Unreal but true...

Had about 6 'good' ideas to thrash out here last night but decided to let them marinate and simmer on a low fire over night. The idea being that they'd be nice and juicy and flavourful by the morning and ready to serve with a little garnish. Unfortunately that works only with meat. So here I am bright and awake and only a faint glimmer of an idea in the horizon.
Interesting day it was, yesterday. Started with about a million transliterated messages wishing me a happy new year. I'm assuming everybody knows what I'm talking about... if you don't then google 'ugadi'. But more important than a foot long round worm that I fished out of somebody was this interesting new fact I learnt that asia carrera, erstwhile porn queen, is a member of mensa. Now the problem is I'm not sure what to make out of either porn queens or mensa. Think I'll push the respectmeter for porn queens up. Now don't get me wrong the respectmeter for porn queens, princesses of even handmaidens is all the way up and maybe just below the makers of animated films, creators of Unreal tournament and brewers of beer. And before your minds come up with some perverted line its all entertainment. So it turns out that this half japanese half german semiconductor enhanced ringmistress of the kink has a tested iq in the range of 155. And is a fan of unreal tournament... more about that a little later. And manages her own website (which by the way has a hilarious FAQ) yada yada. impressive and just a general bit of information so you can show off to your friends.

Had someone ask me if mensa was called so because the organisation met every month...

On Unreal Tournament... What a game. No story line, No insane objective hidden in some deep dungeon. Just a room, a weapon and 4 other guys (notice there are no bad guys either). The idea is to kill 20 times. Everybody (including you) respawns after being shot down with only a pistol but there's more damaging guns around... Almost like life... Its energy release like no other. Survived many an exam-linked nervous breakdown thanks to UT.

Another strange point... AsiaC was a porn queen and a fan of unreal tournament creates her own mods/maps etc etc... there was this woman a few years ago who designed some crazy quake mods and also creamed the designers of the game in some online deathmatch and then became a pornstar... think her name was killcreek case or something of the sort. Strange but true. Just another bit of utterly useless information to irk the world with. Enjoy.

Mind Blasting

Watched an advertisement on TV with saif khan and rani mukherjee going mind blasting about 400 times. What on earth is mind blasting? I can understand mine blasting, which is why they shut a few iron ore sources down, I can comprehend mind blowing which we all do capice. With a little imagination I can figure out what mine blowing can mean and I think I like that concept. But what on earth is mind blasting. who got paid for coming up with that line. And in that list one could also add oye bubbly. There cannot be a more nauseating tag line. Even yeh dil maange more was better.
That minor catharisis apart, the times (the local one) has been coming up with interesting editorials. One about how blaming doctors for poor health care instead of a system which is inherently warped may not really help and another on the concept of wealth and an increased GDP actually tricking down to the poverty stricken masses. This of course would need to be streamlined in the years to come.
Then the paper ruins that little bit of hope by devoting space to a macaw that flew out of some pet shop in shivajinagar, for those of you who know it, well and good. Looks like the bird is back. For those of you who don't find safina plaza and turn in soon after that. look for a long closed live band/dance bar and focus on the shop next to it.
Saw a string quartet perform.... Quartor Neemrana. No havent even bothered looking up the name for an explanation. I understand one of the words which can mean anything from the minimum amout of chicken in empire and usually the amount of alcohol required to devour the bird in the shortest time. Nonetheless they played schubert. Brilliant stuff. They did this violin version of kaho no kaho, i will survive etc.
More on life later.

Where do we stand...

Read this angry post on a blog about corruption in the government and how its ruining us. The anger was justified. Planes dropping out of the sky and not some cheap private airlines planes third hand from Belarus or Uzbekistan (incidentally there are no trains in Uzbekland. You either fly or go horseback); but IAF 'jets'. Homemade MiGs. Planes with a million movable parts, all from the lowest quoted tender. Police officers who've amassed so much wealth that the poor sod who landed himself an 86 lakh p.a. deal looks like a loser now.
But cries of more strict 'policing' and punishment for violators is hardly going to solve the problem. It might for a while but it can only make things worse in the long run. What separates us then from the short-sighted politicians who run the country.
The question is why are people corrupt. Is it because they are inherently greedy? Or in real need of money? Then why are they in their jobs, jobs that don't pay them enough... Beause they don't have a choice... Since independence and the semi-socialistic outlook of the founder fathers, the government has been the major employer. Things have been and are changing but a substantial amount of employment is still generated by and in the government. And the rules are simple. A permanent job is what is says it is - permanent. No matter what you do you cannot be thrown out until you retire. And even then you get taken care of. This stability comes at a cost - renumeration. All this was fine as long as everything was subsidised and though people had to stand in queues in ration shops to buy soap they didn't complain. The economy has seen a change in the past ten or fifteen years both good and bad. Good because there is prosperity and in the long run prosperity hinders corruption. And bad because for the significant portion of people still in and joining the government for the aforementioned stability are now seening the greener grass from across the fence.
But why be in a job that doesn't pay well till you're 60 and pays less after that? Unfortunately we live in a system and a society where what people do is rarely governed by what they want to do. The image of a tired, bored babu in a safari suit behind a mountain of files in a dusty, ceiling- fan cooled office, dreaming of the Bahamas is in fact a reality. Maybe not the Bahamas but real all the same. Familial or social pressures still play a role in what we end up doing with perhaps little regard to what we'd want. This of course leads to inefficiency since the primary reason for doing a job well is actually liking it. A constant salary and constant upgradation ensures that the other reason for doing a job well is also smothered. Quitting is not an option due to the aforementioned pressures. Rising cost of living with a constant income leads to a situation. Simply put - corruption. Human nature propogates this trend since its an easier way to make more money and the result is the corrupt policemen the Lokayukta dug up.
A bad job, notwithstanding, why can't the government change its payscale? If not the job satisfaction the money at least should make an otherwise hellish work at least tolerable (sneaky prod at some people in the IT, marketing and sales industry whom I know). Karnataka has one of the lowest salaries in India (At least for me). And the highest rate of corruption. The administration is corrupt, the police we now know about and doctors too are not as noble as they once were (think that was in the 18th century that they were, but I digress). Not that I'm critisizing anybody or any organisation but the salaries that IT and MNCs give have irked many... a significant contributor to our current mess. Now the situation can go three ways. Utopian - where people work well with their misery simply because they like it or convince themselves the same. Real World - Corruption. Hell - No corruption but everybody's just doing the bare minimum to justify their existance. Think the real world's better than hell. At least this way something is getting done.
Its not hard to understand the how and the why... What to do about it is the question now. (Ye who've been mindlessly scanning, the question has now changed.) Change the system. Currently the system is being run by the corrupt. Who simply keep the system in a state that it runs on corruption. Catch 22.
The few of us who have the option to do what we enjoy or enjoy what we do with little regard to what we get outside of job satisfaction are but a minority. But beware the man(or woman, sorry) who thinks that a small thing cannot make a difference... think mosquito. We can make a difference. How? By doing what we do best - working. and not complaining. The system is too big a jaggernaut for a dramatic change to happen with a small group trying. But this group is increasing in size and someday will take on the Goliath. (Much apologies for the corny lines but it is true). 40% of the country is young. A strong socially responsible middle class is also growing and voicing itself. It's only a matter of time...

A Whore-ible Tale and I-can't-tell-you

After's Vibha's poetic response to Chesterton's misery I decided to hunt down this colleague of mine who had a singular experience. Not very singular but an experience all the same. This gentleman was riding his bike towards the station or the bus stand (not that it makes a difference) when he had to stop to pick a friend up. According to the horse, he was on the bike turning around to look for the friend in question while his helmet (which was on his head, for the doubting few of you) was "pointing in another direction". Now I'm not Henry Grey or Vesalius or Galen but I do know enough anatomy to realise that it's either a physical impossibility (and thus a fib) or its a potential Ripley's entry. The other direction was apparently at a normally dressed, college student like lady. But this too was not to be. Having been in this position for a sufficient length of time our hero was accosted by the lady and an accomplice who'd appeared from nowhere and addressed the helmet (in chaste vernacular) "How much will you give?" Now you have to realise that our hero's face and the helmet were not in alignment in the first place ("how else could it have happened?" said the horse)... So in the few moments in which syzygy was attained our friend also experienced what can be best described as gyanodayam. Needless to say he gunned his machine and did a Streethawk on the couple.
He's been sneaking around corners and flinching at loud sounds since then.
Ok it's a nice story. Sufficiently funny but got me thinking about the oldest profession of all time... More on that later. But when a kid was asked what nitrate was he replied, "2500, hotel charges extra..."

Juice from the honorable legislature is that a particular politician is now resting a little easier.
This section is taken out due to reasons both ethical and political. Those of you who've read it, if I find you propogating the tale will have to call the black cats or swat or the cia to take you out.
The moral of the story though remains the same.
Old chinese saying... When small men cast big shadows... the day is coming to an end.

Ballad of Suicide...

Today's its not about what I write. Its about what I read. So take a look...


A Ballad Of Suicide - G.K. Chesterton


The gallows in my garden, people say,

Is new and neat and adequately tall;
I tie the noose on in a knowing way

As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
But just as all the neighbours—on the wall—
Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"

The strangest whim has seized me. . . . After all
I think I will not hang myself to-day.

To-morrow is the time I get my pay—

My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall—
I see a little cloud all pink and grey—

Perhaps the rector's mother will not call— I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall
That mushrooms could be cooked another way—

I never read the works of Juvenal—
I think I will not hang myself to-day.

The world will have another washing-day;

The decadents decay; the pedants pall;
And H.G. Wells has found that children play,

And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall,
Rationalists are growing rational—
And through thick woods one finds a stream astray

So secret that the very sky seems small—
I think I will not hang myself to-day.

ENVOI
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;

Even to-day your royal head may fall,
I think I will not hang myself to-day

Stress and the English Language...

Remembered reading about a kid sometime ago who did himself in because he couldn't take the strain of... this is the sad bit CBSE English. It's bad enough today's world has kids complaining of stress, then complaining of not being able to handle it and when all of us who've been there and done that tell them it isn't a big deal, they do themselves in. It says in the bible that the punishment for suicide is eternity in hell with demons slowly pulling bits of your soul while the rest of you cooks over a slow fire a la Empire grill chicken. Fear not me hearties, I'm still an atheistic fundamentalist (haven't quite figured that out yet though...). The hell bit is something I picked up from Constantine. I liked it. The rest of you all who didn't... well I liked the Matrix Reloaded too. Go figure.
Disgression is a greivous fault and greivously shall I pay for it. My point is this - kids unable to handle their issues is one. The other point albeit minor, is that the issues itself are trivial. CBSE English. I rest my case.
CBSE English underwent a metamrphosis circa 1993-94. They decided that it was no longer important to learn by reading good english. Instead they had us make a radio show. Fill in the blanks like we were demented little morons. And read great works of fiction by Jayant Narilkar. Outside of The Frog and The Nightingale (from Beastly Tales from Here and There) by Vikram Seth, 4 pages of The Importance of Being Earnest and that poem about a lady who swallowed a fly, I don't know why she swallowed a fly, perhaps she'll die; I couldnt stand what I was made to read. And for five odd years this went on. I'm only glad there was some sort of underground resistance to this and we still read classics and pulp alike to keep the interest in language going.
But when I mentioned this to one of my colleagues recently when we were watching the story about this kid who couldn't handle english, he blew up. Said it wasn't necessary to read any good literature while learning a language as long as at the end of it one could speak fluently. And he got to read some good vernacular literature since that was his first language... Well I agree but where's the joy? Comments anyone?

Hail Gmail

Using Gmail. Its so convenient, its addictive. This isn't an endorsement (maybe it is, but that isn't the point of this post). Web based email has been around for close to at least 20 years. I've had an id for at least the last 7 or 8 years. How could it take 20 odd years for someone to come up with the concept of gmail? The advantages, to name a few is putting everyone you reply to automatically in the addressbook. Yes, outlook express does that too but I wouldnt be caught dead using that bit of devilry that microsoft bundled in. To group mails together as conversations. Suddenly email chess and scrabble and battleship got so much easier (no, I do have a life and don't indulge in those... anymore... never). To predict the address and/or the name when one types the first letter... and two and half gigabytes.
I'd hate to believe that the technology to do this didn't exist in the time when hotmail ruled. If internet porn existed at that time (it certainly did) then what was missing was application.
Now we reach the point of this post. Application. Now also is the time when my conscience, the part that often has to deal with inadvertent and advertent smothering/suicide/surrender, as you will, is screaming BORING in my ears. And since there will be many moments in the course of today where I shall be forced not pay attention to it, I shall listen now and stop here.
Bottomline : Gmail rules. As do beer and coffee. (not at the same time. infact of the three the only functional combination is gmail and coffee. Even beer and gmail may not be such a good idea.)
Dysfunctionally yours....

The perfect cup of coffee.

Hello, world. I know it's been a while and I apologise to those who wait with bated breath for the next installment of bloggery. For those who don't, well here it is anyway. Today, as I sip on a freshly brewed cup of coffee I realise that this is what I want to write about. Not some thesis irking me or an egotistic deputy chief minister with insomnia tearing a hospital apart (which by the way I have no option but to be quietly amused about...) Why rant and rave when one can sit back and enjoy the small stuff. No this isn't going to be a self help book (some ideas about wanking for dummies being a selfhelp book but nevermind), this is simply an ode in prose to my favourite drink.
Take equal quantities of Plantation A and Peaberry coffee beans. DO NOT ADD CHICORY. Roast till each bean is evenly roasted. Preferably store whole roasted beans and grind the required amount every morning. But who has that kind of time... get the roasted beans finely ground and aliquotted into air tight bags. Throw all bags except one into the freezer. Yes, ye of little faith, the freezer. Its not perishable ye might call out, it still has aroma and flavour I reply so preserve it. Better yet just listen without prejudice or argument. Transfer contents of one bag into an airtight jar. All prelimnary preparations are now done.
Stage two. boil water. set up the coffee filter (for those of you who don't know what it is and how it works, shame on you but you can find out more here) On an aside I have a good idea which breed of person's written that wiki. Once the dicoction's percolated, boil milk. And by boil its like making holy milk - boil the hell out of it. In a cup, add dicoction and the boiling milk in a 1:3 or 1:2 (if you like it strong ratio) and sugar (as little as possible). Now the important step (the step that has given rise to the now famous term metre-coffee). Pour the coffee into another receptacle and then back in the cup. Repeat about 5 times progressively increasing the distance between the two vessels. The result should be a nice frothy cup of coffee.
Sit down pick up a news paper, sip coffee.... Nirvana.

This is the story of Morning glory

It’s early in the morning and I’m writing at this time as opposed to my usual nocturnal trysts with creativity for two reasons. My gym, which I will elaborate on shortly, is not where I feel like being and my dad, on whom I can elaborate for the twenty years without me or you being bored, has taken away the one morning activity that I used to do with religious regularity – sudoku.
First the gym, before ye of little faith start calling me a mindless jock, well mindless I can be, jock I never was, except for some occasional running, is there because I like to stay fit. I do have enough risk factors in my life for an early trip to a cardiologist (those leeches… ) including a fondness for beer and red meat (come hither my tenderloin…) So anyway all this coupled with a bad knee that required physiotherapy got me to join a gym. It’s called, embarrassing as it is, Platinum Bodies. I’m running for cover and will be back once ye all are done rolling on the floor in mirth. My point is that gyms are modern society’s way of accepting sado-masochism as part of everyday life. One has to be a masochist to be a regular and enjoy it and of course the instructors there are as sadistic as can get. The initial couple of weeks are terrible. Beginner’s enthusiasm coupled with empty-pocket-weightlessness prompted me to push myself like I’ve never done before. The result was apparent. I was walking slower and more gracefully, turning with poise and in my head screaming in agony (oh my tenderloins, if you get the idea). Now it’s better. I’ve learnt the ropes and tricks on how to appear to be burning calories or building muscle without actually doing either to the extent of suicide. But this morning I don’t feel like being hounded by the coach so I’m here. There’s also an aside that has something to do with my car being out of fuel but never mind.
About my dad and sudoku… Now I resisted the craze for quite a while and then one fine jobless day picked it up and was instantly sucked in. Solved it with the same religious regularity mentioned earlier and was actually beginning to both get better and enjoy it. I used to sit down with crosswords earlier till dad, the root cause of most evil and the provider of food and shelter, switched papers to a near tabloid daily (no names) that has the worst crossword I’ve ever seen. So I was left with the number game. Till the gym started and I had to leave before the paper and who is to seize the grid then but paterfamilias. Now I’m given a polite choice of food and shelter or sudoku. And he’s terrible at it. Sits down and ponders for close to half and hour and blocks up the tabloid for general consumption. There’s a story of his scoring some abysmal score on an online IQ test but he might just read this someday so I’ll leave it out.
Enough ranting for today. Will have to vent the frustration on the treadmill later today.

Somewhere on the net is a 3D sudoku. Anybody know where?