Listening to the Weather

In The Company of Heroes

2012-01-31T01:12:00.000-08:00

I have a Kindle now and I love it. Best investment I've made since buying gold early last year. I've already read several books and thanks to the Kindle Owner's Lending Library and Amazon's Daily Deals, I've discovered some great stuff, and also quite a few disappointments.

The Settlers of Catan - seriously, it's a book now! Rebecca Gable, a German historical writer took the classic board game elements and set it up as the Nordic settlement in Iceland in the 10th century. As literature it wasn't that great, but I was curious to see how the elements of the game will be woven into the book. To be honest, it was fairly disappointing. Not recommended.

Earth Strike: Star Carrier: Book 1 - Famed military sci-fi and space opera writer returns to what made him famous - humans on the brink of obliteration from an all-powerful galactic empire. This is no Battlestar Gallactica - this is unadulterated space battles with singularity drives and "kinetic-kill" nuclear tipped Krait missle stuff. Pretty fun stuff, but again, not recommended.

Call for the Dead - John Le Carre - Where it all began, with the introduction of George Smiley - the slovenly looking unassuming spy, whose ex-wife lovingly called him toad becaue he looked like one. The precursor to The Spy Who Came in from the Cold and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. This is where is starts. Seems ancient by modern spy standards (What, no GPS tracking devices? It's 1966!) Brings me back to the classic noir writings of Mickey Spillane and co. Great stuff if you're interested in clandestine genre.

Finally, In the Company of Heroes - Mike Durant. Black Hawk Down is one of my favorite war movies of all time. Nothing else comes close to bringing the science, chaos and horror of modern warfare to cinema and Mike Durant brings alive his tale of being a Somali POW in the Battle of Mogadishu in 1993 with amazing candor. Rivetting read. I think I'm going to pick up Bowden's Black Hawk Down after I finish this.

Dry Land and Other Stories

2012-01-11T23:17:00.000-08:00

The work week was hard, so of course, distractions were necessary. Here's what's distracting me now.

King Henry is back at The Emirates. Unfortunately, Sir Robert will not be joining him - but he might come to India! Whoa. Move over India vs. Bayern Munich and testimonial matches. What a great night though at the JN Stadium. Poor Baichung, not the best farewell match to have. Final score 4-0...

Granted Bjork has done some decent music, but most of the time I can't tell the difference between Bjork, Yoko Ono, and a seal whose flipper has been smashed into a car door. Still, even without Bjork and the economic crisis music from Iceland survives. They gave us Sigur Ros - check out their fantastic documentary "Heima" - here's a taste of their music. There was also Ryoksopp in between. Then they gave us Bloodgroup. Their first album "Sticky Situation" was tonally harsher with a lot of heavy synth sounds (well they are an electro pop group so I should have expected that), but their second album "Dry Land" is a bloody revelation. Beautifully arranged with lounging Enyaesque vocals. Great stuff, definitely warrants a listen. Here's a couple of my picks from the album:

"This Heart" and "Wars"... don't want to give the rest away. And if you think these guys hide behind distortion have a listen to this version of "This Heart" at the GogoYoko Studio.

Shravan introduced me to the wonderfully quirky and funny world of David Sedaris - a comic writer - yet insight-fully cynical and sarcastic. Presently reading "Me Talk Pretty One Day".

Maggie brought Neon's "Skydiver" as my staple office work listen. You won't be able to get your hands on this easily since Neon only released this as a 12" LP vinyl single. Trippy seven minutes. Reminds me of Japanese DJ Quadra's "Get it by Your Hands".

Of course, what's been making the rounds even faster than "Kolaveri Di" is Walk of the Earth's cover of Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" - over 11 million views in a week! What a fantastic video - do have a listen.

Ok, everyone says this is one of the most overplayed songs of 2011, but I only discovered it recently. Yes, it is Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks". While the original might be over-played, I discovered two amazing covers. The first a bluesy take by internet sensation Karmin, and the second by a one-man-band internet sensation Basement Alchemy. Have a listen!

That's all folks!

What Am I Tripping On Now?

2012-01-01T23:35:00.000-08:00

Ok, ever since CJ introduced me to Project Free TV, I've been tripping on NCIS - yes, the TV show. I was curious. Why is a crime procedural drama, the most popular prime time TV show in the US. We have shows that deal with the military (JAG, Combat Hospital), we have shows that deal with forensics (CSI and it's million avatars), we have quirky crime solving team shows (The Mentalist, Castle, Bones), so why is NCIS drawing the crowds? I've watched six and a half seasons now, and I still can't answer that question. I just keep watching, though I'm not sure why. Sure, the plots are relatively mysterious, the forensics are quite hocus-pocus, the characters are endearing and well drawn out, but it's no The Wire, or Battlestar Gallactica, nor is it M*A*S*H. Yet, I keep watching. A mystery...

I have, however, discovered an Israeli hip-hop, funk band through NCIS called Hadag Nahash (roughly translates to either The Fish Snake, or A New Direction). They've been accused of left-leaning politics in their songs (which is true), but they shit out some catchy stuff - much like our "Kolaveri Di" craze.

Check out some of their stuff:

"Shirat Hastikar (The Sticker Song)" - This was written by famed Israeli novelist David Grossman.

"Bella Bellissima" - based on a true story.

And, of course, "Kolaveri Di" - which drove a nation crazy for one fall and produced a dozen offsprings.

I've also been tripping on the writings of A.J. Jacobs - the editor-at-large for Esquire magazine. I first heard about this fellow when I caught him on a TED talk about the year he spent following every tenant in the Bible. Since then I've read most of his stuff. I really identify with his childlike experimental mentality and sense of adventure in writing. The tendency we have of doing things so that we can write/tell other people about it. Check out some of his "stunt journalism". http://www.esquire.com/search/?q=A.J.+Jacobs

New trip: An article by mathematician and teacher Paul Lockhart - "A Mathematician's Lament". A cry of despair about the way mathematics is taught, and has been taught for the better part of the century - curbing creative instincts and replacing them with rigorous techniques or procedures. He claims math should be taught as an art, not as a tool for engineers. While I don't agree with everything he says, I do feel that school curriculum ignores "historical context" and appreciation of mathematics, something, both I, and the author feel very passionate about. It's a great read:
http://www.maa.org/devlin/LockhartsLament.pdf

"You Make A Move Where Your Opponent Will Be, Not Where He Is..."

2012-01-01T03:59:00.000-08:00

Bobby Fischer: The Knight Who Killed The Kings. A free web comic about the life and games of one of the greatest chess maestros. This isn't a glowing epithet about how brilliant Bobby Fischer was, nor is it nitpicking his flaws, neurosis, and paranoia. It's a good comic, telling a good story with very French New Fave art work and a human Boris Spassky. As of right now, only three chapters are up, but they are worth the time.

http://gatherfield.com/graphic-novel/

Rahul Dravid's Speech at the Don Bradman Oration

2011-12-16T02:42:00.000-08:00

I want to keep it here for posterity's sake...

Thank you for inviting me to deliver the Bradman Oration; the respect and the regard that came with the invitation to speak tonight, is deeply appreciated.

I realise a very distinguished list of gentlemen have preceded me in the ten years that the Bradman Oration has been held. I know that this Oration is held every year to appreciate the life and career of Sir Don Bradman, a great Australian and a great cricketer. I understand that I am supposed to speak about cricket and issues in the game - and I will.

Yet, but before all else, I must say that I find myself humbled by the venue we find ourselves in.

Even though there is neither a pitch in sight, nor stumps or bat and balls, as a cricketer, I feel I stand on very sacred ground tonight. When I was told that I would be speaking at the National War Memorial, I thought of how often and how meaninglessly, the words 'war', 'battle', 'fight' are used to describe cricket matches.

Yes, we cricketers devote the better part of our adult lives to being prepared to perform for our countries, to persist and compete as intensely as we can - and more.

This building, however, recognises the men and women who lived out the words - war, battle, fight - for real and then gave it all up for their country, their lives left incomplete, futures extinguished.

The people of both our countries are often told that cricket is the one thing that brings Indians and Australians together. That cricket is our single common denominator.

India's first Test series as a free country was played against Australia in November 1947, three months after our independence. Yet the histories of our countries are linked together far more deeply than we think and further back in time than 1947.We share something else other than cricket. Before they played the first Test match against each other, Indians and Australians fought wars together, on the same side.

In Gallipoli, where, along with the thousands of Australians, over 1300 Indians also lost their lives. In World War II, there were Indian and Australian soldiers in El Alamein, North Africa, in the Syria-Lebanon campaign, in Burma, in the battle for Singapore.

Before we were competitors, Indians and Australians were comrades. So it is only appropriate that we are here this evening at the Australian War Memorial, where along with celebrating cricket and cricketers, we remember the unknown soldiers of both nations. It is however, incongruous, that I, an Indian, happen to be the first cricketer from outside Australia, invited to deliver the the Bradman Oration.

I don't say that only because Sir Don once scored a hundred before lunch at Lord's and my 100 at Lord's this year took almost an entire day. But more seriously, Sir Don played just five Tests against India; that was in the first India-Australia series in 1947-48, which was to be his last season at home. He didn't even play in India, and remains the most venerated cricketer in India not to have played there.

We know that he set foot in India though, in May 1953, when on his way to England to report on the Ashes for an English newspaper, his plane stopped in Calcutta airport. There were said to be close to a 1000 people waiting to greet him; as you know, he was a very private person and so got into an army jeep and rushed into a barricaded building, annoyed with the airline for having 'breached confidentiality.'

That was all Indians of the time saw of Bradman who remains a mythical figure.

For one generation of fans in my country, those who grew up in the 1930s, when India was still under British rule, Bradman represented a cricketing excellence that belonged to somewhere outside England. To a country taking its first steps in Test cricket, that meant something. His success against England at that time was thought of as our personal success. He was striking one for all of us ruled by the common enemy. Or as your country has so poetically called them, the Poms.

There are two stories that I thought I should bring to your notice. On June 28, 1930, the day Bradman scored 254 at Lord's against England, was also the day Jawaharlal Nehru was arrested by the police. Nehru was, at the time, one of the most prominent leaders of the Indian independence movement and later, independent India's first Prime Minister. The coincidence of the two events, was noted by a young boy KN Prabhu, who was both nationalist, cricket fan and later became independent India's foremost cricket writer. In the 30s, as Nehru went in and out of jail, Bradman went after the England bowling and for K N Prabhu, became a kind of avenging angel.

There's another story I've heard about the day in 1933, when the news reached India that Bradman's record for the highest Test score of 334 had been broken by Wally Hammond. As much as we love our records, they say some Indian fans at the time were not exactly happy.

Now, there's a tale that a few even wanted to wear black bands to mourn the fact that this precious record that belonged to Australia - and by extension, us - had gone back. To an Englishman. We will never know if this is true, if black bands were ever worn, but as journalists sometimes tell me, why let facts get in the way of a good story.

My own link with Bradman was much like that of most other Indians - through history books, some old video footage and his wise words. About leaving the game better than you found it. About playing it positively, as Bradman, then a selector, told Richie Benaud before the 1960-61 West Indies tour of Australia. Of sending a right message out from cricket to its public. Of players being temporary trustees of a great game.

While there may be very little similarity in our records or our strike rates or our fielding - and I can say this only today in front of all of you - I am actually pleased that I share something very important with Sir Don. He was, primarily, like me, a No.3 batsman. It is a tough, tough job.

We're the ones who make life easier for the kings of batting, the middle order that follows us. Bradman did that with a bit more success and style than I did. He dominated bowling attacks and put bums on seats ,if I bat for any length of time I am more likely to bore people to sleep. Still, it is nice to have batted for a long time in a position, whose benchmark is, in fact, the benchmark for batsmanship itself.

Before he retired from public life in his 80s, I do know that Bradman watched Sunil Gavaskar's generation play series in Australia. I remember the excitement that went through Indian cricket when we heard the news that Bradman had seen Sachin Tendulkar bat on TV and thought he batted like him. It was more than mere approval, it was as if The great don had finally, passed on his torch. Not to an Aussie or an Englishman or a West Indian. But to one of our own.

One of the things, Bradman said has stayed in my mind. That the finest of athletes had, along with skill, a few more essential qualities: to conduct their life with dignity, with integrity, with courage and modesty. All this he believed, were totally compatible with pride, ambition, determination and competitiveness. Maybe those words should be put up in cricket dressing rooms all over the world.

As all of you know, Don Bradman passed away on February 25, 2001, two days before the India v Australia series was to begin in Mumbai.Whenever an important figure in cricket leaves us, cricket's global community pauses in the midst of contests and debates, to remember what he represented of us, what he stood for and Bradman was the pinnacle. The standard against which all Test batsmen must take guard.

The series that followed two days after Bradman's death later went on to become what many believe was one of the greatest in cricket. It is a series, I'd like to believe, he would have enjoyed following.

A fierce contest between bat and ball went down to the final session of the final day of the final Test. Between an Australian team who had risen to their most imposing powers and a young Indian team determined to rewrite some chapters of its own history.

The 2001 series contained high-quality cricket from both sides and had a deep impact on the careers of those who played a part in it. The Australians were near unbeatable in the first half of the new decade, both home and away.

As others floundered against them, India became the only team that competed with them on even terms.

India kept answering questions put to them by the Australians and asking a few themselves. The quality demanded of those contests, sometimes acrimonious, sometimes uplifting, made us, the Indian team, grow and rise. As individuals, we were asked to play to the absolute outer limits of our capabilities and we often extended them.

Now, whenever India and Australia meet, there is expectation and anticipation - and as we get into the next two months of the Border Gavaskar Trophy, players on both sides will want to deliver their best.

When we toured in 2007-08, I thought it was going to be my last tour of Australia. The Australians thought it was going to be the last time they would be seeing Sachin Tendulkar on their shores. He received warm standing ovations from wonderful crowds all around the country.

Well, like a few, creaking Terminators, we're back. Older, wiser and I hope improved.

The Australian public will want to stand up to send Sachin off all over again this time. But I must warn you, given how he's been playing these days, there are no guarantees about final goodbyes.

In all seriousness, though, the cricket world is going to stop and watch Australia and India. It is Australia's first chance to defend their supremacy at home following defeat in the 2010 Ashes and a drawn series against New Zealand. It is India's opportunity to prove that the defeat to England in the summer was an aberration that we will bounce back from.If both teams look back to their last 2007-08 series in Australia, they will know that they should have done things a little differently in the Sydney Test. But I think both sides have moved on from there; we've played each other twice in India already and relations between the two teams are much better than they have been as far as I can remember.

Thanks to the IPL, Indians and Australians have even shared dressing rooms. Shane Watson's involvement in Rajasthan, Mike Hussey's role with Chennai to mention a few, are greatly appreciated back home.

And even Shane Warne likes India now. I really enjoyed played alongside him at Rajasthan last season and can confidently report to you that he is not eating imported baked beans any more.

In fact,looking at him, it seems, he is not eating anything. It is often said that cricketers are ambassadors for their country; when there's a match to be won, sometimes we think that is an unreasonable demand. After all, what would career diplomats do if the result of a Test series depended on them, say, walking? But, as ties between India and Australia have strengthened and our contests have become more frequent, we realise that as Indian players, we stand for a vast, varied, often unfathomable and endlessly fascinating country.

At the moment, to much of the outside world, Indian cricket represents only two things - money and power. Yes, that aspect of Indian cricket is a part of the whole, but it is not the complete picture. As a player, as a proud and privileged member of the Indian cricket team, I want to say that, this one-dimensional, often cliched image relentlessly repeated, is not what Indian cricket is really all about. I cannot take all of you into the towns and villages our players come from, and introduce you to their families, teachers, coaches, mentors and teammates who made them international cricketers.

I cannot take all of you here to India to show you the belief, struggle, effort and sacrifice from hundreds of people that runs through our game.

As I stand here today, it is important for me to bring Indian cricket and its own remarkable story to you. I believe it is very necessary that cricketing nations try to find out about each other, try to understand each other and the different role cricket plays in different countries, because ours is, eventually, a very small world.

In India, cricket is a buzzing, humming, living entity going through a most remarkable time, like no other in our cricketing history.
In this last decade, the Indian team represents more than ever before, the country we come from - of people from vastly different cultures, who speak different languages, follow different religions, belong to all classes of society.

I went around our dressing room to work out how many languages could be spoken in there and the number I have arrived at is: 15 including Shona and Akrikaans.

Most foreign captains, I think, would baulk at the idea. But, when I led India, I enjoyed it, I marvelled at the range of difference and the ability of people from so many different backgrounds to share a dressing room, to accept, accomodate and respect that difference. In a world growing more insular, that is a precious quality to acquire, because it stays for life and helps you understand people better, understand the significance of the other .

Let me tell you one of my favourite stories from my under-19 days, when the India under-19 team played a match against the New Zealand junior team.

We had two bowlers in the team, one from the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh - he spoke only Hindi, which is usually a link language
for players from all over India, ahead even of English.

It should have been alright, except the other bowler came from Kerala, in the deep south, and he spoke only the state's regional language, Malayalam. Now even that should have been okay as they were both bowlers and could bowl simultaneous spells.

Yet in one game, they happened to come together at the crease. In the dressing room, we were in splits, wondering how they were going to manage the business of a partnership, calling for runs or sharing the strike.

Neither man could understand a word of what the other was saying and they were batting together. This could only happen in Indian cricket. Except that these two guys came up with a 100-run partnership. Their common language was cricket and that worked out just fine.

The everyday richness of Indian cricket lies right there, not in the news you hear about million-dollar deals and television rights. When I look back over the 25 years I've spent in cricket, I realise two things. First, rather alarmingly, that I am the oldest man in the game, older to even Sachin by three months.

More importantly, I realise that Indian cricket actually reflects our country's own growth story during this time.
Cricket is so much a part of our national fabric that as India - its economy, society and popular culture - transformed itself, so did our most-loved sport.

As players we are appreciative benefeciaries of the financial strength of Indian cricket, but we are more than just mascots of that economic power.

The caricature often made of Indian cricket and its cricketers in the rest of the world is that we are pampered superstars. Overpaid, underworked, treated like a cross between royalty and rock stars.

Yes, the Indian team has an enormous, emotional following and we do need security when we get around the country as a group. It is also where we make it a point to always try and conduct ourself with composure and dignity. On tour, I must point out, we don't attack fans or do drugs
or get into drunken theatrics. And at home, despite what some of you may have heard, we don't live in mansions with swimming pools.

The news about the money may well overpower all else, but along with it, our cricket is full of stories the outside world does not see.
Television rights generated around Indian cricket, are much talked about. Let me tell you what the television - around those much sought-after rights - has done to our game.

A sport that was largely played and patronised by princes and businessmen in traditional urban centres, cities like Bombay, Bangalore, Chennai, Baroda, Hyderabad, Delhi - has begun to pull in cricketers from everywhere.

As the earnings from indian cricket have grown ,in the past 2 decades ,mainly thru television,the BCCI has spread revenues to various pockets in the country and improved where we play.the field is now spread wider than it ever has been,the ground covered by Indian cricket ,has shifted .

27 teams compete in our national championship the Ranji Trophy.last season ,Rajasthan ,a state best known for it's palaces ,fortresses and tourism won the Ranji Trophy title for the first time in it's history .The national one day championship also had a first time winner,in the newly formed state of Jharkand where our captain MS Dhoni comes from .

The growth and scale of cricket on our television was the engine of this population shift. Like Bradman was the boy from Bowral, a stream of Indian cricketers now come from what you could call India's outback.

Zaheer Khan belongs to the Maharashtra heartland, from a town that didn't have even one proper turf wicket. He could have been an instrumentation engineer but was drawn to cricket through TV and modelled his bowling by practicing in front of the mirror on his cupboard at home, and first bowled with a proper cricket ball at the age of 17.

One day out of nowhere, a boy from a village in Gujarat turned up as India's fastest bowler. After Munaf Patel made his debut for India, the road from the nearest railway station to his village had to be improved because journalists and TV crews from the cities kept landing up there.

We are delighted that Umesh Yadav didn't become a policeman like he was planning and turned to cricket instead.
He is the first cricketer from the Central Indian first-class team of Vidarbha to play Test cricket.

Virender Sehwag, it shouldn't surprise, you belongs to the wild west just outside Delhi. He had be enrolled in a college which had a good cricket programme and travel 84kms every day by bus to get to practice and matches.

Every player in this room wearing an India blazer has a story like this.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, is the heart and soul of Indian cricket.Playing for India completely changes our lives. The game has given us a chance to pay back our debt to all those who gave of their time, energy, resources for us to be better cricketers: we can build new homes for our parents, get out siblings married off in style, give our families very comfortable lives.

The Indian cricket team is in fact, India itself, in microcosm. A sport that was played first by princes, then their subordinates, then the urban elite, is now a sport played by all of India.

Cricket, as my two under-19 teammates proved, is India's most widely-spoken language. Even Indian cinema has its regional favourites; a movie star in the south may not be popular in the north. But a cricketer? Loved everywhere.

It is, also, a very tough environment to grow up in - criticism can be severe, responses to victory and defeat extreme, there are invasions of privacy and stones have been thrown at our homes after some defeats.

It takes time getting used to, extreme reactions can fill us with anger. But every cricketer realises at some stage of his career, that the Indian cricket fan is best understood by remembering the sentiment of the majority, not the actions of a minority.

One of the things that has always lifted me as a player was looking out of the team bus when we travelled somewhere in India. When people see the Indian bus going by, see some of us sitting with our curtains drawn back, it always amazes me how much they light up.

There is an instantaneous smile, directed not just at the player they see - but at the game that we play that, for whatever reason, means something to people's lives. Win or lose, the man on the street will smile and give you a wave.

After India won the World Cup this year, our players were not congratulated as much as they were thanked by people they ran into. "You have given us everything," they were told, "all of us have won." Cricket in India now stands not just for sport, but possibility, hope, opportunities.

On our way to the Indian team, we know of so many of our teammates some of whom may have been equally or more talented than those sitting here, who missed out. When I started out, for a young Indian, cricket was the ultimate gamble - all or nothing, no safety nets. No second chances for those without an education or a college degree or second careers. Indian cricket's wealth now means a wider pool of well paid cricketers even at first-class level.

For those of us who make it to the Indian team, cricket is not merely our livelihood, it is a gift we have been given. Without the game, we would just be average people leading average lives. As Indian cricketers, our sport has given us the chance do something worthwhile with our lives. How many people could say that?

This is the time Indian cricket should be flowering; we are the world champions in the short game, and over the space of the next 12 months should be involved in a tight contest with Australia, South Africa and England to determine which one of us are the world's strongest Test team.

Yet I believe this is also a time for introspection within our game, not only in india,but all over the world.we have been given some alerts and responding to them quickly is the smart thing to do.

I was surprised a few months ago to see the lack of crowds in an ODI series featuring India. By that I don't mean the lack of full houses, I think it was the sight of empty stands I found somewhat alarming.

India played its first one-day international at home in November 1981 when I was nine. Between then and now India have played 227 ODIs at home; the October five-match series against England, was the first time that the grounds have not been full for an ODI featuring the Indian team.

In the summer of 1998, I played in a one-dayer against Kenya in Kolkata and the Eden Gardens was full. Our next game was held in the 48 degree heat of Gwalior and the stands were heaving.

The October series against England was the first one at home after India's World Cup win. It was called the 'revenge' series meant to wipe away the memory of a forgettable tour of England. India kept winning every game, and yet the stands did not fill up. Five days after a 5-0 victory, 95,000 turned up to watch the India's first Formula One race.

A few weeks later, I played in a Test match against the West Indies in Calcutta, in front of what was the lowest turn out in Eden Gardens' history. Yes we still wanted to win and our intensity did not dip. But at the end of the day, we are performers, entertainers and we love an audience. The audience amplifies everything you are doing, the bigger the crowd the bigger the occasion, its magnitude, its emotion. When I think about the Eden Gardens crowds this year, I wonder what the famous Calcutta Test of 2001 would have felt like with 50,000 people less watching us.

Australia and South Africa ,played an exiting and thrilling test series recently and two great test matches produced some fantastic performances from players of both teams ,but was sadly played in front of sparse crowds.

It is not the numbers Test players need, it is the atmosphere of a Test that every player wants to revel in and draw energy from; my first reaction to the lack of crowds for cricket was that there had been a lot of cricket and so perhaps, a certain amount of spectator-fatigue.
That is too simplistic a view; it's the easy thing to say but might not be the only thing.

The India v England ODI series had no context, because the two countries had played each other in four Tests and five ODIs just a few weeks before. When India and the West Indies played ODIs a month afer that, the grounds were full but this time matches were played in smaller venues that didn't host too much international cricket.

Maybe our clues are all there and we must remain vigilant.Unlike Australia or England, Indian cricket has never had to compete with other sports for a share of revenues, mindspace or crowd attendance at international matches.

The lack of crowds may not directly impact on revenues or how important the sport is to Indians, but we do need to accept that there has definitely been a change in temperature over, I think, the last two years.

Whatever the reasons are - maybe it is too much cricket or too little by way of comfort for spectators. The fan has sent us a message and we must listen. This is not mere sentimentality. Empty stands do not make for good television. Bad television can lead to a fall in ratings, the fall in ratings will be felt by media planners and advertisers' looking elsewhere.

If that happens, it is hard to see television rights around cricket being as sought after as they have always been in the last 15 years. And where does that leave everyone? I'm not trying to be an economist or doomsday prophet - this is just how I see it.

Let us not be so satisfied with the present, with deals and finances in hand that we get blindsided. Everything that has given cricket its power and influence in the world of sports has started from that fan in the stadium. They deserves our respect and let us not take them for granted.

Disrespecting fans is disrespecting the game. The fans have stood by our game through everything. When we play, we need to think of them. As players, the balance between competitiveness and fairness can be tough but it must be found.

If we stand up for the game's basic decencies, it will be far easier to tackle its bigger dangers - whether it is finding short cuts to easy money or being lured by the scourge of spot-fixing and contemplating any involvement with the betting industry.

Cricket's financial success means it will face threats from outside the game and keep facing them. The last two decades have proved this over and over again. The internet and modern technology may just end up being a step ahead of every anti-corruption regulation in place in the game. As players, the one way we can stay ahead for the game, is if we are willing to be monitored and regulated closely. Even if it means giving up a little bit of freedom of movement and privacy.

If it means undergoing dope tests, let us never say no.If it means undergoing lie-detector tests, let us understand the technology, what purpose it serves and accept it.

Now lie-dectectors are by no means perfect but they could acutally help the innocent clear their names. Similarly, we should not object to having our finances scrutinised if that is what is required.

When the first anti-corruption measures were put into place, we did moan a little bit about being accredited and depositing our cell phones with the manager. But now, we must treat it like we do airport security because we know it is for our own good and our own security.

Players should be ready to give up a little personal space and personal comfort for this game which has given us so much. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.

Other sports have borrowed from cricket's anti-corruption measures to set up their own ethical governance programmes and we must take pride in belonging to a sport that is professional and progressive.

One of the biggest challenges that the game must respond today, I believe, is charting out a clear roadmap for the three formats. We now realise that the sport's three formats cannot be played in equal numbers - that will only throw scheduling and the true development of players completely off gear.

There is a place for all three formats, though, we are the only sport I can think of which has three versions. Cricket must treasure this originality. These three versions require different skills, skills that have evolved, grown, changed over the last four decades, one impacting on the other.

Test cricket is the gold standard, it is the form the players want to play.

The 50-over game is the one that had kept cricket's revenues alive for more than three decades now. Twenty20 has come upon us and it is the format people, the fans want to see.

Cricket must find a middle path, it must scale down this mad merry-go-round that teams and players find themselves in: heading off for two-Test tours and seven-match ODI series with a few Twenty20s thrown in.Test cricket deserves to be protected, it is what the world's best know they will to be judged by.

Where I come from, nation versus nation is what got people interested in cricket in the first place. When I hear the news that a country is playing without some of its best players, I always wonder, what do their fans think?

People may not be able to turn up to watch Test cricket but everyone follows the scores. We may not fill 65,000 capacity stadiums for Test matches, but we must actively fight to get as many as we can in, to create a Test match environment that the players and the fans feed off. Anything but the sight of Tests played on empty grounds. For that, we have got to play Test cricket that people can watch.
I don't think day-night Tests or a Test championship should be dismissed.

In March of last year I played a day-night first-class game in Abu Dhabi for the MCC - and my experience from that was that day-night Tests is an idea seriously worth exploring.

There may be some challenges in places where there is dew but the visibility and durability of the pink cricket ball was not an issue.
Similarly, a Test championship with every team and player driving themselves to be winners of a sought after title seems like it would have a context to every game.

Keeping Test's alive, may mean different innovations in different countries - maybe taking it to smaller cities, playing it in grounds with smaller capacities like New Zealand has thought of doing, maybe reviving some old venues in the West Indies, like the old Recreation Ground in Antigua.

When I was around seven years old, I remember my father taking a Friday off so that we could watch three days of Test cricket together. On occasions he couldn't, I would accompany one of his friends, just to soak in a day of Test cricket and watch the drama slowly unfold.

What we have to do is find a way to ensure that Test matches fit into 21st century life, through timing, environments, the venues they are held in. I am still convinced it can be done, even in our fast-moving world with a short attention span.

We will often get told that Test matches don't make financial sense, but no one ever fell love with Test cricket because they wanted to be a businessman. Not everything of value comes at a price.There is a proposal doing the rounds, about scrapping the 50-over game completely . I am not sure I agree with that - I certainly know that the 50-over game helped us innovate strokes in our batting which we were then able to take into Test matches. We all know that the 50-over game has been responsible for improving fielding standards all over the world.

The future may well lie in playing one-day internationals centered around ICC events, like the Champions Trophy and the World Cups. This would ensure that all 50-over matches would build up for those tournaments.

That will cut back the number of one-day internationals played every year but at least those matches will have a context. Since about, I think 1985, people have been saying that there is too much meaningless one-day cricket.

Maybe it's finally time to do something about it. The Twenty20 game as we know has as many critics as it has supporters in the public. Given that an acceptable strike rate in T20 these days is about 120, I should probably complain about it the most. The crowd and revenue numbers though, tell us that if we don't handle Twenty20 correctly, we may well have more and more private players stepping in to offer not just slices of pie, but maybe even bigger pies themselves.

So I'll re-iterate what I've just said very quickly because balancing three formats is important:

We have Test cricket like we have always had, nation versus nation, but carefully scheduled to attract crowds and planned fairly so that every Test playing country get its fair share of Tests.and playing for a championship or a cup not just a ranking .

The 50-overs format foucssed around on fewer, significant multi-nation ICC events like the Champions trophy and the World cup. In the four-year cycle between World Cups, plan the ODI calendar and devise rankings around these few important events. Anything makes more sense than 7-match ODI series.

The best role for Twenty20 is as a domestic competition through official leagues which will make it financially attractive for cricketers. That could also keep cricket viable in countries where it fights for space and attention.

Because the game is bigger than us all, we must think way ahead of how it stands today. Where do we want it to be in the year 2020? Or say in 2027, when it will be 150 years since the first Test match was played. If you think about it, cricket has been with us longer than the modern motor car, it existed before modern air travel took off.

As much as cricket's revenues are important to its growth, its traditions and its vibrancy are a necessary part of its progress in the future. We shouldn't let either go because we played too much of one format and too little of the other.

Professionalism has given cricketers of my generation priviledged lives, and we know it, even though often you may often hear us whining about burn-out and travel and the lack of recovery time.

Whenever we begin to get into that mindset, it's good to remember a piece of Sachin's conversation with Bradman. Sachin told us that he had asked Sir Don how he had mentally prepared for big games, what his routines were.

Sir Don said, that well, before a game, he would go to work and after the game,go back to work. Whenever a cricketer feels a whinge, coming on, that would be good to remember.

Before I conclude, I also want to talk briefy about an experience I have often had over the course of my career. It is not to do with individuals or incidents, but one I believe is important to share.

I have sometimes found myself in the middle of a big game, standing at slip or even at the non-strikers end and suddenly realised that everything else has vanished.

At that moment, all that exists is the contest and the very real sense of the joy that comes from playing the game.

It is an almost meditative experience where you reconnect with the game just like you did years ago, when you first began. When you hit your first boundary, took the first catch, scored your first century, or were involved in a big victory.

It lasts for a very fleeting passage of time, but it is a very precious instant and every cricketer should hang on to it.
I know it is utterly fanciful to expect professional cricketers to play the game like amateurs; but the trick I believe is taking the spirit of the amateur - of discovery, of learning, of pure joy, of playing by the rules - into our profession.

Taking it to practice or play, even when there's an epidemic of white-line fever breaking out all over the field. In every cricketer there lies a competitor who hates losing and yes, winning matters. But it is not the only thing that matters when you play cricket.

How it is played is as important for every member of every team because every game we play leaves a footprint in cricket's history. We must never forget that.What we do as professionals is easily carried over into the amateur game, in every way - batting, bowling, fielding, appealing, celebration, dissent, argument. In the players of 2027, we will see a reflection of this time and of ourselves and it had better not annoy or anguish us 50 year-olds.

As the game's custodians, it is important we are not tempted by the short-term gains of the backward step. We can be remembered for being the generation that could take the giant stride.

Thank you for the invitation to address all of you tonight and your attention.

The City of Joy Chronicles

2011-10-13T21:35:00.000-07:00

Cal is hard and hot and I hate it. I just lost my temper, and came so close into getting into a fist fight with a large sardar. I went to buy Bournvita from a store close to my house last evening, and this morning when I opened it, the seal was broken and the powder was solid. So I went to return it but the storekeeper said it wasn't his problem once it left the store. I started to reason with him and then arguing with him. In the end I got so mad I chucked the open Bournvita bottle to the floor with the stuff spilling all over. The sardar got furious, I thought he was going to punch me. He started shouting at me, I shouted back. Finally I said, "Oops, I dropped it, I'm sorry" and left the store. As I was leaving, he tells me that this shows how uneducated I am. I told him that he's what's wrong with this country. I think I was expecting him to just take it back and replace it or give me my money back. I can't remember the last time I was so mad at someone. I think I just wanted to be mad.

Shenanigans at the Office

2011-08-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

This is a list of the pranks we've played on our co-workers at the office... in semi chronological order. I'm sure I'm forgetting a few... Remind me if I've missed anything.

1. Changing the auto-correct on Microsoft Outlook

Victim: Pragyan and the CJ

Perps: CJ then Shravan

One afternoon, Pragyan let his guard down and left his computer unlocked. CJ jumped at this opportunity, opened Pragyan's Outlook auto-correct function and changed words like "Pragyan", "Energy", "Prices", "The", "Power", "Thanks", his bosses names, etc to "NEPAL".

When Prag came back and started to write an email he was stunned to see that everything he was typing was changing to "NEPAL". Eventually he figured out what was done and painstakingly fixed the changes.

A week later, CJ left his computer unlocked and Shravan jumped in and changed his bosses name to Anant "Disaster" and Judah "Big Boi" and changed keywords like "Gas" to "Disaster". Unfortunately CJ didn't notice the changes in his haste and sent out an email that read "disaster prices are expected to stay flat in the future"... it was only a week later that he realized that he had sent this email out to everyone in the office!

It was then decided that perhaps this was too disastrous of a prank and auto correct pranks were abolished.

2. The Shravan-Pavlov Experiment

Victim: Shravan (intended)

Perp: CJ & Achal (as co-conspirator)

One of our less successful pranks. CJ wanted to try the Pavlov's dog experiment on Shravan. Everytime Achal's phone would ring, CJ would offer Shravan (who sat across his cubicle) a piece of candy, hoping that eventually, with conditioning Shravan would automatically ask for candy each time Achal's phone rang. Unfortunately, Shravan decided he didn't like candy anymore, so CJ switched to cheese puffs (who doesn't like cheese puffs). This went on for a couple of weeks, but with the lack of results, the experiment was prematurely abandoned and labeled a failure.

3. The Mouse in the Jello

Victim: Maity (but switched with Patrick to trap the perp.); later Isak and Pragyan

Perp: CJ

I came in to work one day and noticed that my mouse had been encased in jello... an old office classic. I had an inkling of who was responsible, but to flush out the perpetrator, I switched the encased mouse with Patrick's and pretended that the prank was played on him. CJ's surprise and later after a conniving interrogation over lunch at Amma's CJ implicated himself as the criminal.

It didn't end there. After the mouse was rescued from the jello, even tho

ugh it was wrapped in Saran Wrap, it was unusable since the jello had seeped in. After cleaning the mouse, it looked normal and we replaced Isak's mouse with this defunct mouse. Isak, of course, did what we expected and stole Pragyan's mouse. An hour later, in his frustration, Pragyan sends out an angry email to everyone demanding the return of his stolen mouse!

4. The Inverted Cup

Victim: almost everyone

Perp: almost everyone

Old school prank. Filling up a glass of water to the brim, covering it with a card, inverting it and sliding it over the desk leaves an inverted cup of water on your desk. Those unfamiliar with it had a few "accidents" at their desk. Eventually, people wizened up. The next phase was played on Ankit. Thirteen inverted cups were left on his desk, only three with water in them!

5. Windings on Excel

Victim: Achal

Perp: CJ

Once again, a computer was left unlocked and CJ jumped at the chance. He went into Achal's Excel and set up a small macro that converted everything he typed into windings. It was set to run automatically every time a new Excel sheet was opened. Achal was working from home the next day and he had no idea how to fix it. He didn't get much done that day and needless to say he wasn't pleased with CJ.

6. It Snowed Indoors

Victim: CJ

Perp: Maribeth and Achal (I think)

Again, old school. CJ's desk was essentially TPd!

7. The Overturned Desk

Victim: Achal

Perp: CJ

Another classic. Everything on Achal's desk was turned upside down. His computer, the maps on his wall, his desk, his name tag, everything.

8. Variations on a Theme (of the Overturned Desk)

Victim: Achal and Pragyan

Perp: CJ

This one took a bit of work. Achal and Pragyan's desks were completely switched. Everything was moved. It took them both a while to figure out that they were not sitting at their desks! The execution was quite brilliant!

9. The Taming of Ankit

Victim: Ankit

Perp: EVERYONE!

Probably the most well executed and definitely the longest con at the office.

While CJ was away on vacation, Ankit, who was new at the office and not yet initiated in our ways, innocently inquired why CJ had not been showing up to work. This was easy prey we thought, and our eyes gleamed at the prospect that lay before us. We told Ankit that CJ had gone for his wedding and his subsequent honeymoon and that he would be back at the end of the week. Like a well-oiled machine, everyone picked up on this thread. Emails started shooting back and forth. Reduced photographs of other people's (Nishit's) wedding photographs were passed off as CJ's (since all brown people look alike, Ankit didn't notice the difference). I think CJ's wife's name was Mina or such. We decided that we must buy a gift for the newly weds and we decided that we all would contribute $50 towards it. Achal agreed to be the point man on this and collect the cash and buy something nice for the couple. In the meantime, I messaged CJ, alerting him that for all intensive purposes he was now married to someone called Mina. The next day Ankit handed Achal a check for $50 which was quickly cashed.

At the end of the week, CJ returned and we all congratulated him within earshot. At the happy hour that week and CJ and I waited in line for food, Ankit walked up to CJ and wearing a jovial smile, congratulated him on his nuptials and wished him the best. CJ, of course, graciously accepted. That evening we sat around and thought on how we ought to end the prank. We went up to Ankit's desk and picked out his prized autographed book of music, wrapped it up and put it in a fancy box and waited. The next day, before lunch, we called Ankit over and asked him to give it to CJ since he was the youngest. With all of us as witnesses, Ankit, handed CJ the box. CJ opened and box and lo it was a book. Ankit exclaims, "dude I have the exact same book, except mine is autographed". CJ flips to the first few pages and says, "yeah dude, so is mine". Slowly it dawned upon Ankit that he had been played, because by this time no one could hold in their giggles...

I think we've destroyed Ankit's innocence. Never again will he trust.

10. The Hanging Effigy

Victim: Achal

Perp: CJ and Maity

A little on the darker side... CJ and I went to a thrift store next to Korean Deli and found this wonderful teddy bear and rocking chair set for $5. You never know when such things might come in handy, so we bought it, along with a candle holder for an extra 50 cents.
Back at the office, we had Dave, Achal's manager, call him away on the pretense of some work, and CJ and I got to work. We printed a photograph of Achal's face, taped it over the teddy's face, taped a small empty bottle of tequila to one hand and hung him from the rafters using the mouse cable with a suicide note left on the rocking chair and a candle burning (see pictures).
Achal returned to his desk, saw the shenanigans, stopped, said "I'll laugh at this later, right now I have work to do!"... [It wasn't actual work, Dave had just made up something so he would be away from his desk for us to set it up]. The bear was left behind as Achal's legacy at ICF.

11. The Other Keyboard

Victim: CJ

Perp: Shravan and Isak

(write-up coming up from Shravan)

12. The Thrashing of Pragyan (Variation on a Theme)

Victim: Pragyan

Perp: Achal and Shravan

Achal and Shravan completely thrashed Pragyan's desk, with keyboard, mouse, monitor, docking station taken apart, confetti and wrappers lying all over... it looked like a hobo's joint. It was just plain mean.

13. Not a Green Prank

Victim: Pragyan

Perp: Shravan (he claims it's not him)

Shravan took Pragyan's car keys and left his car on in the garage.

14. The Stapled Cups

Victim: Isak

Perp: CJ and Maity

A semi-failed prank. We took a host of cups (thirty odd) and stapled them together, placed them on Isak's desk and filled them up with water. Due to our shoddy stapling job Isak was able to tackle the problem easily but the idea was quite good.

15. The Blockade

Victim: Andrew

Perp: Patrick and Maity

We surrounded Andrew's desk with a wall of used coffee cups. I think Andrew came in, saw what was done and went home as he was want to do.

16. Nepal vs. India - The Ambush

Victim: Pragyan

Perp: Achal, Shravan, CJ, Maity (video by Isak)

17. The Voice in the Computer

Victim: Jesse

Perp: CJ, Achal, Maity

This one was never going to work, but it was a lot of fun making.
Stage 1: Borrow Achal's Blackberry and record me screaming "You, you there at the computer, help me! Get me out of here! Call 911!"
Stage 2: Set that as the ring-tone on Achal's phone.
Stage 3: Place the phone inside the common Bloomberg machine.
Stage 4: Wait.
Jesse walked into the office and sat at the Bloomberg machine and started working in earnest. Then CJ and called Achal's phone and Jesse was so surprised! First he thought that we had run a program in the computer. Then he thought it was a clip. For the longest time he couldn't figure out what was going on. The rest of us pretended that we couldn't hear anything!
It was great!

18. The Old Switcheroo
Victim: Patrick and Ankit
Perp: Laura and CJ
Changed the automatic language option on Patrick's computer to German and Ankit's iPod to Mandarin.

19. "Hi, I'm Mark"
Victim: Mark
Perp: Mainly Achal
Posters of MPurser were left all over the office.

20. Sleight of Hand/Bait and Switch
Vicitm: Mainly Pragyan
Perp: Achal and CJ
I'm not sure what this one was about... Anybody remember what was done?

21. One Cup to Spill Them All
Victim: Shravan
Perp: CJ (?)
A stack of paper cups with water in one of them were left on Shravan's desk.

22. Tape the Speaker, Hide the Earpiece
Victim: Shravan
Perp: CJ
CJ taped over the mouth piece on Shravan's phone and people on the other line couldn't hear what he was saying.

23. Taping of the Phone (Redux)
Victim: Isak
Perp: CJ
CJ quite meticulously taped up Isak's phone with tape. I'm sure Isak's retribution is not far away.

24. The Gift of CJ
Victim: CJ
Perp: Isak

While CJ was away on vacation with his family in their exclusive Hamptons chalet. Isak used CJ's gift paper (Disney's "Little Mermaid" - his favorite) and wrapped his computer, telephone, chair and other objects on his desk. Quite the novelty. The note on the right is a reference to the prank that Isak and Shravan played on CJ earlier in the year (see: 11. "The Other Keyboard").

25. Farewell Wrap
Victim: Trevor
Perps: Maribeth (with Nicole as cohort)
Serane wrap around Tevor's Scion. See photographic evidence!

"Carolineeee, You Danceee" or The Great American Road Trip Part 1

2011-08-01T11:26:00.000-07:00

The People: Jenny, Michelle, Matt, and Maity

The Car: 2001 Lexus CS 300

The Trip: Washington DC to Malibu, CA

The Distance: ~3600 miles

The Duration: 10 Days (28 May - 6 June)

The day before departure, I had a peculiar sense of foreboding, like this trip would be star-crossed for some reason. The signs were ubiquitous. Matt's stomach was in ruins. Jenny's trip from NYC to Washington DC on the eve of our journey was marred by the towing of her car and a traffic ticket; and, of course, the pleasant city traffic of New York meant that by the time she reached DC on Thursday night, she was haggard and had sacrificed dropping in on the Amish of Pennsylvania. Michelle, who was supposed to bus in late evening on Friday, suffered the curse of banking and stayed in to finish banking stuff till 3 in the morning, missed her bus, bought an expensive train ticket for 5 in the morning, missed that train, and finally embarked on a 6.30 train for DC. While Michelle's delay was a blessing in subtle disguise - we got to drink beers, sleep in late and play Settlers of Catan into the night - I was worried about the inauspicious beginning to our trip. A fear that, and I thank the Gods here, turned out to be quite unnecessary.

Day 1
So, on Friday the 28th, after stocking up on snacks and stories, we picked up Michelle and her massive sleeping bag from the metro and started our 3600 mile journey to The Pacific. Day One aim was to get as close to New Orleans as possible. We headed west on the dreaded I-66, the scourge of all interstates, and then headed south on I-81, passing through Virginia, the tornado ravaged lands of West Virginia, and finally Tennessee, where we stopped for a bite in the university town of Knoxville.

Knoxville was surprising. It was hip. Something I did not associate with the South. Perhaps because it's an university town that it felt like it was really hip and youthful. Perhaps we only saw that part of the city. We walked through the central plaza, almost an European type piazza with fountains and Frisbees. We walked through a rather curious sculpture garden where we got our first taste of Southern modern art. We made it a game of guessing the prices of some of the works. Dinner was at an upscale joint on the corner of the piazza. I had a Atlanta brew called Deepwater 420, a really sweet and hoppy beer that felt like it was brewed with saltwater. Matt had the most amazing bisque. Jenny and I shared a rather interesting gourmet Mac'n'Cheese.

As we left Knoxville, we decided to drive for a couple of hours and get as close to New Orleans as possible, which was still about 500 miles away. We decided to stop at Chattanooga, TN a little border town by Alabama. Unfortunately, the recent tornado and storm activity meant that all the motels and hotels around the Chattanooga and surrounding areas were filled to the brim with refugees from Georgia, and Alabama. We had no choice but to continue driving down south. We found a room in Gadsden, AL and with Matt at the wheel, we raced through the dark, straight, empty highways of Alabama to find beds for our tired souls. By the time we hit the sack at the Best Western in Gadsden, it was about 1 in the morning, and we had covered about 700 miles after almost 11 hours of driving through five states. This was also the start of our rather unhealthy obsession with Best Westerns - the Largest Hotel Chain in the World. That night we simply collapsed.

Day 2
Early Saturday morning, after a complimentary breakfast courtesy of BWH, we set out for New Orleans via Birmingham, the largest city in Alabama. Birmingham in the 60s was one of the epicenters of the Civil Rights Movement and the city is littered with monuments and testimonies of the men, women, children, and events that led the fight for equality for all. We drove into Birmingham on Sunday morning at ten and parked next to the civil rights museum where a large sign warned "No Panhandling". Almost immediately, a ragged gentlemen stepped up to ask for some spare change.

Birmingham was a dead city on a Sunday morning. Presumably, everyone was in church! We walked around the city along the historical Civil Rights Walk, where the likes of MLK had raised a ruckus almost fifty years ago. It was here that we encountered a small medical center - "Hugs n' Kisses - Alternative Care for the Mildly Ill Child". After a quick loo break we left the eerie town and headed back on the road towards NO. I encountered my first ever Cracker Barrel and Jenny and I were racked with curiosity. Matt and Michele fed us, what we later learned, apocryphal stories of what exactly a Cracker Barrel is. We were told of mysterious peg games, and exotic foods, but more on that later.

On-route, we stopped for lunch on the shores of Lake Tom Bailey in the state of Mississippi. Apart from watching people fish and enjoying some fresh air, discussion of a potential two days stop at NO was brought up. There was a movie shoot that was happening somewhere around NO, but to go there meant stopping at NO for an extra day. This quickly became a contentious issue.

As we continued driving through the swamplands and mangroves leading to NO, we encountered the first signs of the consequences of Katrina and Rita, almost six years ago. One of the long bridges controlling the ebb and flow of traffic into NO, lay in ruins...

(To be continued...)

Final Route*:
New York, NY -> Washington DC -> Knoxville, TN -> Chattanooga, TN -> Gadsden, AL -> Birmingham, AL -> New Orleans, LA -> Houston, TX -> Brenham, TX -> Austin, TX -> Carlsbad, NM -> Santa Fe, NM -> Grand Canyon, AZ -> Santa Monica, CA -> Malibu, CA -> Washington DC

*Places in bold are where we spent the night

The Office

2011-05-21T09:12:00.000-07:00

Over the course of the last three years, the junior staff at the office have maintained a healthy level of insanity at the work place. Besides the pranks, there have been several instances of un-professional behavior. In no particular order, I present to you an ever growing list of workplace idiocy. I'm sure I've missed a few... fill me in.

1. The 100 Cheesburger Poker Night

Five people. Simple concept.

We drove to a McDonald's drive-thru after work. Ordered, 5 Coke Zeros, 1 medium fries, and 100 $1 cheeseburgers. After the recovery from the initial shock, the franchise gave us two huge boxes of 50 burgers (Later, upon counting, we realized that they had given us 106 burgers instead). We took our burgers, went back to a conference room at the office. Took out a deck of cards and played poker, using the burgers as chips. After an arduous duel, I emerged victorious, winning a grand total of 83 burgers, the rest were eaten or given away. Originally we had planned to give away the burgers to homeless people, but we got lazy and instead filled the kitchen fridge with them. The next day we put up a notice saying FREE FRESH BURGERS.

2. Chair Racing
First instituted as a late night boredom reliever during the dark days of October 2010, for a while this became a dominant act for bragging rights to set fastest lap-times around the cubicles. The leader board was kept on JK's desk as a reminder of who's top dog. Over time, with JK's move to a different desk, the sport disappeared in to obscurity.

3. Russian Roulette
An aftermath of the "Assassination of Pragyan" prank. Suddenly, Nerf guns. One of them the Maverick, a revolver type Nerf reminiscent of the Mel Gibson Western character. Russian Roulette with Nerf Guns, simple enough idea, tons of fun.

4. The Rube Goldberg Machine
A testimony to the great times in Office 208. An idea that led to one of the most fun things I've done since graduating college. Props to Gilmartin.
<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/iframe&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;5. RPS-Wookie&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;6. The GSE (and the Bailout Protests)&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;7. The Big Lebowski&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;8. Bhangra in the Office&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;9. The Christmas Tradition&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;10. Kame-Hame-Ha&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;11. Crotch-Crotch-Attack&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;12. The Two Towers&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;13. Conquer Club&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;14. Vote Here, Vote Now&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;15. Kricket/Basekit&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;16. Chess vs. ICF06344&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;17. The Box on the Door&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;18. The NC Fan Club&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;19. Betting on the results of the PJM FCM&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/div&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/DIV&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

5. The GSE Index and the Great Crash

6. The Big Lebowski

7. Crotch-Crotch Ball

8. Fish Here, Fish Now

9. Vs. ICF06344

10. Ka-Me-Ha-Me-Haaaa

11. Halloween

12. Fogo De Chou

13. RPS Tourney

14. Baseket and Kricket

15. The Two Towers

16. Conquer Club

17. The Paper Throw League

18. The NC Fan Club

19. The Capacity Price is Right!

20. Improv Night

21. Vidz-Ball

The Great Depression

2011-05-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Another disappointing end to a promising season. Another season racked with false hope. Another season of crappy refereeing - please don't argue with me on this one. Another season of squalid rumors about Wenger and Fabregas and Nasri and Co. I don't particularly care that Arsenal hasn't won a trophy in six years. What I care about is that they play good football. Alas, of late, the team seems shaken with doubt and self belief - losing at home to Villa in a pathetic manner. I want the team to stay together, I don't want anyone to go - ok, maybe Denilson. Still, we have one of the sharpest strikers in the world, two visionary playmakers, a good man in goal, a vermin-exterminator on defense, and a warhorse in pits. We can come back from this and we will, one day this walk of shame, will only be a distant memory. Vive le Gunners.

John v. Fredrich (It's Goin' Down Yo)

2011-05-14T09:21:00.000-07:00

Sometime ago, two people, an economics professor at Geroge Mason University, Russ Roberts and film-maker John Papola started a website called Econstories.tv to try raise awareness about the economic paradigm we live in and the policies our governments subscribe to.
Their first endeavor was a rap battle between two opposing stalwarts, John Maynard Keynes (father of Spending Theory) and F.A. Hayek (father of the Austrian perspective).

After the resounding success of the first video, they released a sequel recently:

Enjoy!

"The Three Musketeers" or Why the French Had a Weird Sense of Honor

2011-04-05T12:28:00.000-07:00

"The Three Musketeers" by Alexandre Dumas... sorry I couldn't be bothered to put the acutes and obtuses in there. I don't know why I was so impressed by this book when I first read it. I guess it was the swashbuckling-sword-fighting-dash-and-romance that veiled me from the baser depravity in the novel.
CJ was reading it recently so I got into it as well. What on earth were they thinking? Everyone of the so called heroes, are, by today's standards at least, at best, morally depraved hooligans. First D'Artagnan starts a fight for no reason, seduces and steals away his landlord's wife, aids and abets in his queen's adulterous affair with the Duke of Buckingham, covers up royal scandals and commits treason by lying to his King - and he wants to be a musketeer, what a poofy joke.
And the Three Musketeers - well they weren't exactly model were they? Killing and pillaging as they pleased, no respect for the law - "ooh we're the King's men, you can't arrest us, nananana" - but a bunch of crock. Athos - now there's a sour cat - marries a woman, sees she's a criminal, thinks of beheading her but let's her go but FTW later kills her - I mean Dumas are you even reading your work - this is what happens when you serialize instead of writing in one sitting - you have no idea what you've done and what you're going to do.
The novel celebrates adultery, murder, treason, hooliganism, vandalism, lying, cheating and all the things that make an ideal candidate for a Fox News anchor. Why do we let children read this stuff?

Best Meals I've Ever Had: Part 1

2011-01-25T07:26:00.000-08:00

I like food. I am not the most voracious or gastronomically gifted eater, but I like my food. It makes me happy... sometimes for several days after consumption. A happy meal doesn't always mean the food was very good, or expensive, or the occasion and pomp and circumstance, but always a culmination of all of these. And if you can escape post erratic bowels, then it is truly a meal worth remembering. Here are a few that I remember most fondly in recent years in no apparent order.

Cafe Romeo, Adams Morgan, Washington DC

Sunday brunch, sometime in October 2010

Pragyan, Blair, Patrick, and I helped Patrick pack up all his worldly possessions into the back of a twelve foot Budget truck in the sweltering DC heat. As a reward Patrick bought us lunch at this shackish Mexican joint in Mt. Pleasant. We all had the Green Migas - scrambled eggs tossed with crushed tortilla chips and green spicy salsa served with curried potatoes. My mouth waters as I write this.

Cafe de Luxe, Tenley Town, Washington DC

Saturday Brunch, sometime in September 2010

Crab Cake Eggs Benedict on toasted sourdough bread topped with chopped home fries and thick bits of semi crispy bacon. Alex and I were supposed to go to a Thai place in Tenley Town for brunch, but we found this place en-route, and what a find it was. Simply delicious.

Nice Donner Kebab, Nice, France

Post swim lunch, sometime in August 2006

I actually have a photograph of this beach side shack and the scrumptious doner kebab sandwiches they have. Hann and I went swimming early in the morning, trying to shake off a terrible hangover from a night of heavy smoking and drinking with Tru, our French Canadian roommate at the hostel. I had returned to the hostel and retched so loudly and for so long that the landlady thought I had food poisoning and was about to call an ambulance. It was nothing serious... just a drop too much pastis. So after a dawn swim, with the sun and the moon both looming in the horizon on a completely deserted beach, we walked towards our hostel, tired and hungry when we returned to Nice Donner Kebab, a small Turkish run kebab joint. Pure bliss. The simple act of adding french fries into the donner wrap and toasting it - genius. We ate, saw a glimpse of heaven, said shukran and left.

Wok Your Way, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Post coffee shop dinner, sometime in September 2010

After a day of walking, Van Gogh, and coffee shops, the one thing that could satiate a man properly was crispy noodles with beef in black bean sauce at Wok Your Way, the center of my world in Amsterdam. Han and I ate here, the same thing, for every dinner, for 4 days. I remember the first time I ate here, Hann and I didn't talk till we had devoured every last morsel on our plates and laid down our chopsticks of destruction. No Chinese food, eaten anywhere in the world, will ever come close to this experience.

Hasty Tasty, Safdarjung, New Delhi

Late night mutton momos, sometime in June 2007

Hotel President, Dehra Dun, India

A Form post ICSE lunch, sometime in April 2001

Chateau Nicolas Cage, EST. 1964

2011-01-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the first installment of "The Fine Wines of Hollywood"

Today we bring you Chateau Nicolas Cage; makers of fine California Reds.

NC has consistently produced some of the best so-bad-it's-awesome wines. The pungency of NC's wines work on multiple levels. On the first swig you're hit with awful, but as you drink deep, you taste the myriad giddy flavors of mind-fuck with an after stink that possesses you and forces you to drink every NC wine, including *shudder* "G-Force".

Perhaps, this vineyard's finest production till date is 2010's "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" - light on the mind but very, very heavy on the soul. Although they did not hit the high arse-gravy standards of "TSA", there have been other equally unabashed, unappreciated gems such as 2008's "Bangkok Dangerous", and 2005's "National Treasure".

Of course, one of Chateau NC's crowning achievement was "Knowing" in 2009. When I first drank "Knowing", I thought to myself, "wait a minute, I've tasted this wine before!" - this is the same heart wrenching feeling I had drinking "Next" in 2007! Nick C is the only vinyard I know who's remade his own wine within a year of its release. First they made "Knowing", then they made "Next", or maybe it's the other way around, I can never tell.

2011 promises to be NC's finest vintage yet, although there are rumors of the vineyards impending financial difficulties. Us avid drinkers, who grew up on NC's spew from yesteryear are waiting with bated breath for the two most anticipated releases of the new year - the aptly named "The Season of the Witch", and "Drive Angry 3D" - which is essentially "Ghost Rider" with cars.

A word of caution - NC's wines will get you bat-shit drunk, and you'll love it!

"Udaan"

2011-01-07T07:24:00.001-08:00

Great, great movie. Indian indie flicks' finest...

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1639426/

I loved the poem in the opening:

"Chhoti-chhoti chhitrayi yaadein
Bichhi hui hain lamhon ki lawn par.
Nange pair unpar chalte-chalte
Itni door chale aaye
Ki ab bhool gaye hain –
Joote kahan utaare the.

Aedi komal thi, jab aaye the.
Thodi si naazuk hai abhi bhi.
Aur nazuk hi rahegi
In khatti-meethi yaadon ki shararat
Jab tak inhe gudgudati rahe.

Sach, bhool gaye hain
Ki joote kahan utaare the.
Par lagta hai,
Ab unki zaroorat nahin."

Maity's Poor Translation:

Bits and pieces of scattered memories
Are laid out on the lawns of moments.
Bare feet, we've walked on them
Today we've come so far,
We don't remember,
Where we took off our shoes.

When we first came, our heels were soft,
Even today they are a little soft
And they will remain soft
As long as our bittersweet memories
Tickle them mischievously.

True, we have forgotten,
Where we took off our shoes,
But, I feel now,
That we don't need them.

This is The Dhali (Delhi) Part 1: “Thank you for flying Air-Fuckin-India, Bitch!”

2010-12-20T13:23:00.000-08:00

It all started with Jamshed, my rickshaw driver. That’s a lie. It started a while before that, but Jamshed played an integral role. Actually that’s a lie too. Jamshed had nothing to do with it. I don’t even know what “it” is. Whatever “it” is, Obama doesn’t get “it”, and neither do I. Okay, none of that made any sense. This is supposed to be the monumental story of my recent trip to India, and I’ve started it like a mummer’s farce.

It was supposed to be simple, land at Delhi, change a plane and fly to Kolkata (formerly and better-ly Calcutta), but no, Air India couldn’t keep things simple. That just wouldn’t be the Indian experience. You have to earn your satisfaction here.

To prohibit myself from reliving this horrible experience, I shall simply reprint the letter I wrote to Air India:

Dear Air India,
Although in all likelihood, you don’t care what your customers think of your service, I wish to lodge a complaint regarding the atrocious and inhuman treatment of Kolkata bound passengers on AI 102 from JFK to CCU via DEL on the 14th of November 2010 by the Air India airport staff at Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. The PNR number of my ticket is JBVJ1.

When flight AI 102 landed at IGN Airport Terminal 3 at 4.45PM on the 15th of November 2010 after a 16 hour non-stop flight from New York, all Air India transfer passengers were made to go through another security check and moved to the international departure lounge. There was no information regarding AI 680 which was to take all Kolkata bound passengers from Delhi to Kolkata on the departure screens nor was there an Air India representative to shed light on the matter. Most passengers found out from the grapevine that AI 680 had been cancelled! No announcements were made or information posted on any screen. I was also told that these events are now frequent with Air India, and happen almost every week.

The information desk unsuccessfully spent two hours trying to get an Air India representative to come and provide us with more information, but no one came. Eventually, the passengers, 34 Kolkata bound, and 17 Chennai bound (whose flight had also been cancelled without notification), caught an arbitrary Air India employee to try and get more information. This Air India employee tried to escape the passengers but some of the passengers, including myself, doggedly followed him, till he eventually called out the Duty Manager claiming some passengers were harassing him. Finally, after three hours of waiting, at 8PM, the duty manager came and said that the flight was cancelled and that we would be given hotel accommodation for the night and put on the 7AM flight to Kolkata. He asked us to be patient till he organized everything. And what a fantastic job he did (I’m being sarcastic here in case you didn’t understand).

At 9PM, we were asked to go to the food court for dinner where we were served beggar’s ware of some watered down yellow daal, paneer, rice, and one roti from Curry Kitchen. I ate better food in boarding school. After feeding us this pathetic dinner we were made to wait another hour before being told to head down to immigration. At the immigration counters, the Duty Manager disappeared and left us in the hand of some Air India peon who had no idea what was going on and started a row with the immigration officers. The immigration officers wouldn’t let us go through and the peon was sent to find some qualified Air India personnel to explain the situation. Now we had 51 people, mostly elderly folk and families with little kids standing in the middle of the immigration section with nothing to do but get frustrated by the Air India’s apathy and lack of respect for their passengers.

Finally, after another hour of waiting, at 11PM, we passed through immigration, and picked up our baggage. Unfortunately, the baggage of one family was also lost. Some other Air India person with a mouthful of paan came and reassured us that everything was under control, and the coach to take us to the hotel was waiting outside. So we took our bags and went outside the airport but there was no coach, bus, or any other transport waiting for us. Then this Air India representative disappeared. An hour went by, and there was no sign of the bus or the Air India representative. Finally at 12.30AM, 8 hours after we landed in Delhi, two shabby coaches showed up and parked a hundred meters away from where we were waiting. We were instructed to go and load our baggage in the coaches and get in. The coaches were so small, that our entire luggage did not fit in the two coaches, and some people were left stranded behind while the first two coaches went off to the hotel. After a forty minute drive in the rickety bus, we arrived at an equally shabby hotel called City Mark somewhere in Gurgaon. This hotel didn’t even have rooms ready for us and asked us to wait while the rooms were being prepared. It was past 1 AM by now. After another twenty minutes, the manager informed us that there weren’t enough rooms in the hotel so he was sending some of us to another hotel a few minutes away. He promised us that this hotel would be equally shabby, if not worse. By the time we checked in and hauled our luggage to our room in this third class hotel called DDR Residency, it was almost 2 AM. That left us with little more than 1 hour to sleep because the bus to take us back to the airport was going to come at 4AM, so were to assemble in the lobby at 3.30AM. Apart from a couple of hours of sleep on the flight, the last time any of the passengers had slept was more than 24 hours ago.

After a relaxing stay of 1.5 hours in the hotel (FYI sarcasm again), where we found a used condom and a cockroach in the bathroom, we assembled downstairs to wait another hour for the coach to show up. Luckily all the folks at DDR Residency and their luggage fit in this coach. Unfortunately, the hotel did not have staff to help us load the coach so we (by we, I mean three unmarried young people including myself and the driver) to load the bags into the coach. After reaching the airport, we unloaded and found that there was no Air India staff to help us. The guards at the gates would not let us in since we did not have any ticketing information regarding our flight from Delhi. Finally, I went to the ticketing office and asked if seats had been reserved for us on IC 401. The gentlemen at the desk said that there were no reservations in any of our names and that we should speak to the duty manager. The passengers staying at the other hotel still had not arrived at this point.

We went to the duty manager who didn’t have any idea what we were talking about and asked us to go find out if there were any vacancies in other airlines since IC 401 was fully booked. The Chennai bound passengers were in the same boat. Finally some lady in-charge of reservations sent a message saying that she had blocked some seats on IC 401 and only then did a staff officer grudgingly process our boarding passes. By now it was already 6.30AM, and we had thirty minutes to clear security and get to the gate. As we were going through security, we finally saw the remaining passengers from the other hotel come in… they had been waiting outside trying to get in! It was sheer luck that we all managed to get back to Kolkata.

I have never experienced such apathetic and horrendous service by any airline. The lack of organization and random cancellation of flights aside, the unapologetic and downright rude behavior of the airline management staff was frustrating and simply unacceptable. As a regular Air India flier from the US to India over the last 6 years, I am insulted by the way you have treated us. No word of apology was ever given and every question was met with exasperation as if we were burdening the staff with unnecessary requests. It is a small wonder that Air India is doing such terrible business and losing customers to Jet Airways and Kingfisher.

I am flying back to the US on the 19th of December from CCU to DEL on AI 681 and DEL to JFK on AI 101, but I promise you that it will be that last time I fly Air India. Rest assured I will advise everyone I know, never to fly by an airline which regards its passengers as baggage instead of human beings. The way Air India treated those 51 people was testimony of Air India’s ineptitude, incompetence and total disregard for its passengers. I can offer no thanks, only insults and demand that you compensate these 51 passengers for the inhuman way you have treated them.

If you are an Air India employee and reading this letter please know that you are working for a company doomed to fail due to poor management, and I advise you to get out and get another job as quickly as you can.

A begrudging former customer,

Me

I am yet to hear back from Air India.
Next week, we continue with an exciting new installment of “This is The Dahli (Delhi) Part 2: The Wedding of The Kunj”
Till then, fare thee well.

Back and Mature... Probably Not

2010-12-07T23:06:00.000-08:00

This blog died with my job. Now, with a new project in mind this blog returns to chronicle my endeavour to do something new. Starting with my recent trip to The Dahli (Delhi) and my friend Kunj's wedding... and all the shenanigans that ensued...

Stay tuned...

From Batman to 100 Bullets

2009-01-29T12:03:00.000-08:00

This blog has been on hiatus for a while, but I'm back... this time with comic books.

I've grown up with different kinds of comic books, from Archies to Tinkle, Doga, and Phantom. Below is my take on some of the best trade paperbacks and comic book series I have read in my short and torrid love affair with comic books. They are no necessarily in order of preference...

Alan Moore's "The Watchmen"
I think everyone is quite familiar with this series. In fact, with the movie craze on, if you're not, you soon will be... Needless to say one of the finest comic books written. It was the first comic to be called a "graphic novel" and the only comic book to win the Hugo Award for science-fiction. 'Nuff said.

Frank Miller's "Batman: Year One"; Ed Beaubarton's "The Man Who Laughs"; Jeph Loeb and Time Sale's "The Long Halloween", "Dark Victory"; Jeph Loeb and Jim Lee's "Hush"; Brian Azzarello's "The Joker"; Alan Moore's "The Killing Joke"; and Frank Miller's "The Return of the Dark Knight" in this particular order is the best set of Batman graphic novels in the market.

More to come...

Nuclear Woes!

2008-07-01T14:48:00.000-07:00

Very few things get me more excited than some good Left bashing. Consider that coming from someone who has lived most of his life in a state controlled by commies for almost three decades! The 1-2-3 Agreement, Singur, Nandigram… there is no dearth to how hard the left tries to be disliked and their ambiguous protests labeled idiotic. What befuddles the mind is that even though the lower echelons of the party are populated by blithering morons, the Left in India (like in China) is headed by some of the intellectual stalwarts of the country. Rarely do we find men of such caliber as Yechury and Karat, yet, contrary to what the so called intellectual consensus of the country believes, they will oppose it. Surely they are not that smart…I perused the salient features of the 1-2-3 agreement, and I can not fathom why the Left is so determined to oppose it. What the f*ck do you mean Muslims are against the deal? Why? Mayawati, of course, has no answer for that...

From a purely entertainment (let’s face it, that’s what Indian politics is about) perspective, the drama could not play out any better than the Samajwadi Party getting entering the scene. Will the Left fold? Will Manmohan moon Yechury and Karat? I can’t wait!

aMAD Films Presents:

2008-04-25T15:51:00.000-07:00

Amit and I made a sequence of short movies with a math theme for fun. Here's a first look. Enjoy. If you want to watch it in high quality, you need to go to the youtube site. You can do that by just clicking on the "youtube" sign on the video. In youtube you can choose the "view in high quality" option.

Smashing M&Ms

The Mathematical Father

Professor Gone Wild

"Madam, you have between your legs an instrument capable of giving pleasure to thousands, and all you can do is scratch it!"

2008-02-27T13:37:00.000-08:00

~ English conductor Sir Thomas Beecham commenting on a cello player's talent.

Although this is an arbitrary post to pick up after being AWOL for so long, but I really don't want to talk about life, universe, or anything else along those lines.

I have been listening to some western classical music since December last year. No apparent reason, just happened to stumble across it as I was aimlessly trying to find something interesting to distract me while waiting for a job... which, by the way, I still haven't found, so I would appreciate any help anyone could give me.

Anyway, on to the subject at hand. This is not meant to be pretentious. I am musically talentless, tone-deaf, if you will. Nor am I educated in the jargon. I don't claim to be a connoisseur, these are just some of the pieces I have truly enjoyed listening to, some over and over again in our media library selection... a top 10 pick. I have provided a few links to some of the pieces on youtube, but most are of poor quality not to mention in incomplete parts, but will give you a sense of the piece.

1. Sergei Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto#2, Op. 18
Compared to the chaps we are familiar with, Rachmaninoff is fairly contemporary (d. 1943). He wrote this piece recovering from severe depression and a particularly dirty break-up with his wife. Although not as famous as his Piano Concerto#3, this is a powerful piece and the first movement is absolutely spellbinding. A virtuoso himself he often played this as a part of his repertoire. There are lots of renditions... Arcadi Volodos, Sergei Vassiljevitsj, Evgeny Kissin, but my favorite has to be Alexis Weisenberg with the Berlin Philharmonic conducted by the late (Nazi!) Herbert von Karajan. The clip is a little messed up in the beginning but it's Karajan and Weisenberg.

2. Sergei Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto#3, Op. 30
His most famous composition, and reputedly extremely hard to play well. Although, I personally prefer #2, #3 requires more deftness and technical fingering, or so I am told by resident piano experts at Hamilton. I have only heard two renditions, but 69 year old Vladimir Horowitz playing under the baton of Zubin Mehta in 1978 was absolutely spectacular. Clip of the first part of the first movement.

3. Camille Saint-Saens' Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 28
Although considered repetitive or even boring, along with Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto #1, Op. 35, this is my favorite piece for the violin. Again there are many renditions, Itzhak Perlman, Jascha Heifetz, etc. The one that really captured me was 14-year old Viviane Hagner performing with the Israeli and Berlin Philharmonic in Tel Aviv in 1990 under Zubin Mehta. There was something about that performance that was just right...see for yourself.

4. Pyotr Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto#1, Op. 35
When this composition premiered it was major failure and most violinists of the time refused to play it, but today it is concerned as one of the best pieces for the violin and virtuosos covet to play the solo. I have mixed feelings about this. At times, it is sublime, at times it sounds discordant and scratchy, more of an experiment with the instrument than the results of success. Nevertheless, 18 year Akiko Suwanai, prize winner at the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow has played a beautiful rendition. Jascha Heifetz's is the most famous, but I still prefer Suwanai. First part of the first movement.

5. Maurice Ravel's Miroirs 4: "Alborada del Gracioso"
French. In my opinion the pop star of the modern Romantic period. Ravel is the turn of the century ABBA. Upbeat, catchy, and you can tap your feet to it and you don't need to close your eyes to enjoy the music. I personally like the piano solo version, but the arrangement for the orchestra is quite good too but feels a little somber and not, well "happy enough". There's a strange piece with Bram van Sambeek doing a bassoon solo! As for versions, there's Richter (a bit too fast, I felt), Karstein Djupdal (the other version our library had) is quite good. I'm sure there are some better ones out there, let me know if you find a good piece. It's a horrible version but the best I could find on youtube.

6. W. A. Mozart's "Requiem" K626
Foggy, gloomy, surreal. Mozart's famous unfinished work. Although there is debate on how much of it was actually written by the maestro himself, it is still a hauntingly beautiful piece. The violins and the chorals... it's pretty scary. Haven't found a favorite version yet. First part of 6.

7. Camille Saint-Saens' "Danse Macabre"
Another hauntingly surreal piece. I first heard an excerpt of this as the opening theme to the British drama "Jonathan Creek" starring Alan Davies. For this composition too there are arrangements for violin and piano, but I like the orchestral version the most. There is something about the thundering sound of violin crescendos and timpani. Complete clip, good quality, Philadelphia Philharmonic.

8. Igor Stravinsky's "Petrushka" (ballet)
I wasn't sure if I wanted to add this, so I am playing it right now and I think I should add it. Petrushka is a ballet, and although it has it's moments of genius, if simply heard, rather than seen, it can feel a bit, well, "rough". Russian to the core, it's very hard with heavy, banging fortissimos. The piano arrangement that he later did for Russian pianist Rubenstein is actually quite good. I'm trying to see if I can get hold of a video, I've asked the library to order a copy, let's see. Youtube has a very dirty copy if you're interested. Piano rendition of "Russian Dance" from the first act.

9. Pyotr Tchaikovsky's "Festival Overture: The Year 1812", op. 49
To quote Calvin, "The fire cannons in a crowded theater... and then they say classical music is boring!" No seriously, this is as Russian as it gets, war drums, cannon fire... gotta love that. Quite different from the Violin Concerto I listed above, but equally good. And if you're Russian, patriotic to beat. If you're French, well that just sucks now doesn't it? Versions, hmm... well we have the Moscow Philharmonic and the Berlin Philharmonic versions conducted by Ozawa. Both are good, but use synthesized sounds. I want a taste of the real thing!

10. Johannes Brahms' Symphony#1, Op. 68
I was torn between Handel's "Messiah" and this but I think the fact that Brahms took almost 20 years to write the damn thing, gives him a little more weight. We'll cover Handel next time around. The opening is powerful. It isn't overtly long like Mahler and Beethoven (Brahms was supposed to carry on Big B's legacy...) for that matter and he manages to keep it tight. He put the 20 years to good use. Right till the finale there is a sense of tension. However, even a novice like myself can hear the similarities between this piece and a mix of Big B's 5th, 7th, and 9th symphonies. No favorite version yet. I don't know how good the clip is, I haven't heard it... it's the first decent on I found on youtube.

Well that covers that for now, next time, let's see, Beethoven, Liszt and his unplayable "Transcendental Etudes", Strauss, Debussy, Haydn, Mahler, Mendelssohn, Bruckner and whatever I find interesting in the interim. Maybe Paganini. I'm sure many of you have recommendations, so fire away...

"My Name is Harry Meadows, But You Can Call Me Death"

2007-11-26T20:03:00.000-08:00

So I am doing a little news segment on Asian Affairs for our weekly Asian Cultural Society meeting. Of course, there was no way I am going to use the common current affairs material, because, like Canada, who cares. So I dug around trying to find some interesting stories from the past, present, and the foreseeable future of Asia, and I found the following stories on the BBC website of QI (Quite Interesting).

The first story is about Cats in Boxes, continuing my cat theme from previous posts:

Between 1959 and 1961, a British/WHO project accidentally killed lots of cats when treating malaria with DDT in the Sarawak area of Borneo. The DDT also killed cockroaches, which were eaten by cats, which also died and the area became thus infested with rats. Now Sarawak is quite a dense forest region and fighting rats the conventional way was problematic, so the British/WHO team decided to parachute in cats in boxes into the region to fight off the infestation. The boxes had little springs attached to them which would open the box when it hit the ground. Forget about whether it worked or not, the whole concept boggles the mind!

Second story, Adding 2 Feet to the Everest:

Radhanath Sikdar a Bengali mathematician, was the first to measure the peak as 29,000ft, but because he thought people would think he just rounded up to 29,000 feet, he "added" 2 feet to make it 29,002 feet to make it seem legitimate. This was the accepted height of Everest up until 1955, when it became 29,028ft. Incidentaly, Mt. Everest is named after George Everest, the Surveyor General of India at the time, and he pronounced his name as "EVE-rest".

On a side note, apparently the most dangerous sport in the world, purely in number of related accidents and deaths, is kite-flying! Apparently the "manja" string causes many people to lose fingers, and in a few cases, arems and heads! Falling kites have also known to fall in front of motorists causing road accidents and such...

I have a few more, but if any of you have heard anything interesting of late, let me know...

Buy My Umbrella...

2007-11-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

How do I sell something that I do not own? You pay me the money, I buy the umbrella, and I give it to you. Simple, right? That's how all brokers work. However, what happens if the person sells an umbrella that does not exist, and the buyer again sells it to someone else who sells it someone else and so on. All the while, no one has actually seen the umbrella since it doesn't really exist, just the promise of it. Now consider everyone who has bought the umbrella had to borrow money to make the purchase and the last buyer borrowed money from the first seller. Who loses?

Exceprt: Ramblings in Econometrics; Maity, Abhishek, Pengu, New York, 2007.

Bradfinger's Shadow

2007-11-12T19:39:00.000-08:00

I tried but I could not think of a more banal title.

This is a story, not just any story, but a story. Captain Homomorphism is there. So is Redfield, Sloth, and The Cow. Mass produced Schrodinger's Cats play special weapons. We're not entirely sure what they do, but it's pretty bad. Tamim is the retarded son of a retired triad kingpin. he has a feline fetish. The Bald Pragyan is his brother. He is bald. He wants to kill Tamim so he can take over the Triad Empire. His weapons of choice are exploding kittens. Coupled with a Schrodinger's Cat, the kittens explode, but miraculously survive to be reused. It is still in the testing phase but the manufacturer Clicheco claims it can be used nine times before it needs to be returned to the animal shelter. There is no intrigue so stupid people can read it. There are a few women with nice puns. It is a story told within a story to understand a story that is essential to the the story - take that Faulkner. There isn't a laugh track so you probably will not laugh as the jokes are too sophisticated. They may seem poor and corny - so stupid people can read it - but underneath that what is hidden lies a deeper, funnier, Woodehousian humor, several from the mouth of a nonchalant cigarette.

This is esstentially what I have at the moment. I was bored in Econometrics and didn't want to "write some emails"...

Experiment #1

2007-10-03T14:09:00.000-07:00

Does it seem like self-help websites are getting more and more popular? It may just be me, but during my recent brain-dives into the Internets, I’ve noticed growing number of self-help websites and links to self-help articles. These articles try to inspire readers to "boost productivity” and they provide tips for “living a healthier life,” or “being more successful at _____ (fill in the blank),” etc. My question is does this stuff really work? A lot of people must think so, considering that the self-improvement market is expected to grow to $11 billion by 2008¹.

Like many other things, individual mileage² likely varies. In my case, I know that texts and speeches induce only ephemeral motivation at best. Still, I found some articles that look interesting enough, so I've volunteered myself to be the guinea-pig. I will follow the prescriptions of a few articles one at a time for at least 30 days each.

This first article is supposed help me break my habit of staying up for half of the night and sleeping in for half of the day³. I will report back within 30 days…

1. See Wikipedia link in the first sentence. It should also be noted that the revenue generated by self-help websites would only constitute a fraction of the $11 billion.
2. Yes mileage - it's slang. You can try kilometerage, but it just doesn't sound right.
3. Isn't it strange that we "stay up" at night and "sleep in" during the day. What are we staying up above or sleeping in? The blankets?

My mind says no but my body says yes

2007-10-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

SNL has been crap for awhile now and the only saving graces are the SNL digital shorts. This is the most recent one, in response to the Iranian president's speech/comments at Columbia University. I wonder what Mahmoud would say...

The Folly of Wearing Neckties

2007-09-16T13:26:00.000-07:00

by James Head

Every time I tie a tight and twisted tie
about my throat
I cannot help but laugh and cry
at such an action, such a rote,
for though I know that it's for a show
no longer to protect the coat
or shirt it still seems rather pert
for something once designed for dirt.

And so I use a handkerchief
when messily devouring beef;
Spaghetti sauce is often lost
and ruins silken cloths embossed,
and so I bring a baby's bib
should I decide to try a rib.
I roll up my sleeves and pin my cuffs
trying not to soil my ruff.

And it seems so absurd to me
that possibly - in a century -
humankind may live to see
a tissue (made not to be used through
normal means of wiping a face)
assume a prim and proper place
upon the necks of well dressed gents
who drape some dreary barber's capes
about their napes in order to collect
the wayward contents of their p(a)lates.

(The necktie was actually invented in Coratia as a means to stop food from falling on your shirt while eating...)

Surviving Terminal Three

2007-09-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

I haven't written anything in a while and this one's been in the stir for a while and is still an incomplete drama, but should make for decent reading till I can get something more worthwhile up.

August 22

BA 179 touched down at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City at nine in the evening. So far, it had been an uncharacteristically uneventful journey if you discount the Spanish lesbian couple I met in Calcutta. Immigration and customs went smoothly, my bags were waiting for me at the carousel… everything was in its right place! I was amazed.

It was going to be a wait at JFK for my connecting to Syracuse so I decided to get a hotel, but in the vicinity, there were only rooms available at the Ramada Inn… for $217 a night. Right, cheap that I am (I don’t even bother to pay $3 for a baggage trolley), I made my way down to terminal 3 to try and find an earlier flight. This was quite a quest in itself, because Delta 3 is a labyrinth of wrong directions and closed doors. Eventually I managed to discover the Delta hideout after following an itinerant group of bumped off gypsies for half an hour.

There was no earlier flight. I would have to take the 1:15 pm flight the next afternoon. Without asking Ron to do the math, I figured that was a good 15-hour wait. I needed to set up camp for the night. After several nights spent at airports all over Europe I was quite accustomed to this, nothing to take pride in, but it did take one back to the ‘hunter-gatherer’ days. First, seek out abandoned luggage trolleys to hold your baggage, and then find good shelter close to a freshwater source and a toilet. Finally, before attempting to snatch some shuteye, it is advisable to secure your baggage with off-the-cuff anti-theft systems like grappling hooks, stray wires, whatever is at hand.

Unfortunately, the Delta Domestic Departures terminal is not built to host the needs of temporary hobos like myself. There were exactly two sets of waiting seats able to accommodate precisely nine people give or take a couple, literally. Another overnighter couple had annexed one bench and I lost my seat on the other when I went to use the facilities.

For a while, I just wandered around the now closed terminal, pushing my trolley, wishing Hann were around. Hann knew, through experience, how to hold on to territorial claims and was quite adept at finding lush green pastures. Eventually I decided to build my own shelter with the parts I had. I managed to smuggle myself behind enemy lines and steal a bunch of chairs from the check-in counters. The idea was to make a bed with six roller-chairs. It was a bad idea. I fell. Twice.

I was also getting a little hungry. Rations were running low. I had one bar of Dairy Milk, a KitKat, 2 bottles of Black Label, and a jar of chili-garlic spread. The terminal would open at 5, so I had to wait another six hours before more food would become available. Restraint was necessary.

I made a makeshift weight-holder using my trolley, backpack, and suitcase. I was not a comfortable arrangement, but I was not sleepy anyway, jet lag. I killed a couple of hours watching ‘Mona Lisa Smile’ that I had downloaded for Gupta and was still on my computer and watching people come and go. I had to get up and walk around every once in a while to stop my backside from falling asleep… it had been lethargically resting for the last 18 hours on the plane.

August 23

At 3:40 in the morning, I decided to give up on my attempts to get some sleep and started writing this, boredom being my sheer motivation. I have nothing else to add right now. I will continue to relate in real time if anything worthy of interest happens…

So after six cool-mints, ten hours, and $25 in excess baggage fines later I finally have my boarding pass… six hours before departure. I sit on the floor to charge my laptop and immediately security begins to ask my complexion a serious of arbitrary questions. Once it charges up a bit more, enough to watch a few episodes of ‘Entourage’, I will go through security.

Through security. First, I eat, good old Flaming Wok, or such… Chinese fast food places all look the same. Sleepy, so sleepy, and sick… sick from apathy and malnutrition, not to mention the head pounding dhickkao dhichkao music I have been subject to all night on the loud speakers. Please *insert supreme power of religious faith here*, will you not end it soon? Can you feel the sewage in my stream of consciousness bogging down my thinking?

After making pleasant conversation with a gentleman from the Emirates, and a short nap I find out that the 1:15 flight to Syracuse has been cancelled due to bad weather! In the summer – are you fucking kidding me? They give us the choice between taking a bus to Syracuse at 2 or taking the 5 pm flight, but no one has any idea if the $25 they charged me for excess baggage will be refunded if I take the bus. I met another chap from

India

going to SUNY-IT also in the same boat as me. If the 5 pm flight fails to arrive, I am quite fucked. The board says flight is on time, but there are still three long, excruciating hours to go and even then, things are not concrete.

I tried to call Ashlee to let her know what has happened so far, but the machine just ate up my dollar. Bhen chod, aaj to bad luck hi kharab hai… I had to call Amit with my

roaming and asked him to let Ashlee know. I hope she got the message.

They just announced that the flight to Buffalo does not have a functioning toilet so passengers should use the toilet at the terminal before boarding. Is it any wonder why Delta is going bankrupt? I am slowly reaching boiling point. I might lose it anytime. Will this be a repeat of Chicago? They told us we are on our own if the 4:55 is cancelled. I hate flying. Worst-case scenario I think a bunch of us will cab it… there are enough irate customers here.

September 16

Eventually we did fly out... albeit at 10pm in the evening. The tornado had subsided. But my bags were lost, and they took four days to return them, without compensation. Never fly Delta ladies and gentlemen, never. Rather wishy-washy wrap up to the story, but I can't get back into the groove...

End of the world???

2007-09-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

What the hell has happened to this site???

Three out of five of our members were supposed to have endless free hours ahead of them. but what is this?

Is this it...the end of this world???

We need a savior!

After a long time!

2007-08-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! Sorry for being away from this site for such a long time. I was back home in Nepal and I just came back yesterday. Right now, I am desperately fighting my jet lag and trying to stay awake in my orientation-leader-training-sessions.

My trip from Nepal to Hamilton has always been exciting, for some reason. And as you might have guessed, I have a story again.

My journey started off with a blast. The flight was overbooked. But thanks to the airport staffs I knew in Kathmandu, I was able to secure the best economy-class seat for myself. However, my excitement quickly disappeared when I realized that the guy who sat next to me had the habit of slurping his drinks. And he kept on taking drinks one after another. God that was irritating! But that was a minor case in front of what I had to hear at the arrivals. Apparently, due to some technical problems, the staffs in Kathmandu had to take 1500kg (approx. 3300 lbs, for Americans) of luggage out of the plane. But the staffs in Delhi told us that it would arrive in the very next flight in the evening and that it would be delivered to our address within 12 hrs. I made the mistake of blindly trusting them, and so, after leaving my contact details, I went out of the airport to find Maity, who had been waiting for me for 2 hrs.

Not surprisingly, I didn't get my luggage that day. Tried calling them several times, but in vain. The next day when I got hold of one of the employees, he thought I am an American and tried to talk to me in an American accent. Phrases like 'Yeah, man, see ya!' and 'No probs, man!' were commonly used. It was a nice try but it sounded odd after hearing an Indian accent first and besides, I don't think it was supposed to be such an informal conversation anyway.

The following days of my journey also had something interesting lined up for me. London Heathrow welcomed me with one of the longest queues at the Immigration. Spent almost four full hours standing there. The day after, the Virgin Atlantic staffs there decided to charge me for carrying 1 kg of extra weight. I could do nothing but pay. The flight to JFK wasn't really smooth either. Frequent turbulence hits kept us awake. The best incident took place right before we landed at JFK. An air hostess was taking a glass of water to the passenger behind me. Just when she was about to pass me, the plane hit a major turbulence. And before I could react to the shock, I realized that I had to deal with another shock first. And this is not something I have ever heard or seen in real life or even in movies. She had lost her balance due to the turbulence and had literally landed on my laps. And before even trying to get up, she started giggling. Soon, the whole cabin burst into laughter. Her face was red. I must say that was an awkward moment. But I am happy that it was a cute young brunette and not a big fat guy. This incident reminded me of the Indian chewing gum ad I watched when in Nepal. I am sure many of you guys know what I am talking about.

Well! apart from that, nothing was really exciting. Came back and now I am trying to settle back at Hamilton after one full year's gap. Everything seems weird now.

Great Scott!

2007-08-01T12:20:00.002-07:00

My much anticipated (well...maybe) first post. I thought I'd share a couple cartoons that I found on the Internets.

Since some American schools are now teaching Intelligent Design, perhaps we should explore contrasting theories in the other sciences too...

Your unborn child wants a philosopher's stone for Christmas.

Founding Fathers vs. Fox News - Round 1: Separation of Church and State

You can find more cartoons here.

Thriller here tonight

2007-07-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know if any of you have seen these already but I saw them for the first time tonight and there are no words.

Sunlight will fall

2007-07-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

I don't have any rants, any stories, or much of anything, really. The only reason I am posting is because I uploaded an album for someone and didn't want the link (nor the hour it took to upload the music) to go to waste. I figure you kids might be interested and if not, then oh well I suppose.

The album I uploaded is Chungking's latest album, Stay Up Forever. If you haven't heard of them...They're a British band (well, duo is more like it) with a female lead singer whose voice is very sultry, smooth, and quite unique. I would say Chungking's sound is in the category of trip-hop/electronica/chill-out. They've been compared to Goldfrapp, Morcheeba, and Portishead and I can agree with the first two but not Portishead, though, because I've never heard their music. Anyway, there's not much more I can say because you just have to listen to really understand. Thanks, youtube:

Chungking - Come With Me (From their 1st album, We Travel Fast)

Chungking - Love Is Here To Stay (From Stay Up Forever)

"Where There Is Faith, There Is No Fear!"

2007-07-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

These words have been immortalized in the annals of movie lore as the tag line of perhaps the most monumental movie of our times, "Aap Ka Suroor".

Rant

2007-06-25T00:29:00.000-07:00

I want to rant. It's been a long time since I've ranted. There are many things to rant about, starting with that damn HCL commercial. I want to punch that damn HCL employee and what kind of a company provides a helicopter to go overseas but doesn't provide transport to the helipad that's in the middle of the desert... and the HCL employee can't even afford a taxi and has to hitch a ride from none other than an investment banker who's driving an SUV without gas in the middle of nowehere. That's believable.

Having said that, the new Happy Dent commercial is easily one of the best ads I've seen on TV recently.

On the other hand I re-read "The Half Blood Prince" in anticipation of "Deathly Hallows"... so many questions, only one book to answer. Potter can't be the seventh horcrux can he? Less than 30 days to go!

Fairies, Claymores and Bagpipes

2007-06-20T06:39:00.000-07:00

[I wrote this for Zorro on Doughnuts]...

First post after being a member for...I don't even remember. It was going to be on Japanese pop/rock, but Yohan's post on The Arctic Monkey's and my recent hike around Scotland and RockNess 2007 made me change my mind.

I haven't been able to find copies of all these songs because many of them I just heard live or in pubs and buses across Scotland, but you can find most of them on www.radioblogclub.com, a rather remarkable site.

Unlike their Irish neighbours, Scottish musicians have never really made a big impact in the rock and roll world. Perhaps the best known names would be Franz Ferdinand and now, KT Tunstall (who actually went to college with Snow Patrol and our good friend, Duncan)... and if you really push it, the Young brothers from AC/DC who were half Scottish. It so turns out that the tiny nation of Scotland has churned out some pretty popular music, many of which sounds too American or British to make us think that they'd be of Scottish pedigree. After all, what would we expect Scottish music to sound like? Screaming cats and bagpipes? Well, here's a small sampling, make up your own mind...

First we have Snow Patrol, a band formed in University of Dundee where Duncan went to college. These guys are pretty much like any other american alternative band, but it's worth a listen to some of their stuff; "Run", "Chasing Cars", "Signal Fire", "You're All I Have" and "Spitting Games". You might have heard the first three songs in the disastrous Spiderman 3 movie.

Paolo Nutini is another up and coming musician with some smooth beats, semi-gruff voice, and catchy lyrics. Here are a few recommendations: "New Shoes", "Jenny Don't Be Hasty", and "Last Request".

I don't know if you remember an old jeans ad with the song "pressure, pressure, pressure", but that was The Zutons. They've done some great work with "Pressure Point", "Valerie", and "Oh Stacey". Although they supposedly formed in Liverpool, Duncan claims that they were initially led by 2 Glaswegians and a prat from Edinburgh.

Before our trip to Scotland, Pragyan and I were discussing what heavy rock bagpipes would sound like and the answer to our queries were the Peatbog Faeries - another group from Skye. I don't have any particular song to recommend but you can try, "Welcome to Dun Vegas", "Wacko King Hako", and "Scots on the Rocks".

If you want to know about the McGreggor massacre or some good old Scottish folk music, The Corries would be an appropriate choice. They do a lot of great traditional songs seeped in history and lore like "Portkey Kid", "Bonnie Prince Charlie" and other patriotic songs like "Flower of Scotland".

Another band with dubious origins, Alabama 3 was formed in Brixton, England, but again Duncan claims they're actually Scots, but as long as they make good music, it doesn't matter right? They're perhaps most famous for "Woke Up This Morning" which was used for the opening sequence for "The Sopranos". I'd also recommend, "Hello... I'm Johnny Cash", and "Peace in the Valley".

Box o' Bananas performed live at the King Haakon Pub in Kyle, Isle of Skye in Northern Scotland while we were there... it's hard to imagine this tiny island in the middle of nowhere have produced some of the biggest names in Scottish modern music and also hosts the annual Skye Music Festival. Coming back to the band, BoB combines a lot of traditional Scottish instruments [read: pipes] with high amp guitars and keyboards. They're great to listen to live, not to mention bloody funny. I couldn't find anything on www.radioblogclub.com, so good luck...

The first Aberfeldy song I heard was "Vegetarian Restaurant". To be honest I really haven't heard much from these guys, but I'm looking around for some more. Radioblogclub has a limited collection for these guys. Try "Tom Weir" and "Summer's Gone".

The Proclaimers are the quitessential Scottish band. The identical twins were voted "the most Scottish band" and are perhaps best known for their song "I'm Gonna Be [500 miles]"... you know, the one that goes, "and I will walk 500 miles, and I will walk 500 more..." These guys are from the little town of Fief just north of Edinburgh and people are suprised they haven't become British sellouts! You've probably already heard "Letter From America", "Sunshine on Leith" and "King of the Road".

Another Dundee Band, The View, has also produced some decent... although certain people seem to hate them. Also accused of being American sellouts, people have called them a cross between The Arctic Monkey's and The Proclaimers, and the worst new band! Make up your mind: "Wasted Little DJs", "Same Jeans", and "Face for the Radio".

Lastly I leave you with a surprise Isle of Skye master DJ: Mylo who along with KT Tunstall was probably the biggest hit of RockNess 2007. I'm sure there are many more great bands and musicians I've missed out, but these are all the guys I know about. Enjoy! Sorry I couldn't provide the songs, but they're all there on www.radioblogclub.com.

I'll write a normal post sometime soon. I wonder where everyone else has disappeared?

Half the time we're gone but we don't know where

2007-05-23T16:22:00.000-07:00

So I graduated.

Now what?

Who are you?

2007-05-01T12:30:00.000-07:00

I just realized that although it has been a while since we started conversing through this site, I have almost no idea who you all are. Might be a good idea if we all introduced ourselves to one another.

OK...since I brought this up...

Me - Pragyan Pradhan from Nepal, a student at Hamilton College, New York - currently chilling at LSE for a year - hopefully will get a BA degree in Math and Economics in 2008. Had wasted more than a year after high school doing nothing - now in a four year college - which means another year down the drain (compared to three-year colleges in Nepal). Plans after graduation - donno yet - will probably do something in business. What else...oh ya...I will be teaching Hindi next year with Maity. Now isn't that ironic? I have never had a single Hindi lesson in my lifetime.

Those days are gone...

2007-04-27T16:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a friend of mine said to me, 'How can you drink this? It's disgusting.'

Maity and I, with three others, decided to go to a pub in the afternoon yesterday. It had been a while since I went to a pub. Without any second thought, I asked for a double black label with ice. Priya decided to take a sip from my glass, and that was when she said that to me.

I had my beer days, followed my gin/vodka/rum and now I have switched to whiskey. I also used to say at one point in life, 'geez, whiskey is damn bitter'. May be I am getting old, or I am just getting tired of mixed drinks. I like whiskey. Whiskey is good. What do ladies' know about a gentleman's drink anyway (sincere apologies to exceptions)?

Poor Maity was warned by the bartender for drinking whiskey without an ID. I almost got into trouble for giving him the drink.

What's worse than going to an expensive theater in London and not liking the play at all? - Drinking tons of expensive alcohol at a London pub and not getting drunk even a bit.

Introducing...

2007-04-23T12:30:00.000-07:00

Friar Mite D’Asia the Rurr

Frair D’Asia hails from the marshes of Klean-tun, although ancient tales hint of a youth spent in myriad lands. Apprenticed in the dark arts of Comsigh at Hymlton, he quickly rose to become an apostle of the High Church of Muk. D’Asia revels in the excretion of information and always carries with him a nameless tome of apocryphal knowledge. He also has the distinction of being the only one to tame one of the Akura beasts of Nippon and together perfect the ways of Speidlimit. In his time at Hamilton, he developed a life long hatred for the barbaric Cake and swore to destroy all their kin with his powerful Majik of Youman. We wish him good luck on his quest.

[With sincere apologies to Y'Jinn the Scribe.]

How Can I Tell You?

2007-04-16T13:09:00.000-07:00

EDIT: When I first wrote the post, a lot of my friends actually had no idea what I was talking about. And it was around 2pm (US EST), mind you. Kind of reminds me of 9/11 when I was in school and no one had a clue till fairly late.

I mean, I agree with the comments that if you don't know anybody who was affected (either directly or indirectly), you are quite removed from the situation so it's silly to get upset. But only to a certain extent. (And I do know of two people who go to VT...they were high school acquaintances, the sort of people you only talk to in class. Both are fine.) What happened yesterday is upsetting. What happens all over the world every damn day is upsetting. I know I would be lying if I said I did not feel at least a little affected by ridiculously horrible events I read about or see on the news every day. In that slight moment when you read/hear about something, one must be feeling something. I mean, are we really going to kid ourselves and say we are completely unaffected? Things do not and should not have to happen to our person or people we know in order for us to feel something, even if only to impassion our own lives or to spark inspection of the environment around us.

Three universities and a few other primary and secondary schools had to close today because of bomb threats. Stupid copycat shit. I mean, VA Tech already had cops crawling all over the campus because of two bomb threats in the previous weeks leading up to Monday, a shooting that occurred on campus in August of last year (by someone unrelated to the campus), and the shooting in the dorm that morning, and still, it happened. I can't even imagine...

Yesterday, the Chicago Sun Times kept claiming sources said the shooter was a Chinese student on a visa from Shanghai. They must feel stupid now. Bet those fact checkers will be fired. Immediately after news spread that the shooter was Asian, the racist shit I heard about was disgusting. Just because of one lone psychotic Asian guy. What about the Columbine shooting? And the clock tower shooting at the University of Texas, the guy who killed 24 people in Killeen, Texas, or Manson, Bundy, Dahmer...need I say more? They were all white. What does that say? Racial profiling makes no sense. People are pathetic.

And this whole thing about how guns don't kill people, people kill people is just stupid. People on the news were arguing that if students were allowed to carry concealed weapons, the shooter could've been stopped. So ludicrous. First of all, what were the chances that someone in that building carried a gun? Second of all, enabling more teenagers/young adults to carry guns is the worst, most careless idea ever. If anything, there should be gun control that is strict as hell. If that Asian guy didn't have access to guns, he most likely would not have killed so many people. I mean, say if he had just a knife or something. People kill people. But people without guns kill less people.

Original post:
I don't believe any of you reading this are in the States (though please correct me if I'm wrong) so you may or may not have heard.

This morning, an Asian man opened fire on the Virginia Tech campus and killed over 30 people, including himself. Information is still coming in but what is known for certain is that there was a shooting in a dorm and then two hours later, the man went to a classroom on the other side of campus and shot the majority of the victims there. There has been no official confirmation on whether the guy was a student or what. However, rumor has it the guy was a student and snapped when he found out his girlfriend cheated on him. I got that from a friend who has a friend who has a lot of friends who attend VA Tech. If that is the motivation for this, it makes things that much worse because it's such a stupid, senseless thing to kill people over. But then again, what exactly is worth killing someone over?

Wax philosophical

2007-04-16T00:17:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know, Hamilton is pretty much a tundra. It's a school on a hill and it snows from sometime in October (usually) to the end of April. In fact, it's snowing quite hard right now as I type. That's an understatement, actually. It's more like a blizzard. Coincidentally, the accepted student open house is today. I wonder how many will decide not to come because of this.

I, for one, however, wish it would snow harder. Another snow day is more than fine by me. I need more time to write my (insert choice expletive here) thesis. It will be a pain to dig my car out of the snow later but I think it's worth it. Besides, I need the exercise.

What kind of f*ckery is this?

2007-04-05T13:38:00.000-07:00

So I typed this fairly long post earlier but I stepped away for a bit, came back, and found that my browser hates me and ate my post. I'm too lazy to re-type it all so I will just write about something else.

When I was commenting in the previous post and was asked where I was from, it reminded me of the most frequent responses I'd get after I said "New Jersey."

Top 5:

5. North or South? (Representin' South Jerz! South Jersey > North Jersey)

4. Isn't that NYC's landfill? Haha (You've got it backwards, buddy! Though North Jersey does stink, what with all the factories up there.)

3. Ah, the Garden State. Why's it called that? (We've got a lot of farm land and generate a lot of flora and produce.)

2. Joisey??! Hahaha Where's your accent?? (There is no accent!)

DRUMROLL - And the number one response I get is...

1. *stare for a second* No, I mean really, where are you from? (Like it's impossible that I come from NJ! But really, if you want to ask me which ethnicity I am, just "grow some balls" and ask!)

I can say with 99.99% confidence that every time I get the #1 response, it has come from a white person. Don't mean to be racist but it's true. When I was younger, I would be clueless and just kept repeating myself until he/she elaborated with, "So were you born here?" And there's also: "Oh, NJ. So how long have you lived here (or there, depending on where I am)?" Unfortunately, I don't recall the exact age when I realized these were thinly veiled indicators of ignorance. Now, depending on how I'm asked, where I am, who I'm speaking to, and my mood, I give different answers. Sometimes I tell the truth, sometimes I make shit up and give some very random answers, and sometimes I would be a complete asshole and say "Earth" or something like it. It has become quite amusing, really, seeing people's responses to my ridiculous answers.

The title of this post is quite fitting. If you may not have noticed, all of my posts have titles that come from either a movie, song, and tv show, or may be a hackneyed quote/phrase. Anyway, this one is no different. It's a line from the lyrics in a song by Amy Winehouse, a British soul/jazz/r&b singer, called "Me & Mr. Jones." She says fuckery. How can you resist?

Amy Winehouse - Me & Mr. Jones

Amy Winehouse - You Know I'm No Good

EDIT: So Hamilton has this music festival type thing every year near the end of the school year called Mayday. I think this started in 2004. Anyway, last year, they brought The New Pornographers and some other people I can't remember. This year, they're bringing Asobi Seksu!!! I'm so excited!! (Well, actually, the headliner is Citizen Cope but I've never heard of him 'til now. Checked him out on myspace and I must admit I'm not a fan.) If you've never heard of Asobi Seksu, they're a shoegazing indie/pop rock band from NYC whose name means "playful sex" in Japanese. The lead singer, Yuki Chikudate, sings in both English and Japanese against a background of lush guitars to create this surreal, dreamy sound. It's hard to explain so you'll just have to listen to find out what I'm talking about.

Asobi Seksu - Thursday

Asobi Seksu - Lions and Tigers

To GWB fans!

2007-03-31T04:17:00.000-07:00

no offense!

let's see what 2008 has in store for the world.

Savvy?

2007-03-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

So I'm taking a Comparative Literature/English course called The Detective Story this semester. Yesterday, my professor mentioned an article he read online about a professor at MIT who coaches kids how to "ace" the new writing portion of the SAT and uses this to lend credence to his argument that standardized writing assessments are only harming students' writing abilities. It's quite disturbing, really.

Rumor has it that Johnny Depp will be in Sin City 2. Depp was originally slated to play Jackie Boy (Benicio Del Toro's role) but couldn't fit it into his schedule. This new role will supposedly be much more substantial. I, for one, am excited over this news. Johnny Depp can do no wrong. Well, aside from Secret Window, From Hell, The Astronaut's Wife...those are the only ones that pop out at the moment. Never watch those movies. If you have already, well, I feel your pain.

Maybe this song can help assuage that. I came across this song from Sneaky Sound System, an Australian band, on one of my bookmarked music blogs and fell in love with it. It's hella catchy/danceable, as in it's pretty much club music. If while listening to this song, not even one part of your body is impelled to move to the beat, then you are just no fun. Besides, this is not your regular crappy vocal overlapped with synth beats kind of dance song. It's more like a cross between The Sounds, Blondie, synth beats, and just a pinch of Kate Bush-like vocals. Give it a listen. ("You can think I'm wrong, but that's no reason to quit thinking." - House)

Sneaky Sound System - I Love It

Speaking of which, there's an all new House tonight. About damn time, I'd say. Here's another quality quote from the great philosopher, House: "Perseverance does not equal worthiness. Next time you want to get my attention, wear something fun. Low-riding jeans are hot."

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want!” [1]

2007-03-25T10:42:00.001-07:00

There is a lot to talk about for this bored meeting.

First on the agenda is the induction of one Allison “Chouball” Chou into this blog. A few more names and we will be like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Let me tell you a bit about Chou. Never believe a word of what she says. Half the lies she says aren’t true. What else do you expect from a former employee of a sketchy New York tax firm? Her favoured drink is double vodka on the rocks with a dash of tangerine. She drives a space age Honda Civic and owns a DVD of “Miami Vice”. We look forward to hearing more of her apocryphal stories…

Jae, Amit, Shraddha, and Noah were visiting for the last couple of weeks. It was great fun. Noah and I went to watch Patrick Stewart as Prospero in a superb RSC production of “The Tempest”. All through the show, I was always expecting him to say, “Engage”, but it never came. Later Amit, Noah, and I went to watch Monty Python’s “Spamalot”. Although we had crappy seats, it was a very enjoyable show, but not in the same league as T. However, the best play I’ve seen in the West End is still “The Woman in Black”, which I went to watch twice, once with Kunj and once with Elena.

My Economics teacher is expecting a child in a couple of weeks. They’ve named her Helena, which brings me to the movie “DOA: Dead or Alive” – don’t watch it. We also got around to watching “300”. Quite an intense movie; lot’s of blood and gore but it’s not “Sin City”.

Jae and I went on a Beatles trip to Liverpool. It was an excellent trip, complete with singing along at a live performance (Paul Caspa) at the famous The Cavern Pub. Back in London we went down to Abbey Road and tried hard to duplicate the album cover, but we were too spazzed out to get it right!

St. Patrick’s Day was another experience. We went to watch the parade and the live performances at Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square and topped off the day with a couple of pints of Guinness at The Blue Posts pub. Which isn’t anything special since we got drunk ten nights in a row. We love our party hats.

Wimbledon was a very disappointing outing. Not only were we lost but it also started to rain and the construction kept us out of the grounds. The museum was cool with some stunning AV demos, but for six quid that’s the least you’d expect. All other pictures, at least the good ones are on Facebook.

My plans for Spain and Portugal went down the drain when I told the Finnish embassy to “F*ck off” and cancelled my visa. I can’t imagine why any one would want to go to Finland and on top of that they people at the embassy don’t want you to go either. Gets my vote for worst embassy in the world. I hate Finland. So I’m stuck here in London. Maybe I’ll still go to Morocco and Scotland, but as of now, I’m too pissed off to think straight.

To top things off we have the sad demise of the Indian Cricket Team. 'Tis a sad day when Ireland makes it past the league stage and India doesn't. I will not sulk, not even when Arsenal is beaten by Everton.

[1]: The Rolling Stones. Seems to capture our thoughts.

The World I Know

2007-03-17T15:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was supposed to watch 300 but damn old man winter foiled my plans. The stupid groundhog was wrong. On Wednesday and Thursday, nice weather was had by all and it was in the 60's and 70's, respectively. The sun was out and if I had brought home some flip flops, I sure as hell would have busted them out and displayed my little piggies. But then Friday rolled around and in came the snow/sleet/freezing rain. I say the Hamilton weather followed me home. (A friend of mine retorted with, "Then you need to get your ass back up there.") Seeing as I am a newbie when it comes to driving, my mom forbade me from driving in the ridiculous weather.

Due to the fact that I could not drive, my friend had to pick up me and our other friend, who I was originally supposed to pick up. During this entire process, everyone and their moms were out and about on the roads. (Didn't people know that they shouldn't drive in such weather?!?!) Not only this, but everyone was driving so ridiculously slow, I don't think it could have even been considered driving. Surely it's safe to drive slowly and cautiously in bad weather, but the key word here is drive, as in move. By the time the third person in our little posse was in the car, we had approximately 10 minutes to make the movie in the theater that was at least 15 minutes away in normal conditions. Needless to say, we missed 300. But the extra time it took to get to the theater was not a waste. As the saying goes, it doesn't matter what you're doing but who you're with.

So yeah, we ended up watching The Namesake, which was the only movie we did not have to wait 1.5 - 2 hours to watch. The movie was a pretty solid story about culture, family, and discovery. That is, once you can get past the fact that Kumar ("What is that, five o's and two u's?"), I mean Kal Penn, is acting in a dramatic role.

During our long drive to the theater, a song came up on my friend's mix CD which made us all reminisce about the old days. Those who know me know I love the 90's. Everything was just better back then - the music, the movies, the tv shows, the attitudes of people in general, and etc. Unless my bias is due entirely to the fact that the 90's made up my childhood and thus, who I am and...I digress. Anyway, the song was the Cake cover of the notorious "I Will Survive" and, in my opinion, the greatest cover of any song I have ever heard. Cake truly made the song their own, what with the guitar riffs and almost lackadaisical vocals.

And because that song put me into a nostalgic mood, here are some of my favorite 90's songs/favorite songs of all time.

Cake - I Will Survive
Foo Fighters - Everlong
Collective Soul - Run
Better Than Ezra - At the Stars
Spacehog - In the Meantime
New Radicals - You Get What You Give
Ben Folds Five -Brick
Goldfinger - Here in Your Bedroom
Toad the Wet Sprocket - Come Down
Primitive Radio Gods - Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand

Just So Stories [1]

2007-03-15T04:31:00.000-07:00

Last week, James Head and I entered into a little duologue similar to our duel of bad poetry in October 2005. This time each of us had 12 hours to respond. Here are the results so far. It's still going on and I'll put up the new ones if we come up with anything good.

James:

"So, what about that big, glowing, floating hat behind you?"

"Are you retarded?"

"Yes."

Maity:

So a baby walks into a topless bar, and is really confused. Then he puts his hat down and gets a drink. All the girls try to hook up with him. They coo, whine and serenade him with intelligent conversation. He puts down his scotch and says, "Sorry ladies, I don't speak retard", and walks away without his milk.

James:

So the milkman is going on his early morning route when he comes across Mrs. Macabee - who is in her front yard, in her nightgown, watering the petunias. The milkman is a little puzzled by this, since it's 4:30 in the morning and it's still dark out. He approaches Mrs. Macabee and says, "Exuse me. Mrs. Macabee? Your petunias are on fire." And she says,"Well that's why I'm watering them, asshole!"

Maity:

So Mr. Petunia hated his name. All his life he had been teased about flowers. "Wimp in the Wind" they sang for him. He traveled far and wide and sought a wise man to weed his thoughts.

"Why must I live with such a name?" he asked the wise man.

"Because you are a flower, my son."

The next day, Mr. Petunia shot himself.

James:

So they're shooting a scene for this movie at a local diner. It is supposed to be a fight scene between two men, but the second man is nowhere to be found. For three hours they wait, meanwhile they are constantly trying to reach him by phone but to no avail. Just when they are about to give up and leave, the makeup artist volunteers to play his part.

"I'll do it," she says "I know his entire part."

The director says, "But you're a woman. The part calls for a man. You don't even resemble him slightly!"

And she says, "Well you don't even resemble Danny Devito's dick!"

Maity:

So Danny DeVito is playing chess with the leader of his local motorbike gang - The Unsteady Serpents when his phone rings.

"That's my missus", he says, "she has a special vibrator."

"Aww phooey, you're just saying that", the leader replied.

"No, no, really, you do."

And they made love on the giant chessboard.

James:

So Gary Kasparov is playing Deep Blue when Deep Blue takes one of his pawns en passant. Being Russian, Kasparov tries to accuse Deep Blue of cheating.

"Confounded machine!" he cries "Somehow the Americans fixed it to cheat against me!"

Deep Blue says, "En passant - it's French, bitch, you wouldn't understand."

Kasparov drinks himself into a stupor and goes on a rampage, destroying six chessboards and a child's bicycle.

Maity:

So Tweedledee and Tweedledum were riding their tricycles down Le Rouge de Spassky when they smell Chinese food in the crisp night air of Champagne. Tn'T park their ride on the curb and walk into an old drinking house made entirely of used Dell computers. They had heard rumors that the maitre'd there spoke a Spanish that reeked with an odd New Zealand accent. Tn'T didn't really care though, tonight was not a night to give in to their explosive nature.

As they enter, the maitre'd walks over to them and asks "qué la voluntad usted tiene?"

Tweedledum just shakes his head.

Tweedledee glances up from the menu and says "I'll have the sex on toast, please. [2]"

James:

So a clown heard about this great dish called sex on toast from his colleagues Messrs. Dee and Dum, and is riding his bicycle to the diner where it is served. While rounding a corner his front tyre sinks into a huge pothole and the wheel shoots off, hitting a small child and killing him instantly. The clown is ejected head first over the handle bars and into an open manhole cover, but instead of making a clean entrance he hits every possible rung of the ladder going down, breaking all the bones in his body above the waist. He is rushed to the hospital but is pronounced dead shortly thereafter. Meanwhile, the mother of the dead child decides she cannot go on living and throws herself into oncoming traffic and dies.

Maity:

So in a hospital just outside Panhole City, a large man, clad in Samurai battle armour and a doctor's apron, walked into the waiting room carrying a large katana and a grave expression. The sword was soaked in blood and left a crimson trail as he walked through the room to a very worried looking couple at the far end. The couple looked at him questioningly and the samurai said, "I'm sorry ma'am but your clown died in surgery."

(To be continued... maybe)

[1] Nothing to do with Mr. Kipling at all.

[2] Consider it as a homage to Murmurlark.

At my signal, unleash Hell!

2007-03-13T20:42:00.000-07:00

I may be of the female gender but I enjoy more than my share of action flicks. Most of the time, I just check my brain and semblance of feminism at the door. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a brainless movie about stuff blowing up; needless, exaggerated fights/deaths; and/or a hero who saves the day against impossible, mounting odds or honorably dies trying? I sure do.

Before the movie Sin City came out, I had never heard of it nor the comic book. All I knew after watching the trailers was that I HAD to watch this movie because a) it looked kick-ass and b) Clive Owen was in it. The same pretty much applies to 300. Epic fight scenes? Check. Good-looking guy(s) that most guys want to emulate and girls can squeal over? Check. (Gerard Butler)

And of course, there are always the critics of these action movies. Some said Sin City was too gory. Noted. But as they say, if you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen! If you can't handle the gore/violence, don't watch it. Plain and simple. I personally hate scary movies so I will never be caught dead watching one. Ever again, that is. I've learned my lesson. (Though I am not afraid of the so-called scary slasher movies which are not scary at all. I'm just scared of the weird, mess-with-your-head shit like IT and pretty much every Japanese horror movie, especially those with scary-looking little kids that make me never want to have kids of my own.) Critics of 300 have used excuses like the violence factor, the innane plot (hello, it's an action movie!), and the recently expoused excuse: it will provoke anger toward a certain peoples. I read an article saying that Iranians were in an uproar over the movie, which portrays Persians as "decadent, sexually flamboyant, and evil in contrast to the noble Greeks." Some even go so far as to say the movie is Hollywood's declaration of war against Iranians because it is insulting and promotes hatred towards Persians. First of all, I'm sure more than half the Americans who will actually go to watch 300 do not have the slightest inkling that Iran is in any way related to Persia. I bet many think it's a separate country and some may not have even heard of Persia. It's sad but probably true. Second of all, since when does an action movie, based on a comic no less, wholly and acurately represent a peoples? This whole thing is reminiscent of how Kazakhs were mad about the Borat movie. Movies are movies. They're one or a few people's take on something and is, oftentimes, a skewed version of reality or a total deviation from it. But above all, movies are for entertainment. People just need to get the sticks out of their asses.

End note: Anyone actually watch 300? I've heard it's been topping the box office and both good and bad reactions. Well, I'll be seeing it soon enough.

Have you any wool?

2007-03-10T17:37:00.000-08:00

This is not a joke. I think this just may top Snakes on a Plane.

NOTICE OF REVOCATION OF INDEPENDENCE by John Cleese

2007-03-07T16:35:00.000-08:00

To the citizens of the United States of America, in the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories. Except Utah, which she does not fancy. Your new prime minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up revocation in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up aluminium. Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour'; skipping the letter 'U' is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters. You will end your love affair with the letter 'Z' (pronounced 'zed' not 'zee') and the suffix ize will be replaced by the suffix ise. You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra' e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to re-spell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you can't cope with correct pronunciation. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up vocabulary.

Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up interspersed. There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn't have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary then you won't have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as "US English". We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of -ize.

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier). You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents - Scottish dramas such as Taggart will no longer be broadcast with subtitles. While we're talking! about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is Devon. If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become shires, e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters. British sit-coms such as The Office, Men Behaving Badly or Red Dwarf will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can't cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, God Save The Queen, but only after fully carrying out task #1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American football. There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American football is not a very good game. The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays American football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies). We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2007. You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called rounders, which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don't believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called Indecisive Day.

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips. Fries aren't even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer, which should be served warm and flat. Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all, it is lager. From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. The substances formerly known as American Beer will henceforth be referred to as Near-Frozen Knat's Urine, with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as Weak Near-Frozen Knat's Urine. This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in Pilsen, Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From November 10th the UK will harmonise petrol (or Gasoline, as you will be permitted to keep calling it until April 1st 2007) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon - get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation.

"Let the eagles soar. Shoot down the turkeys."

First Order Condition...

2007-03-07T06:21:00.000-08:00

There was a boy called Peter, he hated remembering things, so he became creative.

But he remaied true to the truths of reality, refusing to accept the mumbo-jumbo of science.

Yet he always remembered the important things...

In his groove he knew the answers to impossible questions

But all this power drove him to madness... and an unfortunate end.

In his fond memory, each year, we award the Retard Hat prize.

Long live Peter.

Seriously??!

2007-03-05T13:33:00.000-08:00

So a friend of mine just sent me this AMAZINGLY bizarre article about a woman who didn't even know she was pregnant until she was about to give birth because she was obese. So obese that her layers of fat covered up the baby kicking and whatnot. I am not kidding. Read about it here. I just had to share because really, how often do you read about something like this? Just crazy.

A Series of Unfortunate Events...

2007-03-05T11:52:00.000-08:00

Ordinary day...Friday morning...usual classes...got up early in the morning...and I was walking to school - half asleep. Suddenly my eyes fell on a shiny piece of metal. 'Today sure has to be one lucky day...I found a 1 pound coin, and the weather is awesome too.'

Level 1 - Reached my first lecture...boring...fell asleep as usual...when I got up at the end of the lecture, the professor was staring at me. Who cares? Then I went to the next class...the teacher who never bothered to ask anyone a question in the past kept on picking on me (just me) the entire period. Even other classes seemed different. Societies and clubs that advertise on the main street of LSE also decided to stop my way with 'Join us for a trip to...', 'Awesome party tonight...full of hot girls...', etc, etc. Even the Christian missionaries decided to stop me twice, not once, asking me to join their Bible awareness or I-love-Jesus programs. It was then I realized something wasn't normal that day. Just like everybody else in this world, I started thinking that the free money I found that day was probably cursed.

Level 2 - In the middle of another of my lecture, I realized that I had an assignment due in about an hour. I thought if I hurried, I could finish it in time and hence, decided to go to LSE's famous Garrick cafe and do my work...reached there...grabbed a table...took my papers out and started writing. But the deluge of phone calls I kept on getting made me feel that there was actually some 'dark force' trying to prevent me from completing my work. Smart as I was, I decided to leave my phone on the table rather than keep it in my pocket and take it back out every ten seconds.

Level 3 - A Chinese couple decided to take a share of my table with an excuse that there wasn't any free table around. They sat down and started talking to each other at the top of their voices. To make it worse, they kept on switching places for some reason. I was simply going crazy. Then they decided to leave silently. I took a deep breath and thought I would finally be able to make full utilization of my remaining time. But my happiness was broken when a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard hindered my work. I turned around to see two European women asking me to donate some money for the 'Dumb & Deaf Organization'. I checked my wallet but realized that I had no money on me, except the coin I found that morning. I gave it to them and they left. They didn't even say a word during that whole process. Then later, when it was class time, I cleared up the table and as usual, double checked if I had left anything and walked out. After 10-15 steps, I realized that there was something missing...my phone!

Level 4 - Obviously, my phone got stolen...those Chinese did a really smart job - grabbed my phone while I was looking out of the window and then they left without a sound. The worse part was I wouldn't be able to identify them if I saw them again...as I had never bothered to look at them in such detail. I rushed to one of the phone booths - called my phone...the phone was switched off. Then I called Maity using my last coin I had with the hope to make several more calls using his phone after meeting him. I thought if nothing else, I would be able to call my network with that. Thanks to the classes we had, I met him after two hours. And he didn't have the network's number. So, I decided to go back home after dinner and call the network then. The shitty dinner and the rain while coming back couldn't add much to my misery. After some problems with the stupid automated phone call, I was finally able to bar calls to/from my phone.

The Ultimate - For two weeks, I was thinking how stupid I was and how skilled those Chinese were that day. But things changed when my monthly bill arrived. I was supposed to pay 35 pounds monthly...the bill showed 125. I realized that the phone had been used for all of the three hours it had after it was stolen. Those bastards were using it to make international calls for the entire period. With some research, I came to realize something that surprised me even further. It wasn't the Chinese but the freaking 'Dumb & Deaf Organization' women who did it. The calls were made to Romania. The whole attempt to use the clipboard as a shield, blocking my view, not saying a word and leaving the place as soon as they were done all made sense then. The worst part - my super-smart mind had made me cancel my insurance policy just a month before it was stolen. Thought it wouldn't be a smart idea to spend 10 pounds a month just on the insurance.

They weren't satisfied with the 200 pounds phone...they had to take full advantage of it. And, now I have to take the full burden of it.

They have taken the 'cursed' coin...and since they have it now...I might as well curse it further.
But what if they don't any more? Should I still curse it?

You're gonna die, clown!

2007-03-01T19:07:00.000-08:00

Spoof of David Blaine.

This clip reminded me of Arrested Development. Such a great show.
Michael: So this is a magic trick, huh?
Gob: Illusion, Michael. A trick is something a whore does for money.

Regular Karma

2007-03-01T03:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday sucked.

I first found out that my planned trip to Spain, Portugal and Morocco were down the drain, because the earliest visa appointment date I could get was the 16th of April, when my trip was actually supposed to end. Not to mention I'm going to lose all my flight bookings... now there's a hundred quid well spent. And it was Holy Week too... For the first time I realised how much it sucked to have an Indian passport.

Later in the evening my friend called and since she too was depressed for her own reasons, we decided to watch a movie to cheer up... and I got ice-cream too!

"The Last King of Scotland" is undoubtedly one of the best "historical" movie I've seen since "Motorcycle Diaries". Forest Whitaker was brilliantly gruesome as Idi Amin. True, one might draw parallels to "Hotel Rwanda", but it's still a bloody good movie. Watch it. The movie was great but it was as much fun as playing with asbestos and did nothing to improve my mood.

Being a student of economics I'm waiting for the trade-off for my run of shit luck.

Is Anybody Home?!?!?!

2007-02-25T21:40:00.000-08:00

The Departed won the Oscar for Best Picture. Seriously, WHAT THE F?!?!?! No words can express my anger right now. Just ridiculous.

Black Holes and Revelations

2007-02-24T22:48:00.000-08:00

So I finally caught up with my friends from my previous post. They never got a chance to go back and it's too late now, obvs, but that's ok because karma is a bitch. Or, as Justin Timberlake would say, (No, not "I'm bringing sexy back." In fact, I wasn't even aware that it ever left!) "what goes around comes around."

Speaking of music...
If your life had a soundtrack, which songs would be on it? (Stole this from a friend's blog. What can I say, I'm a procrastinator.)

This would be mine~

Opening credits: Sleeping Lessons - The Shins
Waking up: Sleeping Lessons cont'd
Falling in love: Rebel Rebel - Seu Jorge / Samba de Bencao - Bebel Gilberto
Driving/roadtrip: All The Dark Horses - Trashcan Sinatras
Life's okay: Chicago - Sufjan Stevens
Regretting: These Days - Nico
Death scene: Unicornio - Cecilia Noel
Closing credits: Comforting Sounds - Mew / Shirt - Menomena

Who Da Man?

2007-02-22T03:07:00.000-08:00

Hillary or Obama? With all the mudslinging, methinks, neither. Besides, I don't think the US is ready for a woman or a black president. So who do we have left? Giuliani? McCain?

Speaking of men, here's saying Happy Birthday, to President Robert Mugabe. May his inflation be with him. He is the man! What do you do when you want to spend $65,ooo on a birthday party when there's 1600% inflation and the country is on the verge of civil war? Simple, you make inflation illegal and you go on state-controlled TV and ask to be relected for another 6 year term to add to the glorious past 27 years. It works.

Who's excited about Britney's hair?

Meteors Becoming Crash Into Earth

2007-02-20T03:44:00.000-08:00

So we become dinosaurs in 2036, eh? It's far away... we have better things to worry about right now... like Keynes said, "Who cares about the long run? In the long run, we're all dead."

The more news I read these days, the more I realise how little I actually know about what's going on in the Asian subcontinent, forget the world. These days I read the news with mixed feelings, I mean, it's depressing when a firebomb on a train is required to bring two governments at war to a working solution. And Mynamar extremists infiltrating the border at Kashmir... that's quite a long hike isn't it, just to get caught by border security forces?

Then when I'm about to lose all hope, you find that there is still good on earth... in Gupta's words "genuine" people - like the Prince of Bhutan.
I'm neither a Nepali citizen, nor do I believe that Nepal is a part of India, lest some people take it the wrong way. I am not an enemy of democracy. I am not an extremist. But to see the "suspended" king of Nepal defend his coup was perhaps the most shining example of "sticking to my beliefs" I have seen in recent time - a time when resolve is easily dissolved in a cup of warm milk. I don't care if the students and the "seven party democracy" believe the king was out of line... after all, people, in general, are stupid; and each day my excuse for the irrationalities in the world is strengthened.

Fighting in a sack

2007-02-10T20:26:00.000-08:00

As you may know, Hamilton is in the middle of bumblefuck New York. And in places such as this, as a minority, you have to prepare yourself for certain things, from the stares to the much much worse. I'm not sure what could have prepared me for what happened to me and three of my friends last night, however.

Last night, me, C, K, and T (Chinese, Chinese, White, South African - this is important) were out and about, having a fun night that included dinner, engaging in "girl talk," and etc, etc. Before going back to campus, C had to get some alcohol so we went to Hannaford, this local supermarket. Now, we get the alcohol (and some other random stuff like ice cream) and head to a checkout line. By then it was around 8-9pm and there were maybe 2-3 other customers in the entire store. We place the stuff on the conveyor belt and, not surprisingly, she asks all us of for our IDs. We hand them over, no problem. The cashier waves this other lady over, who takes the IDs and then whips out a book full of pictures of various state IDs (never knew there was such a thing).

She goes through C's first, then gets to mine. She examines my ID so hard, I thought she would burn a hole in it with her damn eyes. She flips it over and over and then finally asks me how old I am. I respond, "22." Then, with some bitchy tone, she says, "Is this real?" I'm like, yeah, it's an old Jersey license. She proceeds to check my ID against the book's NJ license. From where I'm standing, I could CLEARLY see that my ID looked exactly like the picture. Granted, my license didn't have the fancy holograms and barcode like C's, but if it looks EXACTLY like the picture, what's the damn problem? After flipping it over a few more times, she finally proceeds to T's. She had a NY state license so that passed on rather smoothly. The lady hands those three back to the cashier. At this point, we're just like, FINALLY. It must have been over 5 minutes.

Now, as the lady is checking K's license, the cashier looks at C's license, then mine and then she has the AUDACITY to say something along the lines of, "Who's who? You two look the same." Then she backtracks and says, "Oh, wait, I can tell by your faces." And then she also proceeds to hand C my and T's licenses as she says to C, "Give these to the nice girl behind you." I'm close enough to reach for them (and do) but why would she say that? Was she implying C was being a bitch? If anything, I was the only bitchy one at this point because I will admit that I responded to the other lady in quite the bitchy tone.

Meanwhile, the other lady is STILL checking K's license. Then suddenly, she says, "I'm sorry, but we cannot accept this. It says under 21 on it." By this point, we're pretty damn annoyed. K walks over and says she is 21 and although it says "under 21," the birth date clearly shows that she's of age. The lady counters and says, "But it says under 21." (Seriously, does this bitch know simple math?) This goes back and forth until the lady finally makes this bullshit answer up and says that the store policy says that if the license says under 21, they can't sell it. K, surprisingly calmly, asks for the manager. The lady says she doesn't know who the manager is and that it's only the night manager. The cashier picks up the phone and calls for the manager. After a few minutes, he comes over in some ratty ass shirt, Hannaford cap, and a tiny ass nametag on said shirt was the only indicator of his position. He comes over and immediately, the lady says, "Hi, Bobby." (Don't know the manager my ass, bitch!) So K, the lady, and the manager are conferring over this damn situation. Slowly, the talking gets louder and K continues to defend her position, even going so far as to request to see this so-called store policy in writing. The manager has no fucking clue and continues to say that whatever the lady said is final and right. As K continues, both bitches are smirking at us. Not only that, but the cashier had the nerve to say in a bitchy tone, "Why don't you go to Price Chopper (another grocery store)." We continue to hassle but after being at this fucking checkout line for at least 30 minutes, we're just like fuck it, there is no point in arguing with the ignorant and dumb. In the end, we just left all the shit on the conveyor belt and left.

NEVER have I been subjected to such bullshit. I have dealt with miniscule moments of racism in my life but last night took the fucking cake. Seriously?? If you're gonna be racist, at least have the balls to deny selling us shit because three of us are minorities instead of pulling out some lame ass rule to hide behind against the white girl with a legit license!

K and T planned to go back there today at a different time to talk to a REAL manager. I haven't talked to them yet today but we'll see.

What Kind of an Indian Name is Jasmine?

2007-01-28T14:32:00.000-08:00

Have to listen to this... why do people do this to themselves?

Huppy Budday Maggie

2007-01-03T07:55:00.000-08:00

Here's wishing Fong-Wai Chan a wonderful birthday... May you spy hard.

For The Mother's Pride

2006-12-19T07:14:00.000-08:00

It seems like I am the only remnant active member of this blog, but no matter, I shall continue to spew my genius on this site, albeit seldom. This sudden surge was sparked off by certain events: the new Hritik Roshan ad "Cock uthale, dhoom machale", sequel to the disastrous "Find me with cock", in the early 00s; the death of one of the legends of the animation industry, Joseph Barbera; the entire Mamta Banderjee-Singur-Tata episode etcetra etcetra. Not to mention India's first man and lady, the cute couple of Laloo and Rabri are off the hook after swindling the government of $2.8m. And what's the buzz about these days? Abhishek Bacchan angry about Hritik kissing Ash in Dhoom 2, now ain't that fitting. It seems like India has finally realized that sex sells. By the way, the new Motorolla flip phone ad has to be one of the best ads I've seen in recent times.

Well on a brighter note at least the Jessica Lall murder case is over with... yeah take that Ram Jethmalani! The Indian cricket team cruise to a 123 run win over the Proteus claiming our first win in South Africa... I didn't really care, watching Sreesanth dancing after hitting Nel for a six was worth my time. And the dada is back, silencing his critics with a gritty half century. Of course as one bong rises, another must fall, so we bid adieu to Jagmohan Dalmia. Of course, things haven't been so peachy for the Indian Hockey Team failing miserably at the Asian Games in Doha this year, looks like Gagan Ajeet Singh's two cell phone strategy wasn't so bright after all. By the way, anyone seen the video of "One Love" from the movie "Rakht" with Little B and Bips, good god, I don't know what to make of it - "...for the mother's pride"?. Brilliant like Guinness!

Oh, for the non-believers (read: Jae and Pragyan), the Kolkata Tornadoes were kicking ass in the IFA Shield till they were beaten by some second rate Chinese Club called Shenzen in a freak match... well sometimes the best can falter. The Deep Purple performance in Bangalore was great, but these guys look so old, none of that old spark that rock bands of the 70s had. I was afraid someone was going to have a heart attack on stage. These guys looked so fragile.

And the Buddhist chanting fad, wonder how long that will last? Yoga shoga, even pilates was fine, but Buddhist chanting, really? We only pick that up once the west has huh, just like everything else. Seriously, it's high-time we got over our inferiority complex and our post-colonial hangover.

This evening I went shopping in my local market. Apparently the police is going to demolish the entire joint and is moving everyone to a newly made concrete fish market. While I understand that this is probably a good thing in terms of hygiene and all those things we care about, I'm really going to miss tip-toeing my way through the various vendors, dodging the odd cart and coolie carrying a jhori of chicken. Who knows, in a few years this is probably going to be replaced by a Wal-Mart and Tesco - they've already started making cracks in the Indian grocery market scene. Woe the day when even in Kolkata, full blooded bongs will have to buy packaged fish. Heresy I say.

And then there was the trip to Amsterdam. The Last Samurai and other friends with Nepal and bright Northern Lights. For those who want to know, Absinth tastes like Pastis, not cool at all. Before I leave, I have to recount a rather interesting story. Another little adventure that took place on the eve of my departure from London.

A couple of nights before I left for Kolkata, I went to watch "The Woman in Black" with Elena. The play was excellent, although there were a bunch of school girls in the theater screaming at random moments... bimbos. Anyway, after the play I went to Elena's place and chilled over some wine and cheese. By the time I left it was rather late and the tube was no longer running. I asked Elena for directions and tried to navigate my way back to my part of town but got hopelessly lost. I asked a rickshaw-walla for directions but he just pointed me in the wrong direction... diplodocus. For a while I was worried, then I said, oh fuck it and just walked around...

So I was wandering about the streets of north London (Grover St. et al) when I met this really drunk girl at a bus station who claimed she knew the way to Kingsway and since she was in a good mood, she would show me the way. At first I insisted she just show me the way but she would not be swayed, so we went walking, singing (nah we didn't sing) and enjoying the night air although I was aware I'm supposed to talk to strangers. I wasn't even sure we were walking in the right direction. I don't think she knew which direction we were walking in at all.

Suddenly she says that she needs to pee. At my wits end I say ok there's a phone booth, use that I'll keep watch. She does that but then as she walks out of the booth she passes out. Now I don't know her name or where she lives. I only gather she's from UCL from her chic hat. so I try to slap her awake. Hey, wakey, wakey. A brown guy slapping a white woman in the middle of the night in a deserted street...something's gotta give.

Along comes a cop car. I shuddered. It was "thank you god" moment along with "I hope they don't shoot me" kind. Lucky for me they understood what was going on. Apparently there are a lot of drunk students scattered about London on a given Thursday night. They checked her creds and mine and gave us both a ride to our respective dorms. An interesting turn of events. A normal 40 minute walk turned into a 3 hour odyssey. I ended up reaching home at 4:30 or thereabouts.

Hope this keeps you all occupied for a while.

My Old School Prayer

2006-11-29T12:24:00.000-08:00

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up by narrow walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way in the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Rabindranath Tagore.
(For some reason this has been making rounds on the internet with the wrong words...)

The World’s Worst Job

2006-11-14T15:14:00.000-08:00

Playing an unnamed goon in a John Woo Hong Kong action flick has to be the worst job in the world. You have to wear a suit to work, the pay is terrible, no health benefits, and no pension plan - otherwise, I Bankers would be running to John Woo for a job, those blood suckers will do anything for a quick buck (and a chance to wear a suit). And things are not made any easier when Chow Yun-Fat never has to reload his gun and can use a 12 guage shotgun with surgical precision. I guess the only upside is that laundry costs are not too high since goons die off one shot to any part of the body.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Rajnikanth, Chuck Norris, and Chow Yun-Fat faced off – end of the world? Do goons have nightmares about these people? Do they check for Van Damme under the bed when they go to bed at night? Questions such as these have kept me up since I watched The Killer, Hard Boiled, God of Gamblers, and the A Better Tomorrow trilogies.

Moreover, how does one become a goon? Do you just walk into a Triad office and hand in your resume? Do you need job experience or a degree from MSG [1]? After all for most of these goons, it looks like this is the first time they have held a gun/driven a motorbike/car/helicopter/tricycle/auto etc. Seriously, I cannot think of anything worse than being a goon in a John Woo movie, except for maybe lawyers (no offence Nisha).

[1] MSG: Ming School of Goons, Hong Kong – the main bad guys usually graduates of this place.

Sweet?

2006-11-10T18:10:00.000-08:00

It is funny how people in London are used to spending two thirds of their day in super-congested compartments that they called ‘The Tube’. Cases of people falling ill during their ride on the train are not rare in existence. Some common explanations are the lack of ventilation and/or the person being sick before entering the train. Data and almost every single passenger would choose the former. After a long day of learning about countries from all around the globe at the World Travel Market organized in ExCel London (eastern end of London), I was heading back taking the usual, the Tube. Tiredness was what I could see in other passengers’ faces. All of them looked dead. The only means of entertainment were the sight of people making futile attempts to stay awake and the banging of the heads on the side glass by the seats. My journey was supposed to last for approximately 2 hours. Peak hour exacerbated this journey of mine by allowing a dozen 6.5 feet tall guys in the already full compartment in which I was struggling for some fresh oxygen. I was pushed to the side and could barely move. Few more people got on at the next station, among which there were two girls (17/18 yrs, normal looking, probably college girls). One of them was pushed to the pole I was hanging on to. After about a couple of minutes, I realized that her body was pressing against my hand. I felt awkward but couldn’t do much due to congestion. She was also holding on to the same pole. Soon after that, I felt someone trying to play with my fingers. It was her. I felt very uneasy and quickly withdrew my hand into my pocket. I was confused about how I should react. She then looked at me, smiled and then ended it with a polite ‘sorry’. No reaction from me again. The only thing that came into my mind was ‘Wow! That was unexpected’. Then things went back to the way it was supposed to be in a train chamber. I got lost thinking about nothing, looking outside the window. Slowly, the share of oxygen per passenger in each chamber started going up, after halts at several stations. More and more people started getting off the train. I was still standing by the door. Then it reached the station before the one I was supposed to get off at. The doors opened. Suddenly, I felt something warm on my chest. I quickly came back to senses to realize that it was somebody’s hand. It was the same girl. She looked at me, gave the same smile, said, ‘You are too sweet!’ and walked out. No reaction from me this time as well. To make the matter a little bit more interesting, I had my cousin sister sitting not very far away from me on the train witness the whole scene and later interrogate me about my intentions and thoughts. Again, no reaction from me.

I guess interesting things can happen in some of the most boring places as well.

If you were me, tell me how you would have reacted.

My Motto

2006-11-01T16:06:00.000-08:00

White Socks

2006-11-01T15:57:00.000-08:00

I hate it when trains are late. It is universal. All over the world, trains are always late. I do not like trains, but I like train stations. There is something surreal about train stations – a microcosm of modern society if you will. I enjoy sitting on a platform bench observing the world go past, entranced by the multitude of cacophonous sounds that echo around the high ceilings. Yes, I like train stations; trains are a different matter altogether.

The train I was on was scheduled to leave Napoli half an hour ago but it was still gleefully idling at the station like a fat boy in a Mark Twain novel. I was not pleased. I was stuck in a small compartment with Hann for company and the air conditioner was not running. I tried to make small talk with Hann but he seemed engrossed in the colorful complimentary magazines in the seat pocket. I don’t know what he was reading – it was in Italian, and neither of us spoke the language. I looked outside the graffiti stained window to wile my time and a glum silence filled the compartment…

Leaning my head against the wall, I was about to fall asleep when the sliding compartment door was violently pushed apart and a dirty little man with a large mustache and a navy blue knapsack walked in. He looked at us with leery eyes and snorted, and with a magical sleight of hand produced two packets and tossed one to each one of us. I caught the packet on my lap. It was a set of white socks. Bewildered, I looked up and caught Hann’s equally confused eyes looking at me. People usually don’t hand out sets of white socks.

“Socks.” The man said as if he had answered the question to life, universe, and everything else. We looked up at him.

He scratched his rough chin and sighed. “Ummm… twenty Euros.”

I look at Hann and he's busy inspecting the goods. I look down at my packet, not sure what to do, so I look at the stubby Italian expecting some sort of an explanation...

"For you only twenty Euros..."

I look at Hann. His ears were turning red. Suddenly Hann throws the packet of socks at the Italian and with a Fonz expression says, "Aieaaa, these are made in China man, my family probably made them, and you're trying to sell it to me?..."

The stubby Italian snatched the packet out of my hand and walked out with a solemn face. Once again the compartment lapsed into silence. I resumed my vigil on the platform, waiting to get to Rome.