Will Singh be crowned King again ?

He’s running for P.M. again (yes, of the Republic of India). He thinks he’s currently leading every single poll by a wide margin, although you will read nothing about this in the so-called "mainstream" media. You can, however, find out where he stands on the issues by reading these FAQ's, which consists of Q's submitted by actual humans (I think) followed by his answers.

He updates these FAQ's regularly, so check back often. Or you can find something productive to do with your life. But jaagore.com doesn't recommend this.

Q: Did you ever figure out if the people asking questions here are real or not?
A: The people asking the questions are real. I, however, am a figment of their imagination.

Q: I think that it is both generous and innovative for you to allow Soniaji to be your co-P.M. and handle the day-to-day duties and burdens of the office while you pursue other interests in Switzerland. After your lobotomy, sorry, coronary bypass, will you be spending more time with your family?
A: My what?

Q: Should Indian reporters start wearing shoes to prime ministerial news conferences?
A: Or at very least, pants.

Q: How many votes would you expect to win in your constituency?
A: A LOT. Even more since I was never a resident of the actual constituency I’m representing.

Q: What are these rumors about Sunil Dutt getting through the recession by selling venison?
A: I cannot comment on that as the meat is very tasty and the matter is still sub-judice.

Q: I’m curious if you could pick any 4 people in the world to be in your cabinet who would they be?
A: I would definitely go with Morarji Desai for one.

Q: Have you had any trouble with your urine-conversion process?
A: With the beer input? No.

Q: And what about that other issue, the one we're not supposed to discuss?
A: Sorry Soniaji has specifically forbidden me to do so.

Q: Have you ever exaggerated the size of your, uh, crowds?
A: No, but I want to stress that during cold weather my crowd may appear smaller than it actually is.

Q: During coverage of Election results, why should all the TV networks use the color Pink for states you win?
A: Because I have joined "A Consortium of Pub-Going, Loose and Forward Women" on Facebook

Q: Are you going to appear on NDTV before the election?
A: I was on there, but they cut out my scene because of what they are calling a "wardrobe malfunction" involving my pink chaddis, which is totally bogus because as the so-called "mainstream" media is fully aware but refuses to report, I wasn't wearing any.

Q:Have you ever lost consciousness during a public appearance, and did the audience notice when they woke up?
A: No, because they lost consciousness first.

Q: What should the Members of Parliament do about Mamta Bannerjee? What would you do?
A: I would carefully weight all the options, then have somewhere between three and seven chota pegs.

Q: I've been asleep for the past 2 months and just woke up today. Did you win the election?
A: We're still waiting for some final recounts, but: Yes.

Q: Would the Pakistanis be to blame if you lose the majority vote?
A: No, I blame global warming. Although that could be caused by the Pakistanis.

Q: What will be the tenor of your administration?
A: To give all politicians more salaries and perks. To subvert all Supreme Court orders by changing the Laws of the Land. To rewrite the entire constitution. To tax the citizenry even to the extent that they have to pay for breathable air. What was your question again?

Q: If an IT professional immigrated to the US and became an American citizen but his job was outsourced to his high school classmate still living in India, can he expect a tax rebate?
A: We will tax his classmate to the fullest extent as an NRI outsourcee, unless either of these people sent me money?

Q: What exactly, without avoiding the question, is your policy on reservation?
A: I strongly agree with pretty much everybody.

Q: As candidate for P.M. who has your ear?
A: What?

Q: Is it too early to label it "the failed UPA administration"?
A: Duh.

Q: Have you given a thought to the fact that you might lose this election by a wide margin?
A: This thing is not over yet. All we need is a little momentum, by which I mean cash contributions that are not reported to anybody.

Q: When, it's finally voting day. Don't forget to vote for yourself. I myself voted for you here in Bangla Desh. No matter what happens, at least you've got a vote from one person in Bangla Desh.
A: Which is why I am officially declaring victory there, as well as Tibet.

Q: After waiting on line at my polling booth for three hours (and I never wait on line longer than 2 hours unless it's for the Merry-Go-Round ride at Esselworld), I found that my name wasn't even on the voters list! Talk about dirty-tricky voter suppression! Who can I sue (for a large amount of money) over this injustice?
A: Well, for starters, Satyam Computers.

Q: After you win the election, I must make one request: within your first 10 days in office, can you please make it illegal for any cricket player on the opposing team to be within 1kilometre of Preity Zinta during an IPL match. That dear, sweet, gorgeous woman might get hurt, I don't think that's right. P.S. can you also make a law naming me her only caregiver...I could 'nurse' her back to health.
A: Only if I can be opening batsman.

Q: We're "down to the wire" here... your campaign looks basically the same as when you started, that is to say, you haven't made or broken any promises to the Indian citizens, and what you have delivered is a message of hope (at least as it relates to more taxation and less public services, and law and order.)
A: Yes.

Q: How well do you expect to do in Gujarat where Modi will get 120% of the registered vote?
A: I expect to get 270 percent, thanks to the last-minute support of the 140 percent who are still undecided.

Q: How do you feel about the candidates running against you for P.M. this year?
A: The what?

Q: What's the best voter recruiting strategy, beer or booth-capturing?
A: They are both effective. An honest candidate.

Q: The Congress Campaign has made this tense and over-wrought election season bearable through comic releif. If you lose this election, will you try again in 2014?
A: I am already accepting contributions for a triple bypass.

Q: I have no doubt that you are personally responsible for February’s disaster-free month in Mumbai. How were you able to accomplish this excellent feat?
A: We outsourced our disasters to the United States.

Q: As P.M. will you declare any new national holidays, and if so, what will they be named?
A: "Mangalvar” and "Budhvar" Also "Somvar."

Q: You and I were on a flight back from Nederlands to Delhi, some time ago. I was across the aisle from you, in business class. You, unlike most politicans, did nothing. You did not talk, wave your arms, order anyone around, maul the flight attendants, or disappear into a mysterious private back cabin. Actually, you acted disturbingly normal. Where you ill?
A: No. I was just feeling the effects of the weed i smoked there relaxed.

Q: Both the BJP and the CPM are prepared to declare a bandh if they lose the election. Are you prepared to declare a bandh if you lose?
A: No matter what happens, I think everybody involved should declare a bandh. This is India, dammit.

Q: This has been an enjoyable question and answer experience. Is there any chance you could continue it in some other area of the Internet? (Damn these commercial breaks for cutting you off!)
A: There are other areas on the Internet?

Q: Are you going to stop answering questions here, in the interest of allowing the nation to recuperate?
A: Yes.

The Parent Trap

Natural Instinct.
What does my gorgeous cousin Melanie, and Sai, the lovely wife of Ronni (my close friend and porn-confidante) have in common. They’ve both been infected with the deadly, “Baby Virus.”

That’s right folks they’ve been overcome by the second-most powerful force in the universe, (“gossip” being number one)! Not greased lightning or even a neutron bomb. This powerful force is...dare I utter the name ? –“The Maternal Instinct.” Or TMI

Pierre (Mel’s husband) and Ronni have independently been conducting an experiment over the past few months using the time-tested formula, which is:
a. Take a perfectly normal woman.
b. Get her pregnant
c. Try to stop her from entering every baby-care store over and over again for the next 8 months.

Both Pierre and Ronni now have reason to believe that they’re becoming Dads. And soon will have a tiny person to love, nurture and- above all- become intimately familiar with the poops of.

But so far the big change in their lives is their partner’s behaviour. By my estimation both these ladies blood supply consists of about 95% TMI. This TMI is called “the Adolf Hitler” syndrome because it is moody, crazy and expects instant obedience. And it does NOT want an affectionate hug. It wants a GIANT CHEESE PIZZA with pickles, and wants it RIGHT NOW. You will not question it or the police will find you with a pair of scissors sticking out of your neck.

TMI also wants baby outfits, and baby shoes; at least as many as Imelda Marcos, and if you visit their house for any reason, even if you’re the janitor, TMI will make these ladies show you each of these outfits, one by one, and you’re expected to say, “Oh! How Cute!”

Of course TMI is also obsessed with baby diapers, the baby’s room decor, the baby’s crib, and the million accessories the babies will need. Both these ladies cannot have an opinion in the matter. Why? Not because it’s their fault. They are merely the vehicles: TMI is driving. And it wants an SUV.

Accessorising for life’s success
Back when I was born, during the reign of Emperor Nehru, we babies did not need a lot of stuff. We had our feeding bottle, and that was pretty much it. Then we’d lie on our back and gurgle and amuse ourselves by trying to get our toes into our mouths, over and over again. If we were lucky we would get a rattle and someone would change our diapers. Some of us even learned to change our diapers ourselves.

Given today’s baby industry however, equipping the modern baby is a mind-numbing exercise equated only in comparison to getting the space shuttle ready for a moon mission.

There is a list that your pediatrician (who also just happens to own a “Baby Boutique” ) will give you, a PRIORITY list. It has about 9 categories, and amounts to around 200 plus items.... for example: bedding, outer garments, undergarments, cool clothing, warm clothing, diapers, nappies, bathing shampoos, oils, toiletries, powders, stabilisers, thermometers, sterilisers, bottles, pumps (I don’t even want to think about that) shower gels, transporters, transistors, transvestites, mattresses (the firmness of the mattress is very important: if it’s too hard the baby will have trouble sleeping, too soft and it will be used as a trampoline), something in which to catch and check your baby’s poop, lotions and syrups, feeding instruments, furniture. The PRIORITY list does not say what will happen if you do not get all of these things, but the clear implication is that if you do not, your baby will not get ahead in life and not be able to get into business school.

And you cannot pick out just any cradle, there are many cradles available, but you have to choose the RIGHT one, one that conforms to Cradle Safety Guidelines, because if you pick the WRONG cradle, you could very well be consigning your baby to a lifetime of inadequacy, possibly as a toilet roll replacer at Dabolim airport.

The most stressful part is picking out the pram or stroller. Today’s pram is a high tech piece of equipment comparable in complexity to an aircraft carrier, but more expensive. It is easier to buy a hotel than a pram. You must remember that it is not just a carrier with wheels: It’s a place where the kid will spend much of its’ critical formative years pooping and making strange noises.

In practically all baby stores you will find massively pregnant women, crazed by TMI picking out tiny knitted baby shoes and going, “Aww! How Sweet!” And next to each woman will be a man, holding out his credit card, much like prehistoric hunter-gatherer cave people. That’s when the woman’s job was to have babies and the man’s job was to be a provider by hunting and ramming his credit card into the vulnerable region of his kill.

So anyway you end up with all kinds of stuff, now all you actually need is the baby, although come to think of it, since the baby was not on the PRIORITY list, maybe you don’t really need the baby.

Lamaze – where forewarned is forearmed.
You young couples are now ready to house the baby, but are you prepared for childbirth?? When I say “couple”, I of course mean “the wife”. She will be the most directly involved.

As for the husbands, they should get down on their knees and thank whoever invented our present biological system, under which the woman’s job entails:
a) Throwing up every morning in the early stages.
b) Suffering the loss of her youthful figure.
c) Learning how to stand without falling over.
d) Accumulating water in her ankles.
e) Enduring sleepless nights with the tyke trying to kick its’ way out through her stomach wall.
f) Eventually violating every known law of physics by having the baby somehow go from the inside to the outside of her body.
And all this while the man preens and distributes cigars or mitthai and informs everyone he is going to be a father. Like he had everything to do with it.

All women think that a fair system would be that every time they had a contraction the man can be slammed on a vulnerable body part with a cricket bat. But that’s just how she makes light of matters till her contractions really kick in. After which it’s:“GIMME THAT @#$#%$ EPIDURAL NOW!” and “NO I DID NOT SAY I WANTED IT TO BE NATURAL, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR @#$%^% SENSES!”

If you as a couple have been going to Lamaze or childbirth classes, you will end up sitting in a lecture hall with other couples, and, with a mounting sense of dread discover that the process is like passing a bowling ball through a drinking straw.

Some Lamaze lectures are fairly technical, “ Normally the cervix will dilate upto 10 centimetres prior to the birth.” That makes you confident about having a baby until you realise much later, usually just after midnight, that you do not know what a cervix is, and, “How much exactly is 10 centimetres!!??”

Right at the end of the Lamaze sessions is the media event, the lecture hall lights go out and you end up watching a horror movie.
In the movie the man and the woman start out looking happy and content like any other loving couple. Eventually the woman goes into labour.
Her husband tells her not to worry, but you can tell by her expression that he’s very lucky she doesn’t have a cricket bat.
After a while she begins making sounds that one rarely hears outside of the lions enclosure in the zoo, and the husband retreats to the waiting room in case she gets her hands on a pair of scissors.
Finally, after what seems like the entire span of an election year the movie becomes more explicit, causing watching couples to cringe, some to hunch up, some to assume a posture of protecting as many of their body parts as possible, and others to just, outright, shamelessly, faint.
The woman in the movie makes a sound identical to that of a bull elephant being squeezed through a sugarcane juice press, and the Big Moment arrives.
A tiny Oompa Loompa, covered in strawberry jello, appears in a very angry mood.
A very pretty nurse, perfectly coiffed, beams out into the waiting hall and informs the husband, “It’s a boy and there’s two more on the way!”

Back in the lecture hall, the lights go on, and all the pregnant women turn to face their husbands, with the same expression on their face which says, “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Carnival '09 - Images that linger.

Images and comments are purely those of the author - so sue me !!
( click on pictures for larger formats)


Poor souls braving the heat and dust, hoping for an afternoon's recreation!!


One way to cool off !!


A better way!! Drinking chilled beer standing in the middle of the road!!


King Momo looks happy without his privy purse !!

One of the rare touches of carnival colour.


Another small splash of colour!


Looks colourful too?This little child says,"Viva Carnival, please buy a balloon so i can eat tonight."

I don't ever remember ANY barber of mine being this enthusiastic about his job.

His victim (oops sorry) customer doesn't seem too thrilled.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt!"

Hey! How about the disappearing letters from the English language !!

Mario Miranda was here ??

That's Mario out in front of all those round-headed lovelies.

A Grande Finale ! "My feet are killing me and I haven't sold much. Think I'm gonna cry!"

Selective Amnesia !!

Bharathiyanaris*: Save Indian Culture, Stay Indoors !

Every now and then, some visionary individuals come along with a concept that is so original and so revolutionary that your immediate reaction is: ''Those individuals should be on medication.''

Today I want to tell you about such a person, B.S.Yeddy-something-or-other, from Bangalore (No,I don’t really know what the B.S. stands for), who has come up with a concept that is going to make you kick yourself for not thinking of it first: Save Indian Culture Day. As the name suggests, this is a day on which everybody would try to save Indian Culture. Is that a great idea, or what? There are so many practical benefits that I can't even begin to list them all.

Yeddy came up with this idea a few years ago. Just before going on one of his many “Yatras” for which he was almost nominated for an Oscar, he was playing kabbadi**, and, as so often happens, began talking about kabbadi being an Indian cultural sport. And then while auditioning for the role of Slumdog... and looking at a slice of really mouldy roti*** that he had to eat in a scene, it struck him: Why not have a day when EVERYBODY saves Indian Culture? He decided that the logical day would be Jan 24, because that -- as you are no doubt aware -- is the day Yeddy launched his “ Save Grama Rajya” march for the farmers, along with the “Save Cauvery” march.

Since then, Yeddy has made a near-superhuman effort to promote Save Indian Culture Day. As he puts it: ``I've talked against pub culture like a moron, and encouraged my several friends to join, on every Jan 24, except for a couple where I forgot.''

And yet, incredibly, despite this well-orchestrated campaign, the nation has turned a deaf shoulder to Save Indian Culture Day. In desperation, he turned to Mutha Lick of the "Sri Ram Army" (not to be confused with the Indian Army, which is a "Save the Indian Borders" force) for help. As an influential goon, Mutha had the power to ''make or break'' a national day. You may recall that almost nobody celebrated December 6^th as Ayodhya Day until Advani brought down the Babri Masjid.

So Mutha Lick decided to throw his full support behind Save Indian Culture Day, to be observed this Jan 24. To help promote this important cause, Yeddy decided to seek the endorsement of another famous celebrity from the “taking money while promising official favours” stable Ashok Get-a-lot and I am pleased to report that, as of today, Ashok, Raj Thuggery, Ramalinga Raju, Col. Purohit, Swami Sadhvi, the Afghan Taliban, Osama Bin Laden, Adolf Hitler and Anbumani Ramadoss: people who I hoped would read this have all become big supporters. I see no need to recruit Diggu Kamath, because he already talks funny, as we can see from this transcript of a recent Government press conference:

REPORTER: Could you please explain either your policy on Regional Plan 2021 or SEZ's ?

Diggu : Ummm Uhhhh .

To prepare for Save Indian Culture Day, you should practice incorporating cultural terminology into your everyday speech. For example, let's consider a typical conversation between two co-workers in a business office:

KUMAR: Hi, Sachin.

SACHIN: Hi, Kumar. Have you had a chance to look at the Batliwala file?

KUMAR: Yes, and I have some suggestions.

SACHIN: OK, I'll review them.

Now let's see how this same conversation would sound on Save Indian Culture Day:

KUMAR: Bharath Mata ki Jai**** Sachin.

SACHIN: Pranaam and Jai ho Kumar, I'm in such a foul mood today. It's the weekend and I have not found a girl, even an ugly one, who has the slightest interest in me.

KUMAR: Maybe it's your bad breath or your body odour, or the fact that you have dirt under your fingernails. Shall we go out to the pub and beat up some Indian youth and molest their girlfriends to satisfy our loser frustrations. Maybe that will make you feel all better and relieved.

SASHA: Absolutely. But let’s call Mutha Lick and his boys, the more the merrier, no?? If only the two of us go the girls themselves will be able to beat us up. Besides it’s Save Indian Culture Day, that's as good an excuse as any for mauling women. Ask the Taliban.

As you can see, talking like a cultured Indian will infuse your everyday conversations with spirituality and confidence. So join the movement! On Jan24, do not answer the phone with ''hello.'' Answer the phone with ''Bharat Mata ki Jai!'' If the caller objects that he is not an Indian, inform him that he is a "bad word"mangy dog (or, if the caller is female, a "bad word" mangy female dog) who will be roundly abused, beaten and molested.

But the point is, this is a great idea, and you, my compatriots, should be part of it. Join us again on Jan. 24 next year. You HAVE the frustrated goons, darn it: Don't be afraid to let them loose! Let's make this into a grass-roots movement, (like electoral reform, or Bingo Mad Angles*****), that sweeps the pubs of the nation, or wherever Indian women and men congregate, in parks or in movie halls, even in zoos, I truly think this idea could bring us, as a nation, closer together.

But not TOO much closer. Some of us will have guns.

-------------------------

Legend:
*Bharatiyanaris: What young nubile Indian women are referred to snidely in speeches by lecherous politicians.

**Kabbadi: A contact sport like Sumo Wrestling except that it is played with a single person of one team holding his breath and humming, while the opposing team try to knock the stuffing out of him.

***Mouldy Roti: Bread or Chapatti that when left out too long develops more culture than all political parties combined.

****Bharat Mata ki jai: Clarion call for Indian independence during the British Raj, now used to condone vandalism - a reference to India as our mother (female) was ironically used when molesting women in the Mangalore pub.

***** Bingo Mad Angles: a triangular titbit that comes in hermetically-sealed packets, goes well with draught beer.

Sunburn Vs. AK47's

If music be the food of love..... and all that jazz

It was a whole month after the shootings and mayhem in Mumbai, and Goa too reeled from it's aftermath. Rapid Action Force vehicles from Delhi zoomed around the state, driving mostly on the wrong side of the roads and set up camp, with bazookas and machine guns, in bunkers and foxholes, on the beaches- waiting for another Dunkirkian invasion from the sea which never came. I imagine the terrorist bosses laughing around their campfires in Baluchistan and saying ," Gotcha!"

Anyways with a never-say-die attitude Goa decided to cock a snook at the securitywallahs, terrorist threats, the economic downturn and the odd drowning tourist and partaaaaaay... right into the new year. And so; with great gusto, music, booze and hemp ( the psychoactive variant) salsa'd out onto the streets and beaches.

Back at Camp Porvorim, Goa— I was in the mood to have blood spurt from my ears, so I decided to take in a rock scene at the Candolim beach.
I arrived with some other baby-boomers at “The Sunburn Festival”, which was presenting a rock show by a whole group of bands with names like the Growling Mad Scientists, Medival Punditz, Defected Record Heads, and Order of the Essence. This show went on for three whole days, but failed to move the grounded River Princess even an inch.

When we arrived the party consisted of maybe 1500 youth of Goa, many wearing shock 'n awe attire, featuring torn jeans, chains, pointy- coloured hairdos, tattooed midriffs and pierced body parts. As you can imagine, our group, the Old Rockers from the Woodstock Era of Simla Beat Contests and JS Magazine with our Beatle boots and parallels, blended smoothly into the scene, virtually unnoticed, like water buffalo on a cruise ship.

There was our very own Vachan Chinnappa who also performed; his spontaneity ensuring that a lot of the youth were instantly affected with the St. Vitus’ Dance and spilled out onto the sand.

Festival Director Nikhil Chinappa was generally calm and composed through all the din, noise and smoke; mostly from the weed being consumed backstage in copious amounts.

I would describe the general musical genre as deafening. Even the youth of Goa seemed reluctant to get too close to the speakers for fear that the sound waves would liquefy their hairdos.
We found chairs toward the back of one of the sound stages, where we met up with Dean D'mello, a young resident architect and observer of the local rock scene.
He gave us a brief but fascinating history of rock music in Goa, which I would happily pass along to you except I couldn't hear most of it.
But from what I gathered, back in the '70s Goa had an active and subversive rock movement, which was a big part of the RP 2011 GBA protests.
Since then, however, Goan music has become much less political and much more about self-expression.
"During the day," Dean said, "a surprising proportion of the bands operate massage parlours and beach shacks."

He said the hardcore rock audience in Goa is actually quite small, which is why most local bands sing in English: "They want to go international." The problem is, their English pronunciation is often not great, the result being that neither the Konkani-speaking audience nor the English-speaking audience can really understand the lyrics. (In other words, it's pretty much the same as Bappi Lahri's compositions.)

At one point, The Con-Artists were performing a song that sounded like this:
LEAD SINGER: Humma! Humma! Hummahummahumma!
GUITARISTS: Humma! Humma! Hummahummahumma!
REMO FERNANDES : Humma! Humma! Hummahummahumma!
LEAD SINGER: Humma! Humma! Hummahummahumma!
And so on. After a while I shouted to Dean, "Are they singing 'Humma'?"
"I have no idea," he shouted back.

Later on, another band was performing another song, and one of the members of our party, sportswriter/author/international media conglomerate Muthuram-a-lingam, after listening intently for a while, said, "I believe this one is called, '(Bad word that rhymes with "duck") the Terrorist.'"
So we all listened, and sure enough, on every chorus, the lead singer appeared to be shouting, with great passion and loudness, "(Bad word) the Terrorist!"
It was a catchy tune, and on the next chorus we oldies joined in, thrusting our fists into the air and shouting "(Bad word) the terrorist!" We were crazy rockin' rebels, Indian-Ishtyle.

I am thinking of getting a tattoo.

Anyway, we had a fine time at Sunburn Goa 2008. If any of the local bands have an international breakthrough and appears in a city near you, I urge you to go hear them. Or, if the city is within 25 kilometers from your house, you can just stay home and hear them from there.

Speaking of bad words: this seems as good a time as any to inform you that the new pedestrian subway stop next to the GMC is open to public. The Bambolim subway (pronounced bum-bo-lee … yeesh!) is modern and efficient. However, it also gets very crowded, and the pedestrians use the entering-and-exiting system developed for Mumbai local trains, wherein the instant the bus stops, everybody getting off and everybody getting on tries to lunge through the same space at the same time, in clear violation of the laws of physics.

Once you manage to get inside the subway, you're generally packed in the middle of a dense mass of people, and although the exits are marked, you run the risk of missing your exit and ending up in, I don't know, Karwar. But I continue to find that whenever I get lost, or have any problem whatsoever, six or seven enthusiastic young men in T-shirts materialize out of thin air (OK, out of really thick air) and offer to help by booking me into a nearby hotel room. They all seem to speak some English, and they get a kick out of it when I try to use my pathetically limited Konkani vocabulary ("hello," "thank you" and "beer").
The volunteers seem especially amused when I use the Konkani phrase for "thank you." At least I've been assuming it means "thank you." It occurs to me, based on their reaction, that maybe it means something else. I hope to heaven it does not involve a terrorist.

Hail to the Chief !!

Kudos to Muntazer al-Zaidi, the shoe-i-cide bomber, with a lousy temper and even lousier aim. He really took one on the chin for team Iraq.... or as Georgie Bush would say "Eye-Rack" even though he was not referring to Sarah Palin.

Personally methinx throwing the shoes made for a great Nike ad..... "Just Do It" or a perfect line from an old Clint Eastwood movie, George W.saying: "Go ahead make my day"

Although CNN really made the mother of all discoveries when they said, "In Iraqi culture throwing shoes at a person is considered an insult" Wow!! Can anyone tell me in which part or the world is throwing shoes considered a compliment!?? Certainly not in the hallowed halls of the Indian Parliament or Secretariats.... the difference being that some chappals actually land with good effect.

There were not one but TWO presidents on the podium that fateful day... and there were not one but TWO shoes thrown as well... unfortunately both missed... since George W., so used to ducking issues, managed adroitly to avoid being hit by these as well. The question to be asked here is "Where was the famed secret service??" In the event of danger to the President of the United States they are supposed to even leap in front of a speeding bullet!! I suppose speeding shoes are not listed in their operating manuals as dangerous weapons.


To return to the brogues of our reporter however we are sad to inform you that we have not elicited a confession as to the origin of said footwear, nor of style. For instance were they leather, denim or suede. Were they strap-ups or lace-ups or slip-ons. Were they produced in the Asian sweat shops or in an Italian Fashion house. Were they Oxfords or Espadrilles, Mocassins or Balmorals... although one wag was heard to comment on the scribes "loafers". One thing is for is certain, we will never know for they were summarily burnt right after the incident; to the disappointment of shoe collectors everywhere.

George W. Bush confirmed that at least he was the most fit President America has ever had..... just not fit to be the President.

Our Iraqi correspondent tells us that the shoes were destroyed as Homeland Security declared them to be weapons of mass destruction. Imagine that!Finally ! Closure !!

Aroma L'amore

I’m obsessed with toast.... there is a strange sensuality with dropping the soft white bread into twin slots, pushing the lever down and feeling a satisfying click as it hits the bottom of it’s long slick groove and then locks into place.

The heat gradually envelops my face, I stay over it, breathe in the aroma, my pulse quickens in anticipation, sweat streaks my cheeks like ripened juice.

I see my image bend on the satiny chrome – performing a simple epicurean task- and inside the core, down there where I cannot see, I sense separate molecules of bread transcend their paleness, ripen and ooze and drift toward gold. I imagine a pair of scented clouds, succulent and contained, rising up and teasing my olfactory senses.

The toastness of toast, its primary grainy essence. Then the toast pops. It takes me by surprise, those two identical slices bounding upward, like a pair of swollen lips, perfectly browned and symbolically (it seems to me) aligned, and bringing every single intake of breath a shock of happiness.

Shades of Eleanor Rigby

Sometimes, You Just Don't Have Any Answers

I can't tell you that this blog will be funny or entertaining in the near future. I'm crawling into this black hole and writing every now and then just to try to keep my skeleton inside my body.

My usual daily routine for the past 11 days has included about 16 hours of sleep. When I’m not dreaming, I want to be. I start begging to go to bed for the night in the late afternoon. As though my battery is incredibly low and I’m half conscious.

When I first got to bed mid-morning 10 days ago, the sleeping continued. This was a bit of a blessing, because I could tell myself that I was getting to do what I wanted to do: sleep as much as I want. Most of the time I did not even realize I was not in bed.

Last night, however when I woke around 1:00 a.m., everything went tilt. I started talking and did not stop. I did not sleep a single wink, I talked NON-STOP all night, from when I got here to when I left my old home. And I don't care HOW melodramatic this may sound, but it was as though Satan himself had written the script for me to directly torture all and sundry.

These were my repetitive lines:
"I was beginning to think I was going to GNC today.""Why can't I go home?""Why won't you let me go home?""I thought I was a good boy. I must be a bad boy or I would get to go home.""Don't people miss me anymore? I miss them!""I don't like it here. I want to go home.""Why can't I sleep in the same place again?""Who determines when I get to go home?""I don't want to stay here the rest of my life. I need to go home."
And it DID. NOT. STOP.

It felt like I was putting cigarettes out on my arm. I felt so drained, ached all the way to my bones, and wanted to duct tape my mouth shut.

I was stunned by exhaustion and guilt and grief when I went to sleep at dawn.

This is what a man, abandoned, endures. Left behind, imprisoned, living in meaninglessness, trying to make rational decisions, trying to find a reason to go on. Left behind in lucidity.

Sweating the Meltdown.

Bashing vs. Banking

After watching hotties Priety Zinta (Dimples) and Raveena Tandon( Musth Cheez) in a forum discussion on NDTV last night on what should be done now to our ailing, corrupt and inept politicians/Pakistan/bureaucrats et al, I went to bed thoroughly baffled that no one, NOT ONE person mentioned the gratuitous price reduction of a litre of auto fuel (petrol Rs.5.00 or 20 cents American and diesel Rs.2.00 all of 8 U.S. cents.)

Disappointed I went to bed. I woke up this morning experiencing several anxieties which I would like to share with my five and a half readers here in the hope that they will add up to enough for two whole chapters so that I can go back to sleep.

Anxiety A: Shri.Marathi Manoos, Jr.
As you probably know, Shri.Manoos Jr. is this person who started his own political party and wishes to take over the country.
This worries many people because his views are somewhat unorthodox. ( What I mean of course is that he is crazy as a loon.Where normal people have a brain, Marathi Manoos,Jr., has a Bash-a-Bihari video game.But I’d better not state this in public, as I do not wish to have his ardent followers beat me up with hockey sticks and steal my i-pod.)

Those of you who are frequent railway travelers are no doubt familiar with Shri.Manoos’s views.
Some time ago the Manoos people were not able to get their hands on a leaked copy of the railway entrance examination paper. So they sneaked up behind the applicants arriving from outside the state and bashed them with their own foot rulers and compass boxes and stabbed them with their ballpoint pens, in full view of the examiners, who of course did not object. Many of them probably helped out by bashing the out-of-towners with their own luggage.
The railway incident caused massive nationwide concern and anxiety because of the unorthodoxy of their views, which, as far as I can tell involved an item number by Monica Bedi of Abu Salem fame. Not that I personally see anything wrong with these views! No sir! I don’t even have an i-pod!

But then, two of Shri. Manoos’s closest friends were ex-Chief Minister Shri.Deshmurkh and the then Home Minister Shri.Shi*raj Patel, who has a soft corner for Manoos since they both have “Raj” in their names, which means “to rule”.

But we have to ask ourselves if we, as a nation can continue to ignore crazy people like Party Leader Manoos, with responsibilities which involve giving inflammatory speeches, driving an Audi and phoning his uncle every day to see if he's dead. Because if these people are allowed to win, they’ll go after more and more power, until someday instead of just blaming our neighbours our top national leaders will be going around babbling about laser beams from outer space.

So I call on you Mumbai Citizens to come to your senses before the general election and take responsible action in the form of building a guillotine or moving to a more intelligent state…. Arunachal. This is the perfect time to do so, thanks to the grand reduction in fuel prices.

Anxiety B: The Global Meltdown and Declining oil prices.
Like many Indians I viewed declining oil prices as the first real positive side-effect of the Global Meltdown, the next being P.Chidambaram (motto: there are lapses) who was mercifully shifted from Finance to Home.
But then I started reading articles by leading nervous investment bankers saying that dropping oil prices in the global market is a very bad sign, because it causes severe hardship to the following large organisations:
a) Saudi Arabia and other oil-rich nations in the Gulf.
b) The large oil-tanker manufacturers.
c) Indian-Oil and Hindustan Petroleum which of course are Public Sector “Undertakings”
d) The tax collection department.
e) The American oil cartels.
When I read this naturally my reaction as a concerned citizen, was hahahahahahahaha.

But I am going to explain to you why we really need to be worried about the detoriating oil prices. Thus far the international economy was based on the U.S. dollar, which was trusted and respected throughout the world because the Euro had not solidified as yet, and any Third World oil-rich nation who bartered their oil for anything other than the petro-dollar was invaded and their oil scavenged off to American companies. To be fair, the value of the dollar was dependent on the investment expertise of large U.S. banks, which gave huge sums to the Arabs to lose on goat fights, rooster fights and camel races.

This system worked well till recently when U.S. banks got cocky and also began doling out huge sums of money called sub-prime mortgages, to American homeowners who DID NOT not own oil-wells.
So now the banks are stuck with unpaid mortages and a lot of oil, which they are trying to get rid of by converting to credit cards which they offer to me. I get about five credit card offers from desperate banks every day. They even offer to send someone out to deliver it and wash my car.
I don’t know about you but I am not comfortable with the global economy being dependent on my credit card purchases.

So I think we need to rework the world economy but getting banks to start selling real estate and opening car-washes, and shopping malls- which accept credit cards, to take over the banking functions, such as lending money to fund sub-prime mortages and subsequently declaring bankruptcy.

Then we can buy petrol and diesel over the counter at the pharmacy, which will be sold to wealthy Chinese investors.
And Shri.Manoos will oversee this and control it by using laser beams from outer space.

India Burning

My fellow Indian Citizens! I wrote this interesting little nugget and would like to share with all of my wonderful fans out there.

Who am I kidding, NOBODY reads this drivel.

Sad to say but a former Patriotic Indian has switched over to the "Dark Side" and has decided not to vote ever again. Always a shame when that happens.

And now for your enjoyment I proudly present:

'National (In) Security we can believe in.'

I'm not voting because I believe the government can do a better job of spending the money I earn than I would.

I'm not voting because freedom of speech is fine as long as nobody (except a radical Hindu, Muslim, Christian or a Politician) is offended by it.

I'm not voting because when we send our cricket team to Pakistan I trust that the bad guys will stop what they're doing because they NOW think we're good people.

I'm not voting because I believe that people who can't safeguard our borders from just 10 (count them on your fingers - TEN) terrorists, talk about us being a superpower and play around sending rockets to the moon.

I'm not voting because I'm not concerned about the slaughter of innocents in Mumbai and the rape and slaughter of Christian in Orissa so long as we keep the Parliament attacker death row inmate alive for political expediency.

I'm not voting because I believe that business should NOT be allowed to make profits for stockholders (provident funds, employee benefits, etc). They need to break even and give the rest away to the government as excise, income, sales and service taxes for redistribution as government bureaucrats see fit i.e. the moon rocket and the time money and energy wasted on the Indo-US Nuclear agreements.

I'm not voting because I believe three or four pointy headed “Marathi Manooses” need to rewrite the Constitution every few days to suit some kooks and goondas who would NEVER get their agendas past level-headed voters.

I'm not voting because I believe that when the terrorists don't have to hide from us over THERE, and they come over HERE (and they ALREADY HAVE!), I do not even have a cricket bat in the house to fight them off, because all the armed security being provided in the country is only for the politician.

I'm not voting because I love the fact that I can drive any way I want on the roads and not follow any rules whatsoever.

I'm not voting because I believe oil companies' accumulated losses on every litre of gas is obscene, but the GOVERNMENT TAX on gas at 19% isn't.

I'm not voting because I don't want India to look at harnessing solar, wind and alternative energy to save it’s environment from degradation, but will continue to depend on importing petroleum products, as well as allowing other countries to use our shores as dumping grounds for their toxic wastes.

I'm not voting because I want the Parliament to continue to be adjourned to avoid any vote on aam aadmi betterment programmes.

I'm not voting because I believe that 500+ people most of whom have criminal records and whom I would not hire to clean my toilet, have enough combined experience to run the whole country!! (into the ground)

I'm not voting because we need a leader like our P.M. with the charisma and wisdom that tells us that India has yet to undertake police reforms and that, “existing laws will be tightened to ensure that there are no loopholes….” also that, “the PEOPLE of India will rise unitedly to face this grave challenge….” He never mentions the politicians. Now this is wisdom.' WOW!

I'm not voting because I WANT TO PAY for bad roads, improper town and country planning, power shortages, no running tap water, pollution of my environment, no law and order, non-existent health care, poor education, reservation policies. This too, is a legacy of wisdom bequeathed by our politicians for over 60 years of independence! DOUBLE WOW!

I'm not voting because I want to pay bribes to all those corrupt babus for any public service, licences, permits, papers I might need, to carry on my daily existence as a bona fide citizen of India. TRIPLE WOW!

But mostly I'm not voting because I'm happy for anyone who makes more illegal money than me; and I expect the government to help them make more through deals like the 3G Spectrum telecom scam, so that the Swiss Banks can add to the already more than 1.5 trillion dollars squirreled away by politicians and other notorious notaries in their notoriety, from India. So that when anarchy does finally reign supreme in this fair nation, they can happily live in luxurious comfort befitting political refugees in the good ol’ US of A. DRUMROLL… BADOM BADOM TISH!

See ya at the Malegaon blast hearings next week.

Thanks for looking,

To all those who died and gave their lives in this senseless massacre in Mumbai.... the whole world weeps with me, go with God and forever rest in peace.

Real nude pictures of Sarah Palin (not)

My friend Hodishi Takanaka called me yesterday and exulted, “Hey Ken San, You know the new Presiden’ of America is Barack”. I replied,” Yes,Hidoshi San,I know and do you know that he’s also African American.” To which he said,” I tole you jus’ now he was barrack, din you heah me!’ … Ok bad joke!

I always knew that the White House needed some colour, it was too bland thus far. Worse with George Bush in residence and due to neglect in the last 8 years both the White House and America started taking on a sort of greyish-yellow hue.

The new incumbent will need to be concerned about re-decorating, I’m thinking a nice pastel green might be in order, but he would need to scrape off the accumulated gunk before even starting.

A very important issue that Obama and indeed all of us need to be concerned about is the Global Financial Meltdown, and we will get to that shortly, but first we need to discuss what happened the other day in my back yard.

It began when I was in the garage searching for toilet paper (I keep toilet paper in the garage). Suddenly Arjun, the plumber, who also doubles as a part-time gardener shouted: ''There's a snake in the bushes!'' he may have been shouting, “There’s a tiger on my tail”, but he sounded pretty excited. My immediate response was: ''No, thanks! I’ve already had breakfast!'' But he kept jumping up and down on the compound wall so I decided to remedy the situation.
What is called for, by tradition, is for The Man of the House to put down his toilet paper and take charge.

I peeked over the backyard wall, and, sure enough, there was a large yellowish-grey thing, (that did not look remotely like Dick Cheney or any other White House inhabitant), slithering around, and sneaking under a rock. This was a perfect example of why -- no matter what you hear to the contrary -- private citizens have a legitimate need for machine guns. No single-shot air gun is going to bring down a slithering snake at close range. To stop one of those babies, you need to put a LOT of firepower into its hide.

Unfortunately, the only weapon I had was a stick. You know how, in Bollywood war movies, Hrithik Roshan, when it's time to go into battle, gives out a mighty yell and charges boldly forward with his shirt off, muscles bulging and head held high? Well, that is not what I did. I reached slowly into my pocket, careful not to make any sudden movements, and taking out my secret weapon, dialled the Forest Department. Then I made gentle hissing sounds in the direction of the snake designed to assure it that not only was I harmless, but I was also willing, if necessary, to cook it some dinner.

I then grabbed the stick and turned to face the snake just in case it decided to charge, and, looking into the hole into which it had slithered, I swear I saw that it had purple fangs and eyes, which were GLOWING.

When the Forest Department guy arrived he collaborated that this snake was large. This was by FAR the largest snake I have ever encountered.

Are you familiar with the movie ''Anaconda,'' in which Jennifer Lopez is part of a National Geographic survey of the jungle to capture the largest anaconda, a group of cardboard cutouts posing as actors bite off more than they can chew and get swallowed by an over sized and very agitated snake. That sums up the film. What looked like it may have been a flop was saved by a computer graphic snake upstaging all the actors and devouring them. Unfortunately J-Lo survived since she was too glamorous to be devoured and she would have made the snake look tame by comparison by throwing a hissy fit if she was to be eaten. Well, the snake in my backyard looked like it could have used that Anaconda as dental floss.

So anyway, when the snake-catcher coolly pulled out the snake with his bare hands and told me that the 9 foot monster snake was, in fact, a shy non-venomous rat snake, I knew exactly what to do. Specifically, I yelled: ''It's a rat snake!'' This was for the benefit of the neighbours. I'm sure the snake already knew what it was.
''Oh! And don't harm it!'' I told the snake- catcher for further effect.

So there, alone in the wilds of my backyard for a space of time, armed only with a stick, I almost went head-to-head with the Godzilla Devil Snake From Yamalaya. It clearly was not afraid of me. It looked right at me from under the rock in the aggressive, confident manner of a creature that, in the wild, preys on baby water buffalo.

How well did I handle myself? I certainly don't want to blow my own trumpet.
FOREST DEPARTMENT PERSON: Kenneth was very, very brave.

I have kept the stick handy in a corner just in case of another emergency, but I feel good that I also saved a rat snake from harm by calling the Forest Department.

So now the house is quiet again. I am uneasy however. I find myself wondering: Where did that thing COME from? What if there's SOMETHING MORE out there? A killer earthworm?

I frankly don't know how anyone can think about the Global Meltdown at a time like this.

P.S. The Palin headline was a marketing gimmick to see how many more of you would be drawn to read my BlogSpot:). HIDOSHI TANAKA: Confucius say, “Sucker born every minute not rorripop(LOLLIPOP)”

Banning the Butt

Smoke get's in your eyes - No More !

Congratulations Mr. Health Minister, I’m sure there’s a Bharat Ratna in there for you somewhere, given the zealousness with which you’ve pursued and now castigate smokers in India everywhere with your ban on smoking in public places.
Don’t get me wrong like the basic theories of Karl Marx and the tenets of Communism; this in itself is a good, nay a path-breaking precept.

Here’s the problem though: I-M-P-L-E-M-E-N-T-A-T-I-O-N.

As a ranking national opinion-maker, I tried to do my part to get people to stop smoking cigarettes. Was I successful? Nope. Why? Because people are not inclined to take advice from former chain-smokers.

Yes, I confess, mea culpa, I was an addict. My first cigarette was a Cool (mentholated with an activated- carbon filter, whatever that was). Think of it! Activated- carbon filter! No way could you get cancer from a cigarette like that!

Ramesh Tamakuwala gave it to me one day behind the garage at the fag-end (sic) of my summer hols. Words cannot describe how cool, macho and mature I felt, inhaling the smoke, then exhaling it, then inhaling, then exhaling, then -- in a major display of mature macho-coolness -- lying down in the dirt and puking for the next two hours.

That was my body's way of telling me that it personally did not care for a fag. But I did not listen to my body: I was determined to become a smoker. My reasoning was the same then as it is for teenagers today: Girls go for cool guys who smoke.

Take Superstar Rajnikant and his cigarette-flip-into-the-mouth trick which made the girls go, “Wow! What a man!” or the Japanese version which went something like this, “Sugoi desu ne! Ano otoko no hito!”
I’m not kidding; Rajnikant has a huge babe following in Japan.

There’s a whole bunch of people very happy with the ban and a whole other bunch who wish the Hon’ble Health Minister had never been born. To wit: (ye olde expression which means “that is to say”)

Happy: Mr. Anbumani Ramadoss – But of course! He has assured himself a place in the history books at the very least.
Unhappy: The Chain-smoker – “Dammit it’s hot/ cold out here in the road. Hmm, never really noticed the flavor of those bus fumes before.”
Happy: The local beat cop - Rubbing his hands in glee, “I thank the Honourable Health Minister for the ban. Now I can earn the same mamool as the traffic policeman.”
Unhappy: “There goes my Food and Beverage revenues. Unless…. he he ,…unless we call the whole restaurant a smoking area except for those two tables at the back next to the kitchen.”
Happy: The Municipal Transport Department – “Hah! Good thing. Now they cannot pin-point that the pollution on roads is due to our buses and trucks.”

Unhappy: The Indian soldier lighting up on the Siachen glacier
Happy: Pakistani General on the glacier – “Be alert men. Indian soldiers will now be lighting up outdoors making them easy night-time targets for sniper fire.”
Unhappy: Walkers and joggers have cordoned off corridors in malls, airports and train stations for their daily constitutional as the open roads, parks and beaches are crammed with smokers and smouldering cigarette butts.

Unhappy: Municipal workers now demanding more wages and better health plans for cleaning up hazardous smoker waste from the roads and sidewalks (what sidewalks?) However this could become a windfall in terms of “hardship allowance.”
Unhappy: Health Authorities concerned that carcinogenic substances will now be found in seafood since there are more people puffing on the beaches, and throwing their butts into the sea.

Unhappy: Temple and Church priests worried that the smoke from agarbattis or incense may be mistaken for cigarette smoke and fines will have to be paid out of the collections.
Unhappy: Cigarette manufacturers – Their new marketing strategy: “A bottle of Scotch with every carton of cigarettes delivered free to your doorstep.”
Unhappy: The Central Revenue and Excise Departments – “ Now cigarette production will drop. There will be other pressures to increase tax revenues, can we tax breathable air? ”.
Unhappy: China is unhappy, I don’t know why but I suspect it’s got more to do with the US-India civilian nuclear agreement than the smoking ban.

From the above sample poll, as one can see, if one can count, there are more unhappy persons than happy persons. Case closed! Let's light up! That's what I did, that first time, even after hawking out my insides, and I eventually reached the point where not only did I learn to inhale smoke, and exhale it through my nostrils, but I actually needed them so badly that if I ran out of my own, late on a rainy night, I would root around in the ashtray and dustbin and smoke stale, stinking, saliva-ridden butts discarded by alcoholics I didn't even like.

Smoking Cons: It's a repulsive addiction that slowly but surely turns you into a gasping, gray-skinned, impotent, cancerous corpse- like creature, hacking up yellow gobs of toxic waste from your insides, and breathing through a tube…..

Smoking Pros: Other folk are doing it and it goes well with Chicken Kababs and Beer, but not necessarily in that order.

Of course, young smokers starting out today have years to go before you reach that level of macho-coolness and maturity that I reached when I kicked the habit and now announce to the world, “Been There, Done That.” Meanwhile, I'm sure you don't want to hear any lectures from the likes of me.

But all-in-all it’s a good plan. Darn the lights have gone out, “Can someone light a match, please!” “Oops I forgot they’re not allowed to keep matches in case someone borrows it to light his fag.”

In our next episode we will discuss the ban on … “Spitting and Peeing in Public Places and their implementation”

And finally...........