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 token read for the upwardly mobile career woman, the one on the rickshaw owner's wife for the tear jerking effect but the most offensive one was on a couple of womens perception of their body shapes.

Two babes were fat and others were scrawny and liked being thin whereas the fat babes tried to work around their fat by enhancing other characteristics. The psychiatrist who observed their drawings of themselves had some interesting things to say but the most offensive one was where she said that the ones with weight issues could hide their imperfections with high end accessories.

High end Accessories? I spluttered coffee all over my knock off D&G bag, was she a real psychiatrist or just a tout, a mind predator hired by Marie Claire to brain wash readers?

A few pages down the endorsed designer clothes, shoes, bags, cosmetics had me chuckling. All I could think was of my fat being ignored if I had all the above on me; why, even if Jabba The Hut pranced down Manhattan wearing all that glitzy expensive stuff no one would notice he was a lard of alien flesh.

Fat is fat. Its bad for the body and there is no getting around the issue, heck its bad for your back, knees and feet. But that wasn't the point made by the magazine, instead of saying- hey you are beautiful despite your weight but hit the gym for your heart; they took the other route-you can remain fat just make our sponsors happy- pretty please and that will not only keep our magazine afloat but pay for this female version of Dr Phil we have hired.

Reading feminine magazines is actually good for one's self -esteem. They no longer are subtle in their placements- one has to be skinny and 'Gauri Khan' rich to be 'in' with times. Yeah, nothing wrong with being a housewife but here is the catch even she tours Italy for her designer bags. 

That was Vogue's not so subtle message - one can be a housewife but to gain respect in the working world the housewife has to have super expensive designer tastes.

Another way of looking at magazines such as Marie Claire and Vogue could be that these aren't meant for us middle class women but for socialites, for women who do tour Italy for Versace, Paris for Chanel and not for us who pick up Hideout bags and feel kicked. Its for socialites who are jet setters, women with the world under their feet who run charities for the poor (here comes in the Kidney story) to give their lives 'deeper' meaning.

Women magazines are vomit material. They try to package the same shit - consumerism under the garb of feminism whereas it is nothing more than shameless pimping for products. The way I see it even Playboy, Debonair are better- at least they don't hide what they are trying to sell.

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Are those running anti-Castro Camps in US terrorists? What does Bush have to say about Alpha 66?

Plans to attack Cuba are constantly being hatched in South Florida. Over the years militant exiles have been linked to everything from downing airliners to hit-and-run commando raids on the Cuban coast to hotel bombings in Havana. They've killed Cuban diplomats and made numerous attempts on Castro's life.

But, other than an occasional federal gun charge, nothing much seems to happen to most of these would-be revolutionaries. They are allowed to train nearly unimpeded despite making explicit plans to violate the 70-year-old U.S. Neutrality Act and overthrow a sovereign country's government. Though separate anti-terror laws passed in 1994 and 1996 would seem to apply directly to their activities, no one has ever been charged for anti-Cuban terrorism under those laws. And 9/11 seems to have changed nothing. In the past few years in South Florida, a newly created local terrorism task force has investigated Jose Padilla and the hapless Seas of David cult, and juries have delivered mixed reviews, but no terrorism charges have been brought against anti-Castro militants. The federal government has even failed to extradite to other countries militants who are credibly accused of acts of murder. Among the most notorious is Luis Posada Carriles, wanted for bombing a Cuban jet in 1976 and Havana hotels in 1997. It is, perhaps, a testament to the power of South Florida's crucial Cuban-American voting bloc -- and the political allegiances of the current president.

Killing diplomats, blowing up hotels and hatching assassination plots against the head of State does not constitute acts of terrorism? The Alpha 66 say - they don't want to kill citizens and they are doing it to free their country for their children and grandchildren, fighting for liberty just like Americans did.

They don't want to be equated with the terrorists in Afghanistan and Pakistan but the depths are murky.

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Sanity calms but madness is more interesting.
--------John Russell

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Sex links worth checkin' and no there ain't no NSFW stuff; I can feel your disappointment but worth reading-

Sex And Your Favorite Candidate

Sex Stats After Babies

Sex And Online Single Babes

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I found this guy via Sepia Mutiny, his name is Sudhir Khandelwal and he is a psychiatrist staying in Antarctica. And he has some fantastic experiences to share:

The static current is a funny problem here. I don't remember if I ever wrote you people about it. Being near the pole, our body develops static current due to movements in closed areas, working in labs with equipments having magnets or electro-magnets, or wearing clothes containing synthetic fibres like nylon etc. The problem gets worse during winter when members are confined indoors most of the time

Obviously people can't be zapping each other but it does tend to happen:

It gives a shock to the other people which is audible at a distance; while one is wincing with that momentary shock all other burst into laughter. I too have a one or two pieces of garments that generate more charge than others; esp., my favourite front open black sweater.

Its awesome that Sudhir is sharing his extraordinary experiences with us and this makes his blog unique and addictive.

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Scantily clad female celebs are forever talked about. Whether they have great bodies or not, most gossip sites love to expose their peaches and cream, sometimes freckled, with aging cellulites for our viewing pleasure. We scrutinize the babes and pass our high handed insensitive judgments, but rarely do people talk about the physique of male celebs. So here is my list of male celebs I rather not see nekkid.

Jack Nicholson He is old, swarthy, has hanging boobies and is grossly overweight. Yes, I know he is a very talented dude, a Hollywood icon but for all his charisma and winning smile he no longer can aspire to be a hot pot.

Tom Cruise The last time I found Tom somewhat hot was in the movie Interview With The Vampire. Anne Rice didn’t want him to act as Lestat but even though he did play the part well, he did not radiant that simmering sexual heat that the centuries old vampire wore naturally. Maybe it was because Tom Cruise was never perceived to be sexy despite Top Gun . Some still consider him to be hot but he definitely did not look sexy in Lions For Lambs

Tom Hanks I am a big fan of Tom Hanks, but let’s face it he doesn’t make hearts flutter instead he reminds us women of a father figure we can easily rely upon to baby sit our children.

He has a charming smile, pleasing personality and reminds us of that makes America so wonderful- 4th of July, baseball, Chicago deep pan pizzas, the Christmas, the malls, just about anything but nothing to do with sweat and sex.

Amitabh Bachchan His hotness died with the bygone 70s. People still look at his old movies like Sholay, Deewar, Naseeb, Shaan, Silsila etc and say- Now that’s what a man should be like and I say- that was what the man was like. With him well into his 60s he can only aspire to be a hot property with people of his own generation. Sure, we all enjoyed the movie – Cheeni Kam and his performance was remarkable along with that of Tabu and Parash Rawal but thankfully the audience was not exposed to any intimate scenes between the romantic couple. Amit Saab is too old to shed his shirt and I think he knows it.

Anil Kapoor Anil Kapoor reminds me of Balu the Bear. He is goofy and has a gorgeous smile but is in dire need of getting his body waxed. Now, don’t get all offended. I know there are women who like to lay their heads on fur hairy chests but his reminds me of an Amazon jungle. I quite sure his wife must have pulled out a jaguar from that hairy infestation;)

Matt Damon- He was a positively scrumptious dude in his earlier movies but now he reminds me of a family man enjoying Barbecue Sunday or guzzling down beer and belching in front of the TV. He didn’t make my heart race in any of the Bourne films, although his acting was exemplary and the movie superb.

Tommy Lee I never understood what Pamela Anderson saw in the man. I have nothing against Tattoos. On certain bodies like – The Rock’s they look positively scrumptious but on Tommy they seem like pathetic excuses trying to glamorize a wretched body. She probably went for his personality. No? I guess it was the dong.

Dick Cheney Talking about dongs, we all remember the ‘Dick’ picture of Cheney and the impact it had on our psyches
but none of us genteel ladies once called him a – have to have man despite his…er….enhanced …er.. member.

Elijah Wood The Lord of The Rings somehow de-sexed Frodo. He is cute guy but whenever I see those remarkable eyes I see the Shire, the ring, the misery, manic depression and a hobbit- the size of a twelve year old carrying the world’s fate on his shoulders no different from Jesus. With that kind of a divine status how can anyone have fantasies about him?

Daniel Radcliffe He is a teen heartthrob but to me is a Potter; a kid with immense acting abilities. He is growing to be a strapping young man with budding acting abilities but he isn’t fodder for older women.

Shah Rukh Khan Dard e Disco blinded me!! I got slammed by people for hating SRK’s new sculpted look but I preferred his regular bod to the new ‘I gotta look like John Abraham’ look. I’m still nursing my wounds from the online lynching I went through, but in a last feeble attempt to keep Freedom of Speech going I’d still say- he the one dude who should never ever take his shirt off!!

Naveen Andrews Whenever this dude takes off his shirt, I think of Kama Sutra and get all embarrassed. Yeah, I know I am all grown up and all but he exudes so much sexuality that when he enters a room all the electrical gadgets explode. Thankfully in Planet Terror he kept his clothes on and didn’t have me swooning;)

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Games like Grand Theft Auto may not be legally available in India soon. Video game players may shrug this off since most aren’t dumb enough to buy legal games when pirated ones are available at less than half the cost of their legal brethren.

The point though is, who wants the Indian government to play au pair to our children? Mrs Pataudi reportedly bought her grandkid a Sony PSP, and helped him get a game he had been wanting for ever from the US and let him merrily hack away on his PSP without blinking an eyelid. But once the lady realized the game, Jigsaw Killer, was banned in UK, she decided to act as Bharat Mata and drafted a proposal to censor and regulate the kind of games that enter into the Indian market.

And now the government will debate over this matter .

This does not come as a surprise to most of us. Censorship comes easy to our politicians. Ban pornography, ban books, ban people (at least rap them on the knuckles and say  I told you so as they did to Taslima and Hussain) and become the custodians of Indian morality.

The anti-obscenity law could easily have stifled the creative spirit in India but Indians, being enterprising folks, always find ways of getting what isn’t legally available; pornography, books, movies, electronics and even video games are easily available even in the smallest towns of India.

As with Internet usage, parents need to make their own informed decisions as to which games their kids get to play.

In fact, video games can be great bonding activities between parents and their children and I have frequently seen fathers come with their kids to the local pirates and buy games for their children after much entertaining discussions.

Does censorship really work in India or is it just a paper tiger? 

Since when have we let these Bollywood actors and socialites dictate what the citizens of India can or cannot do? Maybe it’s time Mrs Tagore sorted out her own house, paid more attention to the kind of games her grandkids played especially when the games have big letters saying MA printed on them instead of urging the government to baby sit the nation’s children at the expense of the tax payers hard earned money.

Why should others pay for her blatant ignorance and negligence? 

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The Seinfelds have been sued for vegetable plagarism by Missy Chase Lapine:

The suit, filed by cookbook author Missy Chase Lapine, claims Jessica Seinfeld copied her own book that explores how to sneak healthy foods into kids' diets. It also accuses the top comedian of embarking on a "slanderous attack" against Lapine on U.S. national television shows.

Jessica's Seinfeld's book, "Deceptively Delicious: Simple Secrets to Getting Your Kids Eating Good Food," was published by Harper Collins in 2007 six months after Lapine's book "The Sneaky Chef: Simple Strategies for Hiding Healthy Foods in Kids' Favorite Meals," the suit said.

Last time I looked in the cooking section in the library all the cook books looked the same to me. I thought all parents cooked the veggies into the pizzas, grated them into sandwiches or yanked open their mouth and shoved all the boiled mashed veggies down their throats while hollering dire threats of tot roasting being the next dish on the menu.
Now did I steal someone's ideas? The concept of tot roasting is definitely not mine, more like borrowed from Hansel and Gretel.

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The pleasures of being in the company of Roman men was not lost on Lindsay Lohan. She eat blew dated ok..'did' three men in a matter of 24 hours clearly and thereby lived up to her reputation of being a wild filly up for a game with any handsome Italian, not American, stud that she'd bang into during her 'Roman Holidays.'

One heartbroken Italian stud Alessandro Di Nunzio spilled a bit of Jesus magnificent juice about Lohan:

"Lindsay was very, very good and surprisingly experienced. She wanted to do everything, every position. She was extremely flexible and adventurous. Naked, she took my breath away. Lindsay is stunning. Her body is absolutely perfect. Flawless. She had an all-over golden tan and a few tattoos. On her right wrist was the word Breathe. She joked it was to remind her to keep breathing. That made me think she was pretty fragile.”

Fragile? Not when she is able to hook up with three different hulks on the same day.

Breathe? Yeah, that I get- if there are three men pounding ya then ya better remember to breathe and not drop dead when your vagina finally hangs out with exhaustion.

Related Articles: European Men Are So Much More Romantic Than American Men

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Report: American Schools Trail Behind World In Aptitude Of Child Soldiers

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Pissing off Christ and the Hindu pantheon requires balls of steel;)

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It was just another day at the Kolkata race course, sunny, breezy and warm enough for me to lose my inhibitions and walk into the area where people placed their bets with the bookies. There were men all around and before my instincts could kick into gear I was grabbed- by the shoulders and moved.

I turned and looked at an old dude who moved past and thought- ok! that was for a first for me. A few seconds later I was grabbed again by the shoulders and moved by yet another old dude who smiled and said- You are in the way.

No butt pinching, no deliberate bumping, rubbing or general nasty molestation type behavior happened. People behaved as civilized people should despite the fact that there were people of all strata. There was a certain high in the air, some may call it a gambling high but in general it seemed as if people were there to admire horse flesh not female flesh.

I won two bets, had some spicy oily pav bhaji and felt quite congenial towards the men who came to gamble. Funny, I am safer at the race course than at the temples where butt pinching is the done norm.

Related Articles: The Mumbai Outrage
Men Quizzed Over Mumbai Assault

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Cuckoos aren't the only tricksters of nature getting others to take care of their fledglings. The Alcon blue butterfly larvae to get ants to take care of them.

"They mimic the surface chemicals that the ants have on their own brood¿ and we've been able to show that the closer that mimicry, the faster they get picked up by ants and taken back to the ant nest and put amongst their own brood," he told the magazine's podcast.

"Once they are there, they become highly virulent parasites: they eat some of the brood and they will also get fed by the worker ants, and get fed in preference to the ants' own brood."

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I'm back from Kolkata but still in holiday mood. The city was cold and smoggy. The company, food, bookshops awesome. I missed going to Flury's but gorged on all the famous Kolkata Chaats, bought some clothes, pirated CDs, slept like a log and partied like a crazy animal.

The music scene is shitty in Kolkata. People still listen to all the crappy pop 90's and early 2000 music. All shitheads spoiling the ambiance of Tantra, Underground and other nightclubs with their - papa don't preach kinda of music. The entire night scene was so wacked out that I remained sober through out hence the malicious anger against the people of Kolkata for their mediocre taste in Western music.

Club culture still going strong, went to Saturday club and Bengal club, didn't get to go to Tolly. Ah well, between all the clubbing, lazy book reading, going to the Race Course, midnight gambling with family I kind of got used to the 'Raj' lifestyle of Kolkata's rich.

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