Things That Bang

A couple of days ago my elder sister told me that we incur bad karma all the time. I was skeptical; bad karma and us? We were the honest types who never did anyone wrong but she laughed and told me that we did it all the time.

I didn't pay heed to her words until today I snapped at my son. I was rude and not myself and my excuse was that I was under considerable tension over a matter of great magnitude but if this had been an adult or someone else's child interrupting my call I would not have snapped.

Thinking back I feel bad for what I did. He was polite and I was rude and he deserved as much as respect as any other human being.

It was then that it struck me that I had been a mean shrew and wasn't able to show grace under fire.

There is repentance in my heart but I think it needs to be communicated. When he gets up tomorrow morning I'm going to apologize for my rude behavior.

The wheel of karma for that moment had turned- I had hurt someone vulnerable, someone who could not fight for himself and that makes me feel ashamed.

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Though he is called the Father of the Nation but Gandhi's ashes have suffered as much neglect as his non-violence legacy in India. On the 60th anniversary of his assassination an urn of his ashes was opened on the Arabian Sea by his great-granddaughter Nilamben Parikh in Mumbai.

Hindu rites were also performed during the vesarjan. But according to Hindu traditions the soul is not at peace till all the required prayers and customs are completed but it seems his soul is stuck in a limbo.

Eleven years ago they had found an urn with Gandhi's ashes in bank locker in Orissa and now this new one. How many are lost or hoarded? Next we will hear that an urn was smuggled out of the country and lies in some rich dude's vault with the Mahatma's soul fretting over it.

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Some amazing shark pictures from a Telegraph photo essay:

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Generally we ask people whether we can take their picture. That is the polite thing to do. Some people comply and others refuse albeit rudely like Steve Jobs did to an erotica writer called Violet Blue (NSFW site) at the MacWorld Expo where she asked him if she could have a picture of him with her.

He told her she was rude and turned his back on her. She wasn't asking for him to act in a porno movie or for his SSN number but there you have it - he was as obnoxious as always and had people rolling their eyes and snicker at poor Violet's humiliation.

The story did its rounds in the online world and died, but once again the concept of invading the personal space of celebrities has made news when Quentin Tarantino bad mouthed some dude who was taking video footage without Tarantino's permission.

Tarantino, however, was rocking mad, like ten cups of coffee mad, but he did ask the guy who was taking his video what he was doing - twice. And then he lost his temper, grabbed the guy's video camera and kicked it around like one of his dysfunctional movie characters.

To tell you the truth, he reminded me of being as edgy as his character Richard Gecko in From Dusk Till Dawn, except in real life he was sane enough not to fling his coffee on the camera guy or make good of his threat of really whooping the guy's arse.

The entire episode was just not worth his while. He made his point and walked away with the video guy trailing behind him. Again, the online world was thrown in a tizzy. They agreed that taking his video was not done, but him going mental was equally ugly.

Ugly, yes and understandable too.

Violet Blue did the civilized thing of asking permission, Steve went mental anyway, Tarantino asked what the dude was doing, asked whether he could talk to him off camera and then went nutso.

See the difference? One was drunk on his Apple power and the other merely pissed that he had been caught by a rude gawker and despite his expressed wish not to be caught on camera he was still harassed and egged on to beat the camera guy up - so that the 'don't tase me bro' tees' would have been replaced with don't do me Tarantino - I'm getting ahead of myself but you get the picture.

It all comes down to Privacy and Creative Commons. The public has one set of rules for themselves where people are not allowed to take others' pictures without their knowledge, use their material or make contact without their expressed permission where as those in the limelight are considered to be public property - we gawk at them, we harass them and we even take their pictures when they are carried out in Body Bags.

Both Steve and Tarantino think they have a right to privacy and we think they are very much part of the Creative Commons. The only difference here is that we should take the middle ground and ask them - pretty please before we invade their privacy and then the ball is in their courts as to whether they give the respect back to us and stand with us and let the picture or video footage be taken or politely decline.

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Flexibull: how easily a person can switch from one line of BS to another
-------Addictionary.org

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Gigolos in India for women? BBC woke up to the fact on the 7th of January as did some Desis and some even considered it to be a relatively new phenomenon. But I snickered, the first time I saw male flesh for hire was back in 1996 when in a nightclub in Delhi my friends pointed out a group of gigolos who stood on the sidelines.

It's an old and well known practice common in Delhi and Mumbai. Sugar daddies and mommies have their toy boys and those who party at all the right places know who does who for love and who does who just to get their rocks off.

Even in those days, it  wasn't just some forty year old 'Auntyji' neglected by her husband who crawled these grounds for some male flesh. The hunters were mostly thirty-something urban women, hunting in packs. As it is, I don't consider 40 year old women to be Auntyjis. They are MILFs at the peak of their sexuality, sure of their femininity and they enjoy relative freedom from home and work to explore newer outlets to affirm their identities.

I understand why Sita got offended by one of the authors at Desimanifesto, who discussed the BBC article, and made some wild assumptions that only beady old 40ish Auntyjis wanted male attention and were willing to pay for it.

They’re older aunties. I imagine that in America, women’s sex lives extend past age 40, but in India? Somehow it never crossed my mind. They all lose their sex drives and just want to go to work, or if they’re homebodies, they want to roll rotis and bother younger women about getting married. Right? Please?

The dude was wrong on all counts. Most women in India love sex and I am not talking about the few repressed 'middle class' babes who hate sex. I am talking about those upwardly mobile women with healthy sexual appetites and also those middle aged maids doing the gardeners or the drivers. Women do have multiple sex partners - gasp as much as you like, but they do exist in our cities and villages.

To make such blanket statements shows bias of the worst sorts- that the Western women are oversexed and the Indian women are repressed prudes who dry up by the time they hit their forties.

The fact that there are women willing to pay for sex should be treated the same way as we treat men who are willing to pay for sex. Why the sudden raising of eyebrows? Doesn't it smell of old middle class Desi mendacity where we re-inforce the middle class notion that sex is just an activity indulged in to make babies and is purely a male driven need?

Going back to the Desimanifesto writer, he further commented that women paid more for companionship than sex:

Perhaps male prostitution could be a way of eroding arranged marriages altogether. These women who are hiring the gigolos are doing so for more than sex. Many want companionship at a minimum. Maybe these are the same aunties, sisters, or mothers (nasty) who advise younger females of marriageable age. Maybe their advice will be something better than what they heard, which was likely “He has a good job, so stop complaining.” Or maybe I’m just crazy optimistic (or hating a little too much on arranged relationships).

Sorry mate, none of these Auntyjis actually are the types to tell their young ones that sex is bad and then wear a see through nightie and knock on their 'studly' neighbor's door. The types who enjoy the hourly service are more likely to share the pimp's number in case the young one wants some action on the side. Women are no different from men.

In certain tourist spots such as Kenya, there are older women picking up young boys and having flings with them, but that's where it all stops. They pay the young men like they pay their hotel room bills and go back to their lives. Its a no strings attached deal and the same works in the world of prostitution where its either a biological need or a temporary fantasy.

When you pay money you know it's candy, and not Crème brûlée.

Why is it so hard for Desi men to understand that there are women who enjoy alternative lifestyles or like to live dangerously on the side?

The dude further went on to snicker:

Regardless, this particular subsection of the world’s oldest profession probably shouldn’t have surprised me. But it did. So I thought it might surprise some of you. If any of you read about police intercepting a high-roller Delhi swingers party, go ahead and send me the link. And any accompanying photos.

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There are two women we should absolutely ignore- Britney and Angelina Jolie. One can't handle her kids and the other can't have enough of them. Britney goes through men like toilet paper and Jolie for the time being is sticking to one who is indulging her obsessive hobby of collecting children.

Jolie is preggy again and this time with Brad's twins - good for them but at the same time they are still thinking of adopting more tots from the Third World countries-home spun and imported. Now why am I humming Jackson's Song- Doesn't Matter If You Are Black Or White?

Maybe its time they opened up an orphanage with ice cream parlors and Mikey Ds for those little lost souls. That way not only will they get tax breaks but we will not hound them each time they produce or shop for babies!!

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Fox News has dicks for news readers. Here is what John Gibson said about Ledger's death:

"Playing an audio clip of the iconic quote, 'I wish I knew how to quit you' from Ledger’s gay romance movie Brokeback Mountain, Gibson disdainfully quipped, 'Well, he found out how to quit you.' Laughing, Gibson then played another clip from Brokeback Mountain in which Ledger said, 'We’re dead,' followed by his own, mocking 'We’re dead' before playing the clip again."

Gibson called Ledger a "weirdo" with a "serious drug problem" and suggested that Ledger killed himself because he had "a serious position in the (stock) market" or perhaps "watched the Clinton-Obama debate last night. I think he was an Edwards guy, cause he saw his Edwards guy was just completely irrelevant."

Fox News Channel is truly a heartless demonic channel . An apology to Ledgers family is a must.

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In today's age of consumerism, the institution of marriage has seen a change in its character. While in the West the concept of falling in love and marrying is finally being superseded by marrying someone with the same bent of mind, in India as well, although the concept of arranged and love marriages still exists, within the given parameters of these two subcategories, people are looking for partners with whom they have more in common than just family approval or the pulling of heartstrings.

There was a time when television was the binding force between couples who had different tastes or had grown apart. They would watch their favorite programs together, discuss them, and get back into the daily Socialistic grind of Babu work or standing in ration lines.

With the opening up of the Indian economy in the nineties and the infiltration of cable, the Indian mind found itself leaping into the world of The Bold and The Beautiful, Santa Barbara and drinking Coke from a can.

Love marriages became as widely accepted as were arranged marriages, and people began to marry outside their caste and even communities.

The true sociological effects of the flattening of the world were finally felt in the early years of the current decade when money and power came early to the urban youth of India and along with it came the desire to possess the riches at a quicker pace.

The IPod generation of today are the children of consumerism. They are hip, suave and possess the latest gadgets, modes of transportation and have traveled abroad more frequently than their parents ever dreamed of.

The interaction between these netizens is quite unique - their values are now transaction oriented and more corporate based - the higher the position in the company the higher the salaries and level of lifestyles.

Happiness is now judged now not only in terms of materialism but the need to fit in or be with like-minded people. These are jaded youth who have seen it all at a young age and want more than just love and companionship- they want stimulating relationships within the nuclear family framework.

More and more people are heading towards what Betsey Stevenson and Justin Wolfers call hedonic marriages.

Hedonic marriage is different from productive marriage. In a world of specialization, the old adage was that “opposites attract,” and it made sense for husband and wife to have different interests in different spheres of life. Today, it is more important that we share similar values, enjoy similar activities, and find each other intellectually stimulating. Hedonic marriage leads people to be more likely to marry someone of their similar age, educational background, and even occupation.....

...the high divorce rates among those marrying in the 1970s reflected a transition, as many married the right partner for the old specialization model of marriage, only to find that pairing hopelessly inadequate in the modern hedonic marriage

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I'm no Britney fan but the hungry paparazzi reached a new low when they took pics of Britney's stained clothes. I mean c'mon, this kind of shit can and does happen to women all the time. It part of being a woman!! We bleed, we get nasty and we hate our bloated bodies for those five days every month. And whats the big deal if the girl has a little accident? It isn't as if she is popping a baby in the middle of China Town!!

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This event has spurred another topic in my mind, the odd truth that though we come to know these people by name and appearance, they are not our neighbors, nor our friends. Surely we can admire, support and mourn for those we never meet, but many of us do not know the inner personalities or insecurities of the celebrities we enjoy. Their publicity makes them ours to discuss, criticize and love, but the masses are not necessarily welcome in the hearts of Heath Ledger and his peers. Our love is not requited. So it strikes me as a little weird to feel a sense of loss for a person I've only come to know through the cinema. And yet, I still mourn him, and I still appreciate him.
----------Danny Zucker

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Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment in Manhattan on Tuesday afternoon by his masseuse. The police believe the cause of death could be drug overdose since they found scattered sleeping pills next to his body but Heath's family are denying that he was the type to take his life.

According to reports, Heath was suffering from pneumonia at the time of his death.

Heath was a versatile Australian actor and was best known for his acting in movies such as Brokeback Mountain, Patriot, Four Feathers, Monster's Ball and the much talked about movie I'm Not There as one of the six actors who play Bob Dylan.

According to Washingtonpost.com:

Some of Ledger's movies worked, and many of them did not, but all along, a viewer could sense that he went about the craft with almost too much seriousness, with pain. In almost every interview he downplayed celebrityhood, tried to deny its meaning and place in his life, shrugged the usual serious-actor shrugs -- often while lighting his cigarette, creating a mood of nonchalance. 

"I had such great hope for him," said Oscar-winning actor-director Mel Gibson. "He was just taking off and to lose his life at such a young age is a tragic loss."

"What a terrible tragedy. My heart goes out to his family," said fellow Australian actress Nicole Kidman.

American actor John Travolta, who was in Australia at the time of Ledger's death, said the young actor had been one of his favourite performers.

"His abilities are rare...it's a tremendous loss," said Mr Travolta. 

Heath's role as the Joker in the latest Batman movie The Dark Knight (yet to be released) would be an eulogy to his expertise.

In his last interview, Heath Ledger said that he felt good about dying since he lived through his daughter.

Heath is survived by a two year old daughter he had with the actor Michelle Williams.

Ledger told The New York Times in a November interview that he "stressed out a little too much" during the Dylan film and had trouble sleeping while portraying the Joker, whom he called a "psychopathic, mass-murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy."

"Last week I probably slept an average of two hours a night," Ledger told the newspaper. "I couldn't stop thinking. My body was exhausted, and my mind was still going." He said he took two Ambien pills, which worked for only an hour, the paper said.

Ledger was a widely recognized figure in his Manhattan neighborhood, where he used to shop at a home and children's store. Michelle Vella, an employee there, said she had frequently seen Ledger with his daughter — carrying the toddler on his shoulders, or having ice cream with her.

"It's so sad. They were really close," Vella said. "He's a very down-to-earth guy and an amazing father."

Other Related Articles:

Eulogy By David Thompson
TMZ Video Of Heath Legder's Body Being Carried Out
Still Mourning Heath
 

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‘Tusi Papaji de kol kyu nahi jande? O te twadi saab musibatanu finish kar de ge!’ 

(Why don't you go to Papaji? He will solve all your troubles) 

Parvinder winced when she heard her next door neighbor advice her mother-in-law.

It had been ten years to her marriage and she had yet to produce a child.

“Mrs Dhillon, tusi theekh kende ho, par Mrs Sharma te en cheezo nu nahi-“

(Mrs Dhillon, you are right but Mrs Sharma does not believe in such matters) 

“Mrs Sharma nu choro! Mere gal mano, kal Papaji de kol jaoo”

(Forget Mrs Sharma. Listen to me and go to Papaji tomorrow) 

Parvinder bit her lip but didn’t say a word. Rajesh had a low sperm count, she could be artificially inseminated but he and his mother were against it. Their macho denial had left her childless. Her eyes fell on the nail polish her thumb nail was busy chipping. All the other three fingers had perfect nail polish but not the index finger of her right hand. It was an old habit she had since she was a teenager, a habit that was a sure sign of repression; Gunjan her psychiatrist friend had told her so.

Gunjan had a brood of three children, career and home in Friends Colony. Parvinder, however, was childless and married into a business family in Patel Nagar.

“Parvinder beta, you will go with your sasu-ma tomorrow? Beta, you will have a baby I promise you.”

Mrs Dhillon touched her head, said- Jai Mata Di and headed towards the main door.

“Parvinder Beta, assi Mrs Dhillon nu see off kar de, tusi Raj nu neeche bulado.”

(Parvinder I am seeing off Mrs Dhillon please call Raj down)

Parvinder let out a sigh and buzzed the intercom.

“Ke gaal hai?” (What is it?) her husband’s annoyed voice came through. He didn’t like to be disturbed while he was playing on his X-Box

“Mummyji is calling you down.”

She heard an annoyed sigh and a click. Rajesh and she always spoke in English. He wanted a girl who spoke in English but retained the Indian sanskars - he got Parvinder.

“Ke gaal hai, ma?” (What is it, Ma?) he bellowed as he came down the stairs.

Ignoring his wife, he stepped out into the driveway and spoke to his mother. Under the flowering bougainvillea, mother and son conversed. Parvinder couldn’t hear a word but she knew what was being discussed. Tomorrow they will be going and meeting some god-man called Papaji.

*************

The morning came in all its sunny glory with Parvinder looking like a supple Punjabi in her chiffon saree. The neighborhood men turned and smiled at her fondly with a tinge of envy. She was what they could never have and her husband never appreciated her. She smiled at them cordially and they smiled back appreciating her silent grace.

Rajesh opened the door of his new Scorpio.

“Challo! C’mon Pari, get in. Ma is already sitting in the back.”

Parvinder felt a restlessness swell within the pit of her belly and it had nothing to do with the Gobi Parantha Maharaj had cooked and lovingly served her.

“Raj, I’m not too keen about this”. She muttered and felt dismayed as Rajesh’s face handsome face clouded with anger.

He walked over to her and spoke to her through clenched teeth.

“Why do you always do this at the last moment? You know ma has a weak heart. Just play along. The man will bless you and you will be back home! Now get in!”

He stalked over to the driver’s side, got in and slammed the door shut.

Parvinder sighed and got in.

“Parvinder beta, why do you worry? Don’t you want a baby? I want a grandson; a beautiful whiter than milk grandson.” Her mother in law occasionally spoke in English just to remind Parvinder that she too studied in a Convent school.

As the car sped through the West Delhi traffic Parvinder stared out.

Bitterness tasted like bile in her mouth. She was such a coward. If only she could leave this family like Gunjan kept telling her to.

They reached some obscure slummy area; she didn’t even know the name of the locality. It wasn’t important.

Rajesh pulled in front of a garish yellow colored bungalow.

“This seems to be the place.”

Mother and son stepped out of the car and walked towards the house.

Parvinder slowly stepped out.

Her phone rang.

“Hello?” She softly answered.

“Pari beta! Is that you?” an urgent female voice cackled through.

“Auntiji? yes, its me.”

“Where is Sulekhaji?”

Parvinder looked at her mother in law’s fat body standing at the bungalow’s main door while her husband rang the bell.

“We are outside Papajis”

“That’s what I thought! Don’t let her go in. Give her the phone! Jaldi!"

Parvinder ran over to the two most important people in her life.

“Mrs Sharma!” she huffed.

Mummyji took the phone.

“Hello? Romitaji?”

“Kya?” Her beady eyes flashed. Shock made her look like a cow facing a butcher’s knife.

“Wapis challo! Abhi!” ( We have to go! Now)

She switched off the cellphone, grabbed her son’s arm and hurried towards the car.

Parvinder followed, puzzled. Something had happened but what?

“What happened Mummyji?” She asked. She had never seen her mother in law so mad.

“That woman has a lot to answer for.”

“Who ma?” Rajesh looked at his fuming mother in the rearview mirror as he backed out of the parking spot.

“That Dhillon woman sent us over to a Tantrik!”

Parvinder suppressed the hysterical laughter that bubbled and threatened to spill out.

“WHAAAAAT?” Rajesh braked; turned and started at his mother. He was spitting mad.

“Niklooooo! Move from here; I will tell you.” His mother pleaded.

“Ma! Tell me!” He yelled back.

His mother began to fret.

“Gossip has it that not only is he a Tantrik but he is the father of Mrs Dhillon’s grandson.”

“KYA?! What are you saying Ma?”

“Arree!” She was annoyed “You know Satish is very pansy. Rumor is his kid-

“I’ve heard enough! Ma- you should be more careful. Any Tom or Jerry tells you something and you believe it and..."

"Beta! Don't talk to me like that. I am your-" 

Rajesh drove past a yellow clad man who had stepped out of the garish yellow house. Neither the mother, nor the son saw him. But Parvinder saw him and saw the man’s puzzled expression.

Rajesh was furious; his mother pleading and as they fought in the speeding Scorpio, Parvinder closed her eyes and fell asleep in the passenger seat.

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Links to tantalize your brain cells. Mine need sleep and then some Saturday Sunshine:

Comic Book Sex Symbols- Sizzling hot and well written

Top Ten Anime- If you like anime worth reading

The new JeJoue SaSi "personal massager" for babes- NSFW demo included. Weird but two thumbs up for those who want that sexy feeling 24/7

The Jesus Manga- Angry dude with compassion worn on his sleeves

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“Fuck….Fuck ….FUCK!!!” she switched off the cell phone and stared out of the passenger window of the Nano. She felt every bump and every pothole. This wasn’t how she had figured her date would be. The creep from ShaadiBharat.com smiled at her painfully. Things could not have gone more wrong. She was a high flying Vice President working for a Wall Street bank, and he was the owner of a fleet of Nanos. But he looked nothing like a Nano. He looked like a hairy Gorilla shortshifting the gears. A Gorilla in a Nano; no, she saw no reason to smile; her mother wanted her to marry the Gorilla.

She could imagine him pawing her nude body; gawd, she'd rather he wringed her
neck and squeezed the very breath out of her body. The headline would read Murdered by a Gorilla under the Hosur Elevated Highway.

“Trouble at work?” He asked

She sighed and looked at him. He was no Gorilla, more like a stuffed Elephant and she was his ugly passenger, the Olive in need of saving by Popeye. But Popeye had left her for his luscious secretary.

“My boyfriend jilted me for his secretary.” She replied abruptly.

“Wow” he shifted on the small seat. “So, was this before or after you looked up guys on ShaadiBharati.com?”

She grinned; the Elephant had an imp’s mind.

“My mom did the looking. I was blackmailed into meeting men.”

“A thirty five year old had mommy doing the leg work for her? Tut…tut.” He winked at her.

“And you are a forty year old man driving a Nano. What does that say about you?”

He guffawed.

“That I am a loser?” He avoided a cow that was sitting in the middle of the road and smoothly drove in and out of a line of rickety rackety colorful Indian trucks.

“These babies are my bread and butter.” He patted the steering wheel.

“I own fifteen of them. All prospective candidates have to sit in one of my babies at least once. Instead of three wheelers, people use these little angels of mercy and my wife must know I’m not doing it for money alone”

“Angels of mercy my ass! Literally my ass- it hurts! The seats are uncomfortable, there is no leg space, even a bullock cart seems to move faster than this and the engine sounds like a cat in heat!” She snorted

“Oh! You are such a whiny bitch! Were you like this with your recent ex as well?”

He smiled at her devilishly and in the passing shadows of road lights he looked more like a rogue lion than a goofy elephant.

She felt something unfurl in her mind. He was hot!

“Only when I am bought in touch with poverty for altruistic reasons”

His spluttered, coughed and cleared his throat.

“That was hitting below the belt ! Sugar daddy kept you well, did he now? Furs and Mercedes?”

“Gawd, you Indians don’t think beyond a Mercedes. And, no, he drove a Ferrari. Can you imagine a Ferrari in Manhattan? The man was a real moron.”

“Why were you with him? BTW, that glitzy mall is called Forum. We have lots of them mushrooming up.” He pointed to the mall and accelerated. The road was empty and the car strained at 70km/hr

“I was with him for his money.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t believe me?”

He shrugged

“He was sexy, intelligent, charismatic, powerful and wasn’t intimidated by-“

“Your –I am a bitch persona?”

“And what about your – 'I am so horny' net persona?”

“Oh, that I put on to keep women away.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“What? You think only you have a mother?” he smiled sheepishly “She wants me to get married as well and you did fall for it”

She laughed and relaxed against the seat or tried to.

“Tata should export these seats to Guantanamo Bay to torture inmates.” she said.

“You are a Democrat, I take it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Hillary supporter?”

“Yes. Is this going somewhere? Next you will call me an anti-men feminist.”

“Only because you are on a rebound; nothing to do with Hillary.”

She gasped.

“Are you a virgin?” She asked switching tactics.

“That’s a personal question.”

She stared at his profile, his nose looked hawkish.

“You know I’m not one, its your turn to tell me.”

“At forty you expect me to be one?”

She shrugged “It isn’t strange among desi men. Some die virgins.”

“How do you know? You have lived all your life in the US.”

“My dad was a desi.”

“But he wasn’t a virgin, right?”

“Was your dad a virgin before he met your mom?”

“Now you don’t expect me to ask my aged father that?”

“I’ll ask him if we get married. How’s that? I could never ask my dad, he died when I was child. I’ll ask yours.”

“I won’t put it past you. But we’d have to be pretty familiar before we could even think about marriage.” He replied pulling into the driveway of the Taj.

She held up her room card and smiled

“There is only one way to find out.”

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The Utah governor's newly adopted daughter-Asha Huntsman with her loving family. Put a big smile in all our hearts:) via ultrabrown.com

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Sometimes I wonder why people choose to ignore the orbs on pictures they put online. Going through strangers family pics on flicker one sees lengthy snooze worthy commentaries about their family get together, the lush environment but not one word about the orb dancing on Aunt Dixie's ample boob or over Cousin Roger's head.

What would get regular people to say- Hey look a crystal orb?

Maybe one over a dead relative's head in an open casket? But then who takes pictures of the dead on their wake or just before the body is burned?

To some orbs are just dust particles and others call them angels. Whatever they be I found myself looking at the ones around Katie Holmes and the one on the black dude's coat; yeah the dude with the pursed kissy lips;)

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Are Americans Really That Stupid? - For more funny videos, click here

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I have nothing against daddies playing rough with their kids but there are always mommies lurking around saying- Hey! thats enough! Put that kid down! No, he ain't a frisbee !! Now Shaun! or so help me gawd if you hurt one hair on my kid's head I will KILL YOU!!

The father chuckles, so does the little one, the bonding session is completed and the mother ends up looking like a party pooper.

The video on a mock Kungfu fight between a father and his two toddler sons left me flabbergasted. It seemed fun, the kids knew the moves, the dad knew his stuff but when he started flipping his kids around and kicking them I lost what little humor I saw in it and wanted to dial the social services number.

I know it was all in fun but those kids were too young to be 'mock' kicked around. What if they began to kick other kids at tot parties or on play dates for real?

Preston!! Why did you kick little Mickey? Who taught you this kind of stuff?

Daddy does it to us all the time!!

Won't be long before some irate belligerent mommy comes knocking on their peaceful suburban door.

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When love turns sour its best to destroy gifts, love letters and the sex videos. An Italian dude instead of destroying a sex videos he made with his ex-girlfriend gave it back to her. She sued him! Why?

The woman had agreed to the man using a video camera to project live images of them having sex on to the bedroom wall, but did not know he was recording the action.

The 49 year old dude got four months of prison time for it but thankfully for him he was acquitted when the Supreme Court ruled that there was nothing wrong with making secret sex videos with one's sex partner.

Huh? Come again?

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Kensei has his eyes on you!

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Adnan Ghalib is planning on making a recording studio, get some leather couches, hookahs and has made a mental note not to keep any guns in or around the harem. Why? If we are to believe rumors being aired in Pakistan Britney wants to marry Adnan, convert to Islam and end her kitty/titty flashing days.

Rumors tend to be bizarre but Britney turning to Islam is way out there. Sure, prison mates convert all the time, find spiritual anchorage and leave the life of deviancy behind but a wild filly like Brits who acts like character right out of a tattered 90's Jackie Collins novel could never hang her bikini and wear a burkha (no pun intended here- you naughty- you!), she thrives on the world attention too much despite her - leave me alone protests.

She needs her drugs, her parties, her flimsy clothes and her little pooch. Maybe a part of her knows she is spiraling way out of control but if she converts, marries Dodi Al Fayed she will give the Queen nightmares till the end of her days and the sun will set on the British Empire.

Er....I think I got my stories mixed up but Rose O'Donnel recently compared Britney to Diana not because of the pets men they kept but the hounding by the paparazzi:

I remember the tunnel as it appeared on the news, lit by headlights, flashlights, red lights. Between the cement tall pillars was a heap of twisted metal. I saw it then, and I can see it now. Diana dead.
She will be trying to get away, but they will chase her, just as they chased her into that church yesterday. There were dozens of them, jostling their way into sanctuary, elbowing past each other, just to creep closer to her. Even her last-minute, folded-hand prayers can’t be kept sacred. There can be no silent moments in a crowd; no silence, and no secrets.

All this fresh, painful frailty costs her so much, but it lines their pockets very well. A kings ransom was paid for those tabloid-ready cheap shots of her with messy hair, tear-soaked eyes, and the half-smile of a desperate baby girl.

“I’m scared,” she told them yesterday, when they later mobbed her at court. “Move back,” she said. “I’m scared. Stop it. Stop it. I want to get back in the car. Just stop it. Let me get in the car, please.”
Sometimes it really is too much. Internal wires cross. Anxiety hits. Panic sets in the heart. Dread. Fear.

And death; Rosie seemed to have missed that. One is dead and the other seems to be heading towards it - fast. Maybe thats why the rumors are there. Maybe Rosie tapped into our collective psyche and wrote the post as a kind of a doomsday prophesy after all what will the world be without our dear Britney in it?

People in the online world are already talking about it. There is a nasty site called - whenisBritneygoingtodie.com that will give the winner who successfully predicts her death a PS3. Point is- they are expecting her to die soon since a PS3 in another ten, okay lets be nice, in another twenty years would be junk.

Obviously its a nasty thing to do but the net tends to reflect what we think whether its politically correct or not. Let's face it if Britney converts and goes into recluse it will be a living death but knowing Brits she rather go down with a bang than a whimper.

Whatever be her problems she ain't gonna become part of some rich dude's zannanah, more like a sex slave or a .... time to go wash my mouth with soap and get my mind out of the gutters;)

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"Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs."
-------------Chistopher Hampton

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Hobnobbing with writers is always interesting and more so with journalists, not only do they know their shit but they think they know it better than others even better than their own fellow journalists. Given the kind of arrogance those working for print media suffer from it doesn't come as a surprise that they absolutely, fiercely, hate bloggers.

Sure, they hide behind excuses such as lack of style, poor grasp of language, grammar, copy pasted content ..yada... yada ...yada but the point is online self publishing has broken their monopoly over information and how it is interpreted. Not only do they find themselves competing with the very people who read them but in their scramble to be 'in' with the times many have lost direction.

Take Times Of India for example- the neo-liberal shyat that they seem to be hankering over may make the BPO youth think that with economic empowerment they can make a difference in today's world but in the blogging sphere most are cynical folks - the ones who are popular are well articulated, nasty as ever and do not spare those they think are deviating from the truth or the done protocols.

With their hard hitting commentaries on just about anything under the sun , they have provided more globalized sources of information, more out of the box, creative means of entertainment which the newspapers in their old mammoth structures are unable to adapt to.

Unable to beat the blogging phenomena papers such as TOI tried to join the blogging phenomena and failed miserably. They tried to appeal to the new generation and while some fell prey to it- those yet to be bitten by the virtual living , the wise ones laughed it off.

So what is it that newspapers don't get? According to Hugh McGuire it isn't the presenting of information that is important but the selection of it that does the trick.

For newspapers, you might say the same thing: news articles and columns are just metadata associated with the newspaper. But the real value a newspaper performs is not giving me good articles, it's putting it all together. The mere provision of information is worthless now, because anyone can do it (even me).

This is why blogs -- at least in the techno-intelligencia -- win. Blogs are excellent selectors of information, while newspapers are pretty clunky at it -- because for the past 300 years they existed in an ecosystem where information was scarce. Now information (and access to it) is abundant. So a site like BoingBoing becomes one of the most popular on the net: their craft is not providing information, it's selecting it. And they're good at it.

And given the huge overabundance of information on the web, we need all the help we can get in selecting. So newspapers need to work harder at providing that service, bringing that core skill (which they have always had -- the Editor is the God of the newspaper) to bear on the web. Take down their stupid registration systems, put up a decent web site, and get on with things and stop whining.

But something tells me even when the stop whining they won't be able to keep up with the online world. Incidentally the new Mint newspaper is awesome and far better than TOI and even Deccan Herald.

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The latest issue of Marie Claire had me in splits this month. Between the serious story of a woman selling her kidney to fund her husband's rickshaw to models sporting Gucci, Chanel and Versace bags my mind couldn't comprehend the kind of women they were trying to reach, initially.

The article about Esha Deol, the Gayatri Mantar on her back and her pseudo strike against the conservative sections of society was a tok