Butter Knives Outcorporated

Oversized Wrinkly/Furry Ballsac

2007-10-24T00:28:00.000+05:30

Of late, my sleep has been disturbed by the local wildlife. By local wildlife, I do not refer to lions or tigers or bears (oh my!); I am referring to a cat, somewhere in the vicinity of the 3 houses surrounding mine.

It started a few weeks ago, with funny noises all through the night ("rrrOWW! rrrOWW! rrrOWW!"). At first, I thought it was just another fight or whatever, and ignored it. But after a few nights of the same, it became apparent that it wasn't a fight. The truth revealed itself to me in an exclusive bare-all exposé that it now denies ever agreeing to (and is currently suing me over): somewhere in the locality, a cat was getting what sounded like the rutting of a lifetime. Every. Fucking. Night. (pun fully intended)

It's a very distracting thing, when your neighbors have incredibly noisy sex all night. Even if they're cats. But the most worrying aspect of this isn't it's effect on me; it's the effect on my dog.

The poor chap's hitting puberty just about now, or so the increasing number of boners would make it seem, and every time the cats go at it, he starts barking at 'em (yes, with wood). I can't really blame the guy; here he is, his canine balls just dropping, and the local music (which I'll bet he hears in exquisite detail) is more like what one would expect to hear in a Paris Hilton movie than anything. No, I'm not referring to cheesy horror flicks. You know the sorta movie I mean. Yes, porn. He's hitting puberty and there's a porno audio track going all night. That really doesn't blow, and I pity him for that.

He hasn't even got any way to relieve himself, if you catch my drift. I mean, it's one thing to be a randy SOB and have hands, but it's quite another to have a perpetual boner and nothing better than hard and sharp teeth (little sister: "Anna, what's wrong with him? Why's it all red down there?" me: "Uhhh...") with which to "scratch" his "itch", if you know what I mean.

But it's even more embarrassing (or so says a friend of mine who'd know) when the poor ol' randy SOB gets hisself some "company", and either can't get it up or can't get it in. Especially when the owner(s) is(are?) watching; the poor fellow's pride is just plain shot, no two ways about it. So here's my question to the world: just what are we, mankind, doing to alleviate those hordes of sexually frustrated domestic animals across the globe? Is it not our duty as the "higher species"? Do we not owe them a debt for being our companions through thick and thin?

For ourselves, we have Fleshlights and Viagra and all the different varieties of vibrators and other household objects, not to mention those greatest of masturbatory aids: the human hand. But what of them? It's a mark of shame for me to come home every day and see poor Rusty sitting there with a massive boner, licking his oversized wrinkly/furry ballsac, praying (panting?) for some relief. But what can one really do, short of finding him a lady friend (makeout buddies?), or "taking matters into hand"? The lack of self-abuse kits in this market is really rather appalling. Truly, a very sad state of affairs.

(I'm open to reader suggestions on self-pleasure aids for domestic animals. Any ideas, leave 'em in the comment space.)

Poem Without Plot

2007-10-09T22:01:00.000+05:30

I wrote these lines without any plot
And can’t say what this is, only what it’s not

This isn’t an ode to the ‘beauty’ of ‘true love’
Nor one in praise of ‘powers above’

This isn’t a tale of maidens fair
With oversized towers and bleached blonde hair

War, peace, and all the rest you won’t find here
You’ll have to look elsewhere for those, my dear

Beyond mere babble, what lies within?
Nothing at all, neither virtue nor sin

Its lack of content I won’t obscure
Of that, my friend, you may be sure

This does, however, have an annoying rhyme
Which you can attribute to an excess of free time

Meter and thought, must they be done?
Not at all, these lines ain’t got none

Yeah, that was pretty crappy, I know
But I’m just playing for space…ho ho?

Ah, yes, ’tis truly a curse,
To be able to think in nought but verse

Such are the effects of Geography class
When mixed with a mind most vulgar and crass

Okay, I’ve run out of things to say
But I’ve got stuff to do anyway

So here I go, off I trot
Thus comes to an end, my poem without a plot

Spoils to the Taker

2007-09-11T20:40:00.000+05:30

This happens to be one of my favorite short films. Definitely worth a watch.

As I flicked through the comments (the comments on both Engadget and YouTube are always worth a read, if only for the entertainment value), I noticed that the usual flame war was (not uncommonly) about America. Some loved it, some hated it, and you can definitely bother to read it yourself. Lazy bums, the lot of ya.

I've come across a lot of those arguments over the past few years. And I've always tried to be as neutral as possible. Now, since I have nothing better to do (okay, that's a lie, but forget about it), I figured I'd chip in with my two cents here.

(And if you don't like it, push off. No one likes you anyway. Go read whatever you like to read that agrees with your views, and dance around a fire in your grandmother's panties rubbing peanut butter over yourself for all I care.)

If there's one thing I've noticed, it's that Americans are often stereotyped as fat, lazy, ignorant slobs. And remember, I'm speaking of my experiences. Maybe where you're from, Americans are stereotyped as massive worm-like creatures who live in deep space and feed off heavy metals and ride solar currents. I don't care. This isn't about those stereotypes. This is about these ones. Anyhow.

Americans stereotyped as fat stupid white couch potatoes. Right. Well, I've noticed how these same people always get all peeved when they hear about Americans stereotyping them (say, Indians) as a race of brown people who all talk like Apu or Ashok, and run convenience stores or steal "American jobs", and charm snakes in their underwear. They say, "But we're so much more! Not all of us Chinese people are martial artists, not everyone who wears a turban has a bomb, not all of us Muslims are terrorists", and seem very indignant about it. We all remember the Danish cartoon incident - while there were other factors in play, one of them was the stereotyping of Muslims as bomb-carriers.

But what of those who stereotype all Americans as lazy, ignorant, obese white slobs, who can only sit in front of the TV like brain-dead morons? That, of course, is not stereotyping, they say - it's true! Isn't that what everyone says? "They have no right to stereotype me, but I have a right to brand them - after all, my perceptions are soo much clearer and better than absolutely everyone else's. I'm special!". Like special ed, maybe.

Isn't it hypocritical to want "them" to stop stereotyping "us", when we can't do it ourselves? Isn't it hypocritical to say "We're not all snake-charmers, but 'we' are all smarter than 'them'"? Plenty of people are willing to accept those stereotypes that suit them, and then turn around and cry foul when others choose ones that are not-so-flattering. "We Indians are genetically more capable at math and science." - IMO, that's a load of bull. Then again, it might not be. But that's not the point.

Then, of course, there are the standard accusations of American meddling and hypocrisy. I cannot count the number of times people have said "America has no right to do this or that and everything going wrong in the world is their fault!". In fact, it's become something of a fad over here - being anti-American and denouncing America (and Dubya) have become the "in" thing to do. It's become a sort of mantra, "They only went for the oil". People who know less about international affairs than my dogs have suddenly become brilliant and informed commentators, by virtue of their ability to spew bile at anything American.

Well, they can do it, and so they are. Every country, bar none does whatever it can to get ahead. India blocks Pakistan wherever it can (ARF, anyone?); China's trying to get ahead in Africa; Israel, those little tinpot dictatorships, everyone - they all do whatever they can to get ahead. No nation is in the business of international charity, not to the best of my knowledge, at least. Why should the USA be any different? Why should people expect them to do anything but lie and cheat and steal and do whatever is necessary to maintain their superiority? No one gave them the right; they took the right. A right that is given is about as useful as a virtue that is given. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would be? "I hereby bestow upon thee the virtue of honesty" - would anyone take something like that seriously? On the other hand..."I am an honest person. I always stay honest", and "I'm standing up for my right to freedom of speech" - those make more sense to me. Virtues are performed, just as rights are used. They are meaningless otherwise.

I'm not defending the decisions or actions of the Bush administration, or any other American government. All I'm saying is that they never signed up for international charity. Yeah, they claimed it was all in the world's best interest. So what? People lie when they have to, to get what they want/need. Why should a country be any different? Is any country any different? They're under no obligation to help the world. A government's first and foremost responsibility is to it's people. I get people dissing on Bush for messing his own country up - I don't get uninvolved people dissing on America for getting involved with someone else.

There are those who've gone on about Americans supposedly "overreacting" to 9/11. The ones who passionately rant and rave about the "millions dead and displaced in the Kashmir valley because of Pakistan, and when India went to the UN, they didn't authorise any action, so India didn't act. America is a pansy country! They invaded another nation after only 3000 people died!". I'm not joking. I have actually heard people say this. Perhaps it's just me, but I think that's a rather stupid line to take.

The UN didn't "authorise" any action - the US took the initiative. They not-so-politely told everybody who disagreed to fuck off, and went ahead and did what they felt had to be done. I'm not condoning vigilante actions of any sort (nor am I condemning them), or saying that it's a good thing to do what you feel like doing against international orders (or whatever), but the fact remains that that's what happened. Anyone who complains about a US hegemony? Damn right there's a US hegemony. Just like there'd be a Chinese one if China were in America's shoes, a Pakistani one were Pakistan in those shoes, or even an Indian one were India in those size 11's. America is obviously going to work towards a "new American century"; somehow, I find it very unlikely they'd work towards a Chinese or Lebanese century, don't you think?

Some feel that the US has to follow through on what it says publicly, and do the needful to completely halt terrorism everywhere, but they don't - their prime, if only, responsibility is their own interests, and nobody else's. Just like everybody else. The USA isn't obliged to do anything, period. They do what they want to do, as long as they can get away with it. India isn't obliged to block Pakistan's entry into the ARF over the otherwise-unanimous agreement of the other partners, just as Pakistan isn't obliged to be such an ass to India. But they do, because it helps them get ahead. Why is that such a hard concept for people to understand? Yes, so they may have gone to Iraq with ulterior motives - so what?

Ever notice how everyone says it's alright for them to do whatever they want to, while simultaneously denouncing everyone else for doing the exact same thing? Like how it's alright for me to rant and rave, yet I call Pat Robertson a retarded asswipe when he does? Probably not the best example to take, but yeah. You get the idea.

It seems to me that the real problem is that nobody ever stops to think about the other guy's POV. It's rare that anyone says "Well, darn it, I think I'm right, and he thinks he's right - now what makes me so much better than him that I'm "actually" right and he isn't?". Nope. Nobody does that. People seldom stop and study a situation dispassionately.

Oh well. Everyone's entitled to their own opinions, informed or otherwise. It's just that it's often a lot nicer when they're not just imitating the current fad. Because really, it's rather pathetic (not to mention tiring) to hear stuff like "I hate America - ooh! Jesse McCartney is, like, so totally hot!!!! Ohmigosh! Big Bazaar sells Abercrombie & Fitch!!!!!!!!", or "Fuck Americ- oh, dude, did you check out the new 50 Cent album? It is so dope, man!" all the time.

The sad thing is, there's no real end to these issues. Hypocrisy and following the latest fad will nearly always (if not always) be more popular than unbiased study. They're easier. And most people, myself included, prefer the easy way out. And it's usually (if not always) easier to say that the other guy is an idiot with no taste than it is to take the trouble to get what he's saying and see things from his perspective. More's the pity, I guess.

(update 10/03/07: came across this interesting article. worth a read, imo.)

Poor Chicken

2007-07-16T15:46:00.000+05:30

i live my life in gloom
i'd like to use the word doom, but it'd rhyme
being a goth who loves to moan in open verse
i can't
bleak existence
the sun hates me
i want to eat black cheese and die

my life
so short
my wrists
so red
is there any point?
will this go on forever?

i can't think of any lines
my life sucks
i love sniffing black nail polish
it goes so well with my black douche
why do i have a black douche?

woe
woe
woe is me
for i slept with my math teacher
and he's not even a she

oh crap
i rhymed
oh no
black doom
death and destruction upon the pretty little butterflies
color is meaningless
black is the only constant
and that theme ran away
woe

here i sit
a pool of red blood
not mine
marks on my wrist
people will think it is
poor chicken
feathers are murder to clean up

Alright, alright, it's not the most politically correct thing to post, but what the hell. I felt like poking a little fun at emo poetry; y'know, the open verse kind. Or whatever you call it. Yes, it's probably mean to some people, but so's most humor. Boo hoo. Let's all go cut our wrists in shame and sorrow. Oh, woe is us.

7/7/7 - The Tragic Tale of Fuzzy Wuzzy Wumpiesnookins

2007-07-07T23:25:00.000+05:30

7/7/7. Which is a reference to the date. Like 6/6/6, 'cept it's not. But what the hell, it's as good as anything to spin a tale out of.

So if 666 is the Beast's Number (note the caps), what's 777? No, not the line of planes. I refer to something else entirely - something with far more meat to cook and eat. Ok, last rhyme in this post. I promise.

So just what is this mysterious 777? With plenty of better things to do, I decided to investigate. After much investigation (and cookie-eating. mostly cookie-eating.), I arbitrarily came to the conclusion that 777 was a reference to the Beast's little brother: Maximillian Joseph Valentino Arnold Rudolpho Sierra Sheryl Tango Ernesto Foxtrot Antonio Pangajoringliani. Or, as his mother calls him, "Fuzzy Wuzzy Wumpiesnookins". My thoughts exactly. Let's stick with "Max".

Now Max was a sensitive guy from the start, quiet and unassuming. Not like his celebrated older brother in the slightest, it was evident from the start - and Max's lack of tusks, hair, body odor - that he was not destined for the same glory as the rest of his family. As a result, much of his time in high school was spent with his head up a toilet - and in hell, believe you me, that's one hell of a way (horrendous pun intended) to spend your time. Demon crap is nasty stuff. 'Nuff said.

Alas, demon crap swirlies had a very strange effect on young Max. Strange, and tragic. A change came over the quiet, shy, sensitive Brother of the Beast. No longer did he spend large amounts of time dressing and accessorizing in black and cutting his wrists; instead, he started to listen to Gunther Levi, and sang "Sexy Back" all day long. Yes, slowly but surely, young Max was losing his marbles.

The final straw came one Saturday afternoon - 7/7/7 -, as Max walked back home from school. Burly young 667, the scorchingly hot and incredibly hairy next-door Neighbor of the Beast, made a pass at him. His brain melted by the hours he'd spent fantasizing over Gunther and Justin, the sight of the large, porcine ho from next door asking him for a jar of KY was too much for his strained brain (not really a rhyme, so it doesn't count) to handle. His mind blew like Rip Van Winkle after he woke up and got his sock back on.

He erupted. Exploding into an all-singing, all-dancing bonanza, he single-handedly whipped all hell into a stupor with his unhealthily massive knowledge of factory-made pop music. Rumor has it that Satan himself was brought down by a rather shrill(er than usual?) rendition of "Stop" (by the Spice Girls).

The details are a little fuzzy after this, but there are indications that after extensive facial reconstruction surgery across the world, Max has since fled to Acapulco, where he is now enjoying the, ah, charms of several local girls, as well as a jet ski whose owner he appears to have crooned into drowning. His mother is believed to live with him, and local legend maintains that she still calls him "Fuzzy Wuzzy Wumpiesnookins".

The Spice Girls could not be reached for comment.

And...Poof!

2007-07-05T02:09:00.000+05:30

The old layout is gone! But where'd it go? Clearly, a mystery for.....
.....somebody else. Like the Missing Pages Bureau. We (by which I mean me) have this sexy new layout (we'll call her Ms.T) we've been seeing for a few months now. She's undergone major surgery before; like Michael Jackson, she (Ms. T, remember) was once black. Unlike (I hope) the esteemed Mr. Jackson ("Jacko the Whacko"), however, she was covered in pink fur and had a leopard print interior. She does have a very pretty nose, though. Like Cleopatra. In Asterix. Only not. Anyhow.

Many thanks to Dr. Victor Witnwisdumb for cranking this beauty out of those crazy labs beneath his secret lair in the Fortress of Solitude. In the end, his dark ministrations bore fruit to the creation (Ms. T, in case you forgot) you see before you. Ten points to brilliant mad ("Annngrrry! Annngggry!") scientists.

Eventually, Ms. T (she) will undergo surgery again, intended to finish her (Ms. T's) modifications. But not for a while to come. For now, she's content to recover and bask in the stares of others. So start staring. At Ms. T, that is. The eyes are up there.

Orkut. Must. Die.

2007-06-05T02:32:00.000+05:30

PR0NZ IS YUMMY!!!111
Now that that bit of stupidity is done with, on with the show.

Orkut is ghey, and may Jerry Falwell's rotting corpse butt-rape those of you who disagree.

I'm not messing around here. I can and will personally set Zombie Jerry and his insatiable "newly-perverted-by-being-a-zombie" sexual appetite upon those of you who disagree.

Strong statement, yes, but I've my reasons. A whole list, in fact. The "scrapbook" and it's usage being high on said list.

People often use the scrapbook feature as if it was an IM client, and go on messaging someone like it's a private conversation. Newsflash, asswipes: IT ISN'T. Anything you're "scrapping" a guy can and often will be read by anyone with the interest or without a life*. That covers most of Orkut's (and, incidentally, Myspace's) user base, as I've understood it.

I don't like the layout either. Not that there's anything wrong with crappy layouts, but I really think that they could've at least pulled a Myspace and let users make their own. Instead, we are treated to a light-ish blue-and-purple monstrosity, where the "cool" (and often "modest" as well) tend to use ASCII art and SMS-ese. SMS-ese (lik dis) is alright, I suppose, when you're actually SMS-ing someone, or when there's a low character limit.

And not everyone is capable of typing in coherent sentences. "wer wer u yst??////" is alright, I guess...if you're a retarded butt-monkey with brain damage. In Siberia. And everyone around was illiterate and spoke no language that even remotely resembled English. But otherwise, it's plain stupid.

Speaking of plain stupid, so're people who talk themselves up on Orkut. If I hear someone say "hi im kwel fun luvn gal who luvs 2 frk out wid ma frndz" ONE MORE TIME...suffice to say, it's not gonna be pretty. Like Anne Coulter, who is also not pretty, but on a whole 'nother scale of horrendous hideousness. Back to the topic.

People who talk themselves up on Orkut are a pet peeve of mine. They seem to want to tell everyone just how unbearably cool and and "frky" and modest (rather, "mdst") they are. Lemme give you all some useful advice: NO ONE GIVES A SHIT. Yeah, you heard me. NO ONE GIVES A SHIT IF YOU CALL YOURSELF COOL, OR HOT, OR "FREAKY", OR EVEN "THE DOCTOR OF PRANKONOMICS". YOU'RE STILL A RETARDED BUTT-MONKEY. Capisce? As if Myspace wasn't bad enough, now we've got Orkut too...

They can't even type their shit right. I'm repeating myself, I know, but still. It deserves special mention. Example:

"umm..........m nt sur wat 2 say...........im a fun-luvn gal, alwys redy 2 party wit my frendz........."

...I'm just gonna say this once: W.T.F?!? Actually, no. I'm gonna say it more than once. Because I want to, don't ask stupid questions. WTF?! It's ok to say "umm" a few times in conversation. It's alright to type it in every now and then. But "umm....m nt sur wat 2 say" is NOT alright. If you're not sure what to say, then why are you saying it? There's the bit about being a fun-loving girl, and how no one gives a rat's penis, but that's already covered.

And then there are the losers loserly (not a word? is now.) enough to try getting some action on Orkut.

"Our hroscops match, cn I meet ur prnts on snday?"

is one such relatively tame example.

"hi wanna mak frenship wit me? im gud lukng guy wit big salry wrkn in amerca and im fair n handsum"

is another classic.

Then there are those who form/join those "communities" (don't even get me started...) devoted to idiocy with a sexual twist. And, of course, they are retarded butt-monkeys as well. I'm normally an open-minded enough guy, but disagree with me on this one, and Zombie Jerry's coming out. To all those of you who think Orkut's gonna put your hand(s)/sock(s) out of business: IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN, YO. Booty "scrapping" is NOT gonna get you laid! Trust me on this one, because if it worked, I'd be using it. And since I don't use it, it must not work. So you may as well just switch your browsers over to whatever shitty porn you like, and get your hand(s) lubed up...Which they probably already are, because if you're the sort I'm talking about, you're that big a (sexually frustrated) loser. Rather, that SMALL a loser. Go back to your fantasies about your mothers, you incestuous freaks. And take your smelly tube socks with you.

Meh. Orkut has become like Myspace: it's impurity soils the immortal souls of those who gaze upon its foul visage. I have to sacrifice a dozen virgin kilobytes each time I see it, just to feel pure again. I can only hope the Irony Gods (who rule my fate) are as forgiving...

Sit down, son. I'm not done yet. I said, sit down.

But of course, the main thing that gets me is this: every now and then (read: every day I can), I go to a local internet place to play Call of Duty 2. I have the game, but my internet sucks, and that's a pretty fun game to play on a LAN. It's a damn sight better than CS, that's for sure. But I go there, and there they are, the Orkutters - hogging machines to send everyone on their list a "whr r u?", and replying to the inevitable barrages of "im here whr r u?". Or whatever the fuck the respondents reply with. I wouldn't exactly know. And then, of course, they must have a friend hunched over the keyboard with them, discussing dialogue as they attempt to hit on a girl-who's-probably-a-middle-aged-pedo, hoping to score. But we've been over that, boys; it ain't gonna happen. At the max, you'll get a few pictures of the pedo's (grand?)daughter naked. But that's about it. Of course, given how loserly these losers are, they'll probably spend all night at home on their beds, jerking their abnormally tiny wangs off to the mental image of the fully-clothed pictures of a 12-year-old they got.

That's not to say anything about the asswipes who turn their monitors away from the rest of the room and hunch over it, trying for all their little hearts to act like they're not staring at porn (LOL PR0NZ). Or Googling |actress name| nude, trying hard to wank without using their hands, lest anybody realize and try to join in. Freaks, the lot of them. Tch. It just figures they'd accumulate on Orkut. I mean, look at what happened to Myspace, what with all the goths and emo('?)s and other weirdos. And then, of course, there was Rupert Murdoch. Pity. But in any case, at least Orkutters are safe from (dirty) old man Murdoch. Their souls are owned by Google, to be used in its (hopefully nefarious) scheme to take over the world.

Now don't get me wrong - I respect the right of every man (and woman, and child, and everyone else) to watch whatever sorta porn rocks his boat. Really, I do. But when I've gotta wait an hour just to get a system because of them, well, that changes things. The worst part is that nothing - snide looks, glares, derisive shakes of the head, NOTHING - short of a good kick in the pants seems to make them get off their fugly butts, and let me get my game on. Dirty rotten no-good...*dark mutterings*

*Sighs* Oh well. If you can't beat 'em...
*Googles |actress name| nude. Slaps forehead and corrects mistake. Sigh of contentment.*

*Yes, this rant is fairly hypocritical, considering that my layout is no great shakes neither (this black one, at least), that Blogger belongs to Google, too, and that I don't really have a life myself. And that I have both a Myspace and an Orkut. But I'm Shiny and they're not, so :p, you retarded butt-monkeys.

How To Be A Blogger*

2007-05-10T05:19:00.000+05:30

Y'ever get that feeling where you have stuff to do (no, not drugs), but you just can't bring yourself to do it (stop it already. pervert.)? Laziness, the higher-ups call it. I've got another term for it. And that term is...

(*whispers backstage*: C'mon, it's not in the sheet! What'm I s'posed to say?! What's the word? Whaddaya mean "stall"? What the- dammit. Never hiring on a two-for-one basis again...)

...*cue carnival music. starts juggling* it's the...the...Super-Juggler! Ordinary...uh...hippie student (so sue me) by day, crazed juggler on steroids at...uh...showtime? ...Who gets arrested for possession after he kept his chronic in his...crazed juggler balls...which he lit on fire...and...got the talking monkey high with...Crap. This is clearly one of those moments. Or not.

So just what is this mysterious malady? It's clearly not Riterblokitis, [X] or otherwise, because I'm taking my meds for it. It's clearly not a defective internet connection and way too many viruses (which were my excuses all last month). The crazy space monkeys are still on strike, but I've got normal monkeys for backup on the typewriters in my illegal filipino sweatshop. So I'm just gonna do what I always do, and blame it all on...shredded cheese and pumpkin pie. No, really. No, I was not about to cry "conspiracy". Yes I'm sure. Of course I'm sure. Enough, already. Where was I?

Ah, yes. Shredded cheese and pumpkin pie. Why? Because I'm eating pumpkin pie, and I haven't got any shredded cheese. The cheese isn't here to argue the point, and the pie's not gonna be around much longer anyhow, so they make the perfect scapegoats. As opposed to goatse-Oooh, podcast done downloading. Hold up.

Alright, done. Comedy Central, great stuff. Right. *clears throat*

So I'm gonna call it an "aversion to coherent thought". This actually explains a lot, including (especially) my rants. No, really, read them. Please? Well, this one, at least. Notice how there's not much coherence? Yes. You see, coherent thought requires that one sit down (or stand up. whatever rocks your boat) and lay one's ideas out. Crucial to being a good writer, or so I'm told. Not that I'd know firsthand, of course, but so say my sources. No, not the ones who told me Aishwarya Rai was actually an android bent on destroying mankind's minds with bad acting (although I still think they're right) and smell like pot - I'm talking about the "reliable" sources. So what do I do? I do what I always do. I ramble on about nothing in particular, hoping to get more words and make my ranting(s), raving(s), and/or rambling(s) appear to contain actual content. See? I'm doing it again. A useful technique, to be sure. One which I use all the time in class.

So. There it is. The secret of my rants. Try it out, and you can be a blogger (of possibly semi-questionable sanity) too. All you have to do is:
a) Find a layout that looks great on your pc, but annoying and hard to read on other people's.
b) Fill your rants with bullshit about absolutely nothing in particular (or, alternatively, anything that strikes your fancy. no, little boys do not count. unless your first name is michael and your last name is jackson.) until it appears like you've actually said something - hopefully, of some import.
and
c) Even if you don't do b), do a). This way, you'll have a pretty (annoying), if empty, blog.

Thar it be. How to ramble incoherently. Coming up soon: the anatomy of a good, possibly deranged, rant. Stay tuned, loyal reader!

...Yes, you can go now.

*conditions apply.

Life is a Toothbrush

2007-04-03T06:22:00.000+05:30

I like to think of myself as an open-minded chap. Y'know, always interested in what the other guy has to say, and stuff. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that current events are scary as all hell, and then some.

A while ago, I came to understand the true meaning behind the words "ignorance is bliss". And I've found that my life is a lot less stressful, and a lot easier on the whole, when i'm ignorant of things that would freak me the fuck out. Like the news. It's all about murders and killings and terrorists and crap these days. Hello, anchorpeople? I don't want to know about that stuff! I don't want to hear about a bunch of terrorists who've excaped from some prison. I don't wanna hear that Iran/North Korea/some other crazy dicktatorship(notice how they're all run by guys) is gonna send the world to Kingdom Come on a wave of nuclear flame! What I want to hear about is fluffy little bunnies and noble heroes! What I DON'T wanna hear is the rest of the story, where the fluffy little bunnies get run over by an 18-wheeler and turned into roadkill on the freeway and picked at by vultures and raccoons, and the noble hero turns out to have a thing for little boys, whips, and human flesh!

The same thing extends to school; learning that there's hydrochloric acid in my stomach is most assuredly NOT going to help me go to sleep at night. Ever since I learned about kidney stones, I've approached pissing with utmost caution. I now piss as slowly as possible, worried that a bunch of (not-so-)tiny stones might (very painfully) rip their way outta my kidneys via my willy. See what I mean? I think what we have is a problem. A very serious problem. We, as a people, have grown incapable of knowing when to stop. Don't believe me? Read on. As any regular reader - you over there, with the tinfoil hat - knows, I certainly don't know when to stop.

We go on stuffing our heads - and the heads of people around us - with as much information as we can, regardless of whether it's really what we/they want or not. And then we whine about knowing and try to fix it, when, had we not known, we could've saved ourselves the time and effort. Case in point? When I was 12 (or thereabouts), I read a book. One in a series called "Horrible Science", I think. From the same guys who came out with "Horrible History", or some such. Anyhow, I learned that when you flush the toilet after a session in the crapper, microscopic particles of...stuff...fly out and...well...they settle on things. including your toothbrush, if it's within a roughly 6-foot radius or so. And you put that thing in your mouth. And you think you're "cleaning" your mouth as you do it. Hell, I keep my toothbrush separated from my bathroom by several doors now. Had I not known, I wouldn't have had to devise and carry out the solution. But that's still not really the point.

See? Now, weren't you happier not knowing that little tidbit? I'll bet most of you are trying to forget it already. Good luck with that.

Now, I'm sure that a few of you will say that all this information has helped us reach a new age of rationalism, and how we're looking at a golden future, and blah blah blah, I don't know. And I don't care. I'm perfectly happy believing everything is the work of spirits and magic and all that new age crap. But I can't. Not anymore. Why not? Because I'm stuck. I'm unable to forget all this stuff I've learnt, and go back to believing pokemon are real and that I can get what I want by praying to a mystical spirit. Ah, the good old days. When everything was what it seemed, and it all seemed so good. As always, I point the finger (yes, the middle one) at society. They're such a decent scapegoat.

Oh well. What can one do? It's a crazy world after all.*

*(sung to the tune of "It's a small world aaaaaa-fter all)

(title justification: life, after all, is filled with tiny things you'd rather not know about, and I need a cooler one. preferably electric/automatic.)

The Belgariad: Epic-Fantasy-Tale

2007-03-27T00:34:00.000+05:30

For a while now, a friend of mine has been after me to read some books by David Eddings - specifically, the Belgariad. So I finally picked up copies of the books of the Belgariad (Pawn of Prophecy, Queen of Sorcery, Magician's Gambit, Castle of Wizardry , and Enchanter's End Game, for the Google-challenged) and have been reading through them for the past couple of days. So, I figured, why not take this excu- opportunity to ramble on interminably, and review the thing? Hopefully, I'll end up avoiding spoilers, and only reveal that which is painfully obvious. Which would be most of the plot. So, uh, yeah.

The story starts with the typical ordinary-boy-unaware-of-special-destiny as the protagonist. The momentous-event-that-shakes-his-life occurs, and he's dragged on the quest-that-reveals-his-destiny.

(When I do that thing-with-the-hyphens, I'm pointing out a cliché. Fantasy seems so rife with them. Or maybe it's just me.)

Anyhow, the plot drifted on along those lines, and I was surprised - I'd expected more clichés. Eddings, however, manages to avoid most of the clichés that have popped up in so many fantasy(especially medeival-ish) series' ever since The Lord of the Rings hit it big. It has its share throughout the story, no doubt, but to a degree, it avoids them. Notable clichés include: ordinary-boy-unaware-of-special-destiny, quest-that-reveals-his-destiny, prophecy-that-predicts-titanic-clash-between-good-and-evil, and bad-guys-have-evil-sacrificial-rituals. To be fair, it's virtually impossible to avoid every single cliché out there and still craft a good story, so it's all good.

Anyhow, it all moves along toward that titanic-clash-between-good-and-evil in a fairly transparent manner. Which is to be expected, I guess; it would hardly be called a cliché if it wasn't recognizable from a mile away. But like I said, it's all good. Enjoyable, even.

The ingredients are pretty standard - we have sorcery, a good-at-heart young hero, eccentric party members with varied personalities (the smart-aleck, the wiseman, the brave knight, the true love, yadda yadda yadda), a big bad guy who's pure evil (or really bad, at least), gods, sworn enemies, revenge, the usual. It's put together pretty well. Eddings' style of writing is ok - not the best I've seen, yet far from the worst. When combined with the plot and characters, it makes for a semi-engaging read, one which sorta builds up steam as one reads it. It all holds until the ending.

In my opinion, while Eddings did a pretty good job with the rest of the story, the ending is pretty lame. The titanic-clash/climax came out to be a yawn(for me, at least), as Eddings seemed to lose his ability to avoid the clichés and hit them head on here, high, loud, and repeatedly. Whereas I was moving at a fairly leisurely pace through the first four books, I was literally flying through the last quarter of the fifth one, hoping the misery'd end soon. It all boils down to the predictable happy-ever-after ending that I despise so much - everyone falls in love, gets happily married, and lives on to be happy for the rest of their lives, with a vague promise of further adventure. Ugh.

Maybe some of that is contradicted in his later books - I wouldn't know. But what I do know is that I have a healthy (ok, maybe not) dislike of the happy-ending-where-everything-turns-out-perfect. I prefer the more ambiguous sort of endings, the ones where you have to wonder if the "victory" really was a "victory" at all, or think about whether the end was worth the means used, and the cost is greater than just a couple token characters, that sorta thing. But then, it needn't follow that formula either - I just really can't stand happy endings.

So here's what it comes down to:
Plot - 6.5/10
Characters - 6/10
Writing - 6.5/10
Climax - 2/10
Ending - 0/10

All in all, I'd rate the series a 5 or a 6. In my opinion, the average fantasy lover would be better served by playing through some of the better RPG's out there, like Oblivion or Neverwinter Nights. Maybe some of the D&D board games if computers don't take your fancy. But then, that applies to me, with my set of likes and dislikes. If you're really curious (or a huge fantasy freak), go read it for yourself (after making other people read this - we all love traffic, after all), and make up your own mind. A word of advice though - unless you're particularly strong of stomach, I'd avoid the epilogue. It's so soppy I was almost retching at the end of it. But again, that's just me.

Roach. Cock Roach.

2007-03-14T02:33:00.000+05:30

Cockroaches are cool.

I was thinking this to myself as I watched the cockroach on my bathroom floor get up yet again after I'd whacked it the 10th or 29th time with a flyswatter. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be all nice and stuff to animals, but when it comes to mosquitos and cockroaches, they started it.

But while mosquitos are annoying and weak, cockroaches are cool. They're tough. I've stomped them, swatted them, smashed them, burned them, stabbed them, and used Raid on them, but a lot of the time, they just get back up. And then I step on them, hard(and twist), and then they die. But they're still cool.

This thought reverberated in my skullpan for a few minutes after I'd successfully transformed the cockroach into a steaming smear on my floor (they're enemy agents, I swear), and walked away with my trusty flyswatter holstered. The thought was promptly lost as I saw that I'd left a box of Oreos on my bed.

After making a nice and proper pig of myself (not a crumb dropped, I'll have you know), the thought came back. Why did I find cockroaches so goshdarned cool?

Maybe it was because of their armor/shape scheme; they look sorta like living brown Batmobiles. With all that shiny, sleek armor, and the way they just *poof* jet across the floor (don't believe me? try getting down there and pounding one with your fist. ain't as easy as it looks, is it?), and the fact that they've got those serrated little things on their arms like Batman does...heh. I've this idea that Bob Kane actually meant to make him Roachman, but the execs up at DC didn't like it. "Roachman, striking disgust, loathing, and a desire for a can of Raid into the hearts of housewives everywhere" would probably do wonders for Raid, but wouldn't help comic sales very much, methinks.

So I took the idea a little further, and it hit me - Holy Superspies, true believer, EVERY superhero is based (at least partly) on cockroaches! Think about it: super strength? Cockroaches are kinda strong for their size. Invulnerability? Cockroaches are pretty damn durable. The whole secret agent James-Bond-y schtick? You tell me, what do cockroaches do in your house, if not sneak around and cause trouble? Flying? Cockroaches can fly. You name the power, cockroaches probably have some variant of it. Ok, sure, other bugs were used as well, but I think the main inspiration came from cockroaches. I can imagine the brainstoming they would've done in the beginning -

Guy 1: "Hmm...how about 'The name's Roach. Cock Roach'?"
Ian Fleming:"Naw, we need something less misogynistic. Something the women will love. How's about a compulsive womanizer named..."
*Ian Fleming notices a small stack of "James' Finest Illegal Bond Paper! For the BEST forgeries around!", that appeared out of nowhere to serve as a plot device*
Ian Fleming:"That's it! We'll call him Illegal Forgeries!"
Guy 1:"Uhh...ok..."
Or something like that. Whatever.

As usual, I think this all leads up to a...(say it with me now, kids...) conspiracy! I think the cockroaches are out to get us with their massively superior prototype-superpowers. The only way to stop this is by destroying the Spice Girls once and for all. What's that, teeny-bopping(what's that mean, anyway?)-kid-who-had-to-have-this-read-to-him/her sitting over there? The Spice Girls are good, you say? "Zigazig Ha" actually means something, you say? Don't believe me, you say? Fine. You just wait. One day, when a nuclear missile is accidentally launched at China (or wherever), and a nuclear war starts, and cockroaches mutate into giant, 60-foot-tall Spice Girls, don't come crying to me. You go on listening to your stupid Britney Spears on your crappy pink iPod, you teeny-bopping(there's that phrase again...)...teeny-bopper! Yeah, that's right! Run home to mommy, you wuss! Damn straight, go whine to your huge(heh) daddy who's been in the army and served 2 tours in Vie-...oh fuck.

Shit. I gotta run. But please, heed my warning! Don't waste time! Kill the cockroaches! They walk among us! They must be eradicated before it's too late!

*Shiny Butter Knife runs off stage, away from a homicidal maniac firing a huge assault rifle.*

TV Voice: "That's all for today's rant, kids! Tune in next time for another exciting episode of 'Stupid Doom-Saying Rants That Make No Sense!', with your host, Overpaid TV Voice!
And now, a message from our sponsors!"

*Voice offstage says something unintelligible. Don't they always?*

TV Voice: "Whaddaya mean we got no sponsors?! Then who the hell is paying for me?! Say what?! Did you just say downsizing?! Why're you looking at me so funn...oh. Crap."

*A sigh is heard, followed the sound of footsteps, a pistol being cocked, and a shot. Starving kids in Russia rejoice, serving someone else's plot device. Footsteps again. The mic is switched off.*

I Pity The Foo' Who Can't Think of a Better Title

2007-03-10T20:03:00.000+05:30

Jebus Christ!

Wow. Conservapedia. CreationWiki. How utterly ghey can the conservative brigade get?

Maybe I'm being a little unfair. Maybe I'm just biased against CreationWiki because I think the idea that God created everything is plain stupid. I mean, come on, EVERYONE knows Chuck Norris created Oblivion Jesus who created Obi-Wan Kenobi who created Mr. T who created everything(except, of course, for duct tape. I claim credit for that.)!

But Conservapedia(interesting piece on it)...I haven't laughed that hard since 5 seconds ago, when I was reading some UnNews.

(By the way, here's the Uncyclopedia page on Conservapedia)

Seriously, though, beyond wasting space and unloading a bunch of Uncyclopedia links, I actually did have stuff to say about Conservapedia and CreationWiki.

It's always come as something of a shock to me to see people actually believing things just because they're told to. I'm not immune to it myself, but I'm hypocritical enough to find it odd. As a scholarly work, the Bible is (like most - if not all - religious texts), IMO, effectively raped. Where're their sources? How can the data be verified? Who actually collected the information in the first place? Where/What are his/her credentials?

I'm not saying that I don't believe in God(heh), just that I've always found organized religion a little, how do I put it, incredible. Not "incredible" as in, "Hey! In the sky! It's Mr. Incredible!", but more "incredible" as in "not credible". God isn't the same as religion. And assuming creationism is, indeed, a more viable theory than evolution(not saying it is), whose version? I mean, there're as many versions of creationism as there are foo's that Mr. T pities; who's right? Who decides? More importantly, how do you decide? Choosing from one of the many "holy books" out there would mean accepting one religious gospel as more true than the others. On what basis do you do that, since all of them (Scientology does not count) claim to come directly from the G-man(or some equivalent) himself?

Guy 1: "My holy book says this version must be true."
Guy 2: "Yeah, well, mine says otherwise."
Guy 1: "Well, mine's right from the lips of God."
Guy 2: "No, mine is!"
Guy 1: "No, mine!"
Guy 2: "No, mine!"
*Hearing this, mine workers go on strike*
(Repeat for a few hundred years. Throw in a couple Crusades when you start to get bored. Keep repeating.)
After a few thousand years...
Guy 1: "No, mine!"
Guy 2: "No, mine!"
*BOOM*
Mr. T: "Ah pity the foo' that don't agree it's mine!"
*The Mice proceed to take over everyone and start laughing at how badly these foo's just got pitied*
The Mice: "Neep neep! Neep neep! PwNd j00 n()()b, l0lz0rz!!shift+1!!111 oMg KtHx !one!one!11!"

This, more or less, is what has already happened and is happening as a result of people trying to decide whose book is right. I dunno about you, but I'd rather not get PwNd like a n()()b by a six-foot-tall invisible wizard and pitied by Mr. T like the foo' I am.

Not that I espouse Atheism; in its own way, it's as bereft of hard evidence as religion is. What proof is there that there is no God? The lack of proof that there is a God can't really qualify as such; that's like saying "I have not seen the RIAA do anything good; therefore, they must've done nothing good". Hmm. Maybe that's not the best example. But I think you get my point.

Arguing that a lack of hard evidence for is evidence against is an argument that is ridden with fallacies. "I have no hard evidence that HD-DVD's really exist. I mean, I haven't seen them for myself. Sure, I've read lots of stuff about them, I've heard other people talk about them, but I haven't seen them myself." While not a perfect analogy, I think it conveys my meaning: the moment one begins to buy into that argument(lack of hard evidence for is evidence against, and vice versa), the very foundation of absolutely everything (INCLUDING science) becomes suspect. How do I know muons are not fictional entities? Have I seen any hard evidence for them? Or that the Earth is really revolving around the Sun; again, how do I know? I've only seen evidence that other people have presented over the years. How do I know it isn't suspect? How do I know that the mathematics they've used isn't an elaborate hoax?

I don't have any answers to the question of God's existence or lack thereof. I don't even know if there are answers to be found. But I still think Conservapedia and CreationWiki are teh ghey. PWNED!

(Jesus H Christ! 18 links in this post! All but 4 of them to Uncyclopedia! Yes! 19!)

The Truth Behind Ritualised Weddings

2007-03-05T15:26:00.000+05:30

Many are the poojas and hindu weddings I have had to attend. For those not in the know, a pooja is a hindu religious ceremony, and a hindu wedding is about the only thing on earth boring enough to cause death in the unwary.

Now, at these poojas and the wedding (hereonwards referred to as "the functions"), I noticed one thing common to all of them; well, more than one thing, really, but one thing really stuck: the priests were chanting in sanskrit. Seeing as I don't understand the language, it all sounded the same to me. At which point an ugly suspicion reared its head in my mind: what if it is all the same? What if these priests are just saying a few lines in sanskrit, and all they're doing is mixing them up and rehashing them? What if they're counting on the droning and the similiarity (at least to a layman like me) of the words to confuse us into thinking he's blessing people or whatever, when in reality he's just saying a bunch of nonsensical crap? I managed to stop , before I entered the territory of alien conspiracies, but that suspicion still niggles at me. I mean, it's what I would do...

Another thing I noticed they (the functions, that is) had in common was a certain long-windedness. Case in point: the wedding. The guy sits crosslegged in front of the girl(and vice versa) for hours on end, as certain "sacred rites" are performed. Then the couple has to be paraded around for a while, and then they sit in these incredibly ornate and incredibly uncomfortable chairs for another few hours. All under the glare of spotlights, wearing heavy jewelry and makeup and the like.

Doubtless there's some deeper cause behind this; however, my idea is based on the simple precept of most of my ideas: follow the sex. So it seems that the point of all this is to work the couple into a state of extreme horniness by allowing them to see each other, but not really do anything, for hours on end, so as to aid in the wedding-night "festivities". A sort of long-winded foreplay, if you will. Of course, this tactic may also backfire, resulting in a couple that's too tired to do anything but go straight to sleep that night. I suppose I shall have to conduct a survey...from a safe distance, that is ;).

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but Christian weddings don't seem to have this kind of risky, hyper-extended foreplay. I mean, as far as I can tell, they basically walk up the aisle, say their vows, and start making out. I think that's far less risky; the chances of them getting too tired to get it on that night are much less, and the horniness quotient of the couple(s) should still be just fine. I suppose that's the main thing behind ritualised weddings: foreplay and horniness. In which case, I'm going to found a religion where the only ritualisation in weddings is some good old fashioned 69...and free condoms for the guests.

Of course, this kind of simplicity (in christian weddings) may also lead to the risk of a horny guy whispering sweet nothings in his girl's ear, and then, as they begin to make out, some SOB who's been ordained (a priestly version of myself, I would say) popping up and saying: "I now pronounce you man and wife". Or whatever it is they say. Not that they'd be legally married, but it may be argued that they would be "in the eyes of God". All in all, a great way for the aforementioned ordained SOB (or possibly just a guy in a priest's clothes) to screw with their heads...the best thing is that after this, a truly god-fearing couple (the ideal target, that is) cannot kill you or beat the living hell out of you without (a fear of) risking hell, or at least a serious loss of points with "the big guy upstairs" - possibly even being forced to listen to the annoying hindi “soniYE” songs with the electric drum beats and irritating techno effects.

The worst mistake you can make when pulling this trick off, however, is to target a violent, atheistic couple. Not only do they get huge discounts(in the form of non-expenditure) on weddings (all they have to do is register), they'll be more than happy to spend the money saved on a club and use it to cave your skull in, and they won't be worrying about the technicalities of applied metaphysics while they're at it.

Moral of the story? ->
1) Wedding rituals, no matter how much other people might disagree, are not about sacredness or anything; they're all about foreplay.
2) An ordained SOB (or better yet, a normal SOB in a priest's clothes) can have a lot of fun.
3) Violent atheistic couples, massive clubs, and priests/pranksters are plain bad news.

"O Lord, help me to be pure, but not yet" - Saint Augustine.

Water, Water, Everywhere...

2007-02-26T23:49:00.000+05:30

Every summer, it either rains or it doesn’t. When it does, everyone’s happy and singin' kumbaya and all that jazz. The problems arise when it doesn’t. One of these problems pertains to the issue of sharing the water of the river Cauvery. I am by no means an expert on the facts of this issue, but as far as I know (and please correct me if I’m wrong), this is how they stand:
Fact: The river originates in Karnataka.
Fact: Tamil Nadu has the most area under irrigation, more than Karnataka.
Fact: Although other states are involved as well, the main issue seems to be between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.
Fact: Tamil Nadu got more water in the recent verdict than Karnataka.

For quite a while, there had been no official solution to the water sharing issue; every time it cropped up, it was a big "thing", and an interim solution was imposed each year. This year, however, the tribunal has finally come to a decision, which is pretty much the same as the previous interim solution, with some minor alterations.

As with the interim solutions, the people of Karnataka (or some portion of them) don’t seem especially thrilled with this decision (the people of Tamil Nadu, on the other hand, seem fairly content with it). Their grouse seems to be that in their opinions, Karnataka deserved more water than it got, yet it received less. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem in a democracy, but their answer seems to be to create as much of a stir as possible, in the hopes that some authority somewhere will wake up and grant their wishes. By “stir”, I mean disrupting normal life, and by “disrupting normal life”, I mean strikes, agitations, bandhs, and the rest of the whole package.

In my opinion, this is plain stupid on multiple levels. First off, the notion that protesting or striking will cause the Indian Government to wake up is laughable, especially in an issue like this one; no central government wants to make a decision that could become unpopular with their supporters, or could be used by the opposition to bash them over the head later.

Secondly, instead of taking a proactive approach to this, the dissenters are (as always) blindly reacting, causing as much discomfort to the locals as possible in their misguided bid to be listened to. As far as I know (and again, correct me if I’m wrong), while the sharing of water was fixed, there were no limits placed on the expansion of the reservoir area, or that of the Cauvery’s origin; by expanding either, Karnataka could create more water resources. Sure, they’d have to give Tamil Nadu more, too, but I was under the impression that the issue wasn’t so much about how much “they” got as much as it was about how little “we” got.

Yet another thing to be kept in mind is that water isn’t a panacea for farmers; they need a whole host of other things, ranging from better transport to electricity to better seeds and fertilizers. Water isn’t going to solve all their problems, not by a long shot. Most of those crusading for a “better” verdict aren’t farmers either – they’re movie stars, or IT czars, or (worst of all) politicians, who’re not really crusading for the rights of the farmers, but for their votes. What’s more, instead of cooler heads prevailing and an amicable solution being sought, this issue has (again, as always) turned into yet another “my-state-is-better-than-yours” spat, with plenty of ad hominem arguments being bandied about.

While I fully realize that there’s plenty of blame to be spread around – with the Center, with Karnataka, with Tamil Nadu, with the tribunal, and others - my point is not that. My point is that perhaps instead of just pointing fingers and denouncing those who disagree, perhaps those in Karnataka who disagree with the verdict should seek a proactive solution within the ambit of the decision. After all, a solution from the Center – or anyone else, for that matter – which pleases all parties is nigh impossible. We might as well learn to live with it, and get on with our lives.

Oh Noes!

2007-02-24T01:22:00.000+05:30

Well, looks like Audioslave as we know it is history.

Plenty of people have probably predicted this, and I'm fairly sure plenty are happy about it, too, but I find myself less than thrilled.

I've always liked Audioslave. Maybe it's because I listened to them before I heard Soundgarden or RATM(both fine bands, to be sure), or perhaps it's because they were one of the bands that really got me into music (Be Yourself was plain awesome), but I've always liked them. Critics can say all they want about them getting worse/sucking, but I don't care - their music does something a lot of music seems to fail to do these days: it just sounds good (and chill. unlike, say, Iron Maiden or Dimmu Borgir, neither of which are either to me). Matter of personal opinion, I know, but I'm still kinda sad to hear this. Oh well.

Be Yourself truly is a fine song. Those of you who haven't heard it before, take the time to listen to it now. I promise you, it'll be worth it.

I'll rant about my dislike of black/death metal later. I have homework now.

Do Shaved Legs Get Lice?

2007-02-19T10:05:00.000+05:30

Period films are fun to laugh at.

I mean, look at them; there's people in ugly clothes, with nasty haircuts, and they act/talk all funny. Which is true of all Van-Damme/Arnold movies too. But they don't count because Van-Damme and Arnold are big and will asplode your head if you look at them funny. Back to the topic. My favorite period films are mid-1800's and before. If you thought your grandpa looked funny in that suit in that old picture, wait'll you see these guys. Especially the medeival ones. The guys have long hair, the ladies wear elaborately frilly dresses, and...their nails are all trimmed!

Not to be condescending or anything here, but how's that possible? I'm pretty sure they didn't have nail cutters back in the Dark Ages. And even if they did, what's with the cuts being so neat? I use a nice sharp new nail cutter, and I still mess up; how'd they do it back in the days before processed cheese? (Processed cheese is the benchmark against which all potential civilizations may be measured.)

So as I was paying attention to this, I noticed something else - the women's legs are always covered. Now, call me a sexist pig if you will (really, you don't have to), but men tend to have a thing for shaved legs. And like most of our preferences, they've been groomed into us for a long time after starting out somewhere as an odd/sick fetish (two words: high heels). So when did shaved legs start? And how?

I was thinking about all this, when I decided I'd better not. Some things just aren't meant to be questioned, and nail cutters and shaved legs are among them. New topic. Lice: little annoyances or friendly companions? The poor sods just want a home, y'know? And here we are, killing, murdering, and systematically eradicating them, as if they have no lives, or hopes, or dreams, or families. It's sick and cruel, is what it is. I'm going to start a society on the lines of the ASPCA, dedicated to protecting lice.

Y'see, having lice on our head can be a good thing; as long as we're friends with the Lice, the Mice won't dare attack us. Lice are the number one killers of Mice, even deadlier to them than Rush Limbaugh or even (*gasp*) Kenny G are to us. And that's a good thing. A very good thing indeed. (To be ranted about at a later date)

Before you ask, no, I haven't got any lice on my head. I've got reasons. Like the fact that my hair stays short, which supposedly (according to my mom) keeps lice away. (I'd like to have longer hair, but that's a story for another day) Or the fact that I wear processed cheese on my head (the answer to your first question is shaddup) on occasion. Or maybe it's just because it's my head. But whatever it is, the beggars have chosen. And they've left me outta the loop. Not sure whether I should be overjoyed or crushed...

Anyhow, anonymous guy commented about Michael Richards. You probably know him better as Cosmo Kramer. Well, here it is: the end of his career

Y'know, I think we're all a little (or more than a little) racist, and that we tend to say/do stupid things when we're angry. Yet again, an issue for another day.

Prisons of the Mind Redux

2007-01-23T02:08:00.000+05:30

Well, my miracle cure(see previous ramble) backfired. I got a post out of it, but no essay. Which is why I flipped back a bit and hit on Prisons of the Mind. I redid it a little, and handed it in. Yeah, I know I'm lazy. Which is why I just reposted it here.

I got this interesting article in my rss feeds, check it out if/when you get the time.

(commence pointless filler in a pathetic play for space)

Consciences are prisons of the mind. People without consciences are free.

There. I said it. But before you decide to lynch me, let me explain how I arrived at this somewhat unusual statement.

Our conscience dictates the way we view everything. When I say conscience, I mean our sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. Our morality, so to speak. Of course, morality is merely a part of our conscience. A huge part, to be sure, but only a part, nonetheless. So when we view certain things, say polygamy for instance, as “right” or “wrong”, it’s our consciences telling us that it is so.

The same applies to all our opinions. Our conscience dictates our points of view, which dictate our opinions. This can, and almost inevitably will, lead to certain paradigms which would be nigh unshakeable. Which is why it would be difficult for a person who’s grown up thinking that polygamy is wrong all his life to put himself in the shoes of a person who thinks it is right, and vice versa; his conscience tells him it is so, and therefore he is unable to believe anything else. Most of us think we’re immune to it or more enlightened than that, but we often fail to understand the depth to which the effects of deeply entrenched beliefs go. We’re not immune, and we’re not more enlightened; it’s just that our firmly-held “morals” require that we must believe that we are.

That a conscience prevents us from doing certain things, I don’t think anyone will dispute. That it often bars us from doing the needful, well, I imagine a great many would dispute that point. Often, this firm belief in what is “right” and “wrong” prevents us from taking the most pragmatic path available. We may decide to go against our conscience, but the guilt or shame that comes after would seriously mess with our minds, and could drive some over the edge in certain extreme cases.

A conscience does all that. It is what makes you feel bad after you get low grades, it is what makes you feel guilty when you lie to get an extension you need, it is what prevents you from telling an obnoxious/unwanted guest to get the hell out of your house. It does all this, and then some. Also, as mentioned above, a conscience often prevents you from gaining proper understanding of a situation by preventing you from being able to put yourself in the shoes of another, which, if nothing else, could lead one to making uneconomical choices, or inflicting suffering on a person for simply doing what he had to or what his conscience told him to.

Our consciences aren’t even something that we install ourselves, really; the base work is laid by the society we grow up in, and though we may later modify it, it’s a rare person who changes it against the dictates of her society, or really changes the foundations of her conscience. Such people are usually called “deviant”, or are said to have “gone crazy”.

So essentially, we punish others for adhering to moral standards – possessing consciences – which go against ours. In a way, it’s what’s happening to Saddam; he’s stuck to his standards, whatever they may be, and because they go against what we think is right and proper, we’re trying to have him punished. Yes, I know he’s killed a lot of people, and I’m neither condoning nor condemning his actions, but he listened to his conscience, whatever it may have said, and because what his said goes against what ours say, we had him executed. In my opinion, he should've been forced to eat rotten tapioca and listen to Kenny G 24/7. But then, that’s just me.

We say that people without consciences are monsters, but do they think so? Does a so-called “monster” care about his “misdeeds”? Not at all; he’d be perfectly happy so long as he gets what he/she wants. So in a way, a person without a conscience would be happier than a person with a conscience. He can do whatever is necessary to get what he wants, and would feel no regrets later; no pangs of guilt or shame to keep him/her awake at night, no moral dilemmas to brood over, nothing of the sort. Simply satisfaction at having gotten what he wanted. The only circumstance in which I can imagine that this wouldn’t be true is if our “monster” is simply incapable of getting what he wants. But then, that upsets everyone, conscience or no.

While it seems evident that if everyone had no (or really flexible) consciences, society would break down into chaos and anarchy, that isn’t necessarily true. Contrary to what most moralists and religious fanatics would have you believe, a lack of rigid morals doesn’t necessarily imply a state of lawlessness or that one is a wanton murderer or any of a thousand other such adjectives; all it means is that one refuses to do what the mob wants him to do when it isn’t in his best interest. Shooting that annoying motorcyclist who drives by my house with his silencer pulled out in the morning may be a very attractive idea, but I’d just as soon not go to jail over it.

Leaving morality to an individual instead of legislating it needn’t put an end to all laws; for while I’ll be the first to agree that all laws are connected to morality in some way or another, extremes are generally not a good idea. I’m not advocating that we abandon laws altogether, but neither can I extend my support to a system where we apply one set of rigid rules to every situation that crops up, regardless of the fact that the line between “right” and “wrong” is different every time. Sometimes it’s just a minor adjustment, sometimes it’s a major paradigm shift, but we cannot continue to call ourselves the purveyors of justice while we continue to treat the world as a monochromatic playground of the vocal majority.

While Anarchy seems like the ideal solution, it is beyond the scope of this inane rant and tired ranter to get into its details. Let’s just say it’s the ideal solution, and return to the topic in the hand of that fellow over there in the corner.

I’ve heard plenty of arguments against flexible personal morality, and most of them rely on the premise of ensuing lawlessness, and most who make these arguments seem to confuse immorality with amorality; they’re two very different things. As such, it still seems to me that a conscience is nothing but a prison for our head of society’s making, yet another way to make us fit in with the crowd. And this is why I still believe that only the amoral are really and truly free.

(end pointless filler in a pathetic play for space)

Break out the confetti - 200th hit sometime yesterday...after a few months...most of which were long and barren...better yet, put it all away, and just give me that paper bag to put over my head...

Curse of the Cure

2007-01-21T01:32:00.000+05:30

*I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I willed my eyes to close, but like so much else these days, they wouldn't listen. Popped right back open they did. With a sigh, I relented to the buzzing in my head, got up, walked over to my desktop, and switched it on...*

As it so happens, I have an English assignment due "shortly". How "shortly" is not the point. The point is that I require inspiration (from the infamous River I) to get started. Getting this inspiration isn't a problem; the River I and myself are great buddies, we hang out all the time. No, my problem is, quite simply, the time at which my dear friend decides to come calling. This is usually around 1 in the morning, when I'm about to sleep. Not that I always sleep at 1(usually around 0300 these days), but whenever I do, inspiration decides to strike me. Often have I wondered why he (sometimes a she, it varies) chooses to strike me at this oddest of odd hours, and so far I have had no luck.

Until today, that is.

There I was, getting ready to go to bed, when it hit me - every time I and his (or her) suffix (nspiration, that rat) come calling, it's because I'm thinking. And not only am I thinking, I'm thinking the restless thoughts of one who is unable to sleep as early as 1. Small wonder, then, that a hyperactive and restless mind doing nothing should summon inspiration - there's nothing else to do. All I have to do from there is quickly note my ideas down in some form or the other, and pick up on them later. Analyzing what I've done so far, my work would appear to fit this pattern - most of my work has been churned out of my mind while I'm restless and lying awake, staring at the ceiling. This is annoying, and I've come to call it the Curse of the River I - as much as I love creativity and good ideas, I'd like to be able to get to sleep early sometimes. Writing - or typing - down my ideas wakes me up even further, and tends to keep me up even longer.

Yet as fascinating (and annoying) as this is, it's the curative aspect of this practice that interests me - could this be the cure for the dread disease Riterblokitis? If it can be used to treat Riterblokitis, how far can it go? Would it work on the most extreme variant, Riterblokitis [X]? In short, could this be the cursed cure for the scourge of modern Autherians and writers worldwide?

I'm not going so far as to call this a total cure for the bloated and malignant cancer that is Riterblokitis, nor is it a complete substitute to Objectixygen-purified needles of Kritticisium applied to the Ego; nothing ever can be quite as effective as that. But perhaps it can be used to ameliorate this plague, at the very least?

I have yet to complete a comprehensive field study on the effects of the Curse of the River I (CotRI for short) on Riterblokitis in any form, although I have experimented on it to some extent, using myself as a test subject. As mentioned above, there is some degree of empirical evidence to support the efficacy of CotRI as a viable suppressant for Riterblokitis. This post, for example, is a side effect of a dose of CotRI, the progress made on my (overdue, I think - not too sure) English assignment having been the main effect. But like all forms of medicine, CotRI is not without its side effects and pitfalls.

Overdosing on it has been known to initiate a short cycle of sleeplessness-ia, followed by bouts of sleepyness-in-class-itis. While many of us (including myself) already suffer from the latter, OD'ing on CotRI seems to exacerbate the effects to an almost unbearable degree. While some may argue that it's already unbearable enough, there's no sense in asking for more, is there? Or...*cue sotto voce* is there?

And so, ladies, gentlemen, and other genetic aberration, there it is: a way to alleviate your Riterblokitis. Simply go to sleep early and stew, and sooner or later, something's bound to come up. But is it really worth the price? In my opinion...hell yes! After all, who stays awake in class anyway?

No wanking in the office? Wtf?!

2007-01-07T02:08:00.000+05:30

Now THAT is funny. And sad. An office where you can't wank? What's this world coming to?!

Just finished watching Exiled - it's a Hong Kong movie in Cantonese. Yes, I had subtitles, it wasn't dubbed. Have to say, even though i didn't get the precise dialogue, it's one of the best movies I've seen in a while. Not too much talking, but great acting and even better music and gunplay.

I'm starting off on Maple Story. Hopefully, it'll be worth the download time...

Sweat Control

2007-01-03T22:56:00.000+05:30

*As I stood in front of the goal, the sun beating mercilessly down upon me, I contemplated ancient mysteries such as homework. Sweat dripped down my face. I used my now-soaking sleeve to try to wipe it away, but it was of no use. Sighing, I turned my attention back to the game, my clothes sticking to my body as if they were painted on, trying to ignore the sweat dripping into my eyes.*

I (used to) play a lot of soccer, and I'm (was, really) usually the goalie. But that's not the point. Of this rant, that is.

The main issue I have with going outside and playing sports is the sun. As the passage above illustrates, I sweat a lot while playing soccer. Well, everyone sweats a lot when we play soccer, seeing as it's pretty hot over here around noon(when we usually get to play), and there isn't too much shade near the soccer field. But it really sucks. Mostly because of the whole clothes-sticking-to-you thing, but also because it makes it tough(er than usual) to sit in class afterwards, what with all the sweatyness and hotness and general stinkiness in the class. So I've decided on what I want for my next birthday: a way to control the sun's intensity. More like general cloudyness and rainyness control, really.

Maybe a knob, although I'd prefer a large meter for better control, y'know? Like, near-total darkness at the bottom, and near-total brightness at the top. Not only could I make it gray and rainy-ish all the time (which is generally how I like it), but I could also extort the governments of the world for a LOT of money.

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure there's a movie like that. The Avengers, if I'm not mistaken. I could be like Sean Connery; it wouldn't be too much of a stretch (no, I'm not old and bald. Ladies, you know what I mean *cheeky wink*).

Another thing I'll do once I get that weather control device: order the governments of the world to abolish mondays. We can have a new day of the week instead, to prevent massive chaos. It'll be called Shinyday. So the new week'll go something like Sunday-Shinyday-Tuesday. And then the rest of the week. Of course, Shinyday'll be an international holiday. A good idea, don't you think? Don't you? *pulls out large shiny knife*

- Topic Change -

I realized that I really need a life, because when the majority of your interaction with people takes place through the internet, you either need a life, or you REALLY need a life. Me, I'm pretty sure that I fall in the latter category. So I've decided to cut down on my computer usage, start studying, and get out more.

Yeah...right! *bursts into laughter*

Random non-sequitur: 2,500 lefties die each year using products designed for righties.

Indian Politics

2007-01-01T14:27:00.001+05:30

Found this video on a friend's blog. Sadly enough, it's entirely true. And funny.

The Hole - video powered by Metacafe

Happy Effing New Year

2007-01-01T02:43:00.000+05:30

Happy new year to all my readers. Assuming you exist.

Normally, I'd bitch and moan about how bad the previous year had been (standard operating procedure), but this last year broke the trend. Not only did I get out of my crappy old school and into a new and improved one, I also did pretty decently on my board exams, got some new games and hardware, and finished up some personal business that'd been pending for a while. No, I won't tell you what it was, you nosy bastard.

That's not to say this year didn't have its share of pits, and pretty rough ones at that. Buuuuuut I'm deliberately boring you with all this, so I'll stop. Anyway, happy new year, dear readers, and spread the joy around like stolen mayo.

(No, I didn't party. I don't party very well.)

Operation: Wizard World

2006-12-26T18:01:00.000+05:30

The world as we know it is a place of rules. Of laws. And I don't just mean laws on illegal firearm possession, but natural laws. For uncounted centuries we have known that this world - nay, universe - was ruled by the laws of physics, and that we were in control of our own destinies...but is this true? Or are we just living under a regime of strict governmental controls, much as we have done for thousands of years with implanted memories of a past? In short...is this the *real* world? Or are we just lab rats in a horrible experiment by unseen masters, ruled by beings we can't even see, bound by chains we can't feel except through their effects? In short...are we the unwitting subjects of...|drumroll, please|...OPERATION: WIZARD WORLD?
(for the record, no, this isn't a rip of the Matrix)

In the early 21st century, a two-man investigation team(names withheld to protect identities) began to uncover evidence of the above. They discovered, in short, that physics is just a Government creation, used by them to rule us for countless years, and that we were actually living in the early 32nd century. The Government had been controlling us for hundreds, maybe thousands of years through physics, and most of our past(including the age we're currently living in) has already happened. Physics wasn't around for the ancient egyptians; it's how they could build the pyramids. Every great physicist who's led us to believe in physics; Einstein, Newton, Galileo, Feynman and the like; were all Government plants, placed where they were to increase our belief in physics. That actually explained a lot for me. Like my physics teacher.

The team also found that the Government is not the highest rung; they answer to the wizards. The wizards are the true masterminds of this plan, the shadowy architects who are never seen for the simple reason that they're invisible. They also look like giant furry Mice, which might be why they want to stay invisible. That's why the government keeps creating(that's right; not discovering, creating) smaller particles in an atom; it's so people won't start trying to figure out the wizard parts. It's also why you can't reach or go past absolute zero or the speed of light; you'll be able to see through the illusion if you do.

However, the length of time and sheer size of this illusion means that there must have been some innocent ones, both wizards and physicists, or humans who tried to get in on the wizard-act. And in fact there were. So what became of these rogues, you ask? Why aren't they striving to free us from this bondage? Well, to answer that question, they aren't around anymore. What happened to them is widely known as the Salem witch trials. Scary how it all fits together, innit?
(no, i'm not crazy, and no i'm not on drugs either)

Aliens Ho!

2006-12-18T15:09:00.000+05:30

I wonder why we haven't been contacted by aliens. Unless we have and don't know it. But proceeding on the assumption that we haven't, I have to wonder why. I mean, the fact that the galaxy is huge and that maybe they just don't give a sh*t about us could be one thing, but then every advanced alien race has inscrutable motives and always needs a race of guinea pigs. Discounting the possibility that they just don't give a sh*t about us, and that maybe they have better stuff to do than keep messing with us, I've figured out why we haven't seen any aliens with really cool futuristic shyte and funky superpowers - they're scared of us.

I mean, imagine yourself in their shoes(or whatever they have): You're an advanced alien race with nothing better to do than mess with the heads of pathetic talking monkeys who're dominated by Mice, which will give you valuable scientific data that your advanced-ness and superior-ness hasn't already given you. Besides, it's a kick. You head over to their little green-and-blue planet and what do you find? You find that they're a lot more than you bargained for. They're a race that inflicts the mindless stupidity of Hollywood on themselves, their most powerful grouping(nation) is ruled by some jackass with an IQ so low it's a miracle in itself he can walk, talk, and breathe at the same time (let alone try to run the world), and they subject their progeny to stupidity, titchy desks, and unfair workloads that they call a "skule sistum", or some such. This is the race you're going to mess with. Hnh, good luck there, pardner! They're so f'd up already it'd be impossible to take one onto your secret-mothership-orbiting-Uranus (lol) without risking the complete destruction of your ship because the damned talking monkey drove your scientists insane, and now they're tearing their hair (or whatever they have) out and running around in purple shorts that smell green, convinced that they're being chased by an evil monster called "Jacko"(the whacko) who wants to sodomize their kids(or something like that)! And that's not even mentioning 90's pop and the Spice Girls...*vomit*

Honestly, what do you think are the chances that aliens of the universe are going to try talking to the species who could allow something as lethal as the Spice Girls come into existence? Honestly, I'm surprised they haven't blown us up for that alone...I'm pretty sure that they've at the very least issued some kind of warning: *ALL YE WHO GO TO EARTH...DON'T!!*

How do we correct this grave situation? I mean, after all, no aliens means no really cool futuristic shyte or funky superpowers. So we need them on Earth. My solution:
1) Destroy Hollywood with pony stampedes. That'll serve those f*ckers right. Besides, the Brits are good enough with english movies.
2) Depose Bush, and install a chimp in his place. He/She'll do a better job, and legalize weed and 'shrooms while he/she's at it.
3) No more school. We have to think of the future, after all.
Oh, and
4) Finish off the Spice Girls. We've got them scattered and disorganized, let's finish the job and eliminate them permanently before they can do any more damage.

We do this, and we're bound to get plenty of alien visitors. I mean, they're gonna wanna get in on the fun and get high themselves, right? And if not, we can drop summa that ourselves and think they're here anyway ;).

Stupid title links...

2006-12-03T19:23:00.000+05:30

See, here's my problem: I can't figure out to to make title links just be a number, instead of the word-word-word. Plus, I can't quite figure out how to set it to link untitled posts by their date and number, at the very least. Even if I can't get the first thing, the second'd be really nice. Y'know, instead of this being "/See-heres-my-problem-i", it'd just be "/12-03-06/1", or something. I mean, if this was untitled.

It would be a lot better though if this ("/stupid-title-links...") could be changed to something like "/14". Y'know, posts linked on the basis of serial numbers? If anyone has any idea as to how to set this up, lemme know.

*echo* If anyone has any idea as If anyone has any idea If anyone has any id- *echo*

Ah well...

The Real Nature of Jack's Third Wife

2006-12-01T12:16:00.000+05:30

Recently, I’ve found myself spending more and more time in front of my computer(no small feat, in my case), engaged in activities intended to pull ones mind into realms of fantasy. By which I mean video games and e-books, so don’t be getting any ideas, buddy. In a rather desperate attempt to return to the real world, as it were, I tried to refocus my attention on my studies – something which has never worked too well before, but it had to be tried. Needless to say, I’ve met with miserable yet consistent failure. I think I’m beginning to understand how junkies feel (damn Call of Duty 2…) – I’m practically addicted to the 17-inch TFT screen on my desk, beaming its contents out in glorious 32-bit color. I mean, it’s pretty hard to tear myself away for such trivial items as showering and hygiene, and return to normal, dull, reality.

But then, what is reality? All of this got me thinking about the nature of reality, as we call it. We all assume that the world we live in is, indeed, the world – it’s all reality. Many people – especially these “positive thinking gurus” – repeatedly tell us that the world is what we want it to be, and going by the notion that the world is reality (and/or vice versa), we find that reality is what we want it to be. While it’s true that this is regarded as a more extreme view, it’s also true that it’s also often criticized (IMO) out of hand.

(as an aside, when I say “world” during the course of this rambling, I’m referring to not only this planet, but the universe as well)

Let me back up a little, and try to see if I can organize my thoughts somewhat here. As far as I know, there are 3 widely recognized (not necessarily accepted) views as to what “reality” is –
1) that “reality” is the world, as it is, and that the laws of this world are unbreakable. The laws of humanity may be breakable to varying extents, but not those of the world itself. (the first idea)
2) that “reality” is what we make it, and subjective, either entirely or in part. (the second idea)
3) that “reality” is something non-existent, and that everything is an illusion. None of it is real in the slightest. (the third idea)
There are probably – in fact there are bound to be – more viewpoints than this, but for the purposes of this piece, I’ll confine myself to working with only these three. Now, all schools of philosophical thought believe in one of these three, or some combination of any of the three, or all, or none. Or they just say that they don’t know, and that the answer is unknowable. Realistic Agnosticism, I s’pose you could call it. Then again, you could call it Jack’s third wife too. Wonderful.

Returning to the unfinished bit above, what, then, is the true nature of reality? Does/Must it even have a “true” nature? The first idea is something many of us have been brought up to believe, and as such, I don’t feel it needs any further explanation. If the world truly is reality, and its laws are inviolate, then we know precisely where we stand. It’s the second and the third ideas which lead to other, more interesting (again, IMO) possibilities.

If it’s all an illusion (or beyond our comprehension), then there’s no point in speculating as to its true nature any more than there is to a bacterium speculating on the death penalty. A crude analogy, but I think it conveys the message. But what if reality really is what we make it? What if it’s all entirely subjective? Many toss this idea out the window saying that if it were, then why isn’t that nut over there floating? I mean, he’s high and he believes he is, doesn’t he? So why isn’t he? At this point, we are left to turn to the first idea. After all, if the second holds no water and the third is beyond our grasp, what else is left?

One thing which critics – and, to a large extent, supporters - of the second idea never seem to add to that pot is social inertia. Consider, if you will, a case often made regarding morality. A man commits a murder which he genuinely believes to be right. Society disagrees. The poor slob gets the chair, or maybe the gas chamber, or maybe just 10 to 20 – whatever it is, he’s punished. Since punishment only follows a crime, and since a crime, by definition, is something that’s wrong, our man – the murderer who really thought he was right – has actually done something wrong. Why? Because society – read: the majority – says so. A clear case of social inertia defining morality (and there are loads more).

You see where I’m going with this – what if the world is the way it is simply because society thinks it is? What if the laws of physics are what they are simply because the majority believes they are? But then, who defines the majority? Is it numerical, or is it those in power who decide? Who defines power? What if there is no majority, and there are only mutually conflicting views? Again, in order to make this idea work, let’s add another concept – that reality isn’t necessarily the same for everyone.

At this point, it all becomes much clearer, in a roundabout sort of fashion. Why does the earth revolve around the sun? Because I say so. So what about that guy over there, who says the earth doesn’t revolve around the sun at all, that they both revolve around the moon, which is made of pink cheese and has a core of green eggs and ham – what about him? Well, that’s true too – to him. In my reality (if I may use the term), he’s a nutcase; in his, I’m the nutcase. While this is oversimplifying the idea, it does give rise to a question (and certainly more than one, but I can’t think of the others right now): Why aren’t we all in realities where we’re happy?

To this question, there’re only three words I can answer with – I don’t know. Well, four if you don’t like contractions. But does the fact that one doesn’t know exactly how it all works mean that ones ideas are impossible? Did Copernicus know the precise workings of gravity and the solar system when he proposed his Heliocentric model? Did this mean that his idea was impossible?

As AmiLEan Questions says, all too often we confuse criticism and a critical attitude. All too often we neglect possibilities out of hand, when the reality (there’s that word again) of the situation is that we simply don’t know – we may believe from the bottom of our heart (and then some), but that isn’t quite the same as knowing.

That’s not to say that only one idea must be true. Where’s it written that reality is unchangeable? Maybe it keeps changing. And I don’t mean to say that I think any particular idea about the nature of reality is true – I just speculate, I don’t know. So I guess I subscribe to Jack’s third wife, I mean, Realistic Agnosticism. Surprising how dirty that sounds…

I’m sure that many people would say that the truth of the first idea – and the nature of reality - isn’t widely accepted dogma, it’s just common sense. To them I respond – Is there really a difference between the two?

(I actually wrote this post a couple months ago, just forgot to post it)

New Deal

2006-11-24T23:08:00.000+05:30

The other day my dad and I went to see Casino Royale. Watching the new Bond movie at a movie theater has been one of our tried and tested traditions, something that’s held ever since Pierce Brosnan was signed on (we never liked Dalton much). So it was with a great deal of caution that we approached newcomer Daniel Craig’s first outing as James Bond – we weren’t quite sure what to expect from this new deck of cards, you see, especially since he’s the first blonde Bond. Anyway, we went there and settled in to our seats, hoping for the best, but secretly expecting the worst.

The film, however, managed to beat my expectations considerably. Craig’s portrayal of a younger, colder, and more reckless Bond was just about perfect. Gone is the smooth player with his fast cars, and laser watches – instead, we have a skilled rookie who makes mistakes, acts without thinking, and has no compunctions at all. The fact that he’s blonde, when combined with his eyes, only adds to the “coldness” of his face, which is quite refreshing after Pierce Brosnan and his incessant charm. Not that he was bad, just that the change was nice, even if Craig lacks that touch of an Irish accent I loved in Brosnan and Connery.

(correction - Connery's got a Scottish accent, not Irish. Sorry.)

Another thing worth noting – there’s no Q or Moneypenny. Frankly, I feel that’s a good thing. No more fantabulous gadgets, no more fawning secretary, and no more deus ex machina to bail him out. The only tech this new Bond seems to use is his cell phone (an Ericsson, for the curious). Yet another most welcome change – there’s no Bond uber-car. As good-looking as they were, Die Another Day’s car and its active camouflage were the limit. The new Bond relies more on his fists and feet – plenty of brawling and general running/jumping around. Better for the inner adrenaline junkie when there’s no magic laser popping out of a shoe or whatever. What’s more, he isn’t so fond of his dinner jackets (or suits, or whatever you call them), either– he wears what he feels like wearing, and doesn’t obsess over his bloody martinis.

As for the story, well, it could've been better, although it could've been much worse too. The rundown (for those few of you living in Siberia who haven’t heard, given the recent media hype) – Bond becomes a 00 agent, goes after some dude called “Le Chiffre” (or summat), and gets involved in some high-stakes poker. Card games were never that interesting to me, but this one wasn’t so bad. For the most part, though, I was busy checking out Eva Green while the poker was going on ;).

Speaking of which, we now come to the Bond girls (knew you were waiting for it). Call me sexist, call me a male chauvinist pig, hell, call me Elmo if you like, the Bond girls are often among the most anticipated elements of a Bond movie, and they usually meet expectations. Mixed reactions with regard to this one, though. Caterina Murino is pretty underused – think she could’ve had a bigger role, although Eva Green did a pretty fair job. Neither was overdone or tacky, and there wasn’t the whole “good-girl-bad-girl” runaround of the past 2 movies.

That’s not to say that they were perfect – like I mentioned, Caterina Murino is strictly one-dimensional, and Eva Green a tad – just a tad – unconvincing. But what the heck, no one’s perfect.

Best part of the movie – the starting sequence. Y’know, the little bit where they usually have the silhouettes of girls bending and twisting? This time around, they’ve got a rather different style, and better music to boot. Then again, it’d have to be pretty bad to not be better than Madonna, know what I mean?

On the whole, it was worth my time and money. The coldness in Craig’s eyes, his lack of fantabulous contraptions, and the casual irreverence he with which treats M (Judi Dench, convincing as ever) really help portray the image of a younger, inexperienced Bond out on his first sortie as 007.

I do have some reservations, however. Remember Timothy Dalton? The Living Daylights was a real shot in the arm for the franchise, but License to Kill pretty much killed Dalton’s career. It would be sad if Craig went the same way, and his next movie bombed. So although Casino Royale was certainly near-perfect, can Craig maintain the same level of quality, or will he be a one-hit wonder? As the cliché goes, I suppose only time will tell.

Attention! Conspiracy is afoot!

2006-11-14T00:56:00.000+05:30

*I ran. I ran as hard as I could. It wasn't fast enough. As I turned my head back, time seemed to dilate; I could see the beast's mouth opening, as a monstrous roar issued from the gaping maw of t-*
"YOU!! PAY ATTENTION!!", bellowed my teacher. Well, ok, she didn't bellow, I was right in front of her, but it still seemed loud to me.

However, her remarks got me thinking(ha-ha-not-funny); what was this mysterious "attenshen"? Some sort of new currency? And why should I have to pay a fine for daydreaming in class? I mean, everywhere I go, everyone seems to be rich as far as “attenshen” goes. Everyone seems to be able to pay unlimited amounts of it, meeting even the high costs of school without flinching. "Pay attention in school? Of course I do", was the general response I got. What's more, everyone seems to be able to pay attention, everywhere. I must be getting old, if everyone's gotten rich in a new (and possibly international) form of currency without my knowing.

I can just imagine what the headlines must’ve been like...”World strikes it rich! Everyone except random guy in India is now a billionaire in new currency!”. Lovely.

But if it’s a real currency, then there's gotta be some kind of "Attention Economy", with depressions and bull runs and everything. I wonder how many dollars to the attention...but since everyone I meet seems to be throwing attention away like it was immaterial, I'm pretty sure attention's been pretty heavily devalued recently. Attention is probably worth as much as German marks were after WW1.

I'm pretty sure that there's a conspiracy afoot here (yes, another one of those); I mean, no one will show me these new currency notes, and when I ask for a loan of some (okay, a few million) attention(s?), people just laugh. It's like the whole world is trying to keep me attention-bankrupt, like a massive, orchestrated attempt by the entire world to keep one random person in the dark. A little implausible, perhaps, but more believable than the suggestion of no conspiracy at all. After all, there’s always a conspiracy. And it’s always aimed at the person who discovers it. True wisdom indeed.

Recently, I was discussing this idea with a friend of mine (incidentally, he’s attention-bankrupt too). He brought up several very good points; for starters, are there attention banks? In that case, can we change dollars/rupees into attention? Or (more importantly) vice versa? What’s the going rate?

If we can, I'm going to the bank first thing to get some attention. Rather, to convert some attention into harder currency. Alternately, we could steal some from someone with lots of it – some of my classmates, for example, are never told to "pay attention". I'm sure they wouldn't miss any. From there, all that’s left is to pay off the collectors, and I should be home free.

Random non-sequitur: why do we say "thank you"? It's like third person. Or caveman speak. Or something. I mean, "I thank you", could work; "we thank you" would be fine; but "thank you"? Who is thanking me? You? Your pet dog? The stoner across the street? Dubya? It's like saying "am smart", instead of "I am smart".

I think I'll go check with the bank now. Time to put on my ski mask...

Kill Bush!!

2006-10-19T11:50:00.000+05:30

Cuz if I ain't getting none, why should anyone else?

Yes, that was a dirty joke, unless you're a US Federal agent, someone who likes Bush (the person), or just an asshole/idiot (they're all pretty much the same); in which case that reflects a plot by the denizens of Shinyland to kill George W Bush. No, really, we honestly don't have anything better to do, or lives to get to, and we broadcast these things OVER THE FUCKING INTERNET, ON OUR FUCKING BLOGS! For those of you who haven't heard, some girl posted a bulletin or something on her Myspace with "kill bush" (or some such) in it, so she was taken in for questioning. By the Secret Service. While she was in school.

I can just imagine what the scene at the White House would’ve been like –
Secret Service Agent: “Mr. President, a 14 year old girl in Sacramento wants to kill you.”
Dubya: “Gosh darn it, now I’m really smoked! Call in the Marines!”
Secret Service Agent: “Sir, by the way, we’ve received word of another Al-Qaeda plot in the works.”
Dubya: “Forget about them, they're really just misunderstood. I mean, they led us to all those dope and oil fields, didn't they? Focus on this kid. See if she knows where my teddy bear is. And where’s Dick? He was supposed to read me my bedtime story...”

Haven’t they got bigger fish to fry? Or are they really worried that a 14 year old schoolgirl on the other side of the country is really going to try, let alone succeed at, killing Bush? And doesn’t the Secret Service have anything better to do than going after kids and monitoring Myspace? After all, Osama is suuuure to use Myspace to contact his terrorist brethren across the globe…Why bother with messengers and drops and all those other spy-thingies; he uses Myspace! Maybe he uses Blogger (or Xanga, or Multiply, or whatever), too, in which case I’m going to have to figure out exactly how he goes so long without pizza or the internet in those damn caves of his.

Then again, it’s typical of a Republican to be this stupid; does Orrin Hatch ring a bell? Of course, Hatch is more of a hypocritical sellout than he is stupid, but you get the idea. I wonder what Samuel L Jackson would say if he was political and anti-Republican...”Enough is enough! I have HAD it with these MUTHAFUGGIN REPUBLICANS in this MUTHAFUGGIN COUNTRY!”, and then he’d proceed to kill them all with his mad Jedi skillz0rz. Or something.

Not to say that all Republicans are stupid, hypocrites, sellouts, or general all-round asses; I know plenty of normal Republicans who are perfectly nice people, and pretty smart, too. It’s just the leadership that I take exception to. Specifically the leader. In any case, all this is supposedly illegal on my part - you're not supposed to make threats against the "President" in the US of A. Not that I'm in the US of A, but I still wonder if he'll send his CIA men in for a rendition and haul me off to Gitmo or wherever...

Of course, this is all purely hypothetical, since you're probably neither a US federal agent, an asshole/idiot, nor someone who likes bush, I mean Bush, or you wouldn't be reading this. Assuming that you'd be able to read at all. And since you can, therefore you (probably) aren't (one of the three), suffice to say that Bush, I mean bush, does equate to (a) pussy.

(something to keep in mind - the last time somone listened to (a) Bush, a bunch of people wandered in the desert for 40 years)

Prisons of the Mind

2006-10-06T00:01:00.000+05:30

Consciences are prisons of the mind. People without consciences are free.

There. I said it. But before you decide to lynch me, let me explain how I arrived at this somewhat unusual statement.

That a conscience prevents us from doing certain things, I don’t think anyone will dispute. That it often bars us from doing the needful, well, I imagine a great many would dispute that point.

Often, this firm belief in what is “right” and “wrong” prevents us from taking the most pragmatic path available. We may even decide to go against our conscience, but the guilt or shame that comes after would seriously mess with us, and could drive us over the edge in certain extreme cases.

Another example. Say you really need some money. Suppose there’s someone who’s got pots full of the stuff, and wouldn’t miss the amount you need. Now, suppose you could steal some of this person’s money – just what you need – and be done with it. The only fly in the ointment being your conscience; it keeps telling you not to do it, you shouldn’t, it’s wrong, you shouldn’t steal, ad nauseum ad infinitum.

Your only other option is to spend a whole lot of time working for the money, or not get what you want at all. In my opinion, the path of least resistance here would be to just steal the money and do with it what you will. You’re happy, the person you stole from isn’t upsetted by this turn of events, and no one else is harmed. Your conscience, as I said, is all that prevents you from doing so. Because of your conscience, you can steal the money, but if you do so, you’ll be treated to a guilt trip which would certainly annoy you, to say the least. A person without a conscience, however, would be free to do as he pleased, or as his abilities and capacities permitted.

A conscience does more than that. It is what makes you feel bad after you get low grades, it is what makes you feel guilty when you lie to get an extension you need, it is what prevents you from telling an obnoxious/unwanted guest to get the hell out of your house. It does all this, and then some. Also, as mentioned above, a conscience often prevents you from gaining proper understanding of a situation by preventing you from being able to put yourself in the shoes of another, which, if nothing else, could lead one to making uneconomical choices, or inflicting suffering on a person for simply doing what he/she had to.

Our consciences aren’t even something that we install ourselves, really; the base work is laid by the society we grow up in, and though we may later modify it, it’s a rare person who changes it against the dictates of his/her society, or really changes the foundations of his/her conscience. Such people are usually called “deviant”, or are said to have “gone crazy”.

So essentially, we punish others for adhering to moral standards – possessing consciences – which go against ours. In a way, it’s what’s happening to Saddam; he’s stuck to his standards, whatever they may be, and because they go against what we think is right and proper, we’re trying to have him punished. Yes, I know he’s killed a lot of people, and I’m neither condoning nor condemning his actions, but he listened to his conscience, whatever it may have said, and because they go against what ours say, we want him executed, or locked away for all eternity. Or, in my opinion, be forced to eat rotten tapioca and listen to Kenny G 24/7. But then, that’s just me.

We say that people without consciences are monsters, but do they think so? Does a so-called “monster” care about his “misdeeds”? Not at all; he/she’d be perfectly happy so long as he/she gets what he/she wants. So in a way, a person without a conscience would be happier than a person with a conscience. He/she can do whatever is necessary to get what he/she wants, and would feel no regrets later; no pangs of guilt or shame to keep him/her awake at night, no moral dilemmas to brood over, nothing of the sort. Simply satisfaction at having gotten what he/she wanted. The only circumstance in which I can imagine that this wouldn’t be true is if our “monster” is simply incapable of getting what he/she wants. But then, that upsets everyone, conscience or no.

While it seems evident that if everyone had no/really really flexible (like Mr. Fantastic) consciences, society would break down into chaos and anarchy, it still seems to me, that a conscience is nothing but a prison in our head of society’s making, yet another way to make us fit in with the crowd. And as a result, I still believe that people without consciences are the only people who are really and truly free.

- Note -

This was originally posted (by me, of course) on blogchaat. I just reposted because I'm feeling a little lazy these days, and have a ton of work which I should really get down to. Nothing much else is new, I just need to get some new batteries for my camera so that i can upload pics of my x-rays here. Look pretty cool, if I do say so myself.

School of Nations

2006-10-03T00:36:00.000+05:30

Another convo with Aaron...

ShinyButterKnife : we should have holidays for every time the french got their butts kicked
ShinyButterKnife: like, every day of the year would be one
AirRon912: haha
ShinyButterKnife: i honestly don't think they've ever had a military victory except with napoleon
AirRon912: well wwi and wwII both cover everything
ShinyButterKnife: but then, even in 1 and 2
ShinyButterKnife: they never one a solo victory, they ALWAYS had help
AirRon912: they helped us win the revolution
ShinyButterKnife: again, no solo victory. they're like, the losers of the military world
AirRon912: the little guy that eats lunch in the corner
ShinyButterKnife: who's a loser on his own
ShinyButterKnife: but talks tough when the big guys're on his side
ShinyButterKnife: germany's like, the kid who should win, but everyone gangs up on him
ShinyButterKnife: so he loses
ShinyButterKnife: and he's always gotta support all his loser friends
AirRon912: lol america is like the noob haxorz that happens to get a headshot all the time
ShinyButterKnife: lol yeah
ShinyButterKnife: canada's like, the suck-up who wants to learn how to be a n00b hax0rz
AirRon912: haha
AirRon912: russia's like a gang of skinny guys that happens to beat the big guys
ShinyButterKnife: because no one ever thinks to bring central heating over when they invade them
AirRon912: loll
ShinyButterKnife: seriously, the only thing that'd kick ass on russia is central heating
ShinyButterKnife: "comrade, comrade, it is growing very warm!" "call the kgb! we must see if we have token for warmth!"
AirRon912: lolll
ShinyButterKnife: and china's like the big fat guy who gets pwned by the skinny kids
AirRon912: but is taking jujitsu classes
ShinyButterKnife: and started to work out
AirRon912: and is making everyone his bitch in reverse
ShinyButterKnife: and japan's like, the skinny kid who used to kick everyone's ass
AirRon912: but then the noob headshoted him
ShinyButterKnife: lol yeah
ShinyButterKnife: and england's like, the kid who failed the 3rd grade 9 times, and is like, older/bigger/more of a loser than everyone else
AirRon912: and sucks up to the n00b
ShinyButterKnife: yeah, the world's just like school when you get right down to it...

Mmmm....Painkillers.....

2006-09-30T01:33:00.000+05:30

Well, I've now learned one of the most important lessons of riding - a Pony of Grayness (my scooter, one of the old 120cc Marvels. It's not quite a Steed of Darkness, so...yeah) isn't exactly the best thing to pull tight turns in. Yes, the Pony's fine, thanks very much for caring, oh non-existent audience of mine. I managed to get away with nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes, so I guess I should be thankful...

Now that I'm done whining, I've got nothing to say. Dammit, I hate it when this happens.

Colorblind

2006-09-26T20:23:00.000+05:30

Prussian Blue.

For those of you fortunate enough to not know who they are, I’ll give you the rundown. Essentially, they’re a couple of preteen white blondie twins (no, not the Olsons) named “Lamb” and “Lynx” who call themselves a “White Pride Group”. Their website calls them the “guiding light of a new generation”.

Yes, Lamb and Lynx. No, I’m not kidding. Wish I were, but I’m not. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against being proud of your race or naming your kids whatever you want. I mean, I get Sunshine. I get Leaf. I even get Flaming Pile of Pus. But Lamb and Lynx? Were their parents high when they were naming them? Wait, forget I asked; I know they were. They had to be. Why else would they name one kid after food/clothing, and another after an old program/handheld by Atari?

As for the white pride thing… Girls, you wanna help inspire pride in white people by singing? Here’s some free advice: don’t. You’ve got nothing new/interesting to sell. Wait a couple years until your boobs fill out, and then you can at least try to get people to listen to you - with videos filled with gratuitous T&A. Hell, it worked for Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan didn’t it?

I actually went to the extent of picking up some of their (Prussian Blue’s) music and listening to it. Sad, but true. What really pisses me off, is not that they’re neo-Nazis (and pretty pathetic ones at that); it’s not that their granddad apparently loves Nazi memorabilia and plasters it everywhere; it’s not even that their mom (”April Gaede”) is a nutty cracker supremacist who makes the KKK look passé in terms of her brainwashing ability (with regard to her daughters, I mean); no, what really gets under my skin is none of that; it’s that, simply put, their music SUCKS!

I’m not talking sucky as in sort-of sucky. I’m talking sucky as in MEGA sucky. It’s just two scratchy voices mumbling the same incoherent phrases again and again, with some basic acoustic guitaring in the back! If you’re going to be the “guiding light of a new generation”, at least do it right, girls! Of course, the music industry being what it is today, these girls are probably going to end up with a contract with a major recording company (good riddance, they’re giving indie labels a bad name), have their videos edited so that they look older (gotta target the MTV demographic), become crack addicts and die of overdose at the ripe old age of 15 after releasing one album that goes nowhere.

Or so I hope.

I recall reading on the comments section of some blog that was parodying them – can’t remember which one – that they if/when they come up with a music video, they ought to do it standing behind a fully pimped out Panzer with like, gold everything and fur upholstery. Be that as it may, but like I said, not for a few more years, and NOT until I get some gratuitous T&A with it.

Moving on, I now direct your attention to their name. “Prussian Blue”? Sounds like a rip of Peruvian Blue (old slang for cocaine, now usually “Peruvian Lady”. or so I hear. not that I'd know. also a new band). They remind me of the Teletubbies; the only people who’d like them are people who have no clue what they’re saying/doing, or stoners who’re really, really high. The latter is pretty much the same as the former, but you get my point. I’ve listened to some of their music (a lot of it’s supposedly in German), and I have to say, Hitler really should’ve thought of using preteen white chicks with crappy music as advertising. The following are some quotes (verbatim, including any errors) of some fan mail from their website:

To be honest-I kinda agree with you girls… I mean I think it’s cool that god made us different& that we are different, but if we keep getting races mixed, we will have no idea who we are-and it will be a big BLOB of black, white, Asian, etc. I really don’t want that to happen. And I hope you girls do great on your music-because people need to know that we can’t end up as a big pile of un-known blob, and that we need to keep races un-mixed. I wish you girls much luck, & maybe people can see that you girls aren’t mean. And also, thank you for writing back! Now I know the truth-and NOT a lie. TV shouldn’t say lies about you girls, but I guess that’s what TV does… Well, good luck, thank you,& GOOD LUCK!!! : ) -Jenny-

and

Hi Prussian blue, I think you girls are awesome! I am white blonde like you, but I cant sing as good. I think its great that you girls wanna preserve our race :-) love Kelly

also

Dear Prussian Blue, I first read about you girls in a magazine some time ago, and I decided to visit your website. I’ve listened to some of the sample songs and I think they a wonderful. You are very talented and you WILL go far! I think your beliefs about preserving the White race are very important and special. And the more people you can get to understand that, the better. It is true that many white girls are getting black boyfriends, and I just don’t think that this is right. The reason we started off in our own countries, is so that our races would be separate and free to do our own things. Now, we have all been mixed into one, and the is no definite sense of “belonging” to one particular group. I was just wondering, (if it’s not being too nosy), did/do you have any black friends or mix with other races? Sorry, if this is a blunt question! Thank you, Jenny

What’s wrong with mixing with people of other races? What’s wrong with multiculturalism? I don’t know, but these girls sure seem to. While I believe that everyone is free to their own POV, I’ve never quite understood this one or ones like it. Belonging to a particular race? Way I see it, that’s just a waste of time, effort, and indicative of a lack of maturity. You can’t really help what race you’re born into, and whatever race you were born into has precious little effect on your mental constitution or lack thereof.

So why is it a matter of pride or shame to claim your genetic makeup? And since when was it against heterogenous-ness (if that’s even a word) to mix it up a little? Way I see it, you’re actually breaking the homogenous-ness (again with the word thing) by not keeping everything the same. Change is, after all, a cornerstone of life; you either change and adapt, or you wither and die. While the circumstances here are not nearly so serious as most in life, it’s a pretty accurate parallel with regard to the issue of racial mixing.

Seriously though, a couple of 13 year olds saying that they think races shouldn’t be mixed or we’ll all become homogenous blobs, and actually have people listening to them or caring? Like I said above, Hitler didn’t know what he was missing…

(for the record, uncyclopedia is awesome)

Of Toilets and Relativity

2006-09-24T18:40:00.000+05:30

I hate religious ceremonies. Especially Hindu ones.

Those of you who’ve read my previous post on “the functions” doubtless understand, or at least know of, my stand on them. So it should come as no surprise that upon being informed that my house, my bastion, my base of operations, was going to be the site of a ritual of said type, I was pretty freaked out and scared. Freaked out because my very own sanctuary was about to be violated, and scared because, well, this wasn’t just going to be another one of those local ceremonies - oh no, the relatives were coming in.

The relatives.

A lot of you are probably wondering why this had me bugging out, so I’ll explain. When I say “the relatives”, i don’t just mean a few aunts and uncles, I mean something more along the lines of aunts, uncles, cousins, INCLUDING the most god-awfully distant ones. Not that I have anything against them, really, it’s more that me and most of the rest of my family exist along different planes of existence. Not higher or lower, better or worse, just really, really, REALLY different. This means, of course, that I end up spending ever-greater amounts of time in holed out in my room, hoping to escape this storm relatively unscathed(pun unintended). I mean, I’ve got nothing to talk about with them; no one’s fault, it’s just a fact.

The guest bedroom and mine share a common bathroom, which would explain the next bit.

One of the scarier parts is that most of the lot, through no fault of their own, of course, don’t seem to be have quite grasped the concept of the standard western-style toilet(update 7/5/07: this link doesn't seem to work anymore. sure you know what i'm talking about, though.) or it’s usage (they’re used to the standard indian), or aren’t quite comfortable (again, I can’t really blame them) with the idea of toilet paper. What this means is that my toilet seat is perpetually covered with water and dirty footprints, which are a hassle to clean and make it more than a little uncomfy to sit down on when the call must be answered. Also, all the toilet paper I’ve set out for those who wish to use it gets drenched by the, ah, water used for, um, washing, so I can’t really go until it’s dry. An aside, anyone who wants to restart the “wash or wipe” conversation, well, don’t. I’ve had my fill of it. Also, I occasionally end up losing my room for a few days so that the guests can use it. It wouldn’t be a problem normally, it’s simply that my mom “cleans” up my room, which, of course, upsets the delicate and precise arrangements of a teenagers living space. That, and my bed is always made. It’s just not right…

Of late, I’ve often wondered if Einstein was a whole hell of a lot smarter than we give him credit for. Consider, if you will, the impact of his theory of relativity on, well, relatives. After long hours of research (alright, a few seconds of eating cookies), I’ve managed to come up with a slightly modified version of his stuff, complete with some pseudo-equations. “There is no such thing as absolute boredom and frustration. The degree of boredom and frustration you face is relative to how many relatives you have over, how much other stuff you can’t do because of it, and how strong the social obligation that prevents you from doing said stuff is’.” That is,

e = µN^2,

where e = boredom and frustration in terms of energy(joules), N = number of relatives, and µ = amount of stuff (i.e., number of items) you want to but can’t do because of it into strength of social obligation (on a scale of 1-10).

Yes, I just pulled all of that out of my ass. But it does make an eerie kind of sense to me. Even if the only thing I want to do but can’t do is sleep all day.

But all this makes it harder to go down for meals. Which, sadly enough, are still a necessity. It’s not that their company is so unbearable, it’s just that questions I’d rather not answer are asked. And the sight of a guy eating cereal for breakfast instead of a dosa or idlis raises even more “pointed” questions about nutrition and my “american ways”, long-winded dissertations on doing as the Romans do while in Rome, and so on and so forth. I guess they’re just traditional, and I wouldn’t mind so long as I didn’t have to recieve lectures about it. To be honest though, the number of lectures I get has come down a lot now, but I used to get a lot back when I first came here. Oh, and before I forget, the standard-issue hassle I get with guests is present as well - my bathroom is always steamed up and out of hot water by the time I wake up.

An anonymous bachelor pad is starting to look ever more enticing…

Piracy - Crime or Last Resort?

2006-09-23T15:54:00.000+05:30

The entertainment industry, it seems, is very interested in preventing piracy. So interested, in fact, that the RIAA/MPAA recently filed suit against an 83 year old grandmother. Who’d been dead for 6 months. Not to be left behind, their Indian parallels are busy getting raids on video rental stores organized, carrying out rallies, and (not just the Indian lot, this one) creating copy protections of greater and greater complexity, all in the name of “protecting their IP rights”.

According to them, the losses that piracy is causing them are too large to be accurately calculated, and could have apocalyptic effects on their (already questionable) abilities to produce quality content. So, apparently, the only way to stop this is by treating the consumer (who, incidentally, is the guy paying their bills) as a necessary evil – to be given stuff under strict contracts he can’t usually understand, and suing him for a million dollars every time he uses stuff HE paid for as he sees fit.

It is, as far as I’m concerned, an exercise in both absurdity and futility. Barring the fact that virtually no one will buy the crap the entertainment industry is coming out with at the prices they’re charging, where’ll they be left if they sue every customer who “misuses” their stuff? Knowingly or not, thanks to their crazy “contracts”, that’s just about every customer they have.

Obviously, I’m not exactly a huge fan of the entertainment industry, but I try to buy originals whenever possible. If I really like a game/movie/song I’ve bootlegged, I often buy it. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll buy everything, only to regret it later because it sucked/broke and I can’t get a refund/replacement.

Back to the prices. Six years ago, an English movie cost about Rs.600. A good empty CD costed about Rs.80 back then. Today, the same empty disc costs around Rs.10, while the movie still costs around Rs.600. If they’re so interested in preventing piracy, why not pay forward the cuts to the consumers? I mean, why not reduce the price of the finished product as the cost of the factors of production go down?

Six years ago, the costs of a good CD burner and some blank CDs were prohibitive in the extreme. Today, however, it’s almost the exact opposite. Not only are computer peripherals cheaper than ever, but it’s even possible to download large movies in a few hours. With all this going for them, why would said movie still cost as much as it did six years ago? I say it’s because they’re greedy b*stards, but you’re free to make up your own mind.

They (the entertainment industry) say that they’re losing money because of piracy. I say they’re losing money because they come out with crappy content, overcharge, and treat their customers like dirt. They say that they’re losing customers to the appeal of free content. Apparently, every customer who picks up bootleg content is another customer lost.

But what if said “customer” wasn’t going to buy the stuff anyway? These days, who will? You’re not allowed to make backups, you don’t get refunds or replacements if the CD/DVD breaks/gets scratched, heck, you can’t even (legally) lend it to a friend! Nope, you’re expected to just plop it into your player/pc and listen to/watch/play it. The makers aren’t even responsible if it messes up your player/pc.

If the film industry says they’re going to make less money by charging less, they can give their actors a pay cut for all I care. They won’t really lose much, and it’d be better than laying off a couple dozen other employees. Employees who haven’t got another studio to work for, or advertising/promotion gigs to fall back on, or even a second home in Switzerland where they can mope about their sorrows with kindred spirits.

What they don’t understand, as Wit put it, is that unlike the retail business, these boys don’t have a brand name to hardsell. People might say that they “love Reebok”, but to the best of my knowledge,
has anyone ever said “I love 20^th Century Fox”? Does anyone buy only Paramount movies like they do Colgate(toothpaste, not movies, wiseguy), or do they swear by Universal as they do Logitech? It just ain’t gonna happen.

As far as I’m concerned, piracy is just customers sticking up for their rights, and getting what they want the best way they can get it. In many cases, it’s the customer’s last resort, due to the unjustifiable prices of content. After all, if the service is good, the content worth the price, and the end user allowed to use stuff he’s paid for the way he wants to, why would anyone bother with piracy? Sure, it’d be free, but then you wouldn’t get the kind of support you’d get if you actually bought the stuff. That, in my opinion is what the entertainment industry should focus on – improving quality and boosting their image, not suing the people who’re paying for their summer houses.

The sooner these people realize that their audience isn’t made of a bunch of idiots who’re willing to get fleeced, the sooner “piracy” will stop.

- Edit -

While this article was originally posted on blogchaat, I thought I may as well repost it here, since I'm a little short on content and time right now. However, I do recognize that "reasonable pricing" is relative, and that movie/music studios do deserve compensation for their work, which does cost a lot, and that entertainment isn't a basic necessity of life. It's more the arrogant and uppity attitudes these boys have towards their customers that pisses me off. After all, why should the consumer be prevented from making a backup of a game/movie because he/she has kids who would damage the original? If they don't like that idea, then they should be prepared to issue replacements for broken products. Pretty impractical, maybe, but if they don't like it, let the consumers make their copies. Also, I dislike the way they stop people from editing their stuff - I fully support the open-source initiative, and think that letting people tailor the software to their desires is the best way to improve quality. When you get down to it, I side with IPac. That's about it for now, you may return to your regularly scheduled programs.

Heeeeeere's...

2006-09-05T03:08:00.000+05:30

Nothing yet, but stay tuned for updates. Which will take place. Eventually.

About Me

2006-09-01T21:58:00.000+05:30

"Shiny Butter Knife". What, exactly, does this mean? Besides the literal, of course. This is the question this page may or may not end up answering, depending upon whether or not the sum of the third function of the Sequence of Klarnextrozalthromengorteakaminipuzzayonoxxolpreezian numericals over the square root of the cube of the 95737679342nd integer combination of the Nasdaq indexes (exactly 31 years, 94 days, 42 minutes, and 47.5436 seconds ago) and the nth root of pi, where pi is a function of mathematical indifference over the state of affairs in a certain cheeseburger which is currently in a microwave, is equal to the number of hairs on a Klarglalian's backside when he's infested with Lice. Since that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, let's pretend that this page can indeed do so, and torture some forks. No? Oh well.

Shiny Butter Knife is not, as some suspect, a name; nor is it, as others suspect, a reference to the state of a piece of cutlery. It is the title bestowed upon the most skilled wielder of the Shiniest Butter Knife, created by the Lice (who play a neutral role in the ongoing Mice-Penguin conflict) in order to facilitate the gathering of intelligence regarding the aforementioned conflict, as well as investigating certain other mysteries. Though that should answer the question, the author of this piece feels the need to go on a little (*coughyeahrightcough*) more.

ORIGINS:

Shiny Butter Knife was conceived in an alien spaceship travelling past Uranus (*snicker*) through hyperspace, and was born in orbit over Klarglan 7. The Klarglalians had abducted his progenitors, performed strange experiments on them, and used tissue samples to create the perfect pasta, which would later become the cutlery set which would then become the baby which would later become Shiny Butter Knife (but is still, according to most who know him, a baby). He was returned to Earth after the hapless Klarglalians realized that left unchecked, his dirty diapers would overwhelm their waste management facilities, leading to large-scale epidemics and flooding. The Klarglalians, it is to be noted, no longer travel through this region of space.

Upon his safe return, the earth gave a rather mild sneeze, the heavens tabled a motion to consider raining frogs, and a rather elderly gentleman in front of a urinal in a bar in London missed and hit his shoe.

THE SLICED SCOOP ON SBK:

Shiny Butter Knife's many interests happen to span the incredibly diverse and varied range of sleeping, reading, gaming, and eating, though not in that order. Due to Klarglalian interference in his genetic structure, he is often incapable of coherent thought. This, however, has never slowed his considerable intellect, which remains as devoted as ever to such pressing issues as "boxers or boxer-briefs?", "Batman vs. Boba Fett", and (most importantly) "Are those real?".

THE REALLY SLICED SCOOP:

SBK has recently been released from his contract with the Lice, and has begun to compose a brilliant piece of space opera which is sure to revolutionize the world as we know it. Just as soon as the crazy space monkeys get off their ridiculous strike (over some strange concept called "wayjiz"), it is sure to be completed.

Shiny Butter Knife currently heads the investigative powerhouse known as "Butter Knives Outcorporated", and serves as Chief Slacker-in-Office. He is widely regarded as "that one dude over there who did that thing that one time", and has often been described as "random" and "very fond of barbecued chicken". He also has a tendency rearrange things, make no sense, stop abruptly, and go on and on and on and on and on and on and o-

THE IRRELEVANT UNSCOOPED SLICE:

"If you're stupid enough to try to cut a steak with a butter knife, you deserve what you get - namely, electroshock therapy."