Private Eye Shen-aye from Mumbai

The Private Eye Pose
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

I thought this was a funny pic! Almost an Ace Ventura / Big Boy metamorphosis. Well? Innit?

Gotta Lose that Pudge!

day 280: playing on the playground! II
Originally uploaded by snowdeal.

Odin tries to perfect a push up to beat all those lovely rolls of pudge.

Meet Odin!

day 325: the bestest birthday present, EVAH!
Originally uploaded by snowdeal.

I found this little baby boy's pic on Flickr. I couldnt help but gurgle in sheer happiness to see this bundle of joy checking his pudgy belly out! See some of his other pictures on flickr.

Trust me - I know what I'm doing!

Inspector Hammer & Detective Dori Doreau

Blast from the past! Back in 1992 when cable television networks went berserk in India, one of the serials featured was 'Sledgehammer!' The cop who talks to his magnum. Dirty Harry was brilliantly spoofed. Absolutely hilarious!! It's finally out on DVD thanks to Alan Spencer's efforts to revive his Frankenstein. Here are some excerpts:

Captain Trunk: Fifteen Elvis Presley impersonators killed in the last three weeks.
Dori: What on Earth could be the killer's motive to murder 15 Elvis impersonators?
Sledge Hammer: Obviously to get into the Guinness Book.

Reporter: We're here at the scene of a liquor store robbery that was thwarted by the man beside me, Inspector Sledge Hammer. Inspector Hammer, tell us what happened.
Sledge Hammer: Well, Miss, I was in this store when two thugs entered and threatened the owner with shotguns. At that time, I drew my Magnum and killed them both. Then I bought some eggs, and some milk, and some of those little cocktail weanies.
Reporter: Inspector Hammer, was what you did in that store absolutely necessary?
Sledge Hammer: Oh, yes, I had no groceries at all.

Sledge Hammer: You know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to stick your head in that microwave and set it on "sandwich."
Dori: Hammer, you can't do that!
Sledge Hammer: What? There's no setting for sandwich?

Sledge Hammer: You've never played target practice?
Soviet Scientist: In Russia, we practice by shooting dissidents.
Sledge Hammer: Here we call them liberals.

Dori: The terrorist has demanded a million dollars, a private jet and an end to the Star Wars program.
Sledge Hammer: Yeah, three movies was enough.

Hammer: Alright, look, lady. As long as we're stuck together, let's get one thing straight, alright?. I'm the guy, alright? I'm the man. I'm the guy. I call the shots, got it? I call the shots, and I fire the shots, comprehendo?
Doreau: Don't tell me. I bet you think all women should be barefoot and pregnant, right?
Hammer: No, I encourage women to wear shoes.

Sledge Hammer: You know, of all my years of being a cop, I will never figure out how people time and time again can do something like this.
Dori: It's true. Taking out a human life is just deplorable.
Sledge Hammer: Not that. The drawings of chalk outlines of dead bodies, that's just a ridiculous way of living!

Trunk watches Hammer attach something to the barrel of his gun;
Sledge Hammer: No, it's not a silencer. This little doodad is my own invention. I call it a loudener.

Sledge Hammer: Every breath you take, every move you make... I'll be watching you. That's police talk.

(s0urce: Imdb/Amazon.com)

Fearless Leader!

APJKalam
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

Moscow, May 24: A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, India's first "Powerpoint President", charmed audiences at several venues here Monday as he used a computer and a large screen to stress the points he made in his speeches.

At the stately Russian Academy of Sciences, where he was heard by a scholarly group of scientists, and again at the imposing Moscow State University, where students of foreign affairs and assorted academics came to listen to him, Kalam clearly surprised the audience when he took up position behind a laptop, a laser pointer in his hand.

As Kalam, who is in Russia as part of a fortnight-long, four-nation European tour, touched on subjects as eclectic as particle physics, biotechnology, nano-technology and seismology, the powerpoint presentation kept pace, emphasising all that he said in bullet points and illustrating matters graphically.

At the university, the audience of some 100 students and professors initially wore a bemused look as Kalam launched into a discourse on why it was important for students to conquer the word "impossible". But the bemusement soon gave way to interest as the presentation progressed, and the president - who was introduced by the university's Rector Victor Sadonichy as a "Muslim who can quote both the Quran and the Gita" - outlined what was needed to groom enlightened students and evolve a "knowledge society".

"I have heard a lot of politicians in this room, but he is clearly the most intelligent of them," Professor Kotlofovskiy Igol, chairman of the university's risk management and insurance department, told IANS after Kalam's presentation.

"He really is an unusually interesting man," said Igol, who is somewhat of an Indophile. Nikita Argav, a student of "world politics", concurred. "It was very interesting. Your president has a lot of knowledge," he said in halting English as he stepped out of the large and airy conference hall where Kalam's presentation was beamed on a large white screen and two television sets.

Kalam truly came into his own when the floor was thrown open to questions and students wanted to know his views on subjects ranging from nuclear proliferation, globalisation, terrorism and how Russia could replicate India's success in IT. Between painstakingly answering each question, Kalam informed the university rector that he was quite enjoying himself and would be only too happy to take more queries.

Needless to say, his visit to the university - which has also played host to former Indian prime ministers Jawaharlal Nehru, Indira Gandhi and Atal Bihari Vajpayee - extended well beyond the scheduled time.

(source:MsNBC.co.In)

Sub Wars: Fresh Toasted Holy Sith

When Did I last Eat Fresh?

Diet! After three long years of six inch turkey subs and foot long veggie facelifts, the calorie wars are nearly at an end. The Fat of the land is crumbling under attacks by the ruthless weightloss Lord Round Jared Fogle. There are fatsos on both sides. Mustard n' Mayo is everywhere.

In a stunning move, the fiendish Lettuce Corporation, Subway, has swept into the television capital and is broadcasting emotionless teeth chattering commercials starring Jared. The incredible idiot has the same silly grin for all 65,789 Subway commercials. A grin that distantly reminds of an unwavering urge for a quick, potent Pepto Bismol swig. The TV audiences are terrorized and petrified.

As the Separatist TV audiences like myself attempt to flee the besieged TV channels with their valuable hostage a Quizno sub, two nutrition knights lead a desperate mission to rescue the captive Chancellor Chicken Carbonara.

Messy Guacamole and Amuffin Ryewalker rescue the quizno sub, but then the Wheat over Rye Council dispatches Guacamole to bring lettuce laden subs to justice. Meanwhile, back on Croissant, Chancellor Chicken Carbonara has grown in power. His sweeping political changes transform the condiment-weary Republic into the mighty Lettuce laden Empire. All Subway subs hence dispatched contain very little 'real deal' and tonnes of lettuce. To his closest ally, the muffin, he reveals the true nature of power and the promised secrets of stuffing sandwiches with mountains of lettuce in an attempt to lure him to the dark side.

Mmm.. Mmm.. Mmm.. Nasty?

Subway sandwiches used to be good! But the last four Subway outlets that I've visited, the experience has been, may I say, dark. Seems like there are storm troopers behind the counter, at battle and they're running out of supplies. Why would they otherwise provide me with one single, solitary paper napkin? It feels like giving a wookie a razor blade and 0.08 ounce of shaving cream. Or forcing them to wear fur. Or maybe asking Yoda to be coherent. Sent to Mustafar to shovel hot lava and sit on sharp, unfriendly objects, I could be, dare I ask for more.

PLEASE NO MORE LETTUCE!!!!!
(With all apologies to Subway & Quiznos; no please don't sue me, I'm just a poor boy!)

Turning A Blind Eye

The Indian Capital witnessed two blood-curdling bomb blasts over the weekend. Everybody knows who maybe responsible. Nations still turn a blind eye.

Read on..

WASHINGTON: A Pakistani detainee in Guantanamo Bay has exposed Islamabad's official sponsorship of terrorism in depositions before a US tribunal. The unnamed prisoner, accused of being a member of the Lashkar-e-Tayyiba, has referred to the fighting in Kashmir and said it was backed by Pakistan, the US' frontline ally in the war on terrorism. "If you consider this organization a terrorist organization, then you should consider the Pakistan government a terrorist country," he says in a deposition obtained by the Associated Press wire service under a Freedom of Information lawsuit. The excerpt comes from nearly 2,000 pages of documents representing some 558 tribunals held in Guantanamo Bay, according to AP.

The detainee's testimony implicating Islamabad is important because Lashkar is one of several Pakistani organisations designated by the US State Department as Foreign Terrorist Organisations (FTOs) and its sponsors are subject to action under the UN Security Council Resolution No.1373 against terrorism. Although the intelligence community in India and the US believe organisations such as Lashkar and Jaish-e-Mohammed were officially sponsored by Pakistan, Islamabad has maintained a degree of deniability. Islamabad's policy in the regard is common knowledge in Pakistan and has frequently been reported in the Pakistani media.

AP's effort has also brought to light other confusions and contradictions in the US war on terror, revealed through the Gitmo depositions. Among the detainees in Guantanamo Bay identified in the AP report are an Afghan chicken farmer accused of being a Taliban, a goatherd who was captured near a mined area when he was looking for his goats, and a Saudi fruit merchant visiting Pakistan.

One 25-year-old prisoner testifies that not only wasn't he an enemy combatant, but he was a bodyguard for Afghanistan's US-backed President Hamid Karzai, currently on a visit to Washington. He says his military training came by "order of American officers." It is not clear why he was detained. One of the most arresting testimonies reported by AP revolves around Feroz Abbasi, a Briton accused of training at an al-Qaeeda camp and meeting bin Laden, who has subsequently been released without charges. Abbasi began his testimony by quoting Malcolm X, the slain black Muslim leader: "I did not come here to condemn America. I came here to tell the truth and if the truth condemns American then she stands condemned."

Later Abbasi was kicked out of the proceedings for engaging in a heated debate about international law with the tribunal president, who snaps, "I don't care about international law. I don't want to hear the words international law again."

(source:TimesOfIndia.com, ExpressIndia.com)

Unbe-f**kin-lievably Brilliant!

sopranos
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

I just finished the fifth season through HBO's On demand service and man did I enjoy it! The FBI's turning up the heat on the New Jersey Family and worse, the New York outfit's got problems with them too. Episodes 58 through 65 are available, which means I had to miss the first six episodes. Doesn't matter! I couldn't have waited for the DVDs releasing next month. This stuff's addictive! Frank Vincent as Phil Leotardo is one scary gangster. Vincent's been featured in many gangster movies as the bad guy; ironically in real life he's a successful stand up comedian. Gandolfini as Tony Soprano is simply brilliant! I can't seem to find any other word. I plan on purchasing all seasons on DVD, I know it's going to be hard on me wallet.... But hey, there's no rest for the wicked, right?

Store Wars: HILARIOUS!

Here

Minor Threat: Wading In Muddy Waters.

Sacred, yet Corrupting.

I have to admit it, I can never resist the temptation of coffee and chocolate. I've been successful at fighting off smoking for three months now, beaten the urge to slurp up frosties, shakes and smoothies, but I finally met my match in an unequivocal mud pie today. Freakin' Mudd Pie. The very dessert that brought down many aspiring weight watchers like me; to bite the dust. But the temptation is irresistable.

Like a silly zombie I marched on, with a spoon in my hand and lust in my heart, my conscience clouded by whip. The first gob melted in mouth like it was the very food of Gods. It felt like salvation. Aaaaaaaaah. I stood there swirling the taste in my mouth, the ice cream melting away in little helpings while the nuts crunched and the whip covered up the last of my determination throes. I fell. I fell. I fell from grace. There was no spoon. Just a distant calm. The swirl of ice cream, the taste of strong coffee and unabiding lust for more.

So much for my work out last night. I had battled six super sets, three sets of power curls and cardio worth a twenty two minutes. Did I mention overbearing grunts of fellow weight watchers coupled with the crack of whips of relentless trainers in camouflages and fatigues. All in vain. The guilt seems to be getting the best of me. What could I do? What can I do? If there is a hell, I am going there with a one way ticket on a supersonic jet. I will probably be hung at the edge of the engines when the afterburners kick in. I know the flight'll be on time. I hope they serve mud pie aboard.

Chevy Bel Air

Chevy Bel Air
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

Finally. I've got my account going at Flickr. It's a matter of time before I decide, if I'm going to stick to the free edition or reach into my pocket for a little Pro subscription. I've been clicking away with my Mavica since 2002 and have a lot of pictures, I'd like to share.. Lets see how things go.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Have You Ever Been?

Tax Free Jimi

"I just came back from the storm.
Yeah, from the storm.
Well, I didn’t know it then,
But I was sufferin’, sufferin’
For my love to keep me warm..."

Ass-Whuppin' Redefined.

XboX 360

SPECS:

Custom IBM PowerPC-based CPU	Three symmetrical cores running at 3.2 GHz each Two hardware threads per core; six hardware threads total VMX-128 vector unit per core; three total 128 VMX-128 registers per hardware thread 1 MB L2 cache
CPU Game Math Performance	9 billion dot product operations per second
Custom ATI Graphics Processor	10 MB of embedded DRAM 48-way parallel floating-point dynamically scheduled shader pipelines Unified shader architecture
Polygon Performance	500 million triangles per second
Pixel Fill Rate	16 gigasamples per second fill rate using 4x MSAA
Shader Performance	48 billion shader operations per second
Memory	512 MB of 700 MHz GDDR3 RAM Unified memory architecture
Memory Bandwidth	22.4 GB/s memory interface bus bandwidth 256 GB/s memory bandwidth to EDRAM 21.6 GB/s front-side bus

(source: Xbox.com)

Vrrrroooom mates.

The Plump Idiot & The Clown

Another One Bites the Dust !?!?!

Another one married... Shethi!

Mr.Notorious tied the knot earlier this year. And he had the nerve to send me this picture! Heh. I wish both of 'em, the uber-best!

Lightly Battered Sanity In Esoteric Git Sauce Gently Braised With Tofu on H1B

Free-thinking Tomatos Perfecting Yoga
(with all apologies to: www.dansonseed.com)

I am just back from dinner with a friend. Conversations at the dinner table varied from the usual work related bitching to organizing a guided tour of the mall for grocery related rendezvous. And it just hit me. The typical scene at V's on me Saturdays. Ambient music playing in the background. Me ---> harmlessly pushing my cart in slo-mo under the fluorescent lights looking like an angel surrounded by walls of canned food and condiments. I can see the mirage rising at the check out stands. Well, anyways.

So, the lady with the sexy voice was cooing about how this certain brand of toilet paper is gentle on your exalted, overrated, desertstorm-roughened bedouin rear while that brand of dishwashing liquid is good enough be used as rocket fuel. Advertising is pretty much like snake charming. You think you're the venomous, deadly reptile bobbing its head from the basket to smell the coffee. The dude in front of you plays an instrument in a circular motion like he's trying to sync his mental waves with you. You idiot! He's taking you for the proverbial ride and getting paid while at it! Uh, digression. Then came the topic of hand-picked tomatos at V's.

Well, I mean no disrespect to anyone. Not even tomatoes. The narration of the lady with the sexy voice turned into a demure, monosyllable drone reminiscing better times. When tomatoes were considered for bravery awards and paratrooping. "Our handpicked tomatoes are fresh, picked by gentle hands and smell of the very vine they've been picked from.. the vine that they smell of." Quite clear. These tomatoes are personally trained to maintain their weight and frequent facials help them maintain their complexion. Fragrant tomatoes, tomatoes for Valentine's day and tomatoes that make you coo love songs from the 80s. How could you be cruel enough to buy ketchup? You heartless bastard!

Then came the topic of herbal tea. Hand-picked tea leaves, dried and trimmed at the Ritz, etc, etc. My heart leapt like a retired drill seargent frog. It... It... t'was only tomatoes for Godzzz-sake! It's not like the vines physiologically imparted the smell in little pouches to the aimlessly hanging tomatoes. Or was it?? The farmer would have to pluck each tomato and hold it up to inspect it like a diamond with a frown. The inspection would last a good 16 hours while the other tomatoes sit around and massage their one day stubbles. If any anomalies were found, that tomato will be sent to secret location for further processing. Life. Strange. Unfair.

I guess I'm just an ignorant, indifferent idiot. I just can't seem to appreciate the finer things in life. ERBAL tea for instance. Decaf coffee for seconds. Or how about AND-picked tomatoes? Umm, and badgers that can swim in a formation while reciting poetry penned by Alfred Lord Tennyson...

Sigh.

Too Scared To Wake Now, In Too Deep.

What Your Dreams Mean...

Your dreams seem to show that you're very preoccupied with your fears and problems. These bad dreams indicate that you need to spend more time on your issues during the day. You tend to be a very productive thinker. Your dreams tend to reflect your insecurities. Your dreams indicate that you have very conflicted feelings. You have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind. You secretly want to hide your dreams from your waking mind.

What Do Your Dreams Mean?

Asadullah Beg Khan Mirza Ghalib

Wikipedia link on Ghalib

Baaziichaa-e-atfaal hai duniyaa mere aage

"Baaziichaa-e-atfaal hai duniyaa mere aage
hotaa hai shab-o-roz tamaashaa mere aage

hotaa hai nihaa.N gard me.n seharaa mere hote
ghisataa hai jabii.n Khaak pe dariyaa mere aage

mat puuchh ke kyaa haal hai meraa tere piichhe
tuu dekh ke kyaa ra.ng hai teraa mere aage

imaa.N mujhe roke hai jo khii.nche hai mujhe kufr
kaabaa mere piichhe hai kaliisaa mere aage

go haath ko jumbish nahii.n aa.Nkho.n me.n to dam hai
rahane do abhii saaGar-o-miinaa mere aage.."

Herr Otto Flick & The Knackwurst Resistance

BBC's finest: 'Allo 'Allo!

Have you ever wanted to see a series that'd make you slap your knees and laugh till you wet youse pants? Well, just get 'Allo 'Allo! It's a perfect melee of witty humor, slapstick madness and utter nonsense told skillfully. Set in the Second World War timeline, you have the Wehrmacht with the French Resistance concocting a plot to steal a painting with the aid of a harmless cafe owner. There's two British airmen disguised as a ruminating mammal that flicks out a torch from its udders to check the time. There's Lt.Gruber, a soft, gentle armored car patrolman with a soft corner for Rene, the cafe owner. Herr Otto Flick, ze officer of ze Gestapo with his sheepish kinks and hidden feelings for Private Helga. My favorite character will always be Captain Hans Geering. " 'TLER!!" The list goes on...

Here are a few excerpts from some of the episodes. Stuff of legends!

René: How quickly I have lost the thread of this tapestry of intrigue!

René: This is my wife, Edith. I have told her everything.
Michelle Dubois: Will she talk?
René: Incessantly. But not about anything important.

Col. Von Strom: Ah, Helga. What can we do for you?
Capt. Hans Geering: Judging from past experience, very little.

Yvette Carte-Blanche: Rene, what are you doing?
René: Cutting my throat, my love.

Edith has suggested that Rene strap dynamite to himself, in order to blow up the General
Edith: You will be buried as a great hero of France.
René: First you will have to scrape me off the wall.

Gen. Von Klinkerhoffen: Guards! Arrest all Gypsies driving fire engines!!

René: Man of a thousand faces, every one the same.

Capt. Hans Geering: Do you not see? That if you kill him with the pill from the till by making with it the drug in the jug, you need not light the candle with the handle on the gâteau from the château.
René: Simple plans are always the best.
(HANS IS THE FUNNIEST!)

René: We will stick out like a carrot in an omelet.

Col. Von Strom: You are exceeding your authority. The Gestapo has no jurisdiction over senior officers of the German Army.
Capt. Hans Geering: Or junior officers.
René: What about café owners?
Capt. Hans Geering: They can do what they like with them.

------------- Get it! Have fun!----------------

The Bengal Tiger

''Kal Tak Mein tanha tha, par ab hai saath mere lakhon ki dhadkan... Hum chahe Azaadee!''

"Until yesterday, I walked alone; but today I march, fueled by a million heartbeats... We seek freedom!"

Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose

Known as Netaji (leader), Mr. Bose was a fierce and popular leader in the political scene in pre-independence India . He was the president of the Indian National Congress in 1937 and 1939, and founded a nationalist force called the Indian National Army. He was acclaimed as a semigod, akin to the many mythological heroes like Rama or Krishna, and continues as a legend in Indian mind.

Subhas Chandra was born on January 23rd 1897 in Cuttack (in present day Orissa) as the ninth child among fourteen, of Janakinath Bose, an advocate, and Prabhavatidevi, a pious and God-fearing lady. A brilliant student, he topped the matriculation examination of Calcutta province and passed his B.A. in Philosophy from the Presidency College in Calcutta. He was strongly influenced by Swami Vivekananda's teachings and was known for his patriotic zeal as a student. His parents' wishes kept him away from the Indian freedom struggle and led him into studies for the Indian Civil Service in England. Although he finished those examinations also at the top of his class (4th), he could not complete his apprecenticeship and returned to India, being deeply disturbed by the Jallianwalla Bagh massacre. He came under the influence of Mahatma Gandhi and joined the Indian National Congress (a.k.a. Congress). Gandhiji directed him to work with Deshbandhu Chittaranjan Das, the Bengali leader whom Bose acknowledged as his political guru.

Bose was outspoken in his anti-British stance and was jailed 11 (eleven) times between 1920 and 1941 for periods varying between six months and three years. He was the leader of the youth wing of the Congress Party, in the forefront of the trade union movement in India and organized Service League, another wing of Congress. He was admired for his great skills in organization development .

The Influence of Bose
Bose advocated complete freedom for India at the earliest, whereas the Congress Committee wanted it in phases, through a Dominion status. Other younger leaders including Jawaharlal Nehru supported Bose and finally at the historic Lahore Congress convention, the Congress had to adopt Poorna Swaraj (complete freedom) as its motto. Bhagat Singh's martyrdom and the inability of the Congress leaders to save his life infuriated Bose and he started a movement opposing the Gandhi-Irvin Peace Pact. He was imprisoned and expelled from India. But defying the ban, he came back to India and was imprisoned again!

Read On..

(source: Kamat's Poutpourri)
written by
Jyotsna Kamat
January 26, 1999
India's Republic Day

To Understand the World's Largest Democracy

Almost seven years to the week after India conducted its nuclear tests, the principle scientist who supervised the event and who was denied an American visa soon after will be visiting the United States. Dr R Chidambaram, who is now the Principal Scientific Advisor to the Government of India, will be in Washington on May 19 for talks with the US nuclear establishment. The scientist's post is of the rank of a minister of state. The high-level exchange centers around the proposed cooperation between the two sides on nuclear energy issues, including talks on relevant technologies and ways to get around the roadblocks.

Dr Chidambaram was Chairman of the Indian Atomic Energy Commission at the time of the tests and he played a key role in its execution, including on-site supervision. Weeks after the tests, he was scheduled to attend a meeting organized by the American Crystallographic Association in his capacity as vice-chairman of the International Union of Crystallographers.

But an enraged Clinton administration denied him a visa despite support for him from the American scientific community. Several other scientists were subsequently denied visas and researchers and engineers working on joint collaborations such as the LCA project were asked to return home. Ironically, Dr Chidambaram had been invited to witness a US nuclear test in Nevada in the late 1960s. It is a measure of how much things have turned around that besides Dr Chidambaram's upcoming visit, top officials of ISRO - another sanctioned entity - have also been visiting US for discussions with their counterparts in the American space establishment, with expectation that there might even be an American payload on Indian launch vehicles soon.

However, progress in the nuclear field has been more circumspect because of a welter of domestic legislations and international laws that frown on cooperation with countries that are not signatories to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (which India has not signed). The Indian nuclear establishment also wants to preserve and develop its own indigenous and hard won progress in the field. New Delhi took a major step in meeting an American benchmark by introducing legislation in the Lok Sabha on Monday aimed at prohibiting unlawful WMD activities.

Both sides have expressed at the highest level their intent to cooperate on nuclear energy issues and Dr Chidambaram's visit suggests that it is being pursued vigorously, with a possible agreement by the time Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's arrives here on a bilateral visit end-July.

(source: TimesOfIndia.Com)

Tempted.

Clinical Lunacy

• A clip that made me fall off my chair kicking & laughing violently.
  
• Almost had me brown ass fired.
• Poor martial arts instructor.

Weight of the World & Gau under it (Part Vun)

It's a lousy Thursday morning in here. You guessed it! I am rendering a little movie so I have some time to bitch and moan about things I don't like and the ones I'd gladly give the proverbial boot, if elected as Emperor of Earth. I will be a very humble leader. Outside, it's overcast, with heavy winds and a general feeling that life's beautiful. It may rain again today. California. In here, the slaves toil away. The crash of shovels against design elements and cheap impressions of classical & mediterranean motifs. I should get a hold of meself before I get completely carried away and levitate like a glorified moth. Not a good idea. I'd look more like a bag of russet browns experiencing zero Gs. Anyways. I have something to declare. My undivided attention has just lost its capacity to stay on course. In my head, I have thrown up several times because of the excess hip-hop culture that I've been exposed to. And the addition of the word eX or simply the alphabet 'X' in every conceivable product in the market today. Let's start with this kind first.

New shaving gel with more minerals for a closer shave, Edgy-eX. New strength drink with enhancements, ElectrolyteX. A lighter beer with a clearer taste and neater finish, as if it were paint, Bud-Hen-eX. A better stronger meaner laxative that'll make you poop like a concrete mixer in it's pour; Shite-X. Milk that'll rock your belly and enhance your math skills, Lactate-X. The cow that was prescribed SteroideX before its udders rendered milk worthy of Greek Gods, Matilda-eX. Baby diapers that'll hold back even steel piercing odors, Diaper-eX. Protection that'll mask your needle-twin manhood and make it appear elephantine; Durex-eX. Everybody was biting the 'X' bug. It got to a point where ordinary people like you and I needed to be X-ed to continue living on this PlanetX.

Now back to Hiphop culture and Gau's patience. What is going on? Why does everybody want to be Tupac? I mean, Pac was a genuinely talented artist. He wrote, acted, rapped and most of all, it made perfect sense. But a lot of them homies have gotten way too carried away. Homies in China, Japan even friggin' India! A few years back (Early 90s) when Hip hop was more like rap, with artists like Vanilla's Ice (ripping off 'Under Pressure' by D. Bowie & Queen) and M.C. Arm & Hammer (artist inspired by Rick James & Baking Soda) were big, a clown emerged in India among the common people. This incredible jerk called himself Baba Sehgal and literally translated 'Ice, Ice, Baby' into his own work of art, 'Thanda Thanda Paani' which incidentally means 'Cold, Cold, Water.' Huh! We, the college infesting vermin were 'Very, Very, Shaken!' And, this was the early 90's'; just the beginning. Muhuahahaha! Mr. Sehgal incidentally had an electrical engineering degree which he'd gotten by rapping his dissertation to the committee.

"Duh resistance tuh electrical floh iz mezzurd in Ohms,
don't believe a brotha n' call him Homes.
I clipped Tesla and smoked a joint,
he give me a subjettive queez,
da solution I kuddn't pin point!
My hobbeez inklude collectin' bonsai
My major's electrical, specialization VLSI!"

I for one, have a lot of respect for people with good degrees. Professional? 'Wonderful!' Graduate? 'Incredible!' Doctoral? 'Do you have a fan club?' I'd close my eyes n' lick a toad in appreciation! But since this incident, I have started to question this very belief.

Warning! Let's stay on course and not digress. If this was not enough more artist started to spring up like mushrooms in every possible direction. Idiot after idiot. But one artist that caught my eye with his incredibly foolish ways was 'Tai, the Chinese Rapper'. This guy is the supremo! He's what I call the friggin pick up in a world of compacts.

TO BE CONTINUED...

More Googling!

Office -----------> Home

Area 51

Google Maps & Satellite

Tabor Street, Los Angeles. 'Whe-ma crib at', in the parlance of our times.

http://maps.google.com

Google recently purchased Keyhole Corporation, the makers of a very innovative product, Earthviewer 3D. I'd used it for a couple of months to download satellite imagery of sites and, data regarding contours and information on undulating terrains. The cool part was that there was imagery of Iraq, North America and Afghanistan! You could start by moving around in space and zooming onto any location in North America. Keyhole must've put together an image that was a couple of terrabytes in size for this Herculean task! Moreover it was in 3D. Which meant there was an actual 3D model with actual terrains and mounds as well as valleys to illustrate each area. The image was mapped onto this. Remote sensing and Satellite Imagery with 3D innovations. Brilliant!

The monthly fee structure varied from $45 to $6o per month! But after Google's purchase, they went to work with this information and created Google maps, a very interactive and much more enhanced version of other map generating utilities on the web like Mapquest, Yahoo maps and Mappoint. This morning while browsing, I came across a new button on the right hand top corner of the page; Satellite. It looks like Google has used the information from Keyhole and made all the data available for FREE!!! You can look at real satellite images of your apartment! Even get directions.

GOOGLE & MOZILLA ROCK!

Sunspots

Relentless Obsession. The same playlist. Repeated, Looped. Scratching fingers, nodding head, closed eyes. Headphones booming. Infinite melancholy. Still a smile that reassures someone understands your pain even though they don't know you exist. The pain does. It's only human to fail. It's only human to try.

Artist: Nine Inch Nails
Song: Sunspots

Sunspots cast a glare in my eye
Sometimes I forget I'm alive
I feel it coming and I've gotta get out of its way
I hear it calling and I come 'cause I can't disobey
I should not listen and I shouldn't listen
But I do
Yes I do

[Chorus]
She turns me on
She makes me real
I have to apologize
For the way I feel

My life, it seems has taken a turn
Why in the name of god would I ever want to return
Peel off our skin we're gonna burn what we were to the ground
Fuck in the fire and we'll spread the ashes around
I wanna kill away the rest of what's left and I do
Yes I do

[Chorus]
And nothing can stop me now
There is nothing to fear
And everything I'd ever want
Is inside a tear

Now I just stare into the sun
And I see everything I've done
I think I could've been someone
But I cannot stop what has begun
When everything is said and done
And there is nowhere left to run
I think I could have been someone
Now I just stare into the sun

Everything Is Back Where It Belongs.

The Wait is Finally over. Ladies & Gentlemen, here it is..

NINE INCH NAILS
:: WITH TEETH ::

A Revised, cooler Artist Page.

NINE INCH NAILS

Reservoir Hogs: Final Phase

Tempers triggered by Hunger, Forks & Knives and Gingerly Inflicted Noodle Wounds

The order had been placed. The four geeks waited while twiddling their thumbs, composing new improved symphonies for soap commercials. The incredible wait raged on! Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty, tick, tock, tick, tock! Bellies bellowed war anthems, accompanied by fierce drum rolls before the final attack. We waited.

The smell of excellent food wafted across the restaurant floor and through our clothes invading our bulging nostrils that'd turned into Lion caves. I won't use the word den. Sorry. The beast would be unleashed soon. Evil smiles were breaking out on our sorry, hungry faces. The crowd of twenty frolicked and indulged in a food fight of gargantuan proportions. More food! MORE FOOD! We had dick. It was a test worthy of Gladiators from any century, from any continent across the world. The test of Patience, of integrity. Human integrity. Human enough not to make this human pick up the fork & knife and stick it in the eyeball of each of those vocal nincompoops who were relishing their meal while we experienced an episode of 'Incredible sunny day in the Mojave.'

Then a lady who seemed to be the owner walked out of the kitchen with a cake and a candle on it. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed. Arun's heart sank. His jaw was already down there somewhere. His hunger was wreaking havoc with his ability to tell right from wrong. He gripped one of the knives hard,while gritting his pearly whites. I looked at him and said, "dood, not now.." His grip softened on the butter knife. It twisted in his hand and fell as though relieved. Meanwhile, we realized it was one of the girls who was experiencing this conical cake and cheap birthday music moment. She blew out the candles in one whiff and the candles buckled sideways as if struck by the vitriolic garlic odor in her breath. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed again. WOW! Fuck y'all! The candles were taken out and the birthday song roared into a crescendo while the owner lady danced around in a ritualistic tribal rhythm while clicking photos and asking those happy, belly-filled patrons to pose. How nice, eh?

The frolicking continued and some of the patrons decided to socialize while standing around the table, picking their teeth. The cheesy birthday music was driving us nuts. It seemed like there were 2034 different versions of slow and fast 'happy birthdays' , happy and sad versions, remixes by Stevie Wonder and some Latin American dudes. There was an Indian version featuring an aural rope trick to amuse you while elephants shook their booties to the foot stomping tunes. I was being slowly driven to becoming a clinically certified psycopath. The other three geeks saw red. One of guys out of the crowd came pretty close to my end of the table. I got up violently gritting my teeth, with my fists clenched and he felt my breath on his neck. He turned around. He could clearly see my chubby cheeks still jiggling from the violent rise and he realized that a plate or two was in the process of making a cameo appearance on his chevy chase. He backed off with a 'Uh, 'm sorry.." I sat down slowly as if warning him, not to order any more food. 'Not even your friends, fuk'n teriyaki face...' The crowd stopped cheering and settled down to finish their meal.. Koooh-ull! Wait, all that didnt happen. I was just indulging in some literary license. The narrative upto the table-side socializing is true.

So a good forty five minutes had passed since our order, which was about thirty five minutes after we entered the place. The tribal dance lady walked up to our table and said she was sorry for the delay. The food arrived on our table and madness followed. The cutlery tossed around like coke-sniffing euphoric lizards leaping on hot, rocky terrain at 115 deg F. The plates flew around like alien ships in a 50's sci-fi flick. The food was gone in a few seconds. It was like we sucked the entrees right off the plates like we had vacuum tubes for mouths. IT WAS A KICK ASS MEAL! Next time, we'll try to remember the names right. You have to understand that trying remember entree names was the last thing on our minds. We'd gone in to eat as decent citizens and circumstances had turned us into gravy-curdling, sauce thirsty pyschos. Fuckin' amateurs.

The birthday party people were settling down too. Maybe the digestion was directing the rush of blood to their intestines rather then their brains. Fuckers didn't know how close they'd come to walking out the joint with fine cutlery sticking out of their eyes, ears & buttonholes...

Reservoir Hogs: Phase II

The Amazing Indonesian Cuisine, A Birthday & Four Hungry Geeks
So, we were ushered into the restaurant and stuffed into a corner almost at gun point. My eyes fell on a loooooong table across the space which had a group of about twenty to twenty five people laughing, talking, spitting while the table was sprawled with mortal remains of peanuts, coca cola cans and appetizers. I felt weird. Pretty much akin to how one feels when he's anticipating something terrible... Like no fooood. Arun 'the stand by mode' geek's jaw dropped like mercury in a barometer at the onslaught of such a challenging sight.

We sat down and one of the waitresses hastily threw a bunch of menus on the table. It narrowly missed Anshu's mug on it's downward descent. Maybe she had just noticed the subject she had a contract on and she had a few minutes to grab the rifle and take aim. Well, 'umm, whatewuvw' I mumbled to meself. As long as they take the order and serve us quality edible stuff, it's all good. The belly won't put up a resistance. Anshu 'the archinoid' geek shook his head in agreement. A few minutes later another waitress surfaced with a really small bowl containing a handful of peanuts that looked like they'd been kidnapped because they had wandered too far from the tin. Two peanuts per patron. They were kicking and screaming violently in Crisco oil.

We leafed through the pages of the menu and ogled at the various enticing images of delectables with dripping tongues like rabid mutts. The two vegetarian dudes, disco geek and standyby geek decided what they wanted to eat. Bleeding bovine instincts. So did we, the seafood sucking 'cheap writeups' geek and the archinoid geek. Did it matter, what we decided? In what way? Who dat? If no one took the order, we'd have to flip our decisions like pancakes and eat our own words as entrees. A few minutes passed. No one reappeared after the oily peanut incident. Slowly, one peanut after another disappeared leaving clumsy, oily, skid marks bearing witness to the furious struggle while resisting from being devoured. The noisy crowd was roaring all this time and it seemed like each roar was issued like a warning. The reason being that, following each roar was a waitress with a sizzling hot portion of 'FOOOOD' pulling a nifty balancing act, while we sat around with our tongues hanging in anticipation. Finally, one of the waitresses took mercy and came over to the table. She placed four glasses and poured water into each one with impeccable affection. Bullet timing. The words 'Be right back' appeared outta thin air while Arun and I violently attempted to grab her and keep her there to take the order. Too late.

The wait continued. She'd also left the cutlery on the table with the napkins. It seemed like my spoon & fork were visibly depressed at this debacle and on large quantities of Zoloft because they chose to take refuge under the plate. The waitress reappeared outta thin air as if practicing a magic trick outta '1000 Magic tricks for idiots' by Pumpkin Pie Pasha the magician. A sigh of relief from all. The crowd continued roaring. A plate of delicious looking veggies here, and three large helpings of noodles there. Our bellies growled. Uhh...

We ordered.

Reservoir Hogs: Phase I

God, Man, The Senses & Prince Albert

A typical Friday night for the Stag, Inc. from the West LA realm. The evening was ostensibly leading to a tear your hair out session in unified hunger from an early arrival via the salt mines. So, there were some suggestions made, activities unlike the rest of the world would gladly and proudly indulge in. Which is of course, an evening with the girlfriend cuddling up like boas, or maybe a few drinks and a brawl at the bar. Mind you, this is the tale of four geeks, who have a limited range of indulgent hobbies, dating not included. Too many downside consequences and a strict conservative background seems to be an appropriate reason. And why not? Cultures definitely determine how much of a monkey, each one is. We're the ripe banana is for the bold of heart type. Anyways, enough digression. You get the picture?

So, the suggestion. A dinner, to check out a new cuisine for some lost souls while discussing the perks of being visa cuffed engineers, architects and tentative plans to return home. Simple stuff. For the weak of heart. Kulin the disco' geek had made some violent yet positive comments about a restaurant that served Indonesian cuisine worthy of tastebuds tamed by Kings and nobility of machine washed lineage. That's when I rose to the occasion and suggested, "Why not, yeah?" And off we went, the four geeks with stomachs roaring so loud in unison, you'd think it was a man made thunderclap.

We arrived at 'Indo Cafe', a small yet, snug restaurant on National. The wait was for a couple of minutes while we stood around like a bunch of guys waiting for a table in a small snug restaurant serving Indonesian cuisine off National & Motor. Our turn to enter came and we rollicked and danced our way into the place confident that we'd be four well fed muppets, rocking bellies and all in approximately fifty to sixty minutes. Nothing could possibly go wrong now, could it? Wrong. What ensued was moments of sheer torture which any of us wouldn't even have the heart to think about, least of all subject our worst enemies to.

You have to understand that when God created man, he put the usual number of sensors in both sexes with a 'Kumbayah!' But at the very moment when the sensors relating to colorful circus-inspired procreation, food, sports and alcohol were being hardwired into the grey matter of man, His furry cat 'Frisky' darted across the desk, looking for its favorite U2 album. That distracted Him immensely and in attempt to shoo Frisky, He accidentally cranked up the sensitivity level knobs to full capacity.

Man arrived into this world with a clumsy thump and a silly grin. God had created a monster; actually a few of them. Monster One dangles aimlessly (as though, waiting for a bus) between the legs in the company of two hellspawns 'Tom' & 'Harry', while Monster Two rests inside man's incredibly aerodynamic belly. Everytime a whiff of good food wafted across the nostril area, or a beautiful, curvaceous creation of nature tottered across in tantalizing outfits, two of the respective sensors would go off like Air Raid sirens as if an entire Luftwaffe Squadron was rising on the horizon.


We were no different.