute awe of the idea. Of pitting a 'qualified' adult, against a 'mere' fifth grader. This is the stuff success is made of.

But then other countries, and other people get wind of this idea. And they're greedy. They are really greedy. They smell success. And they want a slice of it.

They take the idea from these guys, and exactly how they do it, I'm not sure. I don't know if they acquire the rights, or if they just steal the idea. But they do manage to steal the idea, and import it into their country. Now's the fun part. They change the name of the series. And they keep the set exactly the same. There are six kids in "Are You Smarter..." and one of them is fat, and three are girls, and one has curly hair, and one likes orange juice, the other likes to eat worms... that sort of thing. And the panel for the new show? Six kids, three girls, one fat kid, one who likes orange juice, one with curly hair, one who likes to eat worms, and so on.

In the original, the panelists walk in, greet the kids, and then take their place. In the ripoff? The panelists stride in, enthusiastically greet the kids, and then take their place. Hence the difference.

Another example I can readily cite, is American Idol. Pop Idol is a fantastic idea, just like all the other 'hits'. Have a round of auditions, to get people on the show, and these people should atleast be half talented. Then get them to go a number of rounds, lasting a number of weeks. At the end of these number of weeks, with a participant eliminated each round, by popular vote, the winner will be chosen, and will be awarded something really big musically.

That's a really original idea, something on the lines of 'Rockstar : INXS'. Then people from America wanted to earn money, so they wanted people to watch TV, so they wanted this show, because it seemed to be hugely popular.

So they got it. And it was a huge hit. But it had exactly the same format as Pop Idol. They even stole a judge of there. And so people started to watch American Idol. And so did the rest of the world. And they loved it. American Idol had set a standard. It had beat Pop Idol at its own game, and it was now the standard. But people from other countries began to get greedy. And they wanted money. So they wanted people to watch TV. And they copied this design.

Down to the last detail. The intro song is the same, they've got three judges, exactly the same, completely forgetting that Pop Idol had four judges, and that was the original. And one judge is mean, a la Simon Cowell. And one judge is a sissy, and one judge is more or less non-controversial.

But people seem to love it, and seem to claim each countries version as their own. Me? I think Indian Idol is rubbish, and is completely run by politics. I don't watch it, because they don't sing songs I like, but last season, a guy who sung like a monkey on coke won, because he came from a place where the TV ratings were low, and they wanted to boost TV ratings.

If you're going to make a ripoff, make it well.

But here's an example of something I think is absolutely fantastic, and not about to be stolen any time soon :
http://www.ultimateshowdown.org/

Just Call Me Sir Lancelot The Stupid

Chivalrousness. Or whatever the word is. That's what this post is about.
Come to think of it... what is the word for chivalrousness? Please help.

Anyway. These last couple of weeks, when I've been taking the bus really often, I thought to myself "I'm not going to be one of those selfish people on the bus. I'm going to be polite, and chivalrous, and really kind, and everyone will love me, and that will be awesome". So I tried. And I'm still doing it. I'm giving my seat to older people, to infirm people. (I love the way 'infirm' sounds like they'd just collapse in the middle of the bus, if it hit a bump or something).

And so I gave my seat to older, and infirmer (than me) people. And there was this awesome time, when I gaev my seat to this guy, who looked about 40, maybe 50. It wasn't as if he couldn't stand for the journey. But I decided I couldn't compromise my principles. So I got up, and offered him my seat. He thanked me, and I smiled, and was quite civil. A couple of ten minutes later, he looked as if he was ready to get out of the seat. And by this time, the bus was quite full, full of people standing, that is. And I could just sense the stampede for the seat, and I didn't want to be in it, so I moved a bit away, to let the nearest cow/cattle run to the seat. And when this guy got off, he stopped the other people from getting into the seat, at risk of his life, and let me sit in it.

That's really, really awesome. That left me feeling great. But then, every other time, the guy/girl, man/lady who took my seat, didn't smile, they just took it. Like it was a matter of protocol. And they didn't thank me, they didn't even acknowledge that I gave them my seat. That I gave up my comfort for theirs.

This was when I realised that I get the bad deal. Every single time. I'm sure chivalrality (?) is a wonderful concept, and a romantic concept... but its stupid. It's innately stupid. Human beings are compassionate, sure. But they aren't stupid. Being compassionate, and being so compassionate, to the point of stupidity. Two completely different things, them.

Yeah, I feel bad for the old lady standing up, which is why I offer her my seat. But that's stupid, isn't it? Compromising your comfort, so some stranger can be happy? Isn't that like obliging someone else, for their pleasure? People wouldn't do it in other situations...

"Hi, I'm a stranger. Could you stab yourself for me please? It would make me happy!"
'Sure thing, stranger"
*stab*
"Ow."
*keels over. Dead*
"haha! That was fun. Do it again!"

No... people wouldn't do this otherwise. Its just a social thing.

So far, this post has had no relevance to the title. Here's where it gets slightly relevant to the title.

I believe Sir Lancelot, or Camelot, or Mixalot invented chivalrality (this is really hard for me to pronounce. Even in my head).
And that person, was an idiot. Why would they do that?

"Here, m'lady. Please use me to step on, so you don't get your feet wet on this puddle"

WHAT?!? Why don't you just ask her to walk around the puddle? Isn't that smarter? Doesn't it make more sense than using your body as a mat?
In my opinion, I think women were as strong as men, to begin with. Then people dissuaded them from walking around puddles. Now they're all fragile, and demanding women's rights.

But along with women's rights, they still want people to be chivalrous to them. Which is exactly the opposite of women's rights.

Just make up your minds. Do you want to be pampered, or do you want to be made to work, and earn, and the rest of the shabang? I know what my choice would be. I'd be very, very content just to have someone else do my work for me.

But no. They have to work, and they want people to be chivalrous to them.

Holy cow, that's just... dithering!

But for the record... I'm still going to be chivalrous, and well mannered, and all that, because it makes people think "Oh, this guy is awesome". And that statement goes against (almost) every word in this post.

But that's life. Live with it.

The Monetary Value Of Cows

So I was thinking (aren't I always?) about the economy. What with inflation, and oil prices, and no petrol/diesel.

Its almost as if humans are living in a world within a world. We've been living in a dream world for the last two millennia. We didn't like living in trees. So we didn't. We built houses, and huts. Then we started to live together, rather than in bits of nomadic tribes. And then we invented words like 'civilized' to pretend like we know what we're doing.

And we build things, like buckets, and wheels, and carts, and bottles, and juice. But we have no way of measuring how much better one human is better than another human, right? So we started to assign values to things, using the rough rule of 'the shinier, the better'. So we got polish, and iron, and other sparkling things, like gold, and diamonds. And everyone went nuts over these things. They were so shiny, that it distracted them from breathing. There were people lying dead all over the place, because they forgot to breathe. Such was the shiny-ness of gold.

And people weren't happy with food, and leather, and footwear, and clothes. No, they had to barter things. So they traded a cow for beans. And the next morning, a large beanstalk was seen growing out of the ground...

So they were bartering. But people made bad deals with other people.
"Sure! You can have my soul. But what do I get in return?"
"Oh, you get this really shiny bit of metal!"
"But isn't that a bad deal for m-.... oooh! Shiny!"

Then people said 'Look, we're better than you. So we shall rule you." And they did. For thousands, and thousands of years. And the Kings and Queens decided to increase their popularity by printing flyers with their pictures on it, and handing it out to the peasants. Sadly, these flyers were made out of shiny metal.

The people couldn't dispose of shiny metal that easily. And plus, it was shiny. So they couldn't just trash it. And they decided to trade it in instead of their souls.

Thus, currency was born. And the King and Queen thought they were pretty popualr with the locals, 'cause demand for the flyers had increased dramatically. But they didn't realise it was a soul-replacer.

But after a couple of years, when the news eventually did reach their royal ears, they were pretty delighted to find out that their faces had replaced the peasant's souls. Then the King murdered the Queen, and married another six hundred.

Meanwhile, back in peasant town, people were still trading in shiny bits. Someone decided to call this the 'economy', because it sounded like a disease. He thought it would be a joke. It was. For a while. Until people realised that by calling it an 'economy', it was very similar to calling themselves a 'civilisation', and now they'd have a legitimate excuse to not know what they're doing.

Once the economy was invented, people started to say things like 'Hey! I'll let you pay me 6 shiny bits to take your soul!".

Then the Kings and Queens wanted more popularity, so they killed other people in other lands, and handed their flyers to the other land people. Then they realised what they'd done. And they were so angry, that they killed even more people, from even more lands. And they realised what they'd done, and they killed people from other lands. And they realised what they'd done...

Then came the industrial revolution. Where people overthrew the Industry. And by now, there was a 'government' and other fancy words, to give people very legitimate excuses to goof off, and not know what they're doing.

And by this time, people had lost the original point of money. It was now printed on paper. Not shiny. Boring.

But they were still flyers. Still trying to advertise people. Except now, it was dead people. Which, again, sort of ruined the point of money.

And now people are saying "Look, I have no money. I'll sell you my cow for your soul..."

Of Bolly Trees...

You knew that this post had to come. Sooner or later... there had to be a rant about this. So here it goes.

Bollywood.

Firstly, apologies to all those offended by that term. I had to do it.

Moving on.

The very mention of the word gives me shivers. Not the good kind... and not for the most common reasons. I'm fine with the movies they make. I don't watch them... but I'm sure they're good. And most of my country likes them, so there must be something worth appreciating, right? Yeah.

But my issue with 'Bollywood' is completely different. Its got to do with the name.
"Bollywood? But its just like Hollywood, except more desi, yaar"

Shut up. Those are the three most irritating words I've ever heard, all in one sentence. My nightmare sentence.
Anyway.

And I've said the name bothers me. I hear you asking "Why should the name bother you? Its like the guy said... just more desi, yaar"

No, I was just joking. ofcourse the name doesn't bother me. Why should the name bother me? It's only the most uncreative name I've ever come across. What could I possibly have against it?

Let me elaborate. To start of with, I shall list its good points. To start off with, they've decided to rebrand Hollywood, and give themselves a more 'western' appeal, instead of creating their own identities. That's always a good thing.

And then they've gone and named themselves 'Bollywood'. The name is so amazing! Infact, its so amazing, that it warrants two exclamation marks !!

I'm sure Hollywood has a reason for its name. There's a forest, just below the Hollywood sign, and that forest, or 'wood' is largely made up of Holly trees. so obviously we've got to have a wood of Bolly trees, right?

And the disease doesn't stop there. We've got Tolly trees, Kolly trees, and even Molly trees. Yes. Molly trees.

As far as I know, this is all we've got. (Heaven help us if there are more).

I think this epitomises how un-creative and boring this country has become.

Mollywood.

Hag

For lack of an inspirational way to start off this post... I shall start it off thus.

The power of music is great. Yes, I know I've harped about music before... probably getting a little boring. But its such a huge part of my life, that I cannot but think about it, and write about it.


Anyway... as I was saying. The power of music is a great thing. I mean this not literally, as in music could smash you like the little bug you are... but more metaphorically.

I was listening to some songs I hadn't heard in ages, and there are all these strange, dusty old memories hidden in my head, which sort of walked to the front, sprinkling dirt all over my mind. Strange sensation, that. From this, I realised that the best part of my life so far, that most of my experiences have their very own personal soundtracks.

As an example... a friend of mine made me listen to '21st century sha la la girl' by Def Leppard during my previous board exams. The song was so good, that I listened to little else during the exams... and when I listened to the song again, my mind unwillingly went to my friend's house, or of my study table, or of the exam hall. To further clarify, if this helps at all, these memories aren't distinct. They've only got a certain distinct smell, and feel to them. They aren't individual. Its almost as if they've joined forces to call themselves an 'experience'.

Quite similarly, 'What it is' by Mark Knopfler... it brings to me the 'smells' of Facebook, of Jetman, and of the recent twelfth board exams, more precisely, of Chemistry. For I was hooked to this song when I joined Facebook. Then I got hooked to Facebook, and along with Facebook came Jetman. Now I can proudly say that I'm off all three. (What? Yes, I CAN get off Facebook. I just don't want to. Hmph)

There are other memories, other songs... some of them personal, some of them mindless, but to list them all here is sheer madness. So I'm not going to try.

Well, I suppose this is the closest I've gotten to personal drivel. For what clearly isn't personal drivel, you can check the post called 'Not Personal Drivel'. That's a good example of what isn't personal drivel.

Anyway.

Signing off.

Me.

Fascist.

Crying.

Stupidest thing I've ever seen. And I'm not even half joking here. Crying makes no sense. On any scale.

Take a scenario, where someone would be made to cry. A someone piches a someone else, or smashes the brains out of the someone else. Wherever your inclinations lie.

The someone else, being in pain, starts to cry, right? And this is perfectly normal, right? Wrong. For humans... who don't seem to have to fight for survival, fending off other predators, this is normal. But if you shove the someone else in the jungle, and the someone else gets mobbed by a gang of Al Capone Jackals. Would crying help?

Oh, of course it would! The jackals would feel sorry for him, wouldn't they? Sure they would. They would pat him on the head, give him a pillow, and a stretcher, and ask him to take a nice nap all the way home.

Crying makes no sense. (Yes, I'm repeating myself. Think of it as a refrain, you know, like in poems.)

Do you really see lions crying, because 'the-older-buwwy-lion-stowe-my-deer' ? (Speak that in baby tone, by the way. I have no idea how to type that out well) If lion sees other lion eating said lion's food, lion will chase the other lion, and other lion will chase lion back. And so on, till one of them is dead tired, or dead. Whichever way.

But crying? Was it some sort of defensive mechanism or something? Cry till it all gets better?

This sort of proves why the humans are the dumbest on the evolutionary scale. Other creatures bloat up, and look scary. Some change colour, and look scary. We cry.

Wow.

Scary.

Sarcastic Caustic Stick Tick Dog Flea

Jump distance runner athletics olympics Beijing junta Mayanmar Earthquake Cyclone Nature Al Gore president USA country world universe planet sun galaxy star light wave physics glasses teeth board marker ink pen Waterman France.

That's me free associating.

Anyway.

I was watching this guy on Youtube... Jimmy0010. He's a real champion of sarcasm. He's got the art down to perfection. Well, I really don't have anything much to say in this post, I just thought I'd post, since it's been a... er.... ten days, or something. So I felt like writing, except I didn't have a clue what to write about. So I slacked off, and started to watch Youtube.

And then it stuck me... I could write about sarcasm. Why? Because I'm a numb-witted dimbskull. I couldn't think of anything else.


To me, sarcasm is an essential part of my life. As is cynicism. I cannot be me without either of them. But sarcasm in itself, is a thing of beauty. Its like delivering punch lines of jokes with a straight face, and making other people laugh. Its a skill, almost.


I've heard people say sarcasm, and pun-nery are the lowest forms of humour. I think not. I think sarcasm, and punnery are sublime examples of humour. It sure beats a guy running into a brick wall, or sliding into a brick wall, or sliding on a banana peel or whatever. Although that is funny... I think that's more 'caveman' humour. Beating someone with a club is funny.

Heck, it IS funny. Its really funny. But this is a different funny. This is a more intellectual humour. Its got more to do with the brain, rather than the... brawn? Or something. If brawn is a word. I've forgotten.

Many people wouldn't find 'I like rotten tomatoes. They taste like rotted cheese' funnny.

And neither do I. That is the most boring sentence, I have ever seen. Or read. Or typed.

But this on the other hand, is funny.

"Hello, nefarious goat".

That is freaking funny. Or 'Salut chevre selerat' if you don't understand english, and understand the other language. Whatever it is.

But that humour isn't sarcasm. That's absurd. Why would anyone greet a goat?
'Good day, goat. How are you today?'
'Baaaa.'
'That's nice to hear'
'Baaaa.'
'Want to hear about my day?'
'No.'

And on goes the conversation. Sorry... I'm really free associating at the moment. I don't know why. If this makes your head ache... go have some paracetamol. No... I don't know why I said that.

But leave it to beaver, right?

So where was I? Ah yes. Jimmy0010. Master at sarcasm, and only 18. Or 19. Or something like that. He's a wit. And a bit of a git.

Hey! I'm a poet. Or a rhymer. Or something.

Was there a point to this point? No, post?

Ah yes. I remember now.

"Hello, nefarious goat"
'Baaa. *grunt* baaa"
"Why are you grunting? And why are you rearing your horn things in the direction of my tum-tum?"
"Baa. *snort*"

*whap*

"Ow."

*thud*

Scott Adams is funny too. I have just been landed with the entire Calvin And Hobbes collection, and the entire Dilbert collection (to date). I have a lot of reading to do.

Read the 'Lord Of The Flies' (if its a real book. I dunno. It features in 'Hearts in Atlantis') also read 'Hearts in Atlantis' by Stephen King. Not in the least scary. But its really interesting. Its like a documentary or about the 60's. Its fantastic really.

'Astonishingly brilliant' according to uh, New York Review, or Washington Post or one of those papers, which pay to get on the covers of books. But it really is good.

The Difference Between Sauce And Ketchup

And so we come to it.

The most controversial thing to hit mankind, since sliced bread. (Alright, so that wasn't controversial. Sue me. Or something)

SAUCE!

And.

KETCHUP!


They're both red. I have chips, and sauce. And chips, and ketchup. And bread and cheese and sauce. And bread and cheese and ketchup. And other things with sauce. And other things with Ketchup.

But... you have Tomato ketchup, right? But no tomato sauce. Nothing... not one sauce, along the tomato lines. Not that I'm complaining. I hate tomatoes. But its just one of those things, the conundrums of the universe. Some things shall never have an answer. This isn't such a thing.

There's vegetable sauce, as far as I can tell... and Tomato and chilli sauce. But no pure tomato sauce. Only the adulterated junk.

And some people say 'But ketchup is thicker!' Well... porridge is thicker than rice. In a manner of speaking. But they're both grains. Stupid people.

So, back to the original question.

Or statement, or whatever I started out with.

What's the deal with ketchup? Or sauce for that matter? Couldn't we just have liquid tomatoes? Then I'd be in bliss, happily hating them, as I do.

But noooo.

They HAVE to make it taste good. So now I'm a hypocrite. I like tomato ketchup... but I hate tomatoes. I hate the ketchup/sauce companies.

Oh.

What's the difference between the two? The spelling? No. (I mean... yeah, they are different and all, but that's not what I was looking for, If you thought of that answer... you're an idiot)
So if it isn't the ingredients, and the consistency is irrelevant... then what is the difference between sauce and ketchup?

I guess I shall die, never knowing the true meaning behind ketchup... and the myth that is sauce.

The Evolution Of Music

After my previous posts, I've sort of been thinking on how music evolved, and what happened, and stuff, and my conclusion is, that music is so awesome, the only way it could have happened is by chance. Like the creation of the Earth, and human beings. Chance. That's it.

Let me elaborate.

Music, in the written forms, consists of 8 basic notes, which are represented on a stave, or a musical equivalent of a paragraph. Each 'paragraph' is divided into bars, or the musical equivalent of sentences. Now like any sentence, these sentences have rules. These rules are essentially musical grammar. Without knowledge of this grammar, you will be 'talking' utter rubbish.

Anyway.... onwards with the story of the development of music, the Kitchi way.

The way I would have figured out, and created music, is like so. Say I listen to this guy speak, and he starts talking loudly, and then cuts it down to a whisper, then beats is up to a roar, and does this at intervals, not necessarily regular. And lets say this guy is a public speaker, or some notory, who I have to listen to over a period of time.

When people listen to other people speak, they tend to get bored, even if its only for a couple of minutes (the boredom, not the speech. That would be weird. (If people got bored in a two minute speech. Not the boredom bit) (Hey! Brackets inside brackets! That's cool.) )

So... people tend to get bored. And I don't like this guy, and I don't want to listen to him. But I cannot but hear him. So I bring along a book, and a pencil, or a pen, or something, so I can doodle as he speaks. His voice goes up, his voice geos down.

So I think 'Hey! His voice goes up, and his voice goes down, and it doesn't happen regularly. That might look good on paper!' and I draw. A line which goes up, and a line which comes down, so the result turns out to look like a four year old's representation of a mountain. And I keep doing this.

So this happens, and I do this for all the classes I attend, or all the whatever I attend. But I keep doing this. And one day, I get bored, and draw lines through my mountains. Then I take a second look at my mountains. They're now pretty evenly spaced. With five lines.

So I go home, and separate each line, with a bit of mountain on each line, representing the first musical notes, although I don't quite know it as yet.

Then after even more time, I figure, why not give these strokes an individual sound, so I can recreate what the other guy is saying, except he would sound funny! So I get my eight 'strokes' and give them each a pitch, arbitarily.

Then I forget all about it, for people to discover it, years after I die, and create music with.

Although there is probably another explanation... this one ends up giving all the creadit to me. So I like this one.

Hmph.

Oh.

Firstly, sorry to the one fan out there of my blog (me). I haven't posted in.. HEY! In exactly a month. So this could be like one of those monthly magazines, except a blog, and not nearly as interesting. Hmm...


Anyway.

Onwards we shall sail toward my chosen topic of bloggery. Well, this one hasn't been well thought out, nor well crafted (Atleast to me, the other ones have seemed funny/well written to some degree. I doubt this will be like that).

So.

Music. I mean the real thing. The original stuff, the thing which comes to mind when people mention 'Mozart' or 'Beethoven'. The sometimes lilting, sometimes jarring, altogether flowing and wonderful music. I'm listening to the 'Moonlight Sonata' as I write/type this, and it blows my mind.

There are 12 notes, including all the sharps. That is all. No more. And they come out with these astounding peices of music, unbelievable in their fluency. Unparalleled in their sheer majesty.

But I digress.

Why have we, the human race, collectively thought up of Music? Sure, people say 'You hear birds lilting and singing. They have music. Why can't we'. Oh, sure. They're birds for god's sake. Not us. Not even close in intelligence. There's a reason there's the phrase 'bird brained'. They're idiots.

Uhm. Yes. So we have got music. Not only the 'cultured' and 'civilised' humans, but also the 'uncivilised' humans. The tribes. They blow their horns, they beat their drums. And they like it too.

Surely some guy didn't just wake up in the middle of the night and say 'Oh! I know! We'll make a set of 12 notes, with eight main ones, call the four middle ones sharps, and create sonatas and other such stuff'. It evolved over a period of freakishly long, and people experimented with sounds. Then they came up with rules, which you cannot break. And scales, and what sounds nice.

And this was ages, and ages, and ages ago. I don't even know. And I haven't done any reasearch.

Oh... my idea is fizzling out. So I suppose I'll have to fill in the rest of this post with drivel. Yay.

God, this is an awesome song. Moonlight Sonata. In the middle... it hits a crescendo, and it sounds to me, at the peak of the crescendo, as if every thing in the world is falling to bits. No, that isn't right. Its very hard to put it words. It is astounding.

Well... hopefully, now this blog will be updated on a weekly, or bi-weekly basis, or something like that.

Let's hope for the best. And for me not to be such an idiot.

Signing off.

(Notice the coo- funky new sign off that I've got? Flippy eh?)

Wonky Doodle

"..went to town, riding on a pony. He caught the flu and drank a frog, I like macaroni"

That's my version of the song.

Its also a great introduction to my chosen topic of reflection.
("What? He chooses what the mirror reflects? That's cool")

No. It isn't. Okay, so I lied. Call me a liar.
("Yeah, I just did."
"Great. Go soak your head")

So what I figured I'd update this blog with, is something that's been intriguing me for a heck of a long time now. The first time I thought about it, I was completely astounded. I couldn't get my head around the concept, and I was curious beyond belief. Sadly, I couldn't experiment and find out, 'cause this is one of those things where you cannot experiment, as you shall soon find out.

So here we go.

What does a deaf, blind mute experience in this world? I mean, he/she (let's say he, that way, I have to type out less letters) cannot see/talk/hear. The only two things they can sense, is touch, and smell. And that isn't much. They'd get the occasional whiff of perfume, and feel the odd touch. And that's about it.

How would they communicate hunger? How would they know where to place their hand on the plate to eat? How would anyone teach them anything about the world? 'Cause we all know that kids learn about the world by observing it. But these people can't. They can't see a table, they can't hear the sound of their parents' voice, they can't communicate to ask questions.

To quote Simon And Garfunkel "I am a rock, I am an island".

That is essentially what the deaf, blind mute would be thinking. If he thinks in a particular language that is. I think in English, other people in their chosen language. But these guys have never heard a language. They cannot speak, they have never heard a language spoken. Hence they cannot think in any particular language.

What would they do all day? In my opinion, if a person is forced to spend time with his own mind for more than a couple of weeks, they'd start going mad. And these guys have to do it their whole lives. Without talking. Heck, I know people who can't go without talking for an hour. They'd have to go their whole lives without hearing another person's voice. Without hearing their own voice.

This is the crazy part. How do I find out? Who do I ask for the answers? There seems to be no way of finding out. Scientists will say a whole crock of nonsense, which could be true, but it helps me in no way. I need to talk to a deaf, blind mute, but that wouldn't help, 'cause the bugger is deaf.

Hmm.

I've just thought of a couple of ideas, to teach them to communicate. They could be shown a perfume every time they were expected to have a bath, or have a bath given to them, or whatever. They could have a sequence tapped on their forearm every time they ate, so sooner or later, they figure that tap means 'I'm hungry'. Its like training a dog. Bit by bit, although with the deaf, blind mute, there would be no vocal signals, 'cause he can't hear you.

They would lead a hard, hard life. Or an easy one. Or a boring one. Or an interesting one. Or a peaceful one. All depends on how you look at it.

Doesn't it?

Not Personal Drivel.

Well, I originally contemplated a personal drivel post. But as you can see, this is not personal drivel. So you're safe. For now. Until I finish the other post (probably never) you need to be on your most guarded, against all forms of personal drivel, because uh... I've lost my point. Never mind.

What I actually wanted to talk/type about was Naziism.
Here we go.
Not a very long post, so you don't have to skip through stuff...


Yeah. So I was watching a comedian do comedy. And he was comedy-ing about Nazi's, and Hitler, and the like.
That is irrelevant.

I figure as much as the Nazi's got murdered and executed and wiped out from the second world war, there are still Nazi's out there, Nazi's who still Nazi-fy anything they can. Except they'd be Nazi-ing without the toothbrush-moustachy Charlie-Chapliness of Hitler leading them, and telling them to exterminate Jews, for they did not eat the forbidden fruit of Hitler's own imagination.

And soon, these Nazi's shall rise again. I'm pretty sure of that. Or they'd go on some whacko killing spree based on Aryan supremacist theories, and kill a whole bunch of people, leaving the rest of the world pretty ticked off with them.

So what do we do to prevent this gigantor catastrophe? Well, since we can't really see who is a Nazi and who isn't, apart from the warped swastika they wear, and that stupid toothbrush moustache, and the fact that they prance about spouting Aryan crap, apart from all that, there isn't any way to tell them apart from anyone else. So to stop the potential threat of this ever happening again...

Kill the world.

Pre-Conceptual Trauma

No. This has nothing to do with medicine.

But what it DOES have to do with, is the strange thoughty things on the inside of my head (look above for further reading).

Well, arriving at the subject of this uh, post... we (human beings, the terror of the world) have set and rigid ways of looking at things, we cannot but comprehend things in a certain way, and if it doesn't classify into one of those patterns of thinking, the object of comprehension becomes 'weird' or 'strange'.

When I say preconceptions, I mean when people grin, they take it to mean that the person is happy, rather than, say, the person is a psychotic murderer. When a person waves cheerfully, they take it to mean he's waving cheerfully, not that his pet pig is suffering from a serious bout of the 'flu.

Now I'm wondering about two different things. Why can people not view things in this manner, and why do we view things in this manner to begin with?

I suppose we view things this way, partly because the human body is made to (you can't sneeze without closing your eyes) and because other people view things this way (you're young... your teacher tells you that if a person scratches their ear, it means they are itching there. You never question that)

But I figure, if I can grimace every time I'm happy, or elated, or joyful, or wonderfully exuberant, or just plain pleased, then someone would sooner or later figure that grimace = happy. Then he/she would keep grimacing, soon the whole world would take a grimace to be the expression of joy/elation/exuberance/pleasure. And maybe the smile/grin would be an expression of disgust?

When people encounter things they do not understand, on a magnificent scale (like a ten foot tall fly) then their brain shuts down saying "No. There isn't a ten foot tall fly standing in front of you. That's just your momma in disguise. Now go home, and hide under the bed". So when you start to sock someone in the jaw, and tell them its an expression of love, they'd put a bullet through your head.

So I figure that if we had one reverse perception being on Earth (i.e a person viewing a smile as an expression of anger) then that would be well... uh, everytime someone smiles at him, he'd get angry and smile back, then they'd smile back, then he'd smile back, then they'd come and give him a hug, and he'd get furious, so he'd HUG THEM BACK!

You're probably thinking right now "Is there a point to this post? Where does it end?"
Well... there isn't a point to this post, and this post ended at that comma.

I WANT TV!

No, not really. Well, I could do without it, but its fun, right?

Yeah... TV. The epitome of human 'evolution'. We watch it, we view it, we need it. For lots of us, its better than food!

But that's my point. Why do we need it? Not only TV, but any entertainment... Music, Drama, TV, the Computer... anything. We have a need to be entertained. 'I'm bored' is a MORE than common phrase, repeated often, to no effect, other than bugging our other human counterparts.

Other animals don't need entertainment (as far as I know there aren't any dogs going 'Oh, that new TV show last night? Totally woof man!') No sirree, they don't. They're quite content chewing cud, or sleeping, or whatever it is they're doing all day. They could be thinking deep thoughts ('I wonder why there's a fluffy thing attached to my butt') or they could be thinking not-so-deep thoughts ('Who created the universe? What is my purpose in life?') but they DO NOT NEED TV!

Why then, is there a craving, a need, a desire for us to be entertained? Music is an integral part of most of our lives, it definitely is an integral part of mine... but I'm sure if we'd never invented music, I'd have been fine, maybe better. Who knows?

If one of us 'entertainment addicts' decided to go live in a tree for a week, or a month, or a year even, I'm sure we'd get along fine. The first couple of days/weeks would be spent in wondering what was on TV, or spent in a craving for music, or video games, or whatever, but after that, we'd be fine. We'd invent, we'd find things to do, forage for food, run from man eating animals, and other such engaging passtimes.

But that won't work, because our influence is all over the place, we cannot get away from entertainment. Even the African tribal chant is musical, but it isn't their sustenance. They do other things as well... like the aforementioned passtimes.

But you might be reading this and thinking 'Yeah, but we're more civilised, we don't run around trees getting chased by lions. We tame the buggers'.
Really? You're more civilised? Then spend a month in our society without ANY entertainment, except maybe Music... then you're more civilised.

In my opinion, entertainment is largely a part of our eternal quest for 'civilisation'. I think civilisation is a destruction of all things natural, live in an enclosed world, a world without a single thing unnatural, a world where we have created or tamed everything around us. We are well within reach of that goal. The way things are going on around here (here = Earth) I'm giving it another 150 years tops before it gets smashed to bits by nuclear war, or something as destructive.

With that cheerful thought, I take your leave.

Age? Qua?

Age.
The thing we all think we can lie to ourselves, and others, about. When you're in school, the (almost) first thing that springs to your lips when you meet someone new is 'how old are you?'.

This got me thinking (obviously, or this wouldn't be here, would it?) Humans are the only ones on the planet who keep track of their age (as far as I know).
This seems very strange to me... why would we keep track of our age? Is there a purpose to it?

And the only reason I can think of for keeping track of age, is.... nothing. Completely and utterly pointless practice. We could just live our lives from one day to another... there would be no concept of 'old' and 'new'. Things would be kept till they broke, since there is no 'old'. 'Old' people wouldn't be chucked in nursing homes (not because of their age anyway, 'cause age doesn't exist, remember?)
We wouldn't have product lines being rolled out every few months... there in effect would be no deadlines, except 'next time the sun rises' or something.

Why this sudden elimination of time, you may ask. Well, as I see it, the concept of age is just an extension of the concept of time... and when I eliminate one, I figure just as well to eliminate the other, or sooner or later it will evolve again. So if humans had never figured out the concept of time in the first place, we wouldn't be old, there would be no new, there would be no deadlines for anything, there would exist a sort of gentle flow of life, without the hectic pace of today's life.

Life, in short, would be relaxed. People could do whatever, whenever, as long as the sun didn't rise the next day. Or the next cycle of the sun didn't take place.

But if you think about it, if time didn't exist, then most advances in Science wouldn't have happened, for all its worth. We would still be sitting in caves, chanting 'Ug', and clubbing each other on the heads.

That isn't my idea of a good time, so I figure whoever noticed the sun going 'round our earth, and charted it as 'days', and then split it into twenty four, and further split it into 60, and further split that into 60, and whatever... they were the smart ones. They had no idea what it would do for the future (probably) but it did more good than harm... that can't be all bad, can it?

Oh my god, this is SO COOL!

The quintessential phrase, from the quintessential teenager. Or any-ager really... as long as you talk to people who use the word 'cool', you'll use it.
An evil word, that's what it is... it sucks you in, it drags you down, to where there is no hallow ground to quote Depeche Mode.

Me being a quintessential (almost) teenager (almost quintessential... not almost teenager. I'm dead set in the middle of that right now) use it a heck of a lot, but it got tiresome after, well, last week. When I finally realised that people use this dreadful word, when there is absolutely nothing else to say. They do not say "Awesome" (An other story all together, maybe to be told another time), they do not say "great", they do not say "fantastic" or any of those things... they have all been (almost) unanimously replaced with "Cool!'.

The word has a variety of meaning, ranging from the boring ("Oh, your washing machine is so cool ") to the wacky ("That new peach defuzzer you got is so cool!")
The word also has no meaning. When someone wants one to react favourably, or very favourably to something that they've shown, all one has to do is put on a face of amazement, and chant out "COOL!" like the well programmed drones that we are.

The word is inescapable, the word is all encompassing, the word has completely enveloped the English language, and turned our once (slightly) flowery vocabulary to one which consists of three words ("Hi", "Dude", "Cool")

And the concept of how awesomeness, and generally charisma came to be associated with temperature, absolutely beyond my comprehension. I just picture some wasted youths, sitting on the corner of a street one cold evening saying "Dude, this street is so awesome man" and the other guy says "Dude. yeah, this street is cool".
And that was that. They started an epidemic worse than the Bubonic Plague, mainly because I see no end to this terror in the foreseeable future.

All this having been said, I am now having trouble phasing out that particular word, because its carved out a niche for itself, things which are between 'great' and 'awesome'. or 'awesome' and 'fantastic' are 'Cool'. I think in this way, we get rid of the unwanted, and un-needed explanations, of what exactly we think of your snotty new procurement, and what exactly we would like to do with it. We get out of it by chanting our regular mantra, and get the hell away from there.

What is the point of this, you may ask after you read the whole thing, and see no conclusion.
Well, I just thought I'd post a few thoughts on the youth's collective idol.

The Swearing Mystique (or) Why Do We Have Such An Obsession With Swearing?

I was wondering why people swear... or why should swear?

People, I've observed, generally in situations of dismay, and other varieties of stress and depression, cuss. It seems to me like it is more of a reflex, rather than anything, or an evolution of some 'primeval' swearing, like clubbing the guy next to you on the head till it falls off (the head, not the club).

But that probably isn't it... swearing is a more verbal thing, and it seems to me that my first conjecture is right, it is probably a reflex, like the knee-jerk reaction.

If one is the recipient of bad news, then the first reaction is 'Oh, shit' or if one is of a milder disposition, 'Oh, goshdarn it'. This is immediate, no delay, no thinking involved.

My feeling of this is that a group of people, a trillion billion years ago (a long time), decided to associate bad feelings, and bad ideas, and bad news, and bad anything else, to poo. The next step, was obviously to incorporate more 'vulgar' words, words with more 'punch'.

Getting to my point... Why?

Why do we do this strange, and almost unnoticed ritual? We weren't taught this in schools (most of us picked it up there, but we weren't taught it there), we weren't told to cuss and swear in public, we just do it, because our parents, and whoever else do it, our peers, our not-peers, everyone.

Say we are presented with bad news. We yell 'SHIT!' in horror/anger. Which makes our mood worsen, which makes us yell 'SHIT', which makes our mood worsen, which makes us yell 'SHIT!' which makes our mood worsen, which makes us yell 'SHIT!'... you get the point.

Alternatively, if we scream about something that we like, or about something that pleases us, then (hopefully) we wouldn't be in such a foul mood.

Say you like strawberry cheesecake... when the bad news arrives, scream 'Strawberry Cheesecake!' and people might think you're a bit weird, but also, you might not get as tense. I don't know... I've never tried, which is why this is all conjecture...

At this point some might say 'But I like poo... I thrive on the stuff'.

To you, I have nothing to say, you are beyond the point of saving.