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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMSHo-eSp7ImA9WhRUE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260</id><updated>2012-01-24T13:49:49.451+05:30</updated><category term="Good Things" /><category term="Humor" /><category term="Short Stories" /><category term="Jokes" /><category term="Symantec" /><category term="Tech news" /><category term="IT" /><category term="Chennai" /><title>Life is tough, But I m Tougher</title><subtitle type="html">Without friendship, World is Nothing</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>54</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LifeIsToughButIMTougher" /><feedburner:info uri="lifeistoughbutimtougher" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMSHo8eCp7ImA9WhRUE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-47683933715436997</id><published>2012-01-23T22:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-24T13:49:49.470+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T13:49:49.470+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Good Things" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><title>Life Is Like A Cup of Coffee</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N2ljvTV0PEY/Tx2N5VY5iRI/AAAAAAAAKEI/nlJOhBUycL0/s1600/102393.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="253" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N2ljvTV0PEY/Tx2N5VY5iRI/AAAAAAAAKEI/nlJOhBUycL0/s400/102393.gif" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of alumni, highly established in
 their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. 
Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Offering
 his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a
 large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, 
glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - 
telling them to help themselves to the coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all the 
students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If you 
noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving
 behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want 
only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and 
stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the 
coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even 
hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the 
cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began 
eyeing each other's cups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now consider this: Life is the coffee; 
the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just 
tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not 
define, nor change the quality of life we live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee. Savor the coffee, not the cups! &lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="color: #073763;"&gt;The happiest people don't have the best of everything. &lt;br /&gt;They just make the best of everything. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4wTJQDHi8g/TwVutWGk2sI/AAAAAAAAKDs/PiKGvsFXd0w/s1600/rajini-kuselan-wallpapers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="388" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4wTJQDHi8g/TwVutWGk2sI/AAAAAAAAKDs/PiKGvsFXd0w/s400/rajini-kuselan-wallpapers.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;O&lt;/b&gt;nce upon a time there was a rich King who had four wives. &lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He
 loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated
 her to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;He also loved the 3rd wife very much and
 was always showing her off to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared 
that one day she would leave him for another.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his 
confident and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. 
Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her, and she 
would help him get through the difficult times.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;The King's 1st wife was a very loyal 
partner and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and 
kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife. Although she loved him
 deeply, he hardly took notice of her or even fed or clothed her 
properly!&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;One day, the King fell ill and he knew 
his time was short. He thought of his luxurious life and wondered, I now
 have four wives with me, but when I die, I'll be all alone."&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I have 
loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered 
great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me 
company? "No way!", replied the 4th wife, and she walked away without 
another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife right into his heart.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;The sad King then asked the 3rd wife, "I
 have loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and 
keep me company?" "No!", replied the 3rd wife. "Life is too good! When 
you die, I'm going to remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;He then asked the! 2nd wife, "I have 
always turned to you for help and you've always been there for me. When I
 die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help 
you out this time!", replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only
 walk with you to your grave." Her answer struck him like a bolt of 
lightning, and the King was devastated.&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;Then a voice called out: "I'll go with 
you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The King looked up, and 
there was his first wife. She was very skinny as she suffered from 
malnutrition and neglect. Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have
 taken much better care of you when I had the chance!"&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;In truth, we all have the 4 wives in our lives: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;ul style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;" type="disc"&gt;
&lt;li class="yiv215722020MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Our 4th wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt; is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="yiv215722020MsoNormal" style="color: black; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;Our 3rd wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span&gt; is our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, it will all go to others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="yiv215722020MsoNormal" style="color: black; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;Our 2nd wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span&gt;
 is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for 
us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="yiv215722020MsoNormal" style="color: black; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;Finally, our 1st wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span&gt;
 is our Soul. Often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures 
of the world. However, our Soul is the only thing that will follow us 
wherever we go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="yiv215722020MsoNormal" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;MORAL: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span&gt;Cultivate,
 strengthen and cherish it now, for it is the only part of us that will 
follow us to the throne of God and continue with us throughout Eternity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bNIlBhI-N44/TtMzDDRZGpI/AAAAAAAAKCA/uy_OFwOum5s/s1600/life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bNIlBhI-N44/TtMzDDRZGpI/AAAAAAAAKCA/uy_OFwOum5s/s320/life.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1975
Jan 1 &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;It
is about five in the morning. Father (I am not bothering with names)woke up
with a start. Many years had passed since he had founded the orphanage. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;He
had named it "X-Orphanage", a rather funny name. But looking back
,everything about his life seemed funny now. Hearing some noise outside, Father
decided to have a look. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;A child lay there in front of the orphanage. It was a girl. Seeing
her abandoned like this in the cold morning ,Father felt a sense of anger for
the the merciless being who had thrown her away like this. He took her in his
arms. He would raise her like his own child. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;17
Years Later...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
girl has grown up now. She is now staying in a hostel. She meets a man and
falls in love with him. She gets pregnant. The man disappears. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;She
is thrown out of the Hostel. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Father
comes and takes her back to the orphanage. She gives birth to a girl but the
baby is mysteriously stolen. Unable to bear all this, the Father commits
suicide. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Due
to some problems concerning the delivery, the girl went to see a Doctor. The
doctor having examined her ,said with a sad ex-pression on his face,
"Adrenalo Sytosis, a serious case of hormone imbalance". An operation
was performed in which the doctor had to change the sex of the patient. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
girl was now transformed to a man. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
man was very depressed because he had lost his child, the father had committed
suicide, his lover had betrayed him , he had to change sex and so on. He
eventually took to drinking. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;One
day he saw that a new bar had opened in his locality. The name of the bar was
'Sangeetha Bar'. He went inside. There he saw a bearded man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The bearded man told him that he had a Time Machine and that he
could take it. He accepted the gift from the bearded man. He decided to go to
the past (to the year 1992)and started the Time Machine.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;1992
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
man arrives with the Time Machine in the year 1992.There he meets a girl (the
same girl who has now become the man) and falls in love with her. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
girl gets pregnant. The man, unwilling to marry her ,leaves the town. He goes
to another city, earns some money and come backs to the city where the girl
lives. He wants to conceal his identity ,so he has grown a beard. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;He
starts a bar named 'Sangeetha Bar'. When he was sitting in the bar, a man comes
(the same man who was earlier the girl). He gives the Time machine to the man.
The man starts the Time Machine and goes to the past. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Suddenly
a man wearing a mask comes to the bar. He points a gun at the bearded man ..He
says that he has a Time Machine and he will take the bearded man to the past.
Taking the bearded man with him, the masked man starts the Time Machine. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;When they reach the past, the masked man gives the Time Machine to
the bearded man and runs away. The bearded man finds himself in front of
X-Orphanage. He goes inside and finds a woman (the same woman who later becomes
the man) lying there with her new born baby. It is a girl. He takes the girl
and starts the Time Machine to go to the past (to the year 1975). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;b&gt;1975
Jan 1 &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The
bearded man arrives with the girl. He leaves her in front of X-Orphanage. He
joins a college, studies hard and becomes a doctor. One day a woman was brought
to the hospital. He examines her and finds that it is a serious case of
'Adrenalo Sytosis'. He performs an operation in which he changes her sex. He
then starts the Time Machine and goes to the past. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;He
arrives at a time of great famine and suffering Seeing all this, he decides to
become a priest and to serve the people. He starts an orphanage and names it
'X-Orphanage'. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;One
day(1975 Jan 1), he finds a girl lying in front of the orphanage. He takes her
and brings her up like his own child. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;One
day he hears that the girl is pregnant and is thrown out of the hostel. He
brings her back to X-Orphanage. She gives birth to a girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The Father wants to go to the future. He wears a mask, takes a gun
and starts the Time Machine. He reaches in front of 'Sangeetha Bar'. He goes
inside and forces the bearded man to travel along with him to the past. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Reaching the past, he feels guilty about forcing the bearded man to
come with him. He gives the Time Machine to the bearded man and runs away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;When he returns, he hears the sad news that the baby is stolen. Unable
to bear the sorrow ,he commits suicide. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-36pdKkaJ02M/TsyD6EIvj-I/AAAAAAAAKB4/Mam83VQZGY4/s1600/Shoulder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-36pdKkaJ02M/TsyD6EIvj-I/AAAAAAAAKB4/Mam83VQZGY4/s320/Shoulder.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body is. &lt;br /&gt;Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct Answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, "My ears, Mommy." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it&amp;nbsp; must be our eyes." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She
 looked at me and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not
 correct because there are many people who are blind." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumped 
again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother 
asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are
 getting smarter every year, my child." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one year, my 
grandfather died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my 
father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second 
time I saw him cry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to 
say our final good-bye to my Grandfather. She asked me, "Do you know the
 most important body part yet, my dear?" I was shocked when she asked me
 this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. &lt;br /&gt;She 
saw the confusion on my face and told&amp;nbsp; me, "This question is very 
important. It shows that you have really lived in your life. For every 
body part you gave me in the past, I have told you&amp;nbsp; were wrong and I 
have&amp;nbsp; given you an example why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She
 looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with 
tears. She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your 
shoulder." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She
 replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved
 one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in 
life, my dear. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that 
you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. &lt;br /&gt;It is made for others and not for yourself. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did . But people will NEVER forget how you made them feel.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4ArsWKPy2KluF6-zbbYudSAUJus/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4ArsWKPy2KluF6-zbbYudSAUJus/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/zF_vheQnqIk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/4243383351878409398/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=4243383351878409398&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/4243383351878409398?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/4243383351878409398?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/zF_vheQnqIk/most-important-part-of-body-beautiful.html" title="Most important part of the body? A beautiful message" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-36pdKkaJ02M/TsyD6EIvj-I/AAAAAAAAKB4/Mam83VQZGY4/s72-c/Shoulder.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/11/most-important-part-of-body-beautiful.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08GQ3Y8eyp7ImA9WhRTGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-9067686480117601513</id><published>2011-11-09T20:13:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-09T20:13:42.873+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-09T20:13:42.873+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jokes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Art of Appraisal</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: This year your performance was good, excellent and outstanding. So, your
rating is "average".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
What? How come 'average'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Because...err...uhh...you lack domain knowledge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
But last year you said I am a domain expert and you put me in this project as a
domain consultant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Oh is it? Well, in that case, I think your domain knowledge has eroded
this year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
What???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Yes, I didn't see you sharing knowledge on Purchasing domain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Why would I? Because I am not in Purchasing, I am in Manufacturing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: This is what I don't like about you. You give excuse for everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Huh? *Confused*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Next, you need to improve your communication skills.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Like what? I am the one who trained the team on "Business
Communication", you sat in the audience and took notes, you remember?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Oh is it? Errr...well..I mean, you need to improve your Social Pragmatic
Affirmative Communication.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Huh? What the hell is that? *Confused*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: See! That's why you need to learn about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
*head spinning*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Next, you need to sharpen your recruiting skills. All the guys you
recruited left within 2 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Well, not my mistake. You told them you will sit beside them and review their
code, and most resigned the next day itself. Couple of them even attempted suicide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss:*stunned* (recovers from shock) Err...anyway, I tried to give you a better
rating, but our Normalization process gave you only 'average'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
Last year that process gave me 'excellent'. This year just 'average'? Why is
this process pushing me up and down every year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: That's a complicated process. You don't want to hear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
I'll try to understand. Go ahead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Well, we gather in a large room, write down the names of sub-ordinates in
bits of paper, and throw them up in the air. Whichever lands on the floor gets
'average', whichever lands on table gets 'good', whichever we manage to catch
gets 'excellent' and whichever gets stuck to ceiling gets 'outstanding'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
(eyes popping out) What? Ridiculous! So who gets 'poor' rating?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Those are the ones we forget to write down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
What the hell! And how can paper bits stick to ceiling for 'outstanding'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Big
Boss: Oh no, now you have started questioning our 20 year old organizational
process!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoPlainText"&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt;"&gt;Ramesh:
*faints*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.classicalvoice.org/images/joshua-bell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.classicalvoice.org/images/joshua-bell.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;In
 Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 
2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 
minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the 
station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a 
middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his
 pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his 
schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;About 4 minutes later:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;At 6 minutes:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;At 10 minutes:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A
 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The 
kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard 
and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This 
action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - 
without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;At 45 minutes:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The
 musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a 
short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal 
pace. The man collected a total of $32.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;After 1 hour:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No
 one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest 
musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever 
written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, 
Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 
each to sit and listen to him play the same music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a true
 story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was 
organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about 
perception, taste and people's priorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This experiment raised several questions:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;ul style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;If so, do we stop to appreciate it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;

&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If
 we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians
 in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one 
of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;It
 is the story of a king who was tired of finding himself in extreme 
states of happiness or sadness and was looking to find a way to bring 
balance, serenity and wisdom into his life.&lt;br /&gt; Once a king called upon 
all of his wise men and asked them, " Is there a mantra or suggestion 
which works in every situation, in every circumstances, in every place 
and in every time. Something which can help me when none of you is 
available to advise me. Tell me is there any mantra?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; All wise 
men got puzzled by King's question. One answer for all question? 
Something that works everywhere, in every situation? In every joy, every
 sorrow, every defeat and every victory? They thought and thought. After
 a lengthy discussion, an old man suggested something which appeal to 
all of them. They went to king and gave him something written on paper. 
But the condition was that king was not to see it out of curiosity. Only
 in extreme danger, when the King finds himself alone and there seems to
 be no way, only then he'll have to see it. The King put the papers 
under his Diamond ring.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; After a few days, the neighbors attack 
the Kingdom. It was a collective surprise attack of King's enemies. King
 and his army fought bravely but lost the battle. King had to fled on 
his horse. The enemies were following him. His horse took him  far away 
in Jungle. He could hear many troops of horses were following him and 
the noise was coming closer and closer. Suddenly the King found himself 
standing in the end of the road - that road was not going anywhere. 
Underneath there was a rocky valley thousand feet deep. If he jumped 
into it, he would be finished…and he could not return because it was a 
small road…From back the sound of enemy's horses was approaching fast. 
King became restless. There seemed to be no way.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Then suddenly 
he saw the Diamond in his ring shining in the sun, and he remembered the
 message hidden in the ring. He opened the diamond and read the message.
 The message was very small but very great.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The message was - " This too will pass." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
 The King read it . Again read it. Suddenly something strike in his 
mind- Yes ! it too will pass. Only a few days ago, I was enjoying my 
kingdom. I was the mightiest of all the Kings. Yet today, the Kingdom 
and all his pleasure have gone. I am here trying to escape from enemies.
 However when those days of luxuries have gone, this day of danger too 
will pass. A calm come on his face. He kept standing there. The place 
where he was standing was full of natural beauty. He had never known 
that such a beautiful place was also a part of his Kingdom. The 
revelation of message had a great effect on him. He relaxed and forget 
about those following him. After a few minute he realized that the noise
 of the horses and the enemy coming was receding. They moved into some 
other part of the mountains and were not on that path.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; The King
 was very brave. He reorganized his army and fought again. He defeated 
the enemy and regain his lost empire. When he returned to his empire 
after victory, he was received with much fan fare at the door. The whole
 capital was rejoicing in the victory. Everyone was in a festive mood. 
Flowers were being thrown on King from every house, from every corner. 
People were dancing and singing. For a moment King said to himself," I 
am one of the bravest and greatest King. It is not easy to defeat me.: 
With all the reception and celebration he saw an ego emerging in him.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
 Suddenly the Diamond of his ring flashed in the sunlight and reminded 
him of the message. He opened it and read it again: "This too will pass"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; He became silent. His face went through a total change -from the egoist he moved to a state of utter humbleness.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Neither is Failure final; Nor is success permanent !!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bSBjLapMvPc/TpPSRpIq5II/AAAAAAAAJ80/1Q9m5lBRcTI/s1600/woman-tears1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="211" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bSBjLapMvPc/TpPSRpIq5II/AAAAAAAAJ80/1Q9m5lBRcTI/s320/woman-tears1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?" "Because I'm a woman," she told him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"I don't understand," he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked, "God, why do women cry so easily?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
God said, "When I made the woman she had to be special.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
yet gentle enough to give comfort.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else 
gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue 
without complaining.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but
 sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him 
unfalteringly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"You see my son," said God, "the beauty of a woman is not in the 
clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her
 hair.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;
Author: Unknown&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="msg-body inner  undoreset" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469155"&gt;
&lt;div id="yiv2081554784"&gt;
&lt;span style="display: none;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--~-|**|PrettyHtmlStartT|**|-~--&gt;&lt;div id="yiv2081554784ygrp-mlmsg"&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469154"&gt;&lt;tbody id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469153"&gt;
&lt;tr id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469152"&gt;&lt;td id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469151" style="font-size-adjust: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font: inherit;" valign="top"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Inspiring excerpts from the commencement speech by Steve Jobs, at Standord University on June 12, 2005.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Truth be told, I never graduated from college, and this is the  closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today, I want to tell  you three stories from my life.&lt;br /&gt;
Best decisions I ever made&lt;br /&gt;
The first story is about connecting the dots. I ped out of Reed  College after the first six months. Why? Well, it started before I was  born. My biological mother was a young, unwed graduate student, and she  decided to put me up for adoption.&lt;br /&gt;
She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, but my biological mother found out later that my mother had never  graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high  school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would go to college.&lt;br /&gt;
This was the start in my life. And 17 years later I did go to  college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as  Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent  on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. So I decided to out. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back  it was one of the best decisions I ever made.&lt;br /&gt;
It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the  floor in friends' rooms. I returned coke bottles for the five cent  deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the seven miles across town  every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna  temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my  curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on.&lt;br /&gt;
Let me give you one example: I decided to take a calligraphy class at Reed College and learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about  varying the amount of space between different letter combinations. None  of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it  all came back to me. If I had never ped out, I would have never ped in  on that calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the  wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to  connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. So you have to  trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.&lt;br /&gt;
Love and Loss&lt;br /&gt;
My second story is about love and loss. Woz (Steve Wozniak) and I  started Apple in my parents' garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and  in 10 years Apple had grown into a two billion dollar company with over  4,000 employees. We'd just released our finest creation the Macintosh a  year earlier, and then I got fired.&lt;br /&gt;
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had  let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down. I even thought about  running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me: I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed  that one bit and I decided to start over.&lt;br /&gt;
The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of  being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life. During the next five  years, I started a company named NeXT another company named Pixar, and  fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. In a  remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, and I retuned to Apple.  I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired  from Apple.&lt;br /&gt;
I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and  the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great  work. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.&lt;br /&gt;
If today were the last day of life&lt;br /&gt;
My third story is about death. When I was 17, I read a quote that  went something like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last,  someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me,  and since then, for the past 33 years, I've looked in the mirror every  morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has  been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.&lt;br /&gt;
Remembering that I will be dead soon is the most important tool I  have ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. About a  year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors told me this was  incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six  months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order,  which is doctor's code for 'prepare to die.' I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, and was told that it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with  surgery. I had the surgery and, thankfully, I'm fine now.&lt;br /&gt;
This was the closest I've been to facing death. Having lived through  it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death  was a useful but purely intellectual concept: No one wants to die. Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too  long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away.  Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.  Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.&lt;br /&gt;
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole  Earth Catalogue created by a fellow named Stewart Brand and he brought  it to life with his poetic touch. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might  find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: 'Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.' It was their farewell message.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_1_1315843577469150"&gt;
And I've always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;A&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Mom comes to visit her son Kunal for dinner.....who lives with a girl roommate Sunita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
During the course of the meal, his mother couldn't help but notice how pretty Kunal's roommate was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between the two, and this had only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Kunal and his roommate than met the eye. Reading his mom's thoughts, Kunal volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Sunita and I are just roommates."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
About a week later, Sunita came to Kunal saying, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the silver chutney jar. You don't suppose she took it, do you?" Kunal said ,"Well, I doubt it, but I'll email her, just to be sure."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;So he sat down and wrote:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Dear Mother, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;I'm not saying that you 'did' take the chutney jar from my house, I'm not saying that you 'did not' take the chutney jar. But the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;
Kunal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Several days later, Kunal received an email from his Mother which read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Dear Son,&lt;br /&gt;
I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Sunita, and I'm not saying that you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #17365d;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;'do not' sleep with Sunita. But the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her OWN bed, she would have found the chutney jar by now under the pillow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;
Mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9dWGhHeoVpgWBprgUWjL8FeaQME/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9dWGhHeoVpgWBprgUWjL8FeaQME/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/a0BXgtF24dU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/6497451190693743970/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=6497451190693743970&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/6497451190693743970?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/6497451190693743970?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/a0BXgtF24dU/desi-mom.html" title="Desi Mom :)" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/08/desi-mom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MRHk8fip7ImA9WhdSE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-2086098227682473717</id><published>2011-07-22T16:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-22T16:23:05.776+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-22T16:23:05.776+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Software Testing</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B003Y5H542&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Software Testing - A good read….not intended against any group as such, but still entertaining ... read on ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;A university scholar, Mr. John Smith&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;approaches his friend a software-testing guru telling him that he has a Bachelor in programming, and now would like to learn the software testing to complete his knowledge and to find a job as a software tester. After summing him up for a few minutes, the software-testing guru told him "I seriously doubt that you are ready to study software testing. It's the serious topic. If you wish however I am willing to examine you in logic, and if you pass the test I will help teach you software testing. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;The young man agrees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Software testing guru holds up two fingers "Two men come down a chimney. One comes with a clean face and the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;The young man stares at the software-testing guru. "Is that a test in Logic?" software testing guru nods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"The one with the dirty face washes his face," He answers wearily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Wrong. The one with the clean face washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. So; the one with the clean face washes his face."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Very clever" Says Smith. &amp;nbsp;"Give me another test"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;The software-testing guru again holds up two fingers "Two men come down a&amp;nbsp;chimney.One comes out with a clean face and the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"We have already established that. The one with the clean face washes his face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Wrong. Each one washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. So; the one with the clean face washes his face. When the one with the dirty face sees the one with the clean face washing his face, he also washes his face. So each one washes his face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"I didn't think of that!" Says Smith. " It's shocking to me that I could make an error in logic. Test me again!."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;The software-testing guru holds up two fingers "Two men come down a&amp;nbsp;chimney.One comes out with a clean face and the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Each one washes his face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Wrong. Neither one washes his face. Examine the simple logic. The one with the dirty face looks at the one with the clean face and thinks his face is clean. The one with the clean face looks at the one with the dirty face and thinks his face is dirty. But when the one with clean face sees that the one with the dirty face doesn't wash his face, he also doesn't wash his face So neither one washes his face".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Smith is desperate. "I am qualified to study software testing. Please give me one more test"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;He groans when the software-testing guru lifts his two fingers, "Two men come down a chimney. One comes out with a clean face and the other comes out with a dirty face. Which one washes his face?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Neither one washes his face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;"Wrong. Do you now see, John, why programming knowledge is an insufficient basis for studying the software testing? Tell me, how is it possible for two men to come down the same chimney, and for one to come out with a clean face and the other with a dirty face? Don’t you see?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #302727;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #004080; font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;Moral : Whatever a programmer do, Testers are supposed to find bugs and they will.&lt;br /&gt;
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There was a farmer who collected horses; he only needed one more breed&lt;br /&gt;
to complete his collection. One day, he found out that his neighbor&lt;br /&gt;
had the particular horse breed he needed. So, he constantly bothered&lt;br /&gt;
his neighbor until he sold it to him. A month later, the horse became&lt;br /&gt;
ill and he called the veterinarian, who said:&lt;br /&gt;
- Well, your horse has a virus. He must take this medicine for three&lt;br /&gt;
days. I'll come back on the 3rd day and if he's not better, we're&lt;br /&gt;
going to have to put him down.&lt;br /&gt;
Nearby, the pig listened closely to their conversation.&lt;br /&gt;
The next day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig approached&lt;br /&gt;
the horse and said:&lt;br /&gt;
- Be strong, my friend. Get up or else they're going to put you to sleep!&lt;br /&gt;
On the second day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig came&lt;br /&gt;
back and said:&lt;br /&gt;
- Come on buddy, get up or else you're going to die! Come on, I'll&lt;br /&gt;
help you get up. Let's go! One, two, three...&lt;br /&gt;
On the third day, they came to give him the medicine and the vet said:&lt;br /&gt;
- Unfortunately, we're going to have to put him down tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;
Otherwise, the virus might spread and infect the other horses.&lt;br /&gt;
After they left, the pig approached the horse and said:&lt;br /&gt;
- Listen pal, it's now or never! Get up, come on! Have courage! Come&lt;br /&gt;
on! Get up! Get up! That's it, slowly! Great! Come on, one, two,&lt;br /&gt;
three... Good, good. Now faster, come on.... Fantastic! Run, run more!&lt;br /&gt;
Yes! Yay! Yes! You did it, you're a champion!!!&lt;br /&gt;
All of a sudden, the owner came back, saw the horse running in the&lt;br /&gt;
field and began shouting:&lt;br /&gt;
- It's a miracle! My horse is cured. This deserves a party. Let's kill the pig!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Points for reflection: this often happens in the workplace. Nobody truly knows which employee actually deserves the merit of success, or who's actually contributing the necessary support to make things happen.&lt;br /&gt;
LEARNING TO LIVE WITHOUT RECOGNITION IS A SKILL!&lt;br /&gt;
If anyone ever tells you that your work is unprofessional, remember:&lt;br /&gt;
amateurs built the Ark and professionals built the Titanic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;DON'T LOOK TO BECOME A PERSON OF SUCCESS, LOOK INSTEAD TO BECOME A&lt;br /&gt;
PERSON OF VALUE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;-- From my Junior's Buzz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vd0B3fZL_ZZz-LKUy6yDOH3n9Aw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vd0B3fZL_ZZz-LKUy6yDOH3n9Aw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/f8dBdiEyiBQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/2759115454005882717/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=2759115454005882717&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2759115454005882717?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2759115454005882717?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/f8dBdiEyiBQ/pig-and-horse.html" title="The Pig And The Horse" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pBuPaiI7oWA/Tfnv_KstmsI/AAAAAAAAJyg/aUt7hLHWg9M/s72-c/Team.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/06/pig-and-horse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQASH84fCp7ImA9WhZVGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-134945120379510999</id><published>2011-05-31T14:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-31T14:29:09.134+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-31T14:29:09.134+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Good Things" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><title>Philosophy of Life</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dRlmlBSJbnk/TeStdvKE76I/AAAAAAAAJwo/QRVOoTgEnEI/s1600/21122_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dRlmlBSJbnk/TeStdvKE76I/AAAAAAAAJwo/QRVOoTgEnEI/s320/21122_logo.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"Not very long." they answered in unison.&lt;br /&gt;
"Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?"&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;The fishermen explained that their small catches were sufficient to meet their needs and those of their families.&lt;br /&gt;
"But what do you do with the rest of your time?"&lt;br /&gt;
"We sleep late, fish a little, play with our children, and take siestas with our wives.&lt;br /&gt;
In the evenings, we go into the village to see our friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;We have a full life."&lt;br /&gt;
The tourist interrupted,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you!&lt;br /&gt;
You should start by fishing longer every day.&lt;br /&gt;
You can then sell the extra fish you catch.&lt;br /&gt;
With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"And after that?"&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.&lt;br /&gt;
Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"How long would that take?" &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years." replied the tourist. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"And after that?" &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting, " answered the tourist, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the fishermen.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"After that you'll be able to retire,&lt;br /&gt;
live in a tiny village near the coast,&lt;br /&gt;
Sleep late, play with your children,&lt;br /&gt;
Catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife&lt;br /&gt;
And spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends." &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;"With all due respect sir, but that's exactly what we are doing now. So what's the point wasting twenty-five years?" asked the Mexicans.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;And the moral of this story is:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Know where you're going in life. You may already be there!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Then he put the pair of scissors at his feet. Then he took a small  needle and thread and started to sew the bits of cloth, into a fine  shirt. When the spell of sewing was over, he stuck the needle on to his  turban.&lt;br /&gt;
The tailor's son who was watching it asked him: "Father, the scissors  are costly and look so beautiful. But you throw them down at your feet.  This needle is worth almost nothing; you can get a dozen for an Anna.  Yet, you place it carefully on your head itself. Is there any reason for  this illogical behavior?"&lt;br /&gt;
"Yes, my son. The scissors have their function, no doubt; but they only  cut the cloth into bits. The needle, on the contrary, unites the bits  and enhances the value of the cloth. Therefore, the needle to me is more  precious and valuable. The value of a thing depends on its utility,  son, not on its cost-price or appearance."&lt;br /&gt;
Similarly, there are two classes of people in the world-those who create  dissensions and disharmony, who separate man from man; and those who  bring about peace and harmony, who unite people.&lt;br /&gt;
The former are generally the rich people, powerful politicians and  kings; the latter are generally the poor devotees of God, the penniless  wandering monks, and mendicants. The Lord makes use of both to carry on  his function of providing the field for the evolution of individual  souls. He throws down on the dust the mighty kings and millionaires who  create wars and disharmony; and He keeps the poor, pious devotee over  His own head. In His eyes the scale of values is entirely different!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/ZaAhuniJrTk/tailors-needle.html" title="The Tailor's Needle" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/05/tailors-needle.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04CRno9eip7ImA9WhZQFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-8424310581037224635</id><published>2011-04-23T02:29:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-23T02:29:27.462+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-23T02:29:27.462+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Women :)</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you kiss her,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are not a gentleman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are not a man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you praise her,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she thinks you are lying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are good for nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you agree to all her likes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are a wimp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are not understanding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you visit her often,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she thinks you are boring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she accuses you of double-crossing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you are well dressed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she says you are a playboy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you are a dull boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you are jealous,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she says it's bad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she thinks you do not love her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you attempt a romance,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she says you didn't respect her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you don't,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she thinks you do not like her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you are a minute late,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she complains it's hard to wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If she is late,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she says that's a girl's way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you visit another man,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you're not putting in "quality time"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If she is visited by another woman,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;"oh it's natural, we are girls"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you kiss her once in a while,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she professes you are cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you kiss her often,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she yells that you are taking advantage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you fail to help her in crossing the street,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;you lack ethics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you do,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she thinks it's just one of men's tactics for seduction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you stare at another woman,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she accuses you of flirting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If she is stared by other men,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she says that they are just admiring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you talk,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she wants you to listen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;If you listen,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;she wants you to talk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;In short:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So simple, yet so complex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So weak, yet so powerful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So confusing, yet so desirable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;So damning, yet so wonderful... &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Women-Meg-Ryan/dp/B0017ANAZO?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;WOMEN&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=B0017ANAZO" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pdNzgwEAGtaRzzfNJKRmxpX_uVQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pdNzgwEAGtaRzzfNJKRmxpX_uVQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/19-LVrfIU_E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="related" href="http://oneidiotbox.blogspot.com/2011/04/women.html" title="Women :)" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/8424310581037224635/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=8424310581037224635&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/8424310581037224635?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/8424310581037224635?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/19-LVrfIU_E/women.html" title="Women :)" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/04/women.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEBR3Yzeyp7ImA9WhZQE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-3823640179609274019</id><published>2011-04-21T10:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-21T10:07:36.883+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-21T10:07:36.883+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Good Things" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><title>I knew you would come!</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: left;"&gt;There were two childhood buddies who went through school and college and even joined the army together. War broke out and they were fighting in the same unit. One night they were ambushed. Bullets were flying all over and out of the darkness came a voice, "Harry, please come and help me." Harry immediately recognized the voice of his childhood buddy, Bill. He asked the captain if he could go. The captain said, "No, I can't let you go, I am already short-handed and I cannot afford to lose one more person. Besides, the way Bill sounds he is not going to make it." Harry kept quiet. Again the voice came, "Harry, please come and help me." Harry sat quietly because the captain had refused earlier. Again and again the voice came. Harry couldn't contain himself any longer and told the captain, "Captain, this is my childhood buddy. I have to go and help." The captain reluctantly let him go. Harry crawled through the darkness and dragged Bill back into the trench. They found that Bill was dead. Now the captain got angry and shouted at Harry, "Didn't I tell you he was not going to make it? He is dead, you could have been killed and I could have lost a hand. That was a mistake." Harry replied, "Captain, I did the right thing. When I reached Bill he was still alive and his last words were 'Harry, I knew you would come.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Good relationships are hard to find and once developed should be nurtured. We are often told: Live your dream. But you cannot live your dream at the expense of others. People who do so are unscrupulous. We need to make personal sacrifices for our family, friends, and those we care about and who depend on us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/69Kj6y5SyKzDHhN46qpxbazHyec/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/69Kj6y5SyKzDHhN46qpxbazHyec/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/GKE0_Hy7KE0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/3823640179609274019/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=3823640179609274019&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/3823640179609274019?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/3823640179609274019?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/GKE0_Hy7KE0/i-knew-you-would-come.html" title="I knew you would come!" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-knew-you-would-come.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4FRHs5cCp7ImA9WhZRGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-2000869417539357101</id><published>2011-04-15T05:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-15T05:51:55.528+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-15T05:51:55.528+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Good Things" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><title>The Garbage Truck</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his breaks, skidded and missed the other car by just inches!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean he was really friendly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I asked, "Why did you just do that? That guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!" That is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, "The Law of the Garbage Truck."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;So... "Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style="color: red;" /&gt;&lt;br style="color: red;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Life is ten percent of what you make it and ninety percent of how you take it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B003K15EIY&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d4-T1AQUWw0__UdeR8p7BtZ91aA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d4-T1AQUWw0__UdeR8p7BtZ91aA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/OqmqB-uiA_w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/2000869417539357101/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=2000869417539357101&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2000869417539357101?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2000869417539357101?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/OqmqB-uiA_w/garbage-truck.html" title="The Garbage Truck" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/04/garbage-truck.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIFRHs_cSp7ImA9WhZSFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-84859262117077103</id><published>2011-04-02T03:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-02T03:51:55.549+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-02T03:51:55.549+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>How many fish have you caught ?</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;A fisherman from the city was out fishing on a lake in a small boat. He noticed another man in a small boat open his tackle box and take out a mirror. Being curious, the man rowed over and asked, “What is the mirror for?”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“That’s my secret way to catch fish,” said the other man. “Shine the mirror on the top of the water. The fish notice the spot of sun on the water above and they swim to the surface. Then I just reach down and net them and pull them into the boat.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Wow! Does that really work?”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“You bet it does.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Would you be interested in selling that mirror? I’ll give you $30 for it.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“Well, okay.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After the money was transferred, the city fisherman asked, “By the way, how many fish have you caught this week?”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“You’re the sixth,” he said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlEA2VFv_euaNnXDRMu8AqFv1Ww/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HlEA2VFv_euaNnXDRMu8AqFv1Ww/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/t7W2nsbnKnU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/84859262117077103/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=84859262117077103&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/84859262117077103?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/84859262117077103?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/t7W2nsbnKnU/how-many-fish-have-you-caught.html" title="How many fish have you caught ?" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-many-fish-have-you-caught.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMARXY-fCp7ImA9WhZTEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-5379022688007248921</id><published>2011-03-15T23:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-15T23:04:04.854+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-15T23:04:04.854+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Never Ever Lie To A Woman</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;A Man called  home to his wife and said,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;'Darling , I have been asked to go fishing up  in Canada with my boss &amp;amp; several of his friends. We'll be gone for a  week. This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I've been  wanting, so could you please pack enough clothes for a week and set out  my rod and fishing box, we're leaving from the office &amp;amp; I will  swing by the house to pick my things up'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;'Oh! Please pack my new blue  silk pyjamas. '&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;The wife thinks this sounds a bit fishy but being the  good wife she is, did exactly what her husband asked. The following  weekend he came home a little tired but otherwise looking good. The wife  welcomed him home and asked if he caught many fish?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;He said, 'Yes! Lots  of salmons, some bluegills, and a few swordfishes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;But why didn't you  pack my new blue silk pyjamas like I asked you to Do?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;The wife replied, 'I did, dear. They're in your fishing box! ...' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Never Ever Lie To A Woman...!!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B0035FZJHQ&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F2yN07B8DrMJzZUgUxonrGwrceY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F2yN07B8DrMJzZUgUxonrGwrceY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/14gCz9rTRPk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/5379022688007248921/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=5379022688007248921&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/5379022688007248921?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/5379022688007248921?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/14gCz9rTRPk/never-ever-lie-to-woman.html" title="Never Ever Lie To A Woman" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/03/never-ever-lie-to-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QMSH09fyp7ImA9Wx9bGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-5095170422277584196</id><published>2011-03-01T13:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-01T13:13:09.367+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-01T13:13:09.367+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Short Stories" /><title>The Echo</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;A son  and his father were walking on the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Suddenly,  his son falls, hurts himself and&lt;br /&gt;
screams: “AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”&lt;br /&gt;
To  his surprise, he hears the voice repeating,&lt;br /&gt;
somewhere in the  mountain: “AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Curious, he yells: “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt;
He  receives the answer: “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then he screams to the  mountain: “I admire you!”&lt;br /&gt;
The voice answers: “I admire you!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Angered  at the response, he screams: “Coward!”&lt;br /&gt;
He receives the answer:  “Coward!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He looks to his father and asks: “What’s going on?”&lt;br /&gt;
The  father smiles and says: “My son, pay attention.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then his father  screams: “You are a champion!”&lt;br /&gt;
The voice answers: “You are a  champion!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again his father screams: “You are a Victorious!”&lt;br /&gt;
The  voice answers: “You are a Victorious!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Again the man screams:  “You are Blessed!”&lt;br /&gt;
The voice answers: “You are Blessed!”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The  boy is surprised, but does not understand.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then the father  explains:&lt;br /&gt;
“People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It  gives you back everything you say or do.&lt;br /&gt;
Our life is simply a  reflection of our actions.&lt;br /&gt;
If you want more love in the world, create  more love in your heart.&lt;br /&gt;
If you want more competence in your team,  improve your competence.&lt;br /&gt;
This relationship applies to everything, in  all aspects of life;&lt;br /&gt;
Life will give you back everything you have  given to it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT’S A REFLECTION OF  YOU.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UxiFDpnJLPOlsRZAJMI2ksygsDY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UxiFDpnJLPOlsRZAJMI2ksygsDY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/tIF49bZh6jY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/5095170422277584196/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=5095170422277584196&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/5095170422277584196?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/5095170422277584196?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/tIF49bZh6jY/echo.html" title="The Echo" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2011/03/echo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcAR3w8fSp7ImA9Wx9SGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-5684561836450487503</id><published>2010-12-09T22:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-09T22:30:46.275+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-09T22:30:46.275+05:30</app:edited><title>Blog is moved to oneidiotbox.blogspot.com</title><content type="html">Hi all,&lt;br /&gt;
I have moved my blog to &lt;a href="http://oneidiotbox.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://oneidiotbox.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bookmark the above url for further updates.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;
Baskar Mookkan &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It was just a few weeks ago that Accel Partners sold off around half a billion dollars of Facebook shares at a company valuation of $35 billion. If you thought that was insane, and a lot of commenters did, then don’t read the rest of this post. You’ll only get more jealous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;Around $40 million changed hands last week in a &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Facebook-Effect-Inside-Company-Connecting/dp/1439102112?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;Facebook &lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=1439102112" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;share auction held by SecondMarket. The end price per share was $20.76, and about 1.9 million shares were bought and sold. And based on there being around 2.5 billion shares outstanding after a 5-1 stock split earlier this year, that values Facebook at around $50 billion. As far as we know, this is an all time high.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;At a $50 billion valuation Facebook is has more than 1/4th the market capitalization of Google, and nearly 1/4th the value of &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hard-Drive-Making-Microsoft-Empire/dp/0887306292?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;Microsoft&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0887306292" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;. It’s worth more than &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/eBay-Dummies-Marsha-Collier/dp/0470497416?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;eBay &lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0470497416" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;and &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Build-Your-Online-Store-Yahoo/dp/1453641513?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;Yahoo &lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=blogspot0598-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=1453641513" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /&gt;as well, and closing on Amazon’s $80 billion valuation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;The email sent out to auction participants is below. A new auction is beginning shortly. We’ve reached out to SecondMarket for comment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote style="background-color: #cccccc; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;To All Facebook Market Participants:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thank you for your feedback and participation in last week’s Facebook  auction.  As we had hoped, there was robust seller and buyer  participation  — the auction fully cleared at a per share price of  $20.76.  In addition, there was overwhelmingly positive feedback on the  auction process.  As a result, we will be continuing to conduct these  auctions for the foreseeable future.  For this week, the process will  remain reasonably similar, with slight tweaks to the timeline.  The  reserve price for this week will be $20.60, the same as last week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you own shares that you are eligible to sell and wish to  participate as a seller, please complete the attached Seller Information  Sheet and submit it to SecondMarket at fb@secondmarket.com by tonight,  Monday, November 29th,  at midnight EST.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;If you would like to participate as a buyer, please complete the  attached Buyer Information Sheet and submit it to SecondMarket at  fb@secondmarket.com by Wednesday, December 1st at 12:00 PM EST.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Please see below for more detailed results on last week’s auction and for this week’s auction calendar:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;11/22-11/26 Auction Results:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Total Number of Shares Offered for Sale:             1,896,265&lt;br /&gt;
Number of Shares Cleared in Auction:                    1,896,265&lt;br /&gt;
Reserve Price:                                                                   $20.60&lt;br /&gt;
Clearing Price:                                                                   $20.76&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;11/29-12/3 Auction Timeline:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Monday, November 29th at 10:00 AM EST –          Auction process commences&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Monday, November 29th at 11:59 PM EST –          Seller order forms due&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Tuesday, November 30th at 9:00 AM EST –            Buyers informed of share quantity available&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Wednesday, December 1st  at 12:00 PM EST –      Buyer order forms due&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Wednesday, December 1st at 5:00 PM EST –         Participants informed of auction results&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Wednesday, December 1st at 8:00 PM EST –         Transaction documentation distributed to buyers and sellers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Friday, December 3rd  at 4:00 PM EST –                     Completed transaction documentation due from buyers and sellers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;·         Friday, December 3rd at 7:00 PM EST –                     Notice to be sent to Facebook, Inc&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; - Techcrunch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GV6kTk0HSKl4zPXo7eWTJp_pkss/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GV6kTk0HSKl4zPXo7eWTJp_pkss/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/zXTj5SKPa0I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/2003035777324520968/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=2003035777324520968&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2003035777324520968?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2003035777324520968?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/zXTj5SKPa0I/facebook-now-worth-50-billion-in.html" title="Facebook Now Worth $50 Billion In Secondary Trading" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TPSfPeMAH4I/AAAAAAAAJMM/q39xAislB4Y/s72-c/fb.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2010/11/facebook-now-worth-50-billion-in.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAFRHgzfSp7ImA9WxRQE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-6700824517319469059</id><published>2008-10-07T11:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-07T11:21:55.685+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-07T11:21:55.685+05:30</app:edited><title>New from Google Labs: Stop sending mail you later regret</title><content type="html">Sometimes I send messages I shouldn't send. Like the time I told that girl I had a crush on her over text message. Or the time I sent that late night email to my ex-girlfriend that we should get back together. Gmail can't always prevent you from sending messages you might later regret, but today we're launching a new Labs feature I wrote called Mail Goggles which may help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you enable Mail Goggles, it will check that you're really sure you want to send that late night Friday email. And what better way to check than by making you solve a few simple math problems after you click send to verify you're in the right state of mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/SOr4VZbvNnI/AAAAAAAAAx8/8AILB_YLdZo/s1600-h/mail_goggles.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/SOr4VZbvNnI/AAAAAAAAAx8/8AILB_YLdZo/s320/mail_goggles.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254284961769272946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By default, Mail Goggles is only active late night on the weekend as that is the time you're most likely to need it. Once enabled, you can adjust when it's active in the General settings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/SOr42DxWkZI/AAAAAAAAAyE/BM47TwogurM/s1600-h/mail_goggles_settings.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/SOr42DxWkZI/AAAAAAAAAyE/BM47TwogurM/s320/mail_goggles_settings.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254285522890035602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully Mail Goggles will prevent many of you out there from sending messages you wish you hadn't. Like that late night memo -- I mean mission statement -- to the entire firm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hQvv5yQWE0sIzyWrs65icOxOjxw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hQvv5yQWE0sIzyWrs65icOxOjxw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/HMvxrFVnlfM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="related" href="http://www.lovenellai.com" title="New from Google Labs: Stop sending mail you later regret" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/6700824517319469059/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=6700824517319469059&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/6700824517319469059?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/6700824517319469059?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/HMvxrFVnlfM/new-from-google-labs-stop-sending-mail.html" title="New from Google Labs: Stop sending mail you later regret" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/SOr4VZbvNnI/AAAAAAAAAx8/8AILB_YLdZo/s72-c/mail_goggles.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2008/10/new-from-google-labs-stop-sending-mail.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYESXo8eSp7ImA9WxdaGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-2749617105517035338</id><published>2008-08-29T10:58:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-29T11:38:28.471+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-29T11:38:28.471+05:30</app:edited><title>Right to emergency care hoax mail??</title><content type="html">Recently a particular email, which apparently had the consequence of augmenting the patriotic feelings of many Indians, has been flooding many inboxes. The content of this particular email is as follows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right to Emergency Care:&lt;br /&gt;Date Of Judgment: 23/02/2007.&lt;br /&gt;Case No.: Appeal (civil) 919 of 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Supreme Court has ruled that all injured persons especially in thecase of road traffic accidents, assaults, etc., when brought to ahospital / medical centre, have to be offered first aid, stabilized andshifted to a higher centre / government centre if required. It is onlyafter this that the hospital can demand payment or complete policeformalities. In case you are a bystander and wish to help someone in anaccident, please go ahead and do so. Your responsibility ends as soonas you leave the person at the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;The hospital bears the responsibility of informing the police, firstaid, etc.&lt;br /&gt;Please do inform your family and friends about these basic rights sothat we all know what to expect and what to do in the hour of need.Please not only go ahead and forward, use it too!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While those whose degree of patriotism is determined by the frequency of such emails coming to their inbox daily (which in turn i reckon is due to their insecurity feelings) wanted to readily believe this mail, some others tried to look at this particular email objectively and sought to look at the bona fides of the email. Accordingly it’s been concluded that this email also is a hoax.&lt;br /&gt;They have reached this conclusion by searching for the original judgement using the case no: given above (full judgements of all SC cases are available from SC website). Consequently they have found out that case no: Appeal (civil) 919 of 2007 deals with a completely different subject. (It is about a no-profit charitable hospital based in Ghanapur, Andhra Pradesh having claimed exemptions on imported medical equipments, based on Para 2 of Notification No. 64/88-Cus, which were granted. But since according to the classification of hospitals by the notification, it fell under Para 3, it also applied for exemption under the same, after the first exemption was granted. On rejection of the second application, they filed the case in the AP High Court, which again didn’t go in their favour and hence this case was filed in Supreme Court.)&lt;br /&gt;I will add my own reason for concurring with their finding out that the mail is hoax. Such cases which go to the SC wanting to enforce the fundamental rights will be writ petitions and not Appeal(civil) cases as is the case in the given mail. So without further research, one could have safely concluded that the given mail is a hoax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for all those ‘patriotic’-minded people out there who felt deceived by the present mail, don’t worry….continue keeping ‘jai hind’ as your signature in your emails and blog postings..for, our own SC judgement has arrived at more or less the same conclusions 18 years ago..yes, it is true.. you can verify it on your own.. and I’ll try to explain it in layman jargon as far as possible.&lt;br /&gt;Two important judgements relating to this are Paramanand Katara v. Union of India (Writ Petition (Criminal) No. 270 of 1988) and later in Paschim Mazdoor Samiti v. State of WB (Writ Petn. (Civil) No. 796 of 1992).&lt;br /&gt;In Paramanand Katara, the SC has held that "Article 21 (which provides that no person shall be deprived of his life or personal liberty except according to procedure established by law) of the Constitution casts the obligation on the State to preserve life. The provision as explained by this Court in scores of decisions has emphasised and reiterated with gradually increasing emphasis that position. A doctor at the Government hospital positioned to meet this State obligation is, therefore, duty-bound to extend medical assistance for preserving life. Every doctor whether at a Government hospital or otherwise has the professional obligation to extend his services with due expertise for protecting life. No law or State action can intervene to avoid/delay the discharge of the paramount obligation cast upon members of the medical profession. The obligation being total, absolute and paramount, laws of procedure whether in statutes or otherwise which would interfere with the discharge of this obligation cannot be sustained and must, therefore, give way. On this basis, we have not issued, notices to the States and Union Territories for affording them an opportunity of being heard before we accepted the statement made in the affidavit of the Union of India that there is no impediment in the law. The matter is extremely urgent and in our view, brooks no delay to remind every doctor of his total obligation and assure him of the position that he does not contravene the law of the land by proceeding to treat the injured victim on his appearance before Him • either by himself or being carried by others. We must make it clear that regulations cannot operate as fetters in the process of discharge of the obligation and irrespective of the fact whether under instructions or rules, the victim has to be sent elsewhere or how the police shall be contacted…."&lt;br /&gt;Again in Paschim Mazdoor Samiti v. State of WB (Writ Petn. (Civil) No. 796 of 1992), the SC has held that&lt;br /&gt;"The Constitution envisages the establishment of a welfare state at the federal level as well as at the state level. In a welfare state the primary duty of the Government is to secure the welfare to the people. Providing adequate medical facilities for the people is an essential part of the obligations undertaken by the Government in a welfare state. The Government discharges this obligation by running hospitals and health centres which provide medical care to the person seeking to avail those facilities. Article 21 imposes an obligation on the State to safeguard the right to life of every person. Preservation of human life is thus of paramount importance. The Government hospitals run by the State and the medical officers employed therein are duty bound to extend medical assistance for preserving human life. Failure on the part of the Government hospital to provide timely medical treatment to a person in need of such treatment results in violation of his right to life guaranteed under Article 21. In the present case there was breach of the said right of Hakim Seikh guaranteed under Article 21 when he was denied treatment at the various Government hospitals which were approached even though his condition was very serious at that time and he was in need of immediate medical attention. Since the said denial of the right of Hakim Seikh guaranteed under Article 21 was by officers of the State in hospitals run by the State the State cannot avoid its responsibility for such denial of the constitutional right of Hakim Seikh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence it can be concluded that though the mail itself was a hoax, its contents were true indeed to an extent. Thus you have a right for emergency care in government hospitals by virtue of your fundamental right to life and against private hospitals because of professional obligation of all doctors.&lt;br /&gt;So..Jai Hind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7pa7H6RIWgiDXkpP9Vo8qbGGGhE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7pa7H6RIWgiDXkpP9Vo8qbGGGhE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~4/x9bqwLCe1No" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/feeds/2749617105517035338/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28840260&amp;postID=2749617105517035338&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2749617105517035338?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28840260/posts/default/2749617105517035338?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/LifeIsToughButIMTougher/~3/x9bqwLCe1No/right-to-emergency-care-hoax-mail.html" title="Right to emergency care hoax mail??" /><author><name>Baskar Mookkan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15770256980296808357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xf7uIToGNms/TMp5Ay7kijI/AAAAAAAAIbU/-GLn77fxJrY/S220/DSC02596.JPG" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://mitcampus.blogspot.com/2008/08/right-to-emergency-care-hoax-mail.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIGQH86fip7ImA9WxdaE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28840260.post-3370654280954213405</id><published>2008-08-21T19:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-21T19:35:21.116+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-21T19:35:21.116+05:30</app:edited><title>I can't smile without you - Hell Boy (With Lyrics)</title><content type="html">&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FhIhzI0l_rU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FhIhzI0l_rU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lyrics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't laugh and I can't sing&lt;br /&gt;I'm finding it hard to do anything&lt;br /&gt;You see I feel sad when you're sad&lt;br /&gt;I feel glad when you're glad&lt;br /&gt;If you only knew what I'm going through&lt;br /&gt;I just can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came along just like a song&lt;br /&gt;And brightened my day&lt;br /&gt;Who would have believed that you were part of a dream&lt;br /&gt;Now it all seems light years away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you know I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't laugh and I can't sing&lt;br /&gt;I'm finding it hard to do anything&lt;br /&gt;You see I feel sad when you're sad&lt;br /&gt;I feel glad when you're glad&lt;br /&gt;If you only knew what I'm going through&lt;br /&gt;I just can't smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now some people say happiness takes so very long to find&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm finding it hard leaving your love behind me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you see I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't smile without you&lt;br /&gt;I can't laugh and I can't sing&lt;br /&gt;I'm finding it hard to do anything&lt;br /&gt;You see I feel glad when you're glad&lt;br /&gt;I feel sad when you're sad&lt;br /&gt;If you only knew what I'm going through&lt;br /&gt;I just can't smile without you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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