Raves n Rants

Wish List Of A Troubled Soul

2019-01-24T04:14:00.000-08:00

Me being me, I have these sudden urges to do certain things at just the wrong time. To avoid any emotional stack-up and to set some goals for myself, I’ve spent the last couple of years carefully putting together a list of things I would really like to do before my ball sack becomes a garbage bag for broken equipment, so without further ado:

At the peak of a corporate presentation, leave after telling the lady presenter that I thought all this bullshit was just a buildup for a strip show.
Reach up to the payment counter at a crowded convenience store with an over loaded trolley and once the clerk spends good 10 minutes making out the bill, just walk out saying I don’t think I’ll need all those things when half the world’s population is living below the poverty line.
Tail a police patrol car around and once the policeman finally pulls over and questions my motives, just tell him that somebody needs to make sure the police are doing their job honestly and following the correct route.
Walk up to an amateur bungee jumper ready to take the leap and while looking down with visible disapproval inform him/her that the rope is not attached just before pushing him/her off the ledge.
Spot a decent guy in a public area reading newspaper, hold a cigarette lighter under the newspaper and set it on fire.
Put up a small desk in the office elevator and if people try to get on, ask them authoritatively if they have an appointment!
Look at a see-through glass with someone on the other side and shout “O God, I’m So Hideous And Repulsive!”
When the boss is going on about declining numbers, give him/her a loving hug and say in an emotional voice “Pull yourself together, everything will be alright!”
Walk up to a kid with a resemblance to myself and tell him “I’m you from the future, remember Mom's the enemy!” before sliding away.
Stop someone random walking a dog and tell him/her that their son is so adorable!
When HR asks why I’ve been coming late to the office tell them that my pet rock has had a paralysis attack.
While at the vet, pull out one of my daughter’s stuffed animals and demand that it be checked and cured.
Walk around with a balloon, spot an emotionally frail person, ask him/her to pop the balloon and once they do, start screaming!
Use the ATM at a crowded mall and once money comes out start yelling “I Won, I Won!”
Randomly call up the boss and after telling him/her that I’m busy can’t talk right now, simply hang up!
Sit at one of the 40 days weight loss challenge class and noisily eat a McDonalds meal!
Get up in the middle of a meeting and when someone asks where am I going, reply “To Infinity and Beyond!”
Go to an eatery and order diet water. Once they give water, take a sip, slosh it around and spit it out yelling “I SAID DIET!”
Find a random person on a bench, sit on their lap, smile and say “My mum says I’m special!”

Another Failed Attempt

2013-08-01T01:44:00.001-07:00

A letter that I sent to a renowned Radio station as an attempt to land myself a RJ position.
Felt like having it here just for ready reference (and amusement for others) as a reminder not to test the creative in others through the outrightly nonconventional means I seem to be overflowing myself with.......

Dear Sir/ Madam,

Normally, in such letters, I list down my various qualifications followed immediately by the professional activities I’ve kept myself indulged with for the past years in various multinationals. However, in the industry and position I’m sending this letter for I’m pretty much sure that my expertise with product management, skill set with MS Excel, PowerPoint or for that matter the whole of the Office suit would not help me much in landing at the right spot (though I might be proven wrong and might be led into submitting further details of my qualifications and professional work experience). Moreover, my modest self-proclamations regarding my superior product development and other marketing abilities are unlikely to convince you of anything more than the extent of my vanity. Thus, instead of providing you with a generic letter that will be filed away with hundreds of its kind, I have chosen to provide you with an outside perspective.

Of much interest to you would be a number of different documented comments that I have been receiving over the span of years where colleagues, friends, relatives and competition alike have had a great deal to say about me; therefore, I would like to share with you some of their opinions. Kindly do not consider this as an audacity to brag or the likes because I would not want to engage myself with such an unspeakable, self-centered approach for projection. Friends have since long been terming me as someone totally “unbelievable” but “remarkably amazing” at the same time, though I’ve never actually grasped the full meaning but I don’t want to break their hearts by asking. “Way too funny….” is another one of the identical assertion that I’ve noted people around me have used then and again which I think primarily is due to my continuous chatterbox abilities and, where most people like to hang around for some good chats, some just try to slip out of it with this phrase. Pertinent to my multiple attempts towards creative writing certain acquaintances try till date to give me hope and encouragement by terming my articles as an “ hilarious account” or “…very enlightening, entertaining, brilliant and insightful…” and just to shed one little more light on this part, here’s what StandupComedians.com had to say after going through some of my work “………..have to say that regardless of the mind that you seemed to be blessed with...the writing is extremely good and close enough to book quality…….. It is the type of blog where you want to turn away, but something grabs you and causes you to read it to the end...that takes talent…….”

Although there is some disagreement about whether my chitchats are more “fun” or my writings more “clever and impressive” but clearly there is a consensus amongst many that I have “something that is amusing, brilliant and talent driven” and having said what I’ve said above, I’ve been led (or you can read misled, after the audition) to believe that I have a pretty decent voice as well which would be much suited on air and coupled with my continued attempt towards doing “whatever that I do”, I can really make my a mark as a successful radio jockey. Language is something I believe to be in my control and improvise I can very well and above all, as its ‘my’ voice, I have all the reasonable knowledge how to use it and where and when to bring about required transformation or adaptation to it, but having said that, it’s totally a different debate whether the eventual decision makers at the radio station share my beliefs or not and for that purpose the best possible solution that I present is to put the talent on test and see if beliefs shatter or evolve into stronger resolves yet.

Just to be a bit clearer if I haven’t been till yet, one of the main passions, the driving force behind my decision to try out as a Radio Jockey is Music. I just need to mention it outright that music has been one of the biggest inspirations for me and just the idea of sharing it with a great number of audiences simply makes my day.

Finally, please note that if I do not receive an offer for a radio jockey at your station, many firms to which I’ve applied in the past during the course of my full time career will be quite disappointed. Though through rejection letters or apology letters but still a number of these firms have indicated a desire for my “success” in the “future” with an “aspired for” position and to start off with I do not intend to upset these firms by failing nor do I want to impart the same feelings to my friends and close ones who stood by me and have all the faith in me. Therefore, I am very motivated to start off as a radio jockey at your station and to continue ahead through a proper platform and add some more encouraging assertions on my credit.

P.S. Please note that I have not attached my resume nor any other details as yet because they speak about my full time career but if required please do inform me and the same could be furnished (though I would like to keep both these lines clearly separate).

Sincerely,

Kids, Technology & Prostrate Problems of Unearthly Men

2013-07-08T04:12:00.000-07:00

Kids today…..I find them really peculiar and in the true sense of the word. Now many would argue against this claim and many would have something like “You were a kid as well in your time!” to say, but believe me when I say this, neither me nor any of the kids in my generation were so obviously overridden with information to such depths of factual details that it would actually be impossible to convince them otherwise without a couple of fairly lengthy and boring sized references from Wikipedia or the likes of such internet based information hubs. With the quantum leap that technology took within a decade, while all we wanted to do was to create ease for ourselves and connect the whole world into a one big giant global village just so that the half-naked girl sitting perched high up on a tree in an underdeveloped and underprivileged village deep in the heart of Africa gets a chance to date a young boy from Beverly Hills and allow for him to finger fuck Skype while pretending it’s her untainted vagina and she on the other hand buffs the tree bark damn clean and smooth with her groin’s sensual and extensive rubs. If we come to think of it, while a handful of us add to their affluence in hoards, we, the common users, have actually ended up filling our lives with irrelevant geeky stuff to the extent that we seemed to have introduced more misery than joy in our existence. Just look at your kid’s expression when you tell them that you thought Google Plus was just an incomplete equation and were waiting for someone to tell you the thing that has to be added to Google in the formula. To top it off try to argue with them that it was right of you to go into the local market searching for the iPhone AppStore. The day you do this, just watch your relation with your offspring take a nose dive where they’d be simply too ashamed of you to the extent that they’d avoid being seen sitting beside you even on your own daily dinner table in your own house. If this is not filling your life with misery then what is.

To add to it, mere actions that spelled out who’s the alpha male in the house are no longer under your command and given our generation’s lag in this technologically advanced world, we are really falling behind in finding out effective ways to cover up the gap and regain control of the house. Today you can’t impose TV curfew on your kids anymore for example, because if you tell them to go to their room and not to watch TV for the next couple of days, they’d probably be fine with that since they already gave up watching television in favor of surfing the internet on the PC that you put in their room in the first place. Now say, you somehow succeed in confiscating their PC as well, which is again very unlikely and would be a far-fetched idea (Mom! Dad’s acting like a jerk again, can you tell him to please mind his own fucking business and not to touch my stuff), but just say you do succeed then what? Well, the answer is a big fucking NOTHING! They would probably lie down on their belly and while you would think that probably this act of yours has mellowed them down and they are repenting and feeling remorseful, instead they’d probably be chatting on the Facebook application installed on their Smart Phone adding to their friends already overflowing database about what a big douchebag of a dad they have and the kids on the other end would actually be relating similar stories of the instances where their dads act like even bigger douchebags.

This technological advancement has not had its effects on just the teens or pre-teens only, in totality the phenomenon has gone as far as leaving its tint on the unborn within the mother’s womb and has resulted in ruining the little ranks of toddlers as well. The need for strictly correct and timely information in line with the current market is the need of the day for the youngest of the generation as well. There were days when our elders would pick up the wailing and crying new- borns and the toddlers just to tell them a story about that nice little elf in the garden who would bring presents and happiness for the little ones and I’ve seen my elders sing the young ones a lullaby about this big fire engine going “Tringa Linga Ling” and while listening to it they would peacefully go back to sleep seemingly happy and content. So logically, having seen my elders do it, I tried the same with my two year old daughter who has just learnt to speak a few words here and a few there. So, one night, filled with enthusiasm and excitement over the bonding opportunity I seemed to have identified with my little girl, I start with the story of this elf who lives in the garden and comes out to play with the children but before I could go any further with the story, my daughter, in her crooked language, asks me to give the details of the elf, so I paint the best possible image that I could of the elf and move on to the part where he comes out to play with the kids but again the little one asks for a detailed picture of the garden with all its inhabitants, does it have a monkey, a cheetah, a hippo. Again I present the best possible picture of the garden and plan to move ahead when arises another question about whether this garden has a baby water slide or not because the little one says that every morning when her mother sets up the iPad for her, the little one browses through a variety of videos of babies taking a water slide on YouTube. Speechless for a whole minute and not knowing what to say since I had just realized that a two year old knew better than me to operate through the stupid browser interface on the ultra-complex iPad (at least for me), I unwillingly change the story to the fire engine that goes “Tringa Linga Ling” to which she immediately gets up and protests that this is not how a fire engine makes the noise. Pissed at myself and everything that has to do with technology I decide that it’s time for my little girl to grow up and learn a few truths about this wicked world she lives in, so I explain to her the circumstances under which a fire engine is called for rescue, a big ass building with only one mode of access through the front door getting a fire started on the ground floor which eats up everything and rises to reach the top floors, the people getting 2^nd degree and 3^rd degree burns in the fire, the hell tinged aura with mixed odor of flesh and synthetics cooking, children crying, women jumping out of windows of their 10^th story apartments, sounds of chaos and then this big fucking red fire engine making its way through the rough traffic, honking its ear shattering horns while the fucking sirens are already barking at the top of their voice confusing everyone in the traffic and this big fucking red fire truck trying to pave its way in an emergency situation to reach its destinations while resulting in a couple of accidents here and there for which ambulances are called in with the same ear shattering protocol and for the people in the traffic who have had enough of the really loud and mind bloating sirens of the fire engine, the pleasure is doubled with the advent of the ambulances to the scene.

With no sound coming from her direction I turn my head to look at my daughter expecting a white ghastly face in shock with big round eyes looking at me about to be ensued with a river of tears. But instead, to more of my shock, there she was with one hand under her cheeks peacefully sleeping like she has been lullabied by the fairies themselves. You can of course very well guess who ended up with red eyes and wet cheeks.

Back to the main topic here, I must say that all of this discontent could not have been brought around just by technology itself. A very high contribution to all of this as per my belief is made by the close cousin called Media. Predominately news and the information on the internet have greatly added to corrupting the minds of a whole generation from where I see it. There was a saying that went something like if you don’t know it, means it never existed but the media now a days is making sure that you do know it and you fucking remember it as well for good. Many a times I have seen such articles on the news channel starting with how the lives of thousands could have been saved in the last draught of famine that hit Ethiopia had the population there been equipped with a touch sensitive Tablet running the latest Android OS, and right at this point the news tangents off to the subject of the latest in Android technology being showcased on the new Samsung Full HD, High Res screen Smart Phone that is a must to have because it will make your life easy and give you a chance to get laid even if you look like the hind side of an 80 year woman but with spectacles on. In another story, the well suited and serious looking weather man would be relating the occurrence of hurricane Katrina and the millions of lives it has destroyed recently with vivid images supporting his claim. You would then be told that after hitting its last target the hurricane is believed to be headed northwest towards the coast of God-knows-what-goddamn-island-in-god knows-which-goddamn-continent. And half way across the world probably in the mountains of Tibet, there you’d be sitting wrapped up in your blanket shivering with fear at the thought of hurricane Katrina finding its way to the coasts of your little country without even fucking realizing that you don’t even have a coastline not to mention the fact that you are at the highest region in the world with an average elevation going up to 5,000 meters.

The effect of news and information hoarding is no doubt the most adverse on the human psychology let alone the effect of negative news. Switch on the tele, surf over to any news channel and in the 15 minutes that you watch it tell me what do you see other than bombings, killings, fraud, cheating, husbands beating the shit out of wives, wives gutting out husbands with kitchen knives, young girls of 15 years getting pregnant and the likes of such. Of course it would be understandable if you pick up your gun and shoot half of your head clean off and of course nobody would understand it because this is what the media does not want. They would always tell you a man jumped off the 100 feet high overhead, show you a blood ridden scene with the splattered body but they would never ever investigate and bring to you the true cause of the scene in order to calm the subconscious of the masses as without doubt this image would cling to the minds of many and would definitely result in negativity but no, why bother. Such are the effects of negative news but it does not end here, the media brings you yet another category of news altogether and that is irrelevant news. If you are lagging behind in work or can’t seem to have a control of your life, that’s probably because your head is filled to the brim with information and most of it is irrelevantly gathered specifically through the media. One day a channel would be relaying the dire required information about a fire in a dense part in the heart of Amazon and how it will consume 20 trees in total and leave 50 monkeys homeless(like these were the last 20 trees and they can’t hop on to others). Tough fucking luck for the manufacturers of Double A paper who probably cut down twice as many trees in a fraction of the time this fire would consume them so what the fuck do you want me to do with this piece of information, feel dreadful, pick up my water bucket and supplies of banana, leave everything in my life and run over to the Amazon. You just want to make me feel sorry for my existence in a well-deserved and rather comfortable life. There was a time I used to be one of the effected and would actually fall for the trick media plays on millions. It wasn’t until that incident with the prostrate opened my eyes (literally as well when I went to the doctor). There was this special TV marathon on health and it so happened that when I turned on the channel they were taking about Prostrate and the part that caught my attention was about how regular ejaculations helps prevent Prostrate cancer. Being kind of a habitual wanker back in those days I was desperately looking for an excuse and there it was right in front of me. I thought if I know the details regarding this specific topic there would be nothing stopping me ever. I was already capable enough to pull my willie out anytime and wank my head off but with an excuse as strong as this, I could probably pull out my cock and wank my head off anywhere; in the washroom, on the bed, in the living room, on my front porch, in my car, on the park bench, inside a Chanel store, outside a Victoria’s Secret outlet, the possibilities that presented themselves were amazingly endless. Anyways, I stuck to the channel and as they went on talking about the Prostrate I began getting restless after half an hour. There were so many things that could go wrong with the prostrate and really fuck you up and I seemed to have no knowledge about any of them. After about an hour of watching the show I was convinced that something is wrong with my prostrate and if I don’t get it checked I would really end up as a vegetable on the bed. So the first thing I did was get myself an appointment with a specialist and there I was two days later sitting in his clinic waiting for my turn which came without much trouble. Now, in case I have not highlighted this and you are ignorant of simple things in life, prostrate is a small gland found in men located near the bladder. There are four natural ways one could reach the prostrate without operating on the patient. One is by pushing a tube up through the penis which just writing it down makes my testicles curl up into small little balls of fur and roll back up into the body so that if I take my pants off right now you would be amazed at finding the first known ball-less male that has the capability to reproduce. So basically fuck that approach! The other two ways, though these are not in any medical journal but I believe these could be doable, are through inserting the same tube through your throat or the nose, the latter of which would look really really stupid since the nose duct ends up into the throat so why not save a bit of a journey. The last, and of course the most practiced method is through the asshole where a finger or two are inserted deep into your anus in order to examine your prostrate, not to mention that if you piss off the doctor or he doesn’t simply like your face, you can kiss KY Jelly goodbye. Anyways, the assholes on the TV never did mention how a prostrate examination is performed otherwise I would have changed my mind considerably but there I was in the doctor’s office who was telling me to strip down and bend over. Naturally the first thing I did was to sweep the whole room quickly with a glance to check for a camera or two because if a man elder than you and a bit heavier set than you tells you to strip down and slightly bend over, this is the first thing I have been taught to look for because no one likes unwanted publicity. Finding everything clear and remembering that this doctor comes highly recommend, I do what he asked me to with my hands grabbing a railing in front of me. For the first time in my life I felt seriously sorry for all the whores who have been forced into anal sex, to the extent that I wanted to cry out loud. With one finger in, at least I hoped it was one, the doctor began searching for the lost city of Atlantis in my ass and after a minute I couldn’t actually tell whether it was the lubricant or the pain itself but my asshole felt anesthetized completely and all I could feel was what you must have felt if you ever have driven up the wrong side of a one way street ad get hit by an equally crazy man driving at twice the speed limit. After about a while the doctor finally pulled out and told me to get dressed and come to his desk. Fumbling with the pants and walking over with a childbirth walk I reach the doctor’s desk and pass over the invitation to sit. He tells me that the prostrate seems to be fine but the colon seems to have an irritation so I need to take some medication and revisit after a week. I can’t still remember how I got out of the clinic and how I reached home, what time I slept or anything, but there I was sitting in the same clinic a week later and the same exercise followed that left me with a feeling of being hit by a moving truck, yet again. The infection in the colon hadn’t subdued so I had a prescription to continue with the antibiotics and visit again the subsequent week. This loop continued for sex weeks altogether and ended up in a very weird sort of a way. Having being seeing this doctor, I mean visiting this doctor, for almost 5 weeks, I show up in his office on the prescribed 6^th week with a bouquet of flowers in my hand and looking forward to our session together. Within a blink of an eye he had me walking out of his clinic with an advice in my hand to go visit a psychiatrist. I think that was really mean of him to do so, it’s like you have been seeing me for almost 2 months and fingering my ass, an act which I have never even allowed my kinkiest of the girlfriends to perform, and if I bring you flowers as a token of appreciation for being so gentle that I ejaculated a couple of times right there, you find it sick and run me off. What a fucked up individual indeed. Well, come to think of it, all bum doctors or proctologists as they are commonly referred to, must be the most fucked up individuals ever. What were you thinking before you chose your fucking career. Did you ever think that someone might ask you how you got here and all you’d be left to say would be that you spent 8 to 9 precious years of your life studying medical and living a high pressure life with urges to commit suicide at points but once you passed through it you put all that effort to waste by choosing to look into and finger random people’s assholes for the rest of your life! Kudos to that, I can’t believe how you could come home and let your little boy hold the same finger that was up 20 fucking assholes in the morning! That my friend is sick, not the flowers! And more than that, whereas the patients might eventually find their peace, do you realize that you, my proctologist friend, have been bestowed with the devil’s curse of structuring gay men out of straight guys who probably end up having dreams about putting something up their rear end and once their therapy with you is over and you have a couple of fat cheques in your pocket, they on the other end up sucking other men’s cocks. Live with that sucker!

Speaking of men sucking other men’s dicks, contrary to what might seem and although I’m not against male homosexuality as I think it’s your life, your mouth and your hole so do with it as you please but to me there seems to be a serious problem with being gay. Let’s say you see a kid licking ice cream but you don’t have any so you go buy one for yourself, like it, lick it and suck it. Likewise, you see someone enjoying a lollipop but you don’t have any so you go get one for yourself, like it, lick it and suck it. Similarly, you see a person with his girlfriend but you don’t have any so you go find one for yourself, like it, lick it and suck it. You have been infatuated with feeling up and licking tits but since you don’t have a pair of your own so you get your wish fulfilled through your newly found girlfriend who came along with a nice pair just so that you could like it, lick it and suck it. Now, in none of the cases above would you approach the other person with, say, the ice cream or lollipop or a girlfriend and, while having one of your own, ask them if you could lick and suck theirs. That would seem really absurd and at times inappropriate plus you would risk yourself getting an answer that could leave you with a black eye or two. The whole point here being that you usually go for something that you don’t have, you lick and suck something that you don’t fucking already own but are in need of desperately. But since you are a gay person, you probably have a winnie of your own (no matter how useless) which means you don’t go around licking and sucking other peoples rods you fucking queers, its plainly illogical of you to do so and if that was what God wanted out of you he wouldn’t have given you a dick in the first place. In addition to the argument above, although I’m not promoting such an act, but you have had your mouth and dick living with each other since your existence and the rule of neighbour’s rights says that if there’s any dick that deserves to go into that mouth of yours, it has to be your own by every possible equation in the world.

Anyways, it’s your own body that you are bent on using and abusing so I don’t think that I care but let me tell you gay guys at least this much, playing Gears of War on your work laptop with 2 Ghz processor and a shitty media card isn’t the same as playing it on your Xbox console. Fucking something that has been created for the sole purpose of being fucked is the only thing that feels right and for that matter plenty of fun as well. The vibrant expressions that two opposite genders can paint in sex makes it much colourful as well as fruitful as compared to the bluntness of sloppily sucking a cock while the owner jerks your cock off. In comparison to a straight guy who has shagged plenty of chicks, you would never ever experience the unmatched kindling fluctuations in your emotions if you are gay and fucking a guy. Being gay is probably the easiest and safest plan on getting yourself laid. You know each and everything about the other person’s body and come what may and do what one could, you can never get the other person pregnant and that right there actually makes the relationship dull and a bit boring when you compare it to the instance where your ex-girlfriend steps on your front porch and hands you her medical report along with the DNA test result pointing to the fact that contrary to what you believed, Durex isn’t a pointless and senseless factory bent on conning you out of your hard earned money through selling recycled rubber which for you never held any more value than the balloons hanging from the ceiling at your niece’s birthday party.

Being with women is entertaining and exciting; you do get to learn a lot and admire the opposite sex while getting a chance to peek into their soul and mind and get to know their thinking pattern. Though if you have learned and grasped the inner workings of the mind of one it definitely means you have probably understood really a lot about all of the rest out there not matter which state or country they are in. But if you ask me, I truly prefer the company of a women and the time spent with them especially if the hands of the clock are leading her hands to the instance where they find their grip in my pants and my fingers in turn find solace in her underpants leading up to a night full of comforting each other in as many positions as possible and that is the greatest treat and enjoyment one could give oneself and the partner. Speaking of treats and enjoyment, being a person with thin forearms and literally bicep-less, there was a time when I tried fisting one of my girlfriends while I also tried tickling her throat at the same time……..from the inside. I found it really amusing and couldn’t control my outburst while enjoying myself immensely but for some reasons odd enough the girlfriend didn’t even smile a bit let alone laugh which was a bit offensive for me because I was really putting some effort in there and wanted her more than myself to enjoy the most but more importantly it was strange for me due to the fact that after that night I never saw her or heard from her ever again. Talk about trying to pleasure your girlfriend and I’ll talk about heartbreaks!

Anyhow, the statement that the women’s body is a piece of art is actually an art in itself. The pleasure that women are meant to provide I find unparalleled by many and deeply ornamented with the immensely detailed and thought through historic works compiled in the form of Kamasutra. Kamasutra in itself seems to be a work of a true and hardcore artist who dedicated his life to his masterpiece but if not an artist then the only plausible option left to consider is a sadist. Think about it yourself, who in their right mind would have all the time in the world to see two people indulge into sexual activities of the weirdest ever possible postures and then writing each and every minute details of each of the postures while finding enough time left to sketch the postures in explicit details as well. Well, now that I come to think of it, it could equally be the work of a person with ample experience in a circus. Who could be better suited for choreographing such mind boggling moves while making sure that the dick remains inside the vagina with lots of room for the man to pull it out and push it back in and keep up the rhythm during all transitions; well this has further led me to believe right now that probably the participants in Kamasutra, specially the male, are actors from the same circus as well.

And a very strong and probably mind changing realization has just struck me while going over the origins of Kamasutra; this is how archeologist actually work, hmmmmm. No wonder their theories seem a bit off the grid, if you know what I mean. There have been some seriously fucked up explanations going around in the world based on archeological findings and the theories of people who brush dirt off stones and probably the last time they went on a date was when they had enough of the dirty business so their pants invited their hands over for a party that lasted whole complete 10 seconds. One of the predominant and cult-backed homemade archeologist Erich Von Daniken, in his numerous books such as Chariots of the Gods and Return to the Stars, mentions that Gods were probably high-tech and ultra-advanced aliens that visited Earth thousands of years ago and resulted in the modern day religion and beliefs based on what was carried down generation after generation for hundreds of years. One prime example of such theories, Lord Pakal, the founder of the Mayan Empire, is believed to be an alien from outer space according to Mr. Daniken, primarily due to the graphic tomb tablet found on his grave depicting, what is believed by Mr. Daniken and his likes, to be Lord Pakal in a space ship flying out of this Earth with fancy gadgets under his control and a testicle like tubish structure that almost fits into his Lordship’s nose and is said to be the air duct. Contrary to this, others say that according to the Mayan culture it depicts Lord Pakal visiting the underworld. Now this is all archeological findings and theories, whereas I believe that most of the things in life, including the history, have been overly complicated by people who really want to keep their jobs and who seem to staunchly believe in the term ’if you can’t convince them, confuse them’. If you look really close at the posture on the tomb tablet, why can’t it be that all it depicts is Lord Pakal taking a big ass dump right there on his marvelous multipurpose extravagant throne cum vacuum toilet in which the Lord could fit his ass and not let a trace of whiff out but in case some odor escaped the vacuum toilet there was this air mask to prevent his Lordship from smelling his own poo while the whole scene was captured by a stone carver on the piece of stone in order to emphasize the greatness of this Founder of the first ever known culture, hinting the simple fact that Lord Pakal took a dump like a true boss and if the mere act of him taking a dump was shown to be so magnificent then the later generations would definitely be able to briefly and vaguely identify the greatness that was Lord Pakal.

Just consider for one instance that this planet of ours is finally hit with the phenomenon of Global Warming which, strangely enough and contrary to its very name (again hinting at some asshole overly complicating things), would result in the advent of another ice age. Let’s say once civilization restarts post ice age, if it ever does, and once human evolution reaches the level of honing their excavation skills, if it ever does, they might unearth a remarkable discovery of this human skeleton half sunk in this big bowl sort of a thing with a solid shiny stone like backpack attached. Some might believe it to be a sign from Gods up in the heavens while others might yet believe the skeleton to be an alien from outer space sitting on the remains of his space ship while another different faction might take it as a hard proof of the technological advancement of their ancestors where they had utensils so large that they could sit on them to eat, insert a life size straw and drink directly from the huge goblet and whenever required the attached storage compartment could be used to provide refills for food and drinks. These and such other obscure but tech-sounding explanations would definitely be used as a tool by those who intent on controlling the masses, whereas all that needs to be told is the fact that this poor guy was probably in the middle of taking his shit when the stupid Global Warming thing hit and he passed out right there on the toilet bowl and found himself stuck in ice age once he woke up years and years later so unable to find a way up he tried to bury his way out through the toilet bowl but got stuck and eventually died miserably right there due to a broken hip joint.

With this seemingly absurd yet close to veracity reference to maintaining one’s status quo, it seems to me that some people find sick pleasure in making things complex and really hard, just to get a laugh out of it I presume. These people do come in a varied array of size, age and shape which makes it further difficult to clearly identify this segment, take them out in the open and unleash upon them a weapon of mass destruction to wipe them completely off the face of earth. People who get a hard on through complicating things are not just limited to the scientific, mathematic or a specific education based walks of life. You sometimes encounter them in your daily life but fail to grasp their true nature and miss detecting the complexity demon sitting discontented within them. A prime example of such genre of individuals could be seen in the likes of folks who believe that they are actually some hit flick and their children are actually their sequels just like in the movies. Just to clarify to those folks, naming your kid Robert Downey Jr. would not in any way make him your sequel. The kid would probably grow up hating your guts, not to mention the identity crisis that he would be tormented with all his life knowing that his mere point of existence is to give you the satisfaction of having your very own part duex. Don’t act all startled and shocked when you find out about his drug addiction and don’t complain when you eventually end up shifting between jail visits and rehab visits for around half a decade in order to see your boy. I still can’t seem to understand why in the Fuck’s sake you would name your kid as your sequel. And once you have done that with one kid, what were you planning to do with naming the others that would follow? Were you planning on having a Robert Downey Toddler – the one that never got up, a Return of Robert Downey - the revenge of the family, a Robert Downey Strikes Back – the badass of the family and so on and so forth! Though I’m sure you completely forgot it but I believe you planned on changing Jr.’s name to Robert Downey Jr. Who Became a Senior, once your kid got his driving license. I, for once, cannot find it all too comfortable and acceptable to address a guy twice my age as Mr. Jr. This is really one of the most shittiest, fucked up and complex way of naming your kids; you made it fucking easy for yourself going with the sequel approach you selfish cunt but ended up making it really difficult and complex for others who can’t ask for one of you without creating much confusion for the other. I honestly believe that the prequel and sequel approach is better left with the motion picture industry where it looks much suited to have ‘follow up’ flicks like:

Honey, I blew up the kids.
Honey, we shrunk ourselves.

Or the shot and screened but never released prequel:

Honey, you blew me, we fucked up and now we have the kids.
Honey, your shrunk vagina is just a dream after childbirth.

The unannounced but planned sequels that would be filmed and commercially released someday soon:

Honey, I listened to this asshole’s theory and blew up my last chance of being gay and now I would always regret marrying you.
Honey, I blew all the money on the 3^rd sequel and the whores I cast in it.
Honey, whatever little we had left was blown off in your last cocaine addiction.
Honey, old age has shrunk my penis to become a peanut.
And of course the final chapter of the franchisee being Honey, the kids have kicked us out of the house and put us in old age home.

Talking about sequels, I think that the most important and predominantly required sequel is that of Jerusalem. Since the days when I didn’t even know that my wiener existed, I knew that something fucked up was going on in Jerusalem. Once again, the media is to be blamed here but at least it was comparatively much subtle back then otherwise had it been today’s media, I would definitely have also known about the existence of my wiener and also how to use it even without the capability of erection. Back to the topic, Jerusalem is that one place in the whole damn earth where every bloody religious freak has set up camp. They are making it a blood bath and to me it looks more like a case of blown up egos than the strife for religion. Remember that dickhead of a boss you had who’d think that he was always right and no matter how subtly and politely you tried to inform him about his wrong decision his ego was so fucking overblown that he’d never listen and just because his counterpart in competition has gotten a discectomy he chops off his balls as a challenge to him. And you remember how his last ego driven decision got half of his team fired including you. Well, that is exactly what is going on in Jerusalem and this is what all those jerks of experts are doing. It’s not religion, it’ not politics, it’s not anything; it’s just plain simple egos colliding with each other. Just think of it for a moment, Muslims have their center of existence down there in Saudi, Christians on the other hand have their center of epitome focused in Vatican and Jews, well I don’t think they need any center because they fucking control the global economy. What the fuck would then any of these people want in Jerusalem then? The answer is pretty simple. See, there was this Jewish kid living on with his life trying to find a meaning of existence and whatever else he was after and during the course of this he bonded well with his playground when suddenly this Muslim kid from out of nowhere came to this same playground and kicked the Jewish kid out claiming this area to be his own since it had a deep rooted connection with his belief as well and more than that he would really like to play in that area which the Jewish kid was enjoying for so long. Well the Jewish kid did go away and it took him time but finally he was able to find some really good bullies and returned to claim his playground and teach a lesson to that Muslim kid who had so horrendously hurt his feelings. But by the time this Jewish kid managed to get back to the playground, time had passed and the Muslim kid had bonded quite well with the area and had started a family and had a good thing going on for himself which meant he also had supporters to back him up. This made the Jewish kid more furious so they got into a fight where each of them wanted to hurt the inner being of the other. In the meantime, the Christian kid who had been standing a bit further away for all these years finally realized that it is indeed a readily available play-pan on which these two other kids are fighting on so what the heck, he joins in as well and this results in tremendous confusion because now the parties to the land increase and neither of them understands what the other wants and the feeling is increases multi-folds with the inclusion of the Christian kid. All the kids grow old during all this fighting and each of them passes on instructions to their off springs to continue the fight since the other party has been the cause of deep inflicted pain. Now the irony is that none of these kids was Bill Gates otherwise he would have gotten up treated the others like SUN Systems and while telling them to Fuck Off he would have walked off to create a much bigger and world dominating company called Microsoft that would give SUN Systems a good run for their money. No, of course not, these kids weren’t brought up that way, they were taught to be like these really irritating little brats that need to have their own way. Just imagine Jerusalem to be a real playground and imagine if any of these kids would not have been a brat, which again is probably associated with the media at that time and how it corrupted little minds back then as well bringing to them all this negativity and telling them hoards of irrelevant stuff like “O little kid, thou shalth not recall but thy Great Prophet once set foot on this land hither and then wandered off into the direction thither, to never came back!” but of course the last part trailing off in an unclear low voice. Probably the media showed such news over and over again and the resultant came out to be young minds pent up with negativity and an urge to defend their area as well as their religion but with scarce knowledge of either. So they fought and they fought on like little brats but just imagine had even one of them not been a brat, then what. The moment the fighting broke out, the sensible kid could have picked up his things and while showing the middle finger to the others could have walked away and made himself a new playground but with a better fortress this time. They can still do that in Jerusalem you know if they want, tell the others to fuck off and to keep wanking on this old land while they walk away and build themselves and bigger and better Jerusalem someplace else, preferably out of the middle east this time for a change and name it Jerusalem – Bigger, Better and Uncut!

But no, why do such a thing and stop the means of incoming flows of funds on the name of religion right, plus people are gonna think what a pussy; no way that is happening! This here reminds me of an old joke about the monkeys and lions getting into a fight so the leaders of the two groups step forward and it becomes evident that each of them wants the control of the jungle, so the Great Lion asks the Magnificent Monkey what claim does he have on the jungle to which the Magnificent Money replies that he can create weather so his greatness deserves to rule the jungle. Of course the Great Lion is astonished and asks how, so the Magnificent Monkey starts blowing stale breath out of his mouth on the face of the Great Lion and says here is wind, then slaps the Great Lion on the face and says here is hurricane, then spits on the Great Lions face and says here’s rain and at the end farts in the Great Lion’s face and says here is thunder clapping. The Great Lion calmly cleans up his face and says that well in this case he has the rightful claim to the jungle instead of the Magnificent Monkey because all that the Magnificent Monkey could do was create weather whereas the Great Lion was capable of creating stars. Extremely flabbergasted, the Magnificent Monkey asks how, so the Great Lion kicks him in the nuts with full force and keeps the control of the jungle…..

Pawns...!!!

2013-04-22T01:18:00.001-07:00

A life full of bliss, a life full of joy

Circulated to a few, conveyed so coy,

For the countless deprived, a horizon ripe

For the blessed few, a reminiscence cue,

Lo and behold, the saga of ages old

Unfolds its coil to savor the spoil,

Watch and learn; while choked with yearn

The amassed creation, gets played like a paltry toy,

The protagonists of our own allegory; nay for any other being, nay for glory

Beyond ourselves we fail to feel sorry,

The shrapnel of envy entrenched in our gaze

Soaring to conclusions, equal to a sightless rodent in a maze,

Too blinded to realize, the life we have acclimatized

Might as well be our dream materialized,

Presented indeed is a vicious game, but no one has to suffer the blame

Staunch focus, success ridden, a resolute strive, even then ‘we will not get out alive’,

It matters not, avarice; rather what’s pleasant who’s nice

Royalty may fade; proposing the indigent who wise men long bade,

When will we live, when will we learn?

To err is human, but forgiveness is something we have to earn!

Yes, I have a Conceptual Clash with FaceBook!!!

2010-09-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

For more than 3 months now I’ve put a personal ban on FaceBook usage. Why u ask, basically cuz I’m not a self conscious-guilt ridden-complex stricken-wannabe; I’m not someone who’s low on the moral fiber even though he is aware what is principally wrong. Yes folks, that’s the neighborhood I find the most trouble in, matters of principles and morality. That’s a completely different post altogether so let’s get back to the topic, but let me once again clarify to you I’m not the least bit of what you can call a prime example of a religion guy, in fact nowhere close to that so what follows, though derived through religion, is totally not based on religion or my religious beliefs (yes I have them as well thank you very much, turns out you are not the only one, eh!)

FaceBook and the Facebook administration are a bunch of cheap two-timing bastards eager for minting some hefty amounts of money in every possible way! But you know what and strangely enough, we are much cheaper and more bastardly than FaceBook guys and by ‘we’ I beg to address the whole Muslim universe hell bent on using FB like if they let go of it all of their business empire is gonna crash down on top of their heads or they might start to be treated as society outcasts or if they don’t keep a check through using FB their dimwit sister might put up her stupid nude pictures for her latest boyfriend and by ‘intentional’ mistake would keep the view option public! Well I might seem to sound a little pissed over here but that’s simply because I AM! We are one hell of a thick headed cock sucking balls hungry nation aren’t we! Let me tell you the story how, just a brief background!

Back in May 2010, there was this community page on FB named “Draw Muhammad” on which, one fine day, this ass-clown wakes up and announces the “Draw Muhammad Day” event and competition on the page which ofcourse gets viral. Soon enough a couple of us Muslims find out about this outrageous activity and what do we do, some of us go to the community page and protest while others spread the words so that more Muslims are aware of this activity while still others put up pages to counter this maneuver plus a couple of more actions from different factions that would be furthered later down the post. The hype builds up slowly and gradually as the day arrives and both sides are driven by their life driving agendas to proceed with what they believe is the right way. Right on top of the Draw Muhammad Day a number of governments from Muslim counties get involved and they block all access to FB in each of their respective countries………for a week only till the event has passed, how fucking convenient you morons! The event happens or not is not my question neither my concern here and the governments reopening FB is what I’m least bothered about but the whole 1 week episode with all the intermingled hype left my baby brain troubled with a couple of questions which I would like to discuss here in full throttle now.

Question 1: What the FUCK is the “Report Abuse” button (with a detailed drop down menu of reasons to choose from) doing on FaceBook when those fucking cunts don’t intend to honor any report or discriminate on what they’d remove and what not like its their sister’s soiled panties which they’d decided either to remove or not before they hump her?

Question 2: Why the FUCK 80% of the people (read shit-sucking twats) on my BB messenger and Google had their status going something like “Awww, Oooh, FaceBook blocked, what remains in life, how am I gonna get turned on and hump my sister now, what to do!”?

Conference on Question 1:

As most of you might already be aware of, every page on FaceBook, no matter community, games or individual’s, has a “Report Abuse” button/link on it that is pretty much functional and FB doesn’t stop here thinking they have provided this much the human race should be thankful to them, no not at all, they facilitate you to the fullest and finest levels to ensure customer satisfaction so once you click that stupid button/link you have a full drop-fucking-down menu on types of abuses you intend to report that page on, which includes but is not limited to ‘Racism’, ‘Offensive Content’, ‘Nudity’ and I guess ‘Religious reasons’. You select your desired ‘mode of abuse’ and submit the ‘Abuse’ report to FB. The FB administrator or the FB panel of administrators (a couple of ass clowns dry humping each other endlessly for all I know) then reviews your request and tries to decide if it’s genuine and up to the FB standards (Genuine and Standards are two expressions suitable not for FB but rather for a monkey trying to hump a goat while its nibbling on tree leaves) Once decided, FB then removes the page from its website owing to the genuine abuse and offense claim submitted. Now this is supposed to be the simple process of page removal upon request not covering the scenario where the whore who happens to be the mother of whoever is running the show at FB is having here periods and decides no requests no matter how genuine would be entertained.

Tell me frankly how many Muslim users do you think would be there on FB? Just for arguments sake let’s take that number to be quite less at say, 500,000. Say only 20% of these users came to know of the “Draw Muhammad Day” and let’s say once again that we are a cursed nation so only half of them had the balls to go to that page and report it as abuse and select Racisim, Offensive or Religion as the either of the specific reasons for reporting the page. This number actually comes out to be 50,000. FIFTY FUCKING THOUSAND report abuse requests at the rock bottom with specific reasons and not the slightest muscle twitched from FB, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME OR DID EVERYBODY AT FB HAD HORSE CUM IN THEIR EYES AND WENT BLIND DURING THAT PERIOD! Where the fuck did the discrimination laws go this time, for a hike up their mama’s sweet cunt, eh?! Talk about discrimination and I’ll talk about how these guys have led the world into believing they are the reincarnation of Jesus or Mother Teresa when infact they are the resultant artifact of their neighbors Rottweiler! A kid can do the simple maths here but the jackasses at FB owe their IQs to the test tube experiments that went wrong and resulted in their birth, “let’s see if 50 thousand different people from different regions are reporting this page as abusive then hmmmmmmm…..nah no big deal they are crazy……but just to be sure lets visit the page ummmmm…..nah no nude pictures its fine what the fuck do these crazy talibans want, bunch of retards sending in 50 thousand requests to remove the page, Fuck Off, nobody is listening to you, you scum of the world go hide back in your mountains!”

Is this the fucking seriousness they treat us with? Is this the way our value-fucking-able views and feedback are honored? Is this the way they intend to practice their whorish non-discrimination laws and regulations?

I just wish to god I was in their country and I swear to god I would have taken out the report abuse stats on this page legally and would have personally fucking sued their bastard asses so hard that their fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers and whosoever had gone down under from their families would be rolling over in their graves. Alas! I can just imagine the Fuck-them-all case it could have been on infringement of discrimination laws and equal rights and what-not act on their part!

Conference on Question 2:

Having said the above, its not right to blame one party here when actually we ourselves lack the balls required to show some honor and its actually a fault more on our part! Come one let’s be honest to ourselves, they fucking own the thing, they fucking possess the technology they fucking run the show, we, we are the puny little users hooked onto their thing…! But this brings me to the main problem that we all have shown time and again. We aren’t even fucking true and honest to ourselves so what should we expect our behaviors to be, Godly?!

The moment FB went offline here in my beloved country people started going into a state of dismay and depression over the event! During this phase that the people around me were going through, there was only one thought that went around in my head “WTF, are we seriously this dumb!Shit!”

Status updates like “NO FACEBOOK!”, “FACEBOOK GONE L!”, “NO FACEBOOK NO FUN!”, “HARD TO PASS A DAY WITHOUT FACEBOOK!”, “WHEN WOULD FACEBOOK BE BACK!” were simply too much for my small little fucked up brain to fathom. To a couple of people I’m quite open with I tried explaining the concept that it’s like your mom’s being fucked by the housing society bully while you are waiting for the door to your mom’s room to open again so you can go in and continue watching Cartoon Network on her Tele! That’s sick! Not to go into the religious details as to what does it say about placing your Prophet’s value even above your parents, we need to have some dignity people, wake up! Where is the sense of self respect guys, where is the poise and pride one must have about himself and his set of values! Atleast I see none!

If someone doesn’t value you, if they don’t value your views, infact if they give a complete 360 degree flying fuck on who you are and what do you think does this mean that you should put your sorry asses and your black souls in a platter and present it to them to fuck over and over again as they please! For once I don’t agree to this! If I’m giving my views or my opinion which are not being considered then fuck the forum, fuck the discussion and sure as hell fuck the people in the scene, I seriously don’t give a rat’s ass. I know my worth and if someone doesn’t it’s their problem not mine and I’m not gonna suck-up to any entity to prove my worth!

Just recently heard about a concept called Islamic Marketing….yes organizations world over are bringing out Marketing campaigns and tactics targeted specifically towards the Muslim segment in the world that is huge and untapped, which in turn means someone somewhere realizes the potential and recognizes the value in us so why can’t we value ourselves! Why are we so desperate to follow when we have a track record of leading the globe! Why are we so fucking used to the taste of cock and balls that we have completely forgotten that we have a pretty useful set of our own much active and vibrant than the rest (proven by the birth rates in the Muslim population)!

Just think about it, FB out for a week, what harm it did to your lives. For starters I can’t think of a single fucking thing no matter how hard I try! Infact for a period over 3 months if I calculate the time I have saved from FB to do something productive it would surely make me feel good on more than a couple of items rather than forcing a depressing crack down my butt! But the irony of the time is that we, the people, had adverse and unpleasant annotations and dispositions the time FB went out when instead it should have been us driving the whole thing, pursuing the legal channels, chasing the government into taking some corrective measures and showing the way out to the ones who do not respect the values we harvest! It’s high time that we fucking decide for once and for all where do we see ourselves - legs spread ready to get that cock we so long for or all set to give the world a mouthful of being who we are!

I know that my personal ban on FB might not even bring a dollar down in their revenues and most probably go un-noticed but once again I seriously don’t give a flying fuck about their side of the picture all I’m set out to doing is put my side of the picture in the right perspective!

P.S. the page under discussion is still available on FB presenting a tight little slap placed just at the right spot on our ball sucking faces!

Post words: I can almost hear the words from Everlast echoing in my head:

“Ride with the Devil, Hide with the Lord

I got no pistol, Aint got no sword

I got no army, Aint got no land

I aint got nothing but the stone that’s in my hand!

…………….you build your fighter jets, you drop your bombs

You kill our fathers, you kill our moms………

So when you’ve had enough and ready for your stand

I’ll be waiting with the stone that’s in my hand!”

The Language of the Body

2009-09-08T22:45:00.000-07:00

The brain is beyond doubt an amazing and magnificent piece of creation; it brings in ideas so farfetched and implausible that one gets furious on beiing such a dumbass but sometimes those ideas do work out pretty fine; that's the wierd part!

Since quite an early age there was this one theory in my head that i was pretty sure existed and was waiting to be discovered by some gadget laden half crazy neuro-scientist, but in vain. Each passing day as I grew older and older, with increasing harmony between me and my body, this specific concept started growing on me till the time i was convinced that it has to be like this or else Danzel is a half bred bastard who had sex with a porcupine's son in order to get his acting career started........that is true by the way but anyways the concept goes something like:
"Every boody has a body language going on!"
Yeah that's it, simply put! But ooooo no, i know what you are thinking, I'm not talking about that body language, no no no and NO, it's not the "Hey look at the sluty body language that lass has on display....." type of body language I'm referring to, oh no it's not that, it's the real thing, like the real body language you know, The Language of the Body! I'm totally convinced that there is a language in which your organs communicate just like English is a language in which people communicate. What if we don't understand it, who cares if we call it a nervous system comprising of nerves and signals and nerve endings and relays and some more nerves perhaps and whatsoever, your body doesn't give a flying fuck what you name it and it continues to communicate within itself doesn't it now! For instance you are walking in a market place when suddenly you spot a juicy cleavage and your eyes almost suddenly yell to your brain "Oi fucker, stop wasting your grey matter on how many DVDs you can buy and check out the juicy jugs on this one!" and instantly your brain snaps to the landscape ahead of you and you start going "hmmmmmmmm......." in your head and your heart starts beating faster "Hey lemme see shithead lemme see, comeon lemme see fuckhead or i swear i'm gonna burst right here and spill blood all over your guts, lemme see!" and within a few seconds from that the cock suddenly starts beating his head all around "You bastard, I give you manly power, I give you pleasure, I give you a tool to impregnate unsuspecting girls and I give you syphilis you motherfucker and you lock me up here asshole with no room to breathe, atleast put in a goddamn peephole you son of a bitch! Lemme out, lemme out you bastard!" Well surely if that's not communication then Helen was a whore of Troy (which ain't true, you know she wasn't)! It is actually the fastest communication ever and it has to happen in a language doesn't it (see how 2 goes into 2 to make 4) and some day when doctors and scientists and chemists and the baboon who taught us how to insert long greasy metal objects in our ass, decrypt and start understanding the language of the organs as plainly as one understands English then one of you would definitely remember that there was this one smart little guy back in the days who wrote about this on his blog!

Anyways, what if we start understanding what the organs say to each in their nervous system language! What are the odds of that eh and how fucking exciting and amuzing life would be if that happens. Just imaging your bladder going like "You thirsty faggot, who the fuck told you to drink so much water.....now i'm fucking about to burst!Hey, Mr. I-Want-To-Control-Everything, tell those fucking lazy pair of legs to start making their way towards the toilet will ya' and tell this moody bastard hanging between the legs to stop clenching so tight and ease up a bit on the vessels for godsake, it's not like we've started to pee through the asshole now is it!" upon which the Asshole would go like "Hey for fuck's sake shutup already, I'm full of shit myself why the hell are you dragging me into this you slimy sack of piss!" and the penis would have its own two pennies worth to put in "You useless focking sack of focking stinking piss, who the fock do you think you are talking to eh!Fock you I'm going up, let's see you empty your load now piss sucker! and yeah fock you too Matabolism, you can't do shit to me you schedule-keeping calendar-driven motherfucker!" cuz for some strange reason I've always pictured the penis to have an -Al Pacino in God Father- like voice and temperament "Hey I do not like your face motherfocker.... *spit* here you go focker! Clean up the focking mess Hands....and Tongue!"

But you know who the real God Father will turn out to be in case we ever succeed in understanding the organ language......The Brain ofcourse! But the Brain would not have that much of a God Father touch to it, rather a bit mellow and imploring type you know and for some odd reason I sometimes picture the Brain to be the Brendon Frasier of the body with the Will-you-please-have-sex-with-me-for-charity look......... almost begging the rest of the body organs to cooperate with him please and keep the noise down unless they want themselves to be thrown out " Hey you little green sack of Gallbladder you mischievous little bastard, you've been creating much troruble haven't you, let's see what you say to this you little devil.....!" Hold-Cut-Chop-Throw in the bin-That ought to teach the rest of you a lesson, "....so keep it down all of you we are closing the roof back again......."

Anyhow, if we were to assign personalities to the organs then surely Brain would be the one who, after the man has had the shit beaten out of him by street kids, would be listening to the Penis advising him "Look focker, this is exactly what happens when you let the focking pussy-licker do the focking talking instead of a guy like me who could focking hurt those focking lousy Italian wannabe bastards!" and the Tongue would go like "Ith wasn'th all my faulth really, all I wanthed was tho geth ith setthled peacefully!" and the Brain would be thinking "Heck yeah! This Al Pacino voice-over guy is right, I should have let him loose instead of the fucking pussy-eater!"
The Brain is actually like that you know, the moment you hit puberty and then move into your adulthood and beyond, every organ grows and multiplies it's cells at a vigorous pace to reach a fully grown state.....except ofcourse your brain. That fucker keeps loitering around, bent on using just 2% of its full potential which again is mostly consumed in clinging to past memories, first to college days when you are actually in Post-Grad, then to Post-Grad when you are actually way into your professional and practical life and then to the professional life when you are actually damn old and shitting on the bed with a tube passing through your dick! Only when you are in this state and almost on your death bed that the brain suddenly realizes:

"What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On-In-Here!?! I seem to have lost lost all fucking control, oh shit i need to grow up....... hey hey you fucking bastard don't stop pumping blood you fucker ayeeee, Oi Lungs, what the fuck is wrong with you lads, let the air come in will you, you you......hey whoever dickless wonder is poking my arm with that big needle just stop it dimwit, it hurts........hey over there Asshole, clench yourself motherfucker no need to loosen up you'll spoil the bed asshole......awww come on Bladder you can fucking keep that much in yourself for a little while till we get to the toilet...........Hey listen up everyone, guys we need to sych up and work together on this one.......Hey Eyes, open up a little bit at look around where are we, O fuck me sideways, it's a hospital, G.R.E.A.T.! and a shabby one as well, way to go guys, I'm fucking going into the white light I see at the end of the tunnel, you fuckers can take a hike I've already had enough of you guys trying to...Hey Humpface keep pumping blood, who the fuck told you to take a break motherfucker, we are not on a vacation here in case you haven't realized, fuck the white light and shit and listen up you crazy bastards for one last...Ouuuuuu, what is that rubbing against my shoulder, it feels so good.....ouuuuuu soft and fluffy and alluring and springy and.....ouuuuu these ought to be a pair of tities perched up high on a young hot nurse's chest, HALLELUJAH, Heellllllloooooo Ladies, how are we doign tonight....!"

and at that very moment the Penis brings up his head from his deep slumber of 8 months

"Who.....What.......Where....did some focker say focking tities.....o yes yess yesss Mr. Brain I do focking feel 'em......bring it on bitches, Big Pappa Pump is back from the dead.....Fock Yeah....Lemme out lemme focking out! Wait!What! You fucking suckers don't even have peepholes in hospital gowns....you focking crazy fockers.......I will burst open my foking way this time......lemme out fockface lemme out!"

".....and ladies and gentlemen, here we have a case of acute heart failure with multiple seizures and severe diabetes fluctuations that has rendered this patient....O my God, is that a HARD-ON!?!" *Giggles and gasps from the female medical students*

And you know what's crazier than a dead penis waking up one fine day, have you ever heard that someone died with his peter standing straight up high.....not a single soul! That's the most messed up part......it's like God up there has a soft corner for dying people with hard-ons and He goes like "Hey look at that down there, the poor fellow has an erection , awwwwww that's sweet......well here you go my little fighter, here's another extra 5 years for the effort!" and just when you about to receive those sweet additional 5 years the eyes have had it with all the boob brushing and they want to actually feast on the sight of them as well so they open up and realize it's the 80 year old almost blind patient from the next bed lost on his way back to his bed from the toilet and is trying to land his soft old butt on your face that is ironically mistaken for the pillow on his bed and at that very moment the Penis goes like "False alarm?! Fock this shit man, I'm going down and I'm taking all of you with me, fock off Mr. I-Can-Control-Everything!" and the very last string of conversation that goes on inside could be like:

Brain: Come On you pesky little fuck get up, it's just an ass, just get the fuck up and everything will work out I promise!

Penis: Fock OFF I told you already and keep that blood with yourself Heart I don't focking need it, Return Return Return.....

Barin: No fuck no, you can't return blood you jerk off that's not how it works.......Take It Take It Take It......

Heart: Pump Pump Pump Fuuuuuuucking PUMP..........

Brain: Great yeah, keep up the pumping just don't fucking stop and don't listen to Penis, he's a moron brainless fuck!

Lungs: We feel like a pair of confused balloons, when shall we take in and when the fuck do we let it out?!?

Brain: Shutup retard and just BREATHE!You there Penis, get the fuck up will ya' we are all fucking counting on you Mr. Macho Dude so don't fuck around.......5 more years, just think about it......!

Penis: O for fock's sake, buzz off will ya'.......

Lungs: Onnnnnnneeeee.....Ouuuuuuuuttttttt........Twwwwwwoooooooo........Ouuuuuttttttt.....Th...th....th....thr..... there's something stuck in the windpipe there's something stuck in the windpipe, tell the fucking Tongue to move away from the windpipe, move away move away.........

Tongue: You fucking Dimwit you are just counting and not breathing with it asshole....get your shit together.........

Lungs:ooooooohhhhhh, I seeeeeeeeee....sorrry, deep breath in deep breath out deep breath in deep breath out........

Asshole: Hey what the fuck!why do you fuckers have to drag me into everything you bastards, let me take a last dump in peace for godsake, I never actually had good terms with the bed sheets or the mattress you know, the buggers pinch.........

Brain: Oi clench motherfucker clench, let me feel those cheeks wrapped tight together, just hold it in.......and shutup all of you and concentrate, this is no time to fool around or to panic, work together guys work together and we'll make it.......

Heart: Pump pump pump pump....what a Fucking Lousy Job for crying out loud.....Pump pump pump...........

Penis: Return Return Return......all of you rot in Hell fockers.....return return return.......

Brain: Hey come on....don't be such a prick you prick...Take It Take It Take It.....!Hands, we could use a little help of yours in getting this prick up! O Fuck, all blood supply going to the prick, you are already dead...Marvelous...Shit....!

Asshole: Okay!

Brain: WHAT.....No......!Wait!NO!!!!!!!

Penis: Fuck Yes....Fuck Off Fuck Off Fuck Off and Fuck Off....return return return.....bite me......return return return.....

Heart: Pump Pump Pump PUUUUUUUUMMMMMMP.........Puuuuuuuuooooooooommmmmpp pooooooooooooommmmmmmmmp poooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmp...... oh fuck i can't keep it up anymore, too much stress and no fringe benefits, fuck shit, Hump Hump Hump, o great now i'm going crazy, no fuel allowance as well.......Pump Fuck Hump Pump Fuck Hump Hump Pump Fuck....O FUCK IT ALL............

*BeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeP*

Brain: You Lousy Fucking Cunnnnntttsssssss..............*THUD*

"Sorry Madam, your husband had a wet dream and he passed away! We believe the cause to be related to drowning due to excessive wetness in the dream!"

My Old Profile

2009-06-17T02:25:00.000-07:00

For a couple of annoying people who have been constantly asking for my Orkut profile to be pasted on this blog.......can't understand why people can't go to Orkut and read it there..... anyways here it goes.......

About Me:
Well if you really wanna know then lets start with the childhood.......
Being a child wasn't easy for me as numerous questions n stuff troubled my baby brain - things like:
What is that dog doing to that other dog?
Why can't Mr. Fork and Mrs. Electrical Outlet be friends?
How to become the dominant military power in school?
Why don't Goldfish bounce?
How to control the playground: respect through fear or fear through respect?
Should organ transplants be better left to professionals?

was quiet active at sports as well, the all time favourites being Pop goes the hamster (PGH) and yes ofcourse other great microwave games. Reality shows caught my interest back then as well and one most recalled went something like " Curious Sunny and the High Voltage Fence"!

Growing up into my teenage and post-teens wasn't that painless either cuz that was when the realization struck that they are laughing at me NOT with me! n that's what made my adrenaline run like crazy and made me do stuff that i later realized wasn't doing any good so i vowed that:

I will not torment the emotionally frail!
I will not snap bras!
I will not trade pants with others!
I will not encourage others to fly!
I will not charge admission to the college bathroom!
I will not pledge allegiance to myself!
I will not spank others!
I will not sell property that ain't mine!
I will not instigate revolution!
I will not do that thing with my tongue!
I will not call my teacher Hot Buns!

And then came the golden age, the age that does wonders for you cuz you can do whatever you want and nobody'll say 'He's just a stupid kid!' but then again everything comes with some cost to it and this time I had to work if I wanted to go on with life, and I never knew how to work so the 5th day at office i ask my boss: " Hey Boss, how do i set a laser printer to stun?"
n what followed made me realize that this isn't an office -> It's Hell with fluorescent lighting! so i started giving everybody what i was getting ; HELL!!!! Office remarks like ' Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?' were supposed to drive people crazy but instead i got instant fame!
Everybody is crazy I suppose or its just that real stupidity usually beats Artificial Intelligence!n sarcasm was just one more service I had to offer!

In between the time i got to providing office services and trying to ditch work I met my first dream woman, the chick rocked but later i realized the problem that she really did 'rock' too much so one day i got my pants on, said something and started to leave when she got all frenzied and all so i was like " Okay Okay! I take it back! Unfuck you bitch!" and was out! was so pissed and all that I left work, left home, left town and went to Tibet to be the heir and High Priest to a very spiritual religious faction where i tried to learn that its not the size that counts, its the....ummm, actually it is the size!

But due to my intrinsic nature had to bail out from that place as well to avoid getting beheaded by a guy whose wrinkles were as deep as the crack in his butt so now i reside at Orkut and tend to die on my keyboard typing shits like these while reality continues to ruin my life!!!!

P.S Bark if you fancy my finger!!!!

Passions:
Aik Mona, dosra sona, tesra Mona k sath sona (First Mona, Second Sleeping, Third Sleeping with Mona)

Sports:
Reaching out for the remote control, that again just sometimes -> excessive exercise can be bad for health!

.........the rest of the looooooong profile could be read at Orkut -> Ali Zaidi.......... :)

If it wasn't for IF..... (PG18: SL)

2009-03-18T22:57:00.000-07:00

It’s true, when they say God gives…..last eve I decided to call it a day a bit early and strangely enough returned home just in time for dinner. Was loitering around the place post food, thinking what to do with this miserable life of mine when I got a text from someone I was least expecting would forward such a thing but things happen when you least expect them to. More than the text itself, what I least expected was for an inspiration but that is exactly what I got after going through that particular text. I guess it’s like getting a hard-on during your product presentation at noon even though you jacked off twice in the morning :P

Anyways enough with the ‘pointless’ blabber, let me share the text with you guys here that has triggered this whole post. I can recall a hundred such exercises that I have laid my eyes upon and I’m pretty sure that most of you must remember a thousand such Test & Teasers likes. The text went something like:

Harvard IQ test: If you know the answer just reply with the answer

1=5

2=25

3=325

4=4325

5= ?????

Now, my universal response to such texts goes something like “FUCK!” (Ofcourse due to my sickening infatuation with the word as explained in an earlier post) followed by a specific reply to the sender comprising of a simple ‘_|_’ but I know this sender for sure and I could tell what mischief she had in mind while forwarding this to me, so I ofcourse offered a more subtle response and while I watched the screen with the ‘sending message’ tag it suddenly occurred to me……. “WHAT THE FUCK!” plus a couple of other detailed realizations as belows regarding such IQ tests.

For starters, who the hell makes these bloody IQ tests anyways and do they really have an IQ level to be proud of cuz it certainly doesn’t show in the resultant questionnaires! Like is there seriously an old geezer tucked away in the furtherest corner of the furtherest library of the furtherest school of Harvard, buried deep in a pile of scrabbled papers, coming up for merely 5 seconds to catch some fresh breath while counting some shit on his fingers and soon enough is back in the pile of papers writing down his findings like if he delayed for half a second more the Universe would start collapsing on itself and all the earthlings – who, by the way, are already so dumb they can’t pass this dude’s simple IQ test – would be looking up at the skies and wondering this sure is some cool special effect going on over there and……..what is this enchanting glowing red big thing coming towards us with such tremendous speed!

Ok I’m not being judgmental or anything here but, just look at the fucking test; it starts with a big fat fucking IF! Am I the only one or is there something really screwed up over here, what kind of a question starts with an IF and claims to be a haven for holding and incrementing human IQ!? Seriously man, what the fuck! A question starting with an IF clearly has atleast a couple answers to it and both of them are capable of standing correct depending on how you put that IF into the picture but ironically the questions never clarify how does the damned IF fits into the fancy little picture the stupid architect has in his twisted little head. No fucking way is IF justified to grace a question and definitely not for testing bloody IQs. This two lettered seemingly harmless word, leaves way too many open ends to satisfactorily answer something and if it’s to be with an IF, I can put up more than a couple of questions of my own, without putting much thought into it either and I promise they could be equally brain teasing and twisted and would also possibly extort the potential to one day hail as some of the building blocks for testing IQ for sure! This is surely no way to implement any test….. IF in itself poses many questions and makes the whole damn thing so twisted to reply to that a person can totally forget about the real thing and start concentrating more on the ‘IF’ part thinking “what if…… no,no what if, hmmmmmm….. oh come on not that but what if, mmmmm…….!” You don’t believe me? Well here is a general level ( entry level if you please) question that can for sure pose as a fucking IQ test and is totally based on the IF factor:

(Variables for the sake of argument: 'Your daughter', 'Your Grandchild', 'You')

Your daughter = A slut

Horny = You

Screwing = Pregnancy

Your Grandchild = Your son

You = ??????????

Now I know, you know and infact every sane person knows the first answer which comes to the mind abruptly that “You = a sick fucking bastard with no bloody moral value!” but “Horny” also fits perfectly cuz the variable “You” has been defined already! And a combined effort yielding an answer something like “You = a horny sick fucking bastard with no bloody moral value!” should also be totally acceptable. Now here is where the catch comes in, no matter how many answers you or anyone can come up with IF the inventor of the question has already made up his mind about the answer while drafting the question which goes something like “You = a sick fucking bastard with no bloody moral values!” then there is no other answer in the world that can satisfy that little retard’s mind no matter how heavy the justification you, me or anyone presents. This is the basic reason why IF was used to start the question just so that the architect can have his cake and eat it too, you know what I mean! Not to mention, after deriving the resultant for the above problem, would the court let “You” go free just because someone defined the variables and occurrences with an IF? Think about that, eh?!

Who the fuck are we trying to fool here! Let me tell you folks, plainly and clearly, these unconstructive, waste-of-time-when-one-has-better-things-to-do type stunts are simply created to feed some pervert’s ego at an average man’s expense so pleeeeease DO NOT fall for it I sincerely ask of you. You have an IQ comparable to anyone so let nobody fool you and you do not need to get some moron’s ‘expert’ opinion to justify it. Listen up and listen carefully cuz now I’m about to reveal the most crucial fact of ‘em all, if you have come this far in life and if you can understand and agree to what has been going on in this particular post then my friend you surely have an IQ unmatched with the general populace of your generation and you do not need to throw yourself to the vultures just to get some fake sense of security and assurance of acceptability! Incase you are still having some issue digesting this let me make it crystal clear for you, next time when you attempt to answer an IQ test with a big fucking IF in front of it just remember the following phrase and judge the footings of that IF-driven ego-hungry question:

“IF your Aunt Lucy had a dick you’d be calling her Uncle Lucifer!” and that exactly is the level of effect IF has on anyone’s life and that exactly is the importance you should give to anything with an IF factor attached to it!!!

P.S In case IF some of the morons are still wondering the answer to the Harvard test I got as a text, its 1 but 54325 also goes perfectly :P

P.S.S. Get a life guys seriously, this is the end of the post!

Todays' Tomorrow

2009-02-24T01:28:00.000-08:00

Revert to days long past
Break through the dry cast

Days, when time was young
Time, where life begun

Heavens that were not in a rage
Souls that were not bound in a cage

A cage of lust, greed and sorrow
A peculiar sign of the coming tomorrow

What happened will not come undone
Cherish the moments wilting away with the fading sun

The agony, that makes it all a hell
Hell, that makes it hard to dwell

No further hope shall spawn
Days like that are long since gone

The heart weeps, the soul cries
The soul dies but the will survives

Memories akin to a shredded stripe
Living in the hope of death; dying hoping for life

Shattered dreams and mournful faces
Dying hearts and condemned races

Reality that no one can betray
Perplexity that no one can portray

Final cry for desperate measures
Desperation leading to frustration over fallen statures

Filch the remaining whiffs of happiness if you can
Die with dignity, depart like an elevated man…..

....Watch Out Here I Come.....!!!

2008-04-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

Been ages since I wrote something….well almost feels like it anyways!!!! But worry not my dear brethren cuz thy moment of despair withers into thin air (well almost! :p) as the words continue to gel into sentences on which thy eyes feast upon as they unfold below.

New job, new life, new identity……well that’s not completely true for me!!! Just did a little job shift and ended up working odd hours……well even aswell!!!

Waking up way too early in the morn, starting my day with my favourite good-morning expression (“Its morning already, FUCK!”) followed by a little motivational rhyme “This is the way we wash our face, we wash our face, we wash our face, this is the way we wash our face early in the morning!” and propelling myself on a thousand other “This is the way…we do this we do that!” shit, me gets myself on my way to me office early in the morn, totally indulged in work the whole live long day, stepping out the office late at night when the clock tells me that “…it’s actually the next day you dumass!”, love kindda kindles inside for my dear ol’ bed and, driving “F1-style” to get to that damn thing, finally when I do get to that exciting-bundle-offer-of-wood-and-drowningly-thick-soft-mattress that looks so alluring, the only thing left for me to do is to put myself to sleep with the same shit ringing in my ears “This is the way we go to bed, we go to bed, we go to bed, this is the way we go to bed, early in the morning!” so I guess now the bright ones have an idea about how my days seep into nights and my nights de-coagulate and roll over into days again.

Even though a sane man shudn’t be experiencing such a thing after going through such a day and schedule but I constantly keep on having these nightmares where slowly and gradually, painfully and glaringly I’m loosing my cult following……people who love me for what I am, people who love me for who I am and then the people who love me for no reason at all!!!! I don’t want to go down like that, don’t really want that to happen…hell nobody in the whole damn world has anything against getting a little attention and for once I don’t mind a couple of hundred of you fellows making me the center of their world…..yeah I can almost hear “Hail Ali, Hail Ali!” chants rising up from a crowd of like a thousand people who proudly exhibit the “Ali Merchandise” they wear and carry and sit on and sprawl on and rub on and rub in and eat in and suck…….ehm ehm, we shouldn’t get distracted now, should we!!!!

Anyways, the reason, for taking out some precious and really important time of mine and writing this down, is fairly simple…..its just a preliminary message to all you dupes out there (no offense) who think I’m dead and gone for good or have given up writing or was just another “one-hit-single” kind’da dude or probably getting myself humped by an elephant……although I’m not saying I am or was or anything, just saying in case you were getting excited about some animal…….ehm, well just think again!!! I’m pretty much alive and kicking and you are not out of probably the best competition you’ve had for quite some time now!!! I’m here and I’m coming, meant both ways, so you better watch out cuz the shit is just about to get heavy and better!!! And for all of you people out there waiting for my next one -> you guys rock, the best you are and would stay for days to come, meant only in the correct sense! Stay logged for a little something to hit the deck pretty soon, something that’s as wicked as expected but equally interesting!!!!

And yeah….Fuck Peace and don’t dare say cheeeeese :P!!!!!!!!

The word 'Fuck' - Repercussions!

2008-02-05T22:03:00.000-08:00

I’d let you know about my views for the act later but for now please note that I’m simply, absolutely, entirely and truly infatuated with the word fuck. Yes people, I’m head over heels with the word fuck, although sometimes I’m utterly mystified by the sheer joy it brings - to use the word as a noun, pronoun, verb, adjective or adverb - but still I simple cannot miss any opportunity to use the word where its most fitting and more importantly, indubitably required. The mere use of the word in my daily conversations makes me kind of nostalgic so that I feel like using it over again for having used it once, just like when you are done with your favorite Belgian Chocolate ice cream you feel like having it over again, a bigger scoop this time. How many times, can you count, when this word came in pretty handy – zillion, right! And just imagine the gust of expression and energy the word pumps in any conversation, things without it seem somewhat dull and slack to me. And that’s not speaking of the challenging and demanding tone it sometimes enriches your communiqué with and the surge of feeling it percolates in an otherwise boring conversation. Take for example the scene where a chap drops by his friend’s place and is greeted with “Hey dude wassup, wanna smoke!” which is totally not interesting now is it. On the other hand, if the greeting had gone something like “ Hey, just the fuck in time dude, lets get fucking wasted dawg!” you can sure as hell see the friendship spark lighting three steps higher. Likewise, think of when your subordinate ain’t performing the way he should be and you approach him with “What’s wrong with you?” to which the sidewinder might end up discussing with you his renal anomalies as someone sounded like a nurse from the nephro ward back there! Instead, if your inquiry started off something like “What’s your fucking problem!?” the fool knows there and then that you are not fucking around nor taking his shit anymore, and come to think of it, the use of the word fuck here, in addition to enhancing the seriousness of your query, also in a way questioned his manhood. Next time he’d be careful like a squirrel rationing for winter.
(In case my boss is going through this => Hi boss, I’m just kidding here ok, merely for a laugh or two J and it’s like 1 am and I needed a break!)
Coming to the point, I also feel an intimate connection with the phrase “What the fuck!” It’s so lovingly small, clever and handy yet at the same time adds tons of pressure to a simple ‘What’. Not to speak of the magnitude of occasions this could come in pretty useful, when all you need to do to change your meaning would be to twist your tone a little here and a bit there to give it a surprised touch, a questioning rub or an angry stroke…..the possibilities are endless, try it!With so much said, I proclaim that the word fuck is a pure work of genius and I personally think (and fellow lovers would agree) that the draftsman be given a Nobel Prize for coming up with the most useful word in the history of mankind. (When meditating over the invention of the word fuck I sometimes recall the story of how the word Eureka came into existence when the crazed philosopher ran out in the streets stark naked yelling the word after he discovered how density works while lying in his bath tub during the medieval times! Yeah, those were the days, wo-hoo!). Anyways, to back my declaration, just imagine its Monday so it’s already worse enough that you have to go to work on such a dreadful day when to top it off you are also getting late for the office and can’t find your favorite red tie you always wear on Mondays. You call your wife asking “Honey, where did you put my red tie?” Now what a typical woman would do would be to join you in your search for the stupid tie - for some time - and then just walk away pretending its time to fix breakfast for the kids as they are getting late for school, like their stupid school is more important than your job! Heck, if it wasn’t for you busting your ass on job all day long the little brats won’t be in school in the first place, probably out on the roads wiping windshields and eating dirt….and the woman needs to understand that until you find that so important red tie you are not going anywhere and ain’t taking nobody to school!
Contrary to the earlier approach, which guarantees that the shit’ll fall, if you can’t find your favorite red tie on a Monday morning and ask your wife “Honey….where the fuck did you put my red fucking tie?” the bitch is sure to turn the whole damn house upside down in a minute and come running back with your tie. Well in case you are wondering, you can always give her a hug and a kiss later (or more, if you dig it!) for being abhorrently loutish earlier.
Ok Ok, I won’t be a chauvinist here and would also give you ladies some advise over the dominant power and clout of the word fuck as compared to other petty remarks, so that you can also pamper yourself with the blissful pleasures provided by the use of a spectacular blend of four paltry alphabets. (and ofcouse it sounds modish so don’t worry!)
Consider your man coming back home at 2 am Saturday morning and upon your compassionately inquire “Where have you been dear?” the man’s sure to give you a long and heart rendering tale about how he works his butt off back at the office but his boss doesn’t give him due credit save for assigning him new work every day but insists on blaming him and his dimwit capabilities for the slightest mistake and to top it off, has assigned him this really pathetic assistant who has the amazing knack to mess up even the most infallible things so being the great one that your husband is, he stayed back Friday night to put things right before his boss found out during a presentation to the CEO next week! For God’s sake use your head, its Friday night woman what do you think, can’t you see the pattern, something’s really and obviously wrong here and the pieces don’t actually fit! Next time when your man walks in 2 am, please for the love of God, leave those womanly/wifely feelings in the bedroom and just use the Goddamn word and see for yourself the wonders it does for you in getting shit straightened out. Imagine your guy opening up the front door at 2 am with you standing there and waiting and the moment he steps in, you go Rambo on his sorry ass with just one question “Where the fuck have you been all this time, didn’t you have time to see your fucking watch?” and just delightfully observe the shit drain out of the guy’s face. You ask me will the dude come back home on time? Hell, whatever follows, the guy is sure to ask your permission the next time he opens his fly for a pee even, let alone coming home that late on a Friday!
Now talking on a little global perspective, more than the word fuck itself I’d love to see and hear the word fuck used on an international symposium (like at the UNO) preferably by Bush, after he has recently ordered an attack on another country harboring a “security threat”! I’d love to see Bush step up to the podium and simply blurt it out “Fuck peace! We are after oil!” instead of the usual ‘we-hate-terrorists-so-we-are-killing-everyone’ blabber which I like to refer to as CJ2 (coverup-jackshit justifications) which, again, is truly gibberish to me when coming out of this particular white boy and at least I’m not falling for this bullshit. Fuck, No way!

Who am I...?Who are we...? and Who is...thee!?

2008-01-25T00:36:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: All references made to folks in the lines below are fictional and purely coincidental, but true and resemblance to any person living or dead, including my family, my friends, my acquaintances and myself (No, I’m not crazy enough to sue myself for using my name but who knows!) are concurrently of the same illusory nature.

Terms that need a little explanation for overseas readers:
Pakistan: A great country.
Balouchistan: A great province in the great country of Pakistan. My home place.
Persian: A great race living in the great country I was talking about.
Pathan: Another local race.
Sindh: Another province.
Extensive facts & figures from my vast collection on the subject willfully omitted cuz that’s not my style of writing but if you still need that boring historical data, I’ll guide you to the right direction.

What if a man living in Pakistan moves to New York and starts living there, what if he has a wife who bears him a child, what if that child grows up in New York, what if that child marries a Pakistani women and both of them continue living in New York, what if they have a baby boy who also grows up and carries on living in New York and what if one day some hippie comes around asking that boy “Hey, you are American, right?” to which the lad says “Yes!” but what if the subsequent query goes somewhat like “You Jew?” Now a suitable answer that should come from a guy with an intact mind would be “Fuck, No!” but only if he’s cuckoo up in the head or that his bloodline has been fondled by some exotic desires acted upon by the maternal side of his parenthood should you expect a different answer, right!
As is true for most actions on my part, I habitually come into play when instigated (read fingered). Up until the time everything is going smooth for me and the ground I stand on is dry, I don’t give a crap whether you pee standing or squat for the reason but the moment those trickles start landing on my foot it simply sets me off and I’d probably loose that Mr. Nice Guy act and end up with that showered foot shoved comfortably up some ass. And to add to it, I have discovered this amazing capability to write about it as well. God gives, I guess!
Today, well tonight, I have this really disturbing thing (at least for me) to share here that occasionally happens with me. Every now and then I find someone starting an argument with me on the following footings
“Hey, you are from Balouchistan?” and usually I reply with a “Yup!”
Dweeb: “So you are a Balouch?”
Me: “No, I’m not a Balouch. I’m a Persian”
Dweeb: “But you are from Balouchistan, right?”
Me: “Yeah, so! That doesn’t make me a Balouch.”
Dweeb: “It does so!”
Me: “How so, if I may ask.”
Dweeb: “Cuz you are from Balouchistan!”
Me: “Now what the fuck’s that supposed to mean. You trying to give me some logic here or piss me off with crap?”
Dweeb: “Hey why you so cynical, why are you ashamed to admit you are a Balouch?”

Usually the reply follows in the same tone “Hey I aint negative or anything, how about if you don’t happen to be a retard and I call you one, would you be ashamed to admit you are a retard? Look man, if I were a Balouch I won’t be ashamed to admit it but the trouble here my friend is that I’m not one. I’m a Persian and Persians don’t like being called Balouch and vice-versa. Hell, from where I belong, if you are mixing up races like this the next thing you’d notice would be a fresh crevice where your face used to be and onlookers yelling ‘Way to go, 1 for the man 0 for the asswipe’!”
And that wraps it up, well most of the times at least. Other times I either garrote the desire and miss the shot or let the poor bastard really have it, depending on what surrounding I am in and how am I feeling at that particular moment. But in any given situation I totally fail to realize why these dialogues reach such a point in the first place. It’s like you are intent on calling the barman an alcoholic when all the poor guy does is serve you drinks. I’m not talking about the instances where I know the other person is only fooling around, I am talking about those moments when someone gets into a serious debate over this and believe me I’ve had many of those. Now just to have it in written and maybe somehow avoid a foolish conversation next time by routing the inquirer over here, I’m going to build an age old little scenario here to clarify things (have done all this verbally as well but some morons never learn to roller-skate now do they!).
Consider, just for the sake of argument here, that you are a pathan born in that pathan part of the country and say you have a brother as well who, if your folks haven’t been fooling around much, would also be a pathan and say your uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews and everyone you’ve ever met in your life is a pathan and something sweet and surprising does happen when you see a young boy coming out of the school you’ve been waiting outside for the last 5 hours (yes, in this particular argument you are really and truly a rudimentary but nonetheless disingenuous picture of a pathan). Now that brother of yours moves to Karachi and starts a life there, although he’d be particular about marrying a pathan girl from his home-village, which he eventually does. Say they have a boy from that marriage who is raised in Karachi and enrolls at The Agha Khan University to become a doctor (doctor so that you realize he does not have the time to visit his home village pretty often and spends most of his time in Karachi). So this little chap grows up to be a handsome pathan and an awesome doctor. As he matures, his skills get polished and one day he is called to a National Seminar on some God-forsaken disease as an honorary guest speaker. Just for arguments sake, say you are also invited as family. Now don’t forget you are a pure pathan in this case and just picture this, you are standing with your pathan nephew after the seminar, having some tea or something when a couple of guys walk up to your nephew and ask him “So Doctor, you from Sindh?” and he’ll definitely say “Yes!” but what if the next question is “So you are a Sindhi?” now I know the answer that sprang to your head right now (and that’s what I’m talking about) but if that nephew of yours replies with a “Yes!” I’d surely advise his folks to stop humping each other cuz they are giving out toddlers with some major genetic disorder and then probably join you in beating the shit out of that son of a bitch for two major reasons, one, for mixing up his national/provincial identity with his race, and two, for being a dimwit to admit it that overtly.Now consider this, a century or so ago when Afghanistan used to be divided in segments and each portion had its own ruler, there happened to be three Persian brothers in Afghanistan who seemingly ruled this stupid portion right in the middle of the country.

Now this particular guy, Ameer Abdur Rehman, who’d had it with the normal routines of life already squeezed to ruling just a tiny piece of land, decided to attack every other goddamn part and bring it under his domain; so when the turn came for these three brothers, they fought that guy and somehow ended up slicing off the arm of Ameer’s very own wife (yeah, talk about missing the shot!). Maybe cuz the fellow was down to getting single-handed no-fun handjobs or the fact that his spouse couldn’t cook half as better after the blood filled saga, Ameer took the act really personal and announced a prize for anyone who brought the heads (chopped off, ofcourse) of these three brothers. Not stopping here though, he also sent his own hoard of assassins after these brothers. Valuing the efforts put in by Mr. Ameer, but totally not agreeing with him taking it all personal and issuing ‘elimination permits’ against them, the three brothers walk away (scram with assassins on their heels, to be precise) out of the country gracefully (read ‘in a hurry’). Now it so happened that the three of them had really paid attention in class and had excellent grades in International Relations so the British helped pull them out in a single night and brought them to the, then British occupied Sub-Continent and did allot them God-knows-how-many square miles of rural land in Punjab so that these three smart asses start living there and to develop the area as their own. They had wives and children, of which the children, specifically and apparently, grew up to be men and women. Now some of these grown up kids thought “What the hell, this place is no good for us and we don’t really enjoy being the landlords around these areas with a zillion servants waiting on our single dumass command and another quadrillion to start kissing our ass the moment we wake up till night fall, maybe during sleep hours as well (depends on how kinky they were back in those days)! Surely no, the benefits of a splendid and unaccountably rich life doesn’t really ring the bell for us so listen Mom, Dad, we are moving out on our own so that we work ourselves hard and shitless the whole day long, trying to exert our crazed butts into vigorously striving for the benefits of a vibrant life that were already bestowed upon us but we didn’t feel like putting them to good use and thanking God for having them placed right in front of us, ours to take without a cost!”Of course these grownup kids had that grownup kids discussion amongst themselves as well and those real smart ones stayed behind while the achievement-ridden ones hit the road (although after sorting out their share of the land and getting it transferred to their names as well. I guess there was no job security in those days as well and these folks like realized it beforehand). Anyways, the ones that moved did luckily or intelligently spread over the area that later on came to be under Pakistan, and most of them had moved to a little city called Quetta in a big barren province called Balouchistan. Now the name of the province evidently came from the name of a race, discovered here earlier, that roamed the land bare footed. Persian was like the universal language back then so people started referring to them with the Persian acronym “Pa Luch” meaning “the people that walk bare footed” although a figurative meaning suggests “drifters” (just for the record, this was way before the time when these grown up kids I’m talking about settled in Quetta). The “Pa Luch” thing kept on altering forms till it came to be known as “Balouch” but enough with the history lesson, back to the story of the grown up kids. Well those days weren’t like as easy as the current times when you can really do without marriage or worst come worst, you can send a marriage proposal to any house that you think harbors atleast one chick you can go lengths for partnering up with in life and if that doesn’t work out, there’s always a court just around the corner and nowadays they don’t seem much occupied with any serious shit so they might be sitting there waiting for you to drop by and make their day. Anyhow, these folks couldn’t find anyone else to marry so they ended up marrying cousins, distant cousins etc which led to a fresh progeny which meant another cohort of cousins which in turn led again to cousins marrying cousins (they like made a habit out of it or something!) and one such marriage in turn led to the birth of yours truly! And just for the record here, I’m already constantly working on putting an end to this board-gamish habit I refer to as “marry-a-cousin or GO TO JAIL” (one failure is one step up on experience, you’d probably find something better in the next try) so thanks for the advise!
All these fables, all these chronicles, all the mindless blabber and God knows what else when all I want to say is “DUDE, I AM A PERSIAN!” If someone still goes at length to prove I’m a Balouch just cuz my family’s lived in Balouchistan; it won’t be odd to find the same fag alleging one day that I’m responsible for spawning every guy who’s second name (usually coming from the paternal side) is Ali, which is virtually impossible so give me a break guys! But pragmatically speaking, after this long read one should be clear about how, why and when I came to be a Persian and if you already know me then for sure you know I’m not the regular stereotype Balouchi guy who finds pleasure in blowing up the “alternate-proof” gas pipeline of the country so that the whole damn nation is sitting back home shivering their asses off the cold and summoning up their whole goddamn vocabulary of foul language set to use in my admiration. Sorry homies, I don’t see the limelight in this one, so I must not be Balouch then, eh! (No offense) That’s simply not how I roll, I prefer cranking up the flow valve on the fucking pipeline to its fullest so that whosoever in the country tries to light up as much as a heater, ends up blowing the whole damn house! (the streets and rest are already lined up with oodles of gunpowder in this particular fantasy of mine *insert evil laugh here*)
No seriously, apart from the jests and jabbers, I’ve noticed people mixing up the concept of nation with that of a race. Well, to most literate people the difference is quite evident but let’s just go through this once again. Being a Pakistani is to do with an individual’s national identity and thus is coherent with the word nation. On the other hand, being a Balouch or Persian is to do with one’s ancestral identity and thus is consistent with the word race. I, for one, cannot stand being dumb enough to confuse race with nationality and not shoot myself for being so uncouth. As for the argument based on the demarcations of area, I staunchly think we are just Pakistanis when it comes down to nationality, not Sindhi, Balouch, Punjabi etc. Correct me if I’m wrong but the concept here was to bring everyone under the same umbrella, not get our filthy hands on the umbrella and tear it up into pieces of our own, helllloooo! But certainly when it’s the question of one’s race then sure, we can be Punjabi, Pathan, Persian or whoever the hell we are but we’d still be Pakistani as a nation nonetheless. I don’t understand the problem in seeing it this way.

Just on the closing note, people seem really interested in knowing what part of the country you’re from or what race you belong to but I’ve never truly been bothered about any of this and I have a simple logic to it. I am more concerned about the person I’m interacting with than knowing where exactly was the seed planted at, if you follow my flow. Hell, if you are that stupid, I’d probably be better off not knowing you in the first place let alone know where the germs started off from and if you are smart enough for my penchant, I’ll figure you out and would come to know you and that’s about it all, don’t really give a damn about where you come from or what’s the story with your family tree, I don’t really have the time to probe into details like these and more importantly I simply don’t give a rat’s ass!

Inspiration

2008-01-17T09:51:00.000-08:00

Thy reasons for grief

Vex all solace and relief

Stalking thy jiffs of joy

Already seldom and brief

Thy will to survive

Punts you awake and alive

Thy resolve is thy stride

Vim, no matter stanch, cannot deprive

Thy reasons for grief

T’is thy question of belief

Defy through will, for all to see

Ask thyself

To be or not to be....!

(Nutshell: One can conquer his fears, griefs, anything if the will is alive, its just a question of bringing it up)

Note: Inspired by a lengthy discussion last night with a friend.

Let the bird flip!

2008-01-15T11:47:00.000-08:00

Just the other day I was on a car-repair mission with one of my friends (it was his car that got hit by a van, details worth mentioning in another post). Anyhow, as the mechanic took a little time to fix the ride, and the fact that any progress was constantly mucked by electricity down time, the two of us sat down to catch up on things (you know how it goes, good friends meeting after a month or so…!) and I don’t really recall where the discussion started off at but it eased over to an interesting dialogue on the origin of certain words, phrases and expressions in standard use nowadays. As most of the “guy talks” usually end up revolving around any of these topics:

a debate over what’s better of the two - a beer or a clean shot of vodka
the “new chick”
the hottest in sports, or
the most innovative exploits and creative modifications of the word fuck

(yes, we men are really such an adoringly simple creation!) it so happened that the topic trailed to the origin of the phrase “flipping the bird” and the rationale behind that middle finger thingy! I, strangely, did not know what my friend had to acquaint me with on this one and it was rather queer; the history of this thing, so I thought what the heck, lets share it as people usually know about such stuff and maybe somebody could tell me the truth there is to this story. So here it goes.....

It evidently started off when the French first ever decided to invade English territory and thought of taking over the land. But before they could actually win the battle and conquer the land, they made plans to cut off the middle finger of every Englishman after they won the battle (talk about thinking well before time, though I felt a sudden pang of connection here…counting the chickens before the eggs hatch part, I guess!). Now it so happened that in that particular era bow and arrows was the AK-47 and archers were like amongst the coolest guys in town. When stretching the bow, maintaining the aim and swinging the arrow, the middle finger plays a vital role for the archer so the Frenchmen probably did their mathematics “No middle finger, no archery so no Frenchmen dying of arrows raining down from nowhere…hehehe, we are a clever nation aren’t we!” and were most likely getting high on the thought when they lost the battle. DAMN! Yes, the poor chaps lost the battle, tragic I know, making all those post-battle plans and feeling so mischievously happy about them when suddenly “BOOM….!here’s that little dream of yours, now stay the hell away from our lands….” But that wasn’t it. The Englishmen didn’t stop here, cannot let them slither away so easily on this one, eh mate! From that day onwards they made it a point to show Frenchmen their middle fingers, swinging them in front of their eyes, under their nose sometimes, shoving them in the air and so on; hence the trend caught on and the phenomenon came to be known as flipping the bird (an arrow used to be referred to as a bird).

Well folks so much for the story, now for the reservations I got against the story. For starters, there were other forms of weaponry in those days as well so why would the Frenchmen be so concerned about getting rid of archery? I’m sure they must’ve heard of throats being slit in sleep and for that you don’t need your middle finger. You are in a conquered territory and you have cut off the middle fingers of those conquered, so they cannot use their bows but they sure as hell can slice your throats with a switchblade while you are asleep. In fact no one needs to go through the blood filled ordeal, all they could have done was to poison the food when no one was looking and it might have turned out that it was the same food the French forces had ordered, to celebrate their victory!

Ok, I agree, I’m ridiculing the whole thing, for all I know this might be the true history behind one of my favorite modes of expressing gratitude (just kidding!) but that’s what I want to know, that’s the idea of posting this piece….is this for real - this fable about the origin of flipping the bird, if any one reading this has any idea/ suggestion, feel free to update me at least......

Excerpts for a "Happy New Islamic Year"

2008-01-11T07:21:00.000-08:00

Last night, and the day preceding, I was really amazed to find out that some of my fears have been correct all this time! Most of our nation definitely comprises of ignorant fools and we are just adding to this inborn capability of ours each passing day. I might sound pissed because I AM, as it happens to be that I’m a part of this nation of self-flouting, attention thirsty individuals and instead of wanting out, I still would like to see some sense knocked into us for good.

What started off earlier last morning was something that happened for the first time in 25 years of the life of this fool, with a simple message from one of my friends, which I thought to be a joke played on me. The text went something like “Welcome the year 1492 with open arms and all the joy and prayers for the Muslim Ummah and for Islam to spread over the far corners of the world. Happy New Islamic Year.”
I was just about to reply with a “Haha!” when my phone went off again; telling me a new sms was there. Aborting the “Haha!” part, I decided to read this new text as I was expecting one from my office but the one waiting was from this lady I’ve known for like 3 years now and all this time the major chunk of messages I got from her were based on the Islamic spirit and were really Islamic till the last alphabet, to make it short. Contrary to how I usually react to texts, this particular one simply made me frown to the fullest and that little voice in my head went like “What the fuck!”

A long and painful text about how Islam had conquered the world followed by how we’ve declined over the past centuries with a trail that eventually led to a hearty greeting for a “Happy New Islamic Year!” was all that was there in that stupid text. I was like, you did pretty fine there talking about the past glory of Islam and rekindling that Islamic spirit but why the hell did you put in that “Happy New Islamic Year” part, Why?
After this text, it was like all Hell broke loose and everybody seemed to be furthering the cause by sending “Happy New Islamic Year” messages. Clenching my teeth, grinding them hard, swearing all along and deleting every message was all I could do to keep myself from getting into the bloody handset somehow and slapping the moron at the other end so hard that his/her neck swings to a full 180° so the cap’s back on straight.
Before I carry on with the raving and ranting, let me please clarify that I’m totally not a religious guy for sure, not even your average religious guy, so as to speak of. Well in case you call passing a mosque now and then as being religious…mmmmm…then again I’m not so very religious, to be true. Hell, I’m writing this while other people have gone to offer their Jummah prayers and like always, I’ve somehow missed the opportunity to join them! Although I belong to a reputed Syed family, people in my near past have also doubted me for being a Muslim altogether (at those moments of enlightened discussions silence is the best remedy instead of making the other person realize he/ she is not that good a Muslim him/herself, which would lead to more arguments, presumably much heated this time as people like poking as long as its not their belly).
So I guess the reader now has a clear idea as to how religious the writer is and that’s the point I’m trying to make here guys. What happened yesterday and continued to happen till late hours was not something to do the least bit with religion or being religious; it was something much more than that, something I always put first compared with anything else; the power of human comprehension and reasoning with oneself. If it weren’t for this aspect of humankind, nobody, and I repeat, nobody would ever claim to be religious in the first place, instead they’ll go like “Oh I’m just a Muslim by birth, no room for choice or putting a little pressure on my grey matter for becoming a real Muslim!” and this exclamation would usually be followed by thick drooling in between the break from sucking on a lollipop dipped in strawberry syrup.

Anyway, getting back to the subject matter, why do we utterly fail to use our heads for a change before ignorantly following an action, a trend or anything else which only leads to shit-loads amount of spam. Is there any unwritten rule of some kind that I seem to be totally oblivious about, which reads “If you can’t justify the nonsense coming out of you, have four other people chant it with you and it’ll start making sense!” which could then be proclaimed as the biggest nonsense of all time.
We do we act totally bizarre sometimes and do things that totally don’t make the slightest of sense, such as the texts I’m talking about. Considering the concept of our religion and that of where the Happy New Year started off, mixing them up is like sitting in Tandoori and ordering Dominoes Pizza, now who the hell would do that I wonder- maybe some half crazed baboonish sort of an ape descendent who doesn’t know jack-shit about a thing but still loves to drive a Corolla at 140 kmph.
Now for some factual part; as history says, it started off as a happy year for the people who came up with the Solar Calendar; for us it DID NOT, so now lets cut the ‘O Daddy, I-want-the-same-bicycle-tooooo’ part, act like grown-ups and face the fact here. So all those religious fanatics out there, those who think they own the religion as they have been forwarding religious messages for straight 2 years or more now and for anyone who gives a damn, let things be clarified in regards to the start of the New Year according to this religion of ours. For starters, this surely is not an occasion to be joyous about, clapping hands and jumping around because this moment of elation is upon us AND surely this ‘Happy’ part of the ‘New Year’ does not belong to our religion so mixing it up to sound like “Happy New Islamic Year” doesn’t do the thing, well at least not for me! As for the arrival of January, rest assured that I make it a point to go out and celebrate that ecstatic moment the way it’s meant to be by the people who own the Solar Calendar. But when reflecting upon Islam and the New Year, pahlease, for God’s sake folks, exercise those neuron in your brain!Taking a very liberal view here, not Shia-not Sunni, as far as I remember our new year kicks off with troubles and worries, not glee and amusement! A little journey to the origin of the Islamic Calendar maybe, I guess all of us know for sure when the Islamic Calendar came into existence. It starts off with the Hijrat of our Holy Prophet and His esteemed followers from Makkah. I won’t call it the best of the times, when birds were fluttering and singing here and there, joy marked every face and the wind, in its essence had the mood of festivity and enchantment swept the sky, when out of nowhere one person gets up and says “Hey guys, this seems to be like a swell time for leaving town, forgetting we ever had our own homes that we lived in all our lives, giving up all our belongings, taking the hardships of the road ahead and not exactly knowing where are we to take solace after this! Yeah, this looks like just the right time, a perfect touch of peace and bliss in the air, what you all say folks?!”. NO, this wasn’t what went on back then. Those times were hard, those true to the faith-few and they left in the dark of the night to avoid confrontation with the infidels and to top it off, those bloody infidels planned an assassination attempt on our Holy Prophet. THIS is the start of the New Year in the Islamic Calendar. Ever wonder why they call it Hijri, I bet you already knew!

Then we move ahead to the year when Hazrat Umar was assassinated. Yes my very religious friends, assassinated, you do remember correctly thank God for this at least! This Caliph did not pass away due to old age, illness or any other natural cause, Hazrat Umar was assassinated and that again was the 1st (2nd in some literature) of Muharam, the beginning of the New Year in the Islamic Calendar.
Now let’s move a little down the years and we have in front of us the incident in Karbala. Imam Hussain, as all should agree, was not just another ordinary man and nor were his companions. They did not lay down their lives just to get their names printed in the texts to follow and a bunch of folks to start beating up their own selves over the tragedy of old times. No, of course not. They all became martyrs for the religion we are so religious about nowadays and I need not explain the details of the scene at Karbala when all supply of water and food was impeded in order to break down Imam Hussain so that he and his followers would bow in front of the infidel of the highest magnitude ever, Yazeed. Let me remind you the hardships, followed by the cold blooded assassination of the Holy Prophet’s family happened in Muharam, the beginning of the New Year in the Islamic Calendar. Let me also remind you that I’m not the least bit of a religious guy but when I get to think about the family of the Holy Prophet treated like this just so that some rat bastard could have his kingship, the moment of joy for the arrival of the New Year just seems to slip away. And considering the fact that men, old and young, thirst ridden and hunger stricken, still stood their ground to lay their lives for this religion of ours, we on the other hand fail miserably to augment their sacrifice by doing the least bit and that would be to avoid messing up concepts form our religion with those coming from other cultures leading to celebrating a “Happy New Islamic Year!”

Why is it that we insist, or better yet, we want to be treated like a herd without a shepherd dog, when we have all the guidance within our own set of beliefs, our own doctrine? Why do we WANT to follow when we’ve got what it takes to lead! Why are we intent on slapping ourselves whenever we see a red faced mongrel! Has anyone really stopped to wonder why we are on an inverse incline or are we all too busy being really religious and fanatic about it, so as to speak of. We can have whatever culture we like, hell we can mix in cultures from 40 different states and still what we’ll end up would eventually be called a culture and there’s no harm to it. Jeans, pants, shalwar, or aba’a, its all the same and won’t create much of a difference if we mix Kurta with Jeans, confuse Pants with Shalwar…so on and so forth, but when it comes to our identity as Muslims; our convictions, aren’t they composite and rich enough or do we further need to enrich them by amalgamation! I, for one, might not be a practicing Muslim and most of my views might be very laissez-faire but I sure like being identified as a Muslim because come what may, that’s who I am. And to me, blending things into a composite enough religion would be corruption, corruption of beliefs, of the doctrine, of the religion itself and last I checked that came under Kufr!!!!
Heck, if this is the path we’ve chosen, it won’t be long until we’d be hearing stuff like “Happy Islamic Raksha Bandhan!” so before I get any such text that drives me nuts and over the wall, guys, I’d like to wish you all a “Very Happy Islamic Deewali complimented by the upcoming Happy Islamic Chinese Year of jǐchǒu followed by the merriest of all, a Happy Islamic Easter!”
Till “Islamic Eid!” folks…….