The world is inhabited by a large number of semi-civilized that are completely unaware of the phrase "agree to disagree". This phrase is used by the open-minded citizens of the developed world to avoid any potential conflict by killing the argument in the embryo itself. One popular dictionary suggests the meaning of this phrase as "setting aside irreconcilable differences to maintain a civil dialogue." I am yet to see this definition in practice, though. What I have usually (meaning, every time) seen is more like "I don't care what you are saying -- should we change the topic," which is fine as long as we are talking about Joe-the-plumber's grandma's intentions of flirting with the teenage teller at the coffee shop around the corner. But, if we are having a formal discussion about an issue that, perhaps, affects both of us (Joe-the-plumber and teenage-teller's redneck dad, that is), should one of us run away saying, "OK, we both agree to disagree?"
That is just not fair -- Asok-the-Indian-from-Dilbert-strip was anticipating an entertaining bout in the coffee shop. He is so disappointed. Definitely, not fair. Following his desi demeanor, Asok jumped right into the argument and took Joe's side. He knows neither of the two guys, but he has lots of opinions to share. He does not agree to disagree, he disagrees to agree. His physique and past record suggest that he is a peace-loving guy.
"Then, why disagree?"
Well, he believes in the philosophy that people, at first, speak out statements that are commonly agreed upon (e.g., its good to exercise), which have zero intellectual content. When you engage in a passionate (not necessarily heated) argument, the involved parties might divulge things/beliefs that might add to the other person's knowledge, if not change their opinion. Oh! I forgot they have another phrase for this -- "devil's advocate". That makes Joe-the-plumber or Joe-the-plumber's grandma a devil. Asok did not mean to do that as his religion (religious mythology) does not support an entity called devil. And he has no feelings for lawyers.
Witnessing Asok's ardent vindications from a distance and sipping milk-deprived coffee, Mike (Asok's "friend," an American) commented, "Asok, are you one of those people who never change their opinion?"
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Patel-hood or Patel-ing
Living in denial is one thing I have always denied, and denying the denial of such a realization is pretty hard for me to deny. I think it was the movie "Batman Begins" that encouraged me to deny these denials and "embrace the worst of my fears" i.e. the true self identity of being a Patel-at-heart. As is written in the ancient scriptures -- recently discovered under the ruins of Pateljodaro -- a person is not made Patel, he/she is born Patel. Neither does aab-e-shamsham exist, nor does a magic spell hide in the libraries of Hogwarts that can instill Patelhood in an unworthy soul. It is just a God-given gift (I can unequivocally assert that God is/was/will be a Patel too).
My mind is currently so overwhelmed with the joy of Patelitiousness that I have forgotten the actual description of this stature. Although the English (Oxford, Webster, etc.) dictionary does not have a word to capture its true meaning, there is one word (and its variations with additional adverbs such as "super") that comes close to approximating its meaning and that is "Awesome".
Doubletongued.com made a futile and disgraceful yet pioneering attempt at capturing the essence of Patelhood by (indirectly) describing a prominent characteristic of a Patel -- Patel shot. Pateling (as some call it) is not only about standing in front of an ugly depiction of French promiscuity (read Statue of Liberty) or an architectural disaster that looks like a limping male genitalia (read Leaning Tower of Pisa). Neither is it about capturing on film / in bits poses such as Hercules lifting a giant Redwood tree covered with fecal matter of numerous wild animals, and Obelix standing on the Maid of the Mist and drinking the magic potion composed of hundreds of American- and Canadian- diarrhea (well, unofficial sources confirm that 82.34 percent of it is composed of the droppings of the proud Patel pilgrims).
Pateling is not about all this. It is about a deep cognizance of an unbearable lightness of being and, of course, the heaviness of such lightness. It is about embarrassing yourself in front of other Patels and non-Patels, not only without acknowledging the humiliation, but to take pride in defacing the self. It is more like a well-clad chimp tearing off the raiment to rags and bare off unsightly flesh covered with scattered lumps of hair. Disgusting, isn't it? Not really.
To a fellow female Patel, such a sight is no less than a mating call. The pheromones hidden in the murky armpits (of a male Patel) drive her crazy, making her indulge in similar (seemingly) foolish activities -- posing while kissing a shark inside a water-tank in an aquarium, gulping a setting sun, or holding Eiffel Tower on her palm -- all in the name of her foolhardy love for a Patel. My advice to such ladies -- "Stop doing this! Seriously. Believe me, deep down (both figuratively and literally) a male Patel is still a male. So go back to the desirable pics of hugging and kissing your girl-friends, if you choose to stay PG-13."
PS. Another posting with a categorization of Patels is coming shortly!
My mind is currently so overwhelmed with the joy of Patelitiousness that I have forgotten the actual description of this stature. Although the English (Oxford, Webster, etc.) dictionary does not have a word to capture its true meaning, there is one word (and its variations with additional adverbs such as "super") that comes close to approximating its meaning and that is "Awesome".
Doubletongued.com made a futile and disgraceful yet pioneering attempt at capturing the essence of Patelhood by (indirectly) describing a prominent characteristic of a Patel -- Patel shot. Pateling (as some call it) is not only about standing in front of an ugly depiction of French promiscuity (read Statue of Liberty) or an architectural disaster that looks like a limping male genitalia (read Leaning Tower of Pisa). Neither is it about capturing on film / in bits poses such as Hercules lifting a giant Redwood tree covered with fecal matter of numerous wild animals, and Obelix standing on the Maid of the Mist and drinking the magic potion composed of hundreds of American- and Canadian- diarrhea (well, unofficial sources confirm that 82.34 percent of it is composed of the droppings of the proud Patel pilgrims).
Pateling is not about all this. It is about a deep cognizance of an unbearable lightness of being and, of course, the heaviness of such lightness. It is about embarrassing yourself in front of other Patels and non-Patels, not only without acknowledging the humiliation, but to take pride in defacing the self. It is more like a well-clad chimp tearing off the raiment to rags and bare off unsightly flesh covered with scattered lumps of hair. Disgusting, isn't it? Not really.
To a fellow female Patel, such a sight is no less than a mating call. The pheromones hidden in the murky armpits (of a male Patel) drive her crazy, making her indulge in similar (seemingly) foolish activities -- posing while kissing a shark inside a water-tank in an aquarium, gulping a setting sun, or holding Eiffel Tower on her palm -- all in the name of her foolhardy love for a Patel. My advice to such ladies -- "Stop doing this! Seriously. Believe me, deep down (both figuratively and literally) a male Patel is still a male. So go back to the desirable pics of hugging and kissing your girl-friends, if you choose to stay PG-13."
PS. Another posting with a categorization of Patels is coming shortly!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Working hard? You must be an Elitist.
Every time an election occurs, in any part of the world, be it the house painted in an insipid color, or a group of apathetic people deciding on their representative to a position ineffectual in every facet imaginable, the post-election discussion is overwhelmed by opinions such as, "I think she is smarter in general, but he is more suitable for this post." I wonder if that implies that this post requires/deserves an upper bound on the smartness of candidates. And the suitability of such a candidate (for the post in question) is determined through an equally-weighted, majority voting procedure -- called democracy.
Democracy is a wonderful system, not necessarily for selecting an effective government, but, definitely, for introducing connotations to innocuous words such as "elite" and "elitist". When I first saw this word, I thought it referred to the zero-calorie version of electronics (e-lite). After looking in the Oxford American dictionary (Thank you Mac widget!), I found the denotation as "a group of people considered to be the best in a particular society or category esp. because of their power, talent, or wealth." That makes me wonder-- if Anthony is driving like crazy to become the fastest pizza-deliverer, he is an elitist; if Bobby is cleaning the restaurant tables meticulously, she is an elitist; if Chuck can drain down an entire keg of beer in the smallest amount of time, he is an elitist. Even if you are not the best, you might be craving to become one of them, learning new things to become one of them, or simply working hard to become one of them.
So who is not an elitist? I believe, a person who has comprehended the true nature of the human beings and the statistical distribution of their jealousy, envy, and partisanship, and who exploits this knowledge to gather the appropriate democratic support to defeat the "elite" competitor, would be the BEST person to be "not an elitist." Such a system has worked wonders in politics, and I can not contain my joy in acknowledging its presence in scientific and academic communities as well.
So, go home, relax. No need to work hard, just work on your "social" issues.
Hail democracy!
Democracy is a wonderful system, not necessarily for selecting an effective government, but, definitely, for introducing connotations to innocuous words such as "elite" and "elitist". When I first saw this word, I thought it referred to the zero-calorie version of electronics (e-lite). After looking in the Oxford American dictionary (Thank you Mac widget!), I found the denotation as "a group of people considered to be the best in a particular society or category esp. because of their power, talent, or wealth." That makes me wonder-- if Anthony is driving like crazy to become the fastest pizza-deliverer, he is an elitist; if Bobby is cleaning the restaurant tables meticulously, she is an elitist; if Chuck can drain down an entire keg of beer in the smallest amount of time, he is an elitist. Even if you are not the best, you might be craving to become one of them, learning new things to become one of them, or simply working hard to become one of them.
So who is not an elitist? I believe, a person who has comprehended the true nature of the human beings and the statistical distribution of their jealousy, envy, and partisanship, and who exploits this knowledge to gather the appropriate democratic support to defeat the "elite" competitor, would be the BEST person to be "not an elitist." Such a system has worked wonders in politics, and I can not contain my joy in acknowledging its presence in scientific and academic communities as well.
So, go home, relax. No need to work hard, just work on your "social" issues.
Hail democracy!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
You got problem, I don't.
Aston: "Do you like gum?"
Bela: "Why do you ask?"
Aston: "Just like that."
Bela: "You can't just ask a stupid question like that."
Aston: "Why does every conversation has to have some intellectual component in it?"
Bela: "'cause that's what conversations are about -- `informal exchange of ideas'"
Aston: "Will you please stop looking in the dictionary for the definitions? You are not being thorough, just being a pain in the butt. What about a quite, pleasant, pointless chit-chat?"
Bela: "You lost me there."
Aston: "Look, you need to realize that there is life outside work; events that are not experiments; and phenomena that need not be scientific."
Bela: "But every time I try, I ran into that atheist Carmen who asks me to those questions."
Aston: "You mean, Danielle -- she is atheist; Carmen is an apatheist."
Bela: "Now, who has the dictionary tugged under his arm."
Aston: "Whatever!"
Bela: "Anyways, how is squash going? Did you find someone?"
Aston: "Yeah, I am playing with Ellie and Fred. George also drops in sometimes." "They are really good players. I need to work hard."
Bela: "Good luck! With all these deadlines ahead, would you really have time to pursue that?"
Aston: "I have to. I really have to."
Bela: "Just don't kill yourself, its just a game."
Aston: "I know."
Bela: "Oh shit! it is already seven. These dance classes and piano lessons are killing me."
Bela: "Why do you ask?"
Aston: "Just like that."
Bela: "You can't just ask a stupid question like that."
Aston: "Why does every conversation has to have some intellectual component in it?"
Bela: "'cause that's what conversations are about -- `informal exchange of ideas'"
Aston: "Will you please stop looking in the dictionary for the definitions? You are not being thorough, just being a pain in the butt. What about a quite, pleasant, pointless chit-chat?"
Bela: "You lost me there."
Aston: "Look, you need to realize that there is life outside work; events that are not experiments; and phenomena that need not be scientific."
Bela: "But every time I try, I ran into that atheist Carmen who asks me to those questions."
Aston: "You mean, Danielle -- she is atheist; Carmen is an apatheist."
Bela: "Now, who has the dictionary tugged under his arm."
Aston: "Whatever!"
Bela: "Anyways, how is squash going? Did you find someone?"
Aston: "Yeah, I am playing with Ellie and Fred. George also drops in sometimes." "They are really good players. I need to work hard."
Bela: "Good luck! With all these deadlines ahead, would you really have time to pursue that?"
Aston: "I have to. I really have to."
Bela: "Just don't kill yourself, its just a game."
Aston: "I know."
Bela: "Oh shit! it is already seven. These dance classes and piano lessons are killing me."
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Chetan Bhagat
is awesome! there is no splinter of doubt about it. He gave that awesome speech some time ago, which shows his positive attitude towards life, universe, and everything. To add to his rosy display of honey-dripping optimism, he recently wrote an article for BBC News about future India as a fantasy land -- a little screwed-up fantasy land. It was less of a fantasy and more of an immature kid's -- who has a crush on a typical "developed country" (read American, and not European) lifestyle -- dream about acculturating to a first-world nation.
The visions of Bhagat are stupendous as a whole; but appear more like the aspirations of the French relay team trying to stop Phelps from grabbing eight golds: you may have a body-length lead at a point, but in the end, you are still second. And the reason is simple -- do not put your eyes on somebody's balls (to kick them), rather focus on the fucking sport!!! For Ganesh's sake, do not dream about bringing "Corolla" to every household because people living in some developed country (whichever mystery land you are referring to, Luxembourg?) do that. If you are dreaming, at least dream big.. Hummer, anyone? One billion Toyota Corollas. Up your ass, Al Gore!
Unquestionably, these convenient modes of transportation (remember, one per household) would stop communal riots. Communal riots is so old-school, its not fun anymore. Novelty, my friends, novelty! Think how much fun it would be watching people pelting at each other in crowded traffic or at petrol (gas) stations. Those are not riots, just peaceful demonstrations: "Oh come on! that incident at the X petrol station was merely an accident. Don't you know that petrol is inflammable?"
And by the way, I thought Khushwant Singh would "weigh" (250 lbs?) more than Bhagat, so how come Bhagat is the "biggest"?. Or may be Singh is not "selling".
The visions of Bhagat are stupendous as a whole; but appear more like the aspirations of the French relay team trying to stop Phelps from grabbing eight golds: you may have a body-length lead at a point, but in the end, you are still second. And the reason is simple -- do not put your eyes on somebody's balls (to kick them), rather focus on the fucking sport!!! For Ganesh's sake, do not dream about bringing "Corolla" to every household because people living in some developed country (whichever mystery land you are referring to, Luxembourg?) do that. If you are dreaming, at least dream big.. Hummer, anyone? One billion Toyota Corollas. Up your ass, Al Gore!
Unquestionably, these convenient modes of transportation (remember, one per household) would stop communal riots. Communal riots is so old-school, its not fun anymore. Novelty, my friends, novelty! Think how much fun it would be watching people pelting at each other in crowded traffic or at petrol (gas) stations. Those are not riots, just peaceful demonstrations: "Oh come on! that incident at the X petrol station was merely an accident. Don't you know that petrol is inflammable?"
And by the way, I thought Khushwant Singh would "weigh" (250 lbs?) more than Bhagat, so how come Bhagat is the "biggest"?. Or may be Singh is not "selling".
Friday, August 15, 2008
A drunk call
I am not kidding, some of my friends are really this smart.
This person called me really late at night sometime in March thinking it is New Year's eve, Yes! thats true.
"have a .. hick.. happy happy.. oh my god, did I just step in poo,
anyways, what was I saying.. hick.. oh I mean.. have a ... hick.. oh man
this is hard.. happy.. hick.. new year ... hmm another drunk year gone..
who the hell spilled this bloody Mary on me.. watch it, you moron.. I
need another shot.. hey you.. get me a .. hick... what was I drinking..
they say you should not mix 'em.. but you know.. hick..
it is really hard to.. hick, remember what was in the glass.. hick..
when you can not even remember which glass was yours.. he he ..
giggle.. that was damn funny, wasn't it? you don't think it was.
whatever.. this is getting totally .. hick.. out of control.. I have not
moved from this couch for the last half an hour.. last time I did .. my
shirt betrayed me, the bartender found it hanging at on the bar stool,
and I was thinking I was sitting in front of the cooler.
what the hell is happening, why are you not saying anything? why am I
holding my sandal next to my ear? $#!t where is my phone?
somebody ... pls..."
This person called me really late at night sometime in March thinking it is New Year's eve, Yes! thats true.
"have a .. hick.. happy happy.. oh my god, did I just step in poo,
anyways, what was I saying.. hick.. oh I mean.. have a ... hick.. oh man
this is hard.. happy.. hick.. new year ... hmm another drunk year gone..
who the hell spilled this bloody Mary on me.. watch it, you moron.. I
need another shot.. hey you.. get me a .. hick... what was I drinking..
they say you should not mix 'em.. but you know.. hick..
it is really hard to.. hick, remember what was in the glass.. hick..
when you can not even remember which glass was yours.. he he ..
giggle.. that was damn funny, wasn't it? you don't think it was.
whatever.. this is getting totally .. hick.. out of control.. I have not
moved from this couch for the last half an hour.. last time I did .. my
shirt betrayed me, the bartender found it hanging at on the bar stool,
and I was thinking I was sitting in front of the cooler.
what the hell is happening, why are you not saying anything? why am I
holding my sandal next to my ear? $#!t where is my phone?
somebody ... pls..."
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Water is for idiots; drink Hydrogen-ol.
It was one of those aimless wanderings on the much-trodden paths of the Internet(s, as Georgy would call 'em). Just like a rain-forest: the significance of self lost in the magnificence of the being, chaos of detail amid camouflaged deception, and the incessant rain of ads/pop-ups making every step heavier with time. Thankfully, no quicksand. Anyways, the meandering of the perendinating mind paused at a posting comparing Hollywood and Bollywood for their productions, revenues, and suchlike aspects. Although the text sounded authoritative, the figures should have been read with a lump (as opposed to grain) of salt.
"Goddamn it! this wikipedia-trusting brain."
"How many times do I have to stand in front of the mirror and tell myself that the elephant population did not triple itself in the last ten years, even if wikipedia says so?"
"May be a few more times."
So the figures suggested that Bollywood is older than Hollywood, produces nearly twice as many movies, and has more viewer-ship than its counterpart (with 1.1 billion people in India, DUH!).
Anyways, coming to the most interesting part of any online article: the readers' comments. These comments provide an opportunity for all the perverts and/or introverts to show their macho-ism and speak boldly on a stage created by themselves in front of millions of ... NO ONEs. Well, not necessarily serious or, in other words, intended, these comments do draw audience from the wasteful minds hungry for asinine entertainment.
It is always amusing to observe people fighting over THE truth about who has more fans: Shah Rukh Khan, or Brad Pitt?. Oh, and all that endless lambasting of Bollywood for producing iconic movies such as Boom and Tashan; it does not get any better. So what are the answers?
People who sit in the theaters laughing there asses off at cheap, sexual humor or getting the chills from crappy and sappy mainstream flicks are -- honestly speaking -- just stupid. I mean, come on, you can not just enjoy your time. You should analyze a joke before relaxing your neurons and put that hard-earned smile on your face. Seriously, guffaws in public places should be banned, at the least.
Give me a break. Behave!
Unless a movie touches one of the deepest human emotions, it is not worth watching. Did I say emotion? ... well, happy, inspired, energized, naughty, etc. are not the moods that we really care for.. it has to be one of those deep ones that make you sad, depressed, sick, and pale, if not suicidal or hate the human nature.
A two-hour movie has to be a food for thought -- an exercise that increases your mental metabolism not for one day but for the whole week. It is not like a cardiovascular workout that keeps you in good shape, it has to make you gain muscle. Not that I am insinuating at any disaffection of cardio being evident on the exteriors of these "smart", "civilized", and "intellectual" people.
But, are these two perspectives really different? Or just that some brains are tuned to recognize Hydrogen-ol to be superior to water?
"Goddamn it! this wikipedia-trusting brain."
"How many times do I have to stand in front of the mirror and tell myself that the elephant population did not triple itself in the last ten years, even if wikipedia says so?"
"May be a few more times."
So the figures suggested that Bollywood is older than Hollywood, produces nearly twice as many movies, and has more viewer-ship than its counterpart (with 1.1 billion people in India, DUH!).
Anyways, coming to the most interesting part of any online article: the readers' comments. These comments provide an opportunity for all the perverts and/or introverts to show their macho-ism and speak boldly on a stage created by themselves in front of millions of ... NO ONEs. Well, not necessarily serious or, in other words, intended, these comments do draw audience from the wasteful minds hungry for asinine entertainment.
It is always amusing to observe people fighting over THE truth about who has more fans: Shah Rukh Khan, or Brad Pitt?. Oh, and all that endless lambasting of Bollywood for producing iconic movies such as Boom and Tashan; it does not get any better. So what are the answers?
People who sit in the theaters laughing there asses off at cheap, sexual humor or getting the chills from crappy and sappy mainstream flicks are -- honestly speaking -- just stupid. I mean, come on, you can not just enjoy your time. You should analyze a joke before relaxing your neurons and put that hard-earned smile on your face. Seriously, guffaws in public places should be banned, at the least.
Give me a break. Behave!
Unless a movie touches one of the deepest human emotions, it is not worth watching. Did I say emotion? ... well, happy, inspired, energized, naughty, etc. are not the moods that we really care for.. it has to be one of those deep ones that make you sad, depressed, sick, and pale, if not suicidal or hate the human nature.
A two-hour movie has to be a food for thought -- an exercise that increases your mental metabolism not for one day but for the whole week. It is not like a cardiovascular workout that keeps you in good shape, it has to make you gain muscle. Not that I am insinuating at any disaffection of cardio being evident on the exteriors of these "smart", "civilized", and "intellectual" people.
But, are these two perspectives really different? Or just that some brains are tuned to recognize Hydrogen-ol to be superior to water?
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