Raves n Rants

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!"

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 me adrenaline run like crazy and made me do stuff that i later realized wasn't sosing 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 dod i set a laser printer to stun?"
n wat followed made me realize that this isn't an office -> It's Hell with flourescent 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 adn went to Tibet to be the heir and High Priest to a very spiritual religious faction where i tried to learn tht 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 tying 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 -> exessive 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 1942 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…….