We All Live In A Yellow Submarine...

A Yellow Submarine! A Yellow Submarine!

The common man pays bribes totalling Rs 21,068 crore a year for various public services, says the 'India Corruption Study— 2005’, released by Transparency International on Thursday.

• Sixty-two per cent of those surveyed said corruption is for real, having indulged in it.
• A third of them said corruption is on the rise compared to last year (2004-05).
• Police are on top of the corruption chart, followed by lower courts and land administration.

Government hospitals indulge in corruption while denying medicines, securing admission, consultations with doctors and availing of diagnostic services. Despite reforms, electricity services are high on the corruption index. The public distribution system is lower down, since those availing of it are affected by leaks in the system rather than direct monetary corruption on the part of the service providers.

• Water supply figures at the other end, ranking the lowest on the corruption chart.
• Among the states, Kerala is the least corrupt, while Bihar emerges as the most corrupt. J&K comes next to Bihar, Madhya Pradesh third.
• High on the list are Karnataka, Rajasthan, Assam, Jharkhand, Haryana and Tamil Nadu.
• Delhi comes in the middle, 11th among the 20 states surveyed. Among the less corrupt are Himachal Pradesh, Gujarat, Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra.

The findings are based on a national survey, claimed to be the largest ever with 14,405 samples across 20 states and 151 cities.

Releasing the survey, Admiral (retd) R H Tahiliani, a former Navy chief, said the situation could be remedied by legislations like the Right to Information Act, a positive role by the media and by public awareness.

(source: TimesOfIndia.com)

Ghazal: Muddat Me.n Vo Phir

Muddat Me.n Vo Phir Taazaa Mulaaqaat Kaa Aalam
written by Jigar Moradabadi

muddat me.n vo phir taazaa mulaaqaat kaa aalam
Khaamosh adaao.n me.n vo jazbaat kaa aalam

allaah re vo shiddat-e-jazbaat kaa aalam
kuchh kah ke vo bhuulii hu_ii har baat kaa aalam

aariz se Dhalakate hu_e shabanam ke vo qatare
aa.Nkho.n se jhalakataa huaa barasaat kaa aalam

vo nazaro.n hii nazaro.n me.n savaalaat kii duniyaa
vo aa.Nkho.n hii aa.Nkho.n me.n javaabaat kaa aalam

(urdupoetry.com)

I Believe in Him

Dodge Viper vs. F16 Viper Article

from: AutomobileMag.Com
Author: Mark Gillies
Photography: Brian Konoske

Ahead of us, the runway stretches seemingly into eternity, its physical dimensions masked by a shimmering heat haze. In the nearer distance, two giant red flags delineate the quarter- and half-mile posts of this makeshift drag strip. And to the right, as we stage on one of Luke Air Force Base's two runways, there's a menacing, flat gray F-16 Viper of the U.S. Air Force's 56th Fighter Wing. Cool or what? That's right: We're racing a $20 million fighter plane. The chosen weapon is a Dodge Viper Competition Coupe, the racing version of the V-10 supercar. Strapped in tight, open exhausts blaring, I'm waiting for the countdown from the Luke tower to race the fighter, which is going to blast off using its afterburner for added impetus. Me? I have 520 hp against 25,000 pounds of thrust. It's like sending out a peashooter against an Uzi.

As the tower radios, "Viper two, ready?" my pulse elevates and my breathing deepens. The Comp Coupe has a trick carbon-carbon clutch, and it requires a deft touch to get the car off the line without lighting up the slick tires or bogging down. If I get this wrong, there's ridicule from the Dodge and USAF guys and humiliation in front of more than 100,000 people at the Luke Days air show. I tell the tower that I'm ready, but they don't hear. A second, plaintive "Viper two, ready?" and I reply in the affirmative again. No response. The tower isn't hearing me. Luckily, Corey "Slick" Hermesch, the F-16 pilot, is, and he calls in that we're ready to race.

Almost immediately, the tower starts the countdown. I dip the clutch, engage first gear, and plant the tach "needle" on the MoTec digital gauge cluster at four grand. On "Go!" I release the clutch and try to balance power versus grip as the fat rear slicks attempt to make out with the concrete. The Viper hooks up pretty well after a bit too much initial wheel spin, and pretty soon it's into second, at which point the car snaps sideways-dammit!-and I have to correct and back off for an instant. Back on the power, it's time to bang the lever into third at just over 6000 rpm. The quarter-mile flag is approaching rapidly-very rapidly-and a glance to the right brings the plane into view for the first time since we lined up.

The Dodge launches much better than the F-16, so the car is marginally ahead through the quarter-mile, but thereafter it's toast. The Comp Coupe breaks the half-mile at more than 155 mph, but by that stage, Hermesch has left the ground, having held the F-16 on the deck at 224 mph (195 knots), somewhat beyond its normal rotational speed of 186 mph. It's not as if the Comp Coupe is slow: in pre-event testing, we managed 0 to 60 mph in 3.2 seconds, 0 to 100 mph in 6.3 seconds, and we hit 0 to 160 mph in 15 seconds on this run.

READ ON...

Remember these Fellas?

What you be cravin'?
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

Classic Lines!

"What you be cravin'?"

"Where's me drink!?!?"

"I am yer shooter!"

"Where is yer target?"

They Say Jump, You Say How High!

Ratm
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

I give a shout out to the living dead
Who stood and watched as the feds cold centralized
So serene on the screen
You were mesmerised
Cellular phones soundin' a death tone
Corporations cold
Turn ya to stone before ya realise
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds

Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high

Run it!

Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high

Checka, checka, check it out
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds

No escape from the mass mind rape
Play it again jack and then rewind the tape
And then play it again and again and again
Until ya mind is locked in
Believin' all the lies that they're tellin' ya
Buyin' all the products that they're sellin' ya
They say jump and ya say how high
Ya brain-dead
Ya gotta fuckin' bullet in ya head!

Desi Television Circles the Drain... Anytime Now!

Indian Television channels have been feeding unsuspecting audiences with anything other than quality material. Some of the largest production houses have scripts for TV soaps worthy of rear-side rubs. Toilet paper material. Promiscuous sex, family members plotting against each other, horny teens looking for quickies constitute some of the ultimate trash helping being served on a day to day basis. I hate it. It's downright atrocious. And now, for the finale. Get a load of this!

NEW DELHI: US movie giant 20th Century Fox, which has accused Zee Telefilms of plagiarising its tele-serial 24 , Wednesday urged the Delhi High Court to seek Time Bomb CDs for a comparative study of the two serials.

Justice Anil Kumar recorded the submission of RK Anand, appearing for the Fox Film Corp, and ordered that he will pass an appropriate order on the plea Monday. Anand submitted that Zee Telefilms is required to produce all the CDs of its serial shot so far to the court to verify whether it had copied the script, storyline and the characterisation of the telefilm 24 as alleged in the lawsuit.

Arguments by counsel for the Fox Film Corp and Zee Telefilms remained inconclusive. It will be taken up for further hearing on Monday. Earlier Arun Jaitley, former law minister and counsel for Zee Telefilms, submitted that the similarity in presentation techniques in two different films or serials could not be said to be a copyright violation as presentation techniques are borne of advance in technology.

He submitted that the tele-serial produced by his client - Time Bomb - is in continuation of its earlier serial produced in 2001 titled Pradhan Mantri . The new serial had the same artistes and plot as in the earlier serial and dealt with international terrorism, he said.

(source:www.TimesOfIndia.com)

Why is iTunes So Cool?

I was at the bank about 30 minutes back and while in queue, I heard a Depeche Mode song playing in the background. As you would know, Martin Gore's vocals are very distinct and once can easily tell, it's Mode. The lyrics went, "...never a day is what you swore, a time before.." and I did the google thing with as many keywords as I could conjure up. Next, I looked for the song on iTunes. Turns out, it's from Violator, one of Mode's best selling albums. Here's the track.

An Epic. Happens again.

Diablo
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

Once again, the streets of Lut Gholein, Kurast & Tristram shall be soaked in rivers of blood. Demons will rise as the Barbarian seeks his ultimate adversary, Mephisto. Once defeated, the demon rises again, resurrected by MageSlayer, spawned by Diablo, this time for a bigger, faster gorier battle empowered by 3.2 gigHz processing power, the radeon x600, and a whole gig of RAM. Beware, for it is time...

Kudos to the Indian Army!

JAIPUR: The world’s only horse regiment — Jaipur’s 61st Cavalry — has an officer who is not an Indian. In fact, he is the only foreign national in the Indian armed forces.

His Highness Tungku Ismail Ibrahim is the prince of Johore state, one of the nine royal states of Malaysia. But this prince does not get any salary, instead he pays to be allowed to serve in the Indian Army.

His grandfather, His Majesty Sultan Iskandar, sent prince Ismail to India because he wanted his grandson to undergo military training seriously. The Sultan wanted the young prince to serve in the Indian army and gain experience. His Majesty came to Jaipur to see for himself how his 21-year-old grandson was faring.

Johore is ruled by the King of Malaysia, but is allowed to have its own army of 200 soldiers. The Johore army is one of the oldest forces of Malaysia and interestingly during the World War II, officers from Johore were sent to the Indian Military Academy at Dehra Dun for training.

"Johore has a history of having military understanding with India. One of the officers who was trained in Dehra Dun went on to become the prime minister of Malaysia," said Ismail. The baby-faced lieutenant was also trained in Dehra Dun. Ismail could have been sent to Sandhurst in England, but his grandfather thought the British officers would pamper him, while in Dehradun he would undergo military training like any other officer.

Ismail lost several kilos during training at Dehra Dun where he enjoyed playing polo. When his training of one-and- a-half-years was about to end, his grandfather took the decision to send him to the 61st Cavalry. "I hope to serve the Indian army for sometime and then return to my country and become an officer in the Johore army," said the prince.

The defence ministry on the request of the ministry of external affairs allowed a foreigner to serve in the Indian Army as a gesture of goodwill. "I love Jaipur. I am particularly thankful to the Commandant of the 61st Cavalry Col J S Virk for all the cooperation that he has extended to me," said Ismail.

A Wiseman Among Barbarians

Hagar the Horrible
he came.. he saw.. he gulped.

Ride Into The Lungs Of Hell!!

Ghostrider!
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

Ghost Rider is written and directed by Mark Steven Johnson and stars Nicolas Cage, Wes Bentley, Eva Mendes, Matt Long, Sam Elliott, Peter Fonda and Donal Logue. Columbia Pictures will release the action-thriller on August 4, 2006.

Kirana Gharana: A different plane, another time.

Gangubai Hanagal
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

"My earliest memories of music are of running out of the house to listen to gramophone records in street corners. How I loved that music and tried to copy it!

My mother taught me the basics of sur, but the most important influence was my Guru, the late Sawai Gandharva. He would teach us one phrase or palta and not go to the next until we had mastered it. There were times when I would sit in a comer for hours, quite alone, just practising. Sometimes I would start crying out of frustration... but Guruji never gave up, such was his bhakti.

I believe in the gradual development and unfolding of the raga, an exposition so delicate that the listener should wait eagerly for the next phrase. My Guruji taught us to use surs like a miser parting with his money - a graceful, subtle movement so that the listener understood the importance of the placement of each note of the raga. I believe that listening is also an art, and that a discerning audience draws out the best from an artiste."

Gangubai Hanagal

Curb Your Vanilla Mocha No Whip Latte

Larry: What's in this latte?

Starbucks employee: Milk and coffee.

Larry: Oh my God. Milk and coffee. I never would have thought of that. That's so brilliant.

Larry: I'll have a vanilla... one of those vanilla bullshit things. You know, whatever you want, some vanilla bullshit latte cappa thing. Whatever you got.

watching Girls Gone Wild
Jeff Greene: Why do you have to analyze this? Can't we just watch this?
Larry David: She would spit on me! If I ever asked a woman to lift up her top, she would kick me in the balls and spit on me!
Jeff Greene: We've waited a long time to see this and all you're doing is yakking. Be quiet, come on!

When You Feel The Urge to Purge, It's an upSurge! (Act II)

The Sorry Story & A Summary In My Opinion

A quick summary of the plot. Rahul Khanna's papa, a big ass industrialist is threatened with an extortion by Mithunda, a World famous criminal in India, now operating out of Europe. He doesn't pay. Mithunda sics a hitman on Mr.Industrialist who eats a cucumber sandwich in an elevator shaft, takes down five heavily armed bodyguards and finally finishes off the industrialist dude with a violent headshot. Rahul Khanna plans to avenge the death of the man who adopted him and gave him a secure life. So he puts together a crack team of ex-cop Rampal, blackmailing journalist Ms.Patel, ex-con Abraham and his estranged beau Ms. Dutta.

(Note: AR - arjun rampal, RK - rahul khanna, JA - john abraham, LD - lara dutta, AP - amisha patel)

The assembling of the team is a sequence to giggle about. There are some parts in this sequence that redefine the term 'absurdly, ridiculously, aimlessly, preposterous.' And the part where Ms.Patel decides to join the team is a total award winner. Well, she's a photo-journalist. She tapes a conversation between RK & AR to kidnap the convict JA from the prison since JA is an old associate of Mithunda who turned on him. Bah! So, she decides to threaten RK with 'if you don't let me stick with you n get this story, i'll send the tape to the authorities, who'll cream your ass for crown caps.' The stuff she says goes something like this, "I know how important this mission is to you, so I'm prepared to sideline my mission of exposing your mission to kidnap the ex-con inorder to mobilize your mission to get even with the mission of the man who killed your father and then actively pursue my mission which is to get commission for exposing your mission to smuggle an ex-con out of prison." Hef! With so many missions on board the movie plot, I was expecting a couple of missionary style scenes as incentives to keep the audience glued; not to mention the very mission of the director's vision to scam some commission by bleeding the audience with his shitfest.

Now for the bad parts. And you thought, that was it. Sniper rifles and back shots. The one scene where Mr.Rampal the good cop kicks the bucket. The frothing five are led into an ambush by Mithunda in an attempt to 'chop the fist' rather than 'size the fingers individually', apostle of the Gangster Zen philosophy. The location is a lonely dacha somewhere in Munich surrounded by mountains of snow. A deal is supposed to go down between Mithunda and some croonies, but it's actually a trap. So, the five realize the horror of the situation when a small battalion of Mithunda's henchmen surround the dacha and fire at will. Glass shatters, wood rips, bodies drop as heavy firing is exchanged between the goodies and the baddies. There are atleast 300 baddies out there and they're dropping like flies. Not a single bullet harms our frothing five. Unfortunately, they didnt think about the need to pack extra ammo and they're soon running out of, you know what. And Miss Prettypants press reporter has an epiphany. They're all going to die miserable, gory, bloody deaths! She starts to murmur the words "We're going to die! We're going to die!" and AR hears her while he's engaging the baddies with his beretta. He has a sudden flash back of how his wife had uttered the same words before she met her end at the liquor store while trying to buy alcohol. So he runs out of the dacha inspite of the raining bullets and just about makes it to a parked SUV.

Mithuda's been watching this shit go down for a while from a higher point. One of his accomplices reaches into the back of their car and hands him a sniper rifle, sniper scope, carbine rounds and all. He takes aim and fires. Now, if you went to sniper night school, the first lesson they'd teach you is to engage in headshots. Even 5 year olds playing Quake in their diapers know this. Yet, Mithunda fires at AR's back. Which gives AR enough time to turn around and flip him. Another round is fired. Into AR's visibly packed wool laden thorax. By this time the audience must've been screaming "HEADSHOT! HEADSHOT!" A few more rounds are pumped into AR; yet he manages to maneuver the SUV, drive near the entrance of the dacha where the rest of the idiots jump into the vehicle. He then proceeds to drive, what I would summarize to be approximately 37 miles on snow laden roads, with about six carbine rounds, bleeding and all. Miracles are a state of mind.

When You Feel The Urge to Purge, It's an upSurge! (Act I)

Four Unlikely Idiots. One Mission. A Petrified Audience.

Prologue
I stand before you with my case. The case of the unperturbed audience, a rogue director, the five most miserable characters ever penned, a movie plot that would qualify for a very violent variance at the city building department and bad guys who'd put even a harmless mouse to shame. Even Mickey would unwillingly pick up a jungle knife and speculate about carving his name in Goofy's chest after witnessing their performance. What was Vikram Bhatt thinking? That he could mislead an audience that's gullible enough to accept verbal diarrhoea as narration? Or how about an incredibly dumb journalist who blackmails an industrialist only to fall in love with him later at the prospect of going after the bad guy. Who's skillfully lodged his posterior in the icy Swiss mountains surrounded by henchmen smart enough to camouflage their sorry selves as milk chocolate delivering bovine creatures in beenie caps and primary colored jackets.

HELLO? Yellow, red and orange do not qualify as camouflage. Especially in snow. Also, machine guns, uzis and AK-47s have recoils violent enough to knock your teeth out. Even Rambo fuelled & ready to jet-propel on a potent mixture of cocaine, steriods, bull-semen and caffeine will not be able to aim with machine guns in each hand & find marks for them targets while gingerly steering a snow mobile between his thighs and steel encased testicles. If Mr.Bhatt thought the casual cinema buffoon would believe such hogwash, he's sadly mistaken. And if you believe that Amisha Patel or Lara Dutta can use a firearm, you're an asshole. Like me.

The good parts first. Mithunda as the baddie, Baba Sikander. Good bad guy. Cold as a turkey sandwich. Lacking emotion, pretty much what the role demands. I won't say more. The dude's a three time National Award winner, and I love him! Lara 'Flamin Bombshell' Dutta! For those of you who don't know who this mistress of melting chocolate, princess of pistachio cream is; that's the first chick in the image on top. She sizzles on the screen like spring onions and bell peppers on a Fajita plate, straight outta the fire-grill. I wanna be her tortilla!!! Waaaa!!! If you know what I mean. Acting skills don't count as long as she dances like it's mating season for peacocks and fakes violent heart attacks coupled with spasms in a black sari and other revealing attire. It's all good. Rahul Khanna is all right. Arjun Rampal is pretty good as a cop, but in the second half he hams his way to try and beat death, and unfortunately fails. He's shot about 565 times before he succumbs to a mortal shot of superglue goat cheese. John Abraham as the Mumbaiyya tapori (hoodlum from Bombay) is convincing too. I definitely saw shades of Sunju baba in his delivery and performance. But I forgive you John. You're a good actor and even though I usually don't talk about the way guys look; I'd say youse a good lookin' fella. So, you get the pass dude.

Amisha Patel. Milady, if you wanted to work on your career as eyecandy, you should've modelled and catwalked your way into the fashion world. Where the thin meet the thin air. Ah, but most models and catwalking felines look like they have a strict diet and exercise schedule to follow. One stringbean for breakfast, half an egg shell and dew on the bottle of orange juice for lunch. Dinner usually consists of staring at condiments and sucking on a wet wad of cotton. Youse babe, on the other hand indulged furiously on things that qualify as fattening and bear nutritional value. Big mistake. A woman's body is a miraculous work of art. The gentle curves are inspirations for artists and invigorate poets to pen encyclopedias full of praises. You have broken a few rules sugarpants. That extra baggage on your sides and posterior is a ghastly sight to bear while you dance in tight hipsters and them sides flap like the jowls on a bassett hound. Please don't do that. You stand a good two feet tall. Capitalize on that and dress up like Santa; you'll have more appeal.

Next: The movie plot and the ultimate battle of good Vs. evil. Minus the popcorn.

Benihana's Lunch (June 10th, 2005)

Benihana's Lunch (June 10th, 2005)
Originally uploaded by Gautam R S.

The Santa Monica outfit went out for lunch today. It was Eddie's and Brian's birthday. Nav's leaving the office for health reasons, so another one. We all wish him well, and the best!

Him

Elaine, Larry & Clown

I saw this gentleman this morning at a light on Donald Douglas Loop. I was crossing the road and he sped off in front of me. He was making a free right. We made eye contact. Before I could realize the horror of the situation and jump in front of his vehicle to stop him and force him to pose in front of a phone cam, he was gone. Brilliant. Just Brilliant.

Bluten Leise In Das Meer

Rammstein - Lichtspielhaus

Just received this DVD along with 'Live Aus Berlin' this morning. It's packed with everything a fan would want. A music library, extra footage, interviews with subtitles in 7 languages, concert footage and most of all an elaborate video inventory. The pyrotechnics this band indulges in at their concerts is downright crazy! Till Lindemann walks onto the stage engulfed in fire while growling the nightmarish title track. Flamethrowers in the background spew 20 feet long fires and more fire works add to the dramatic effect. The concert footage is awesome. Did I mention their videos? Brilliantly directed, with themes and strong messages. A good investment, this. In my opinion.

In Ihrem Blute Steckt Ein Speer

Live Aus Berlin

Impressive. Very impressive.

Incredibly Irresistable & Adorable

"Lookin' at somethin' pal?"

Met this dude while going to work this morning. It's a Monday; fortunately he's made my day. He gave me that, 'pick me up, this walk is weakening me...' look. I couldn't help but do that and rub my head in his soft fluffy belly. He belched. Th next thing I felt was his wet, cold nose on my cheek and then his soft tongue. This guy was so cuddleable; he winced in my hands while wagging his little tail as if it was receiving radio waves. Anyways, time to move on. I need a dog. An english bulldog is most ideal, a rottweiler would be desirable, a bassett hound would help in fanning the heat away. We'll see.

When Time Stood Still

Hotel Rwanda

I don't know what to write. I saw this movie on Saturday afternoon. Since then, I've been trying to find the right words to express how man can be more than beastly. I still can't find the words. It's too overwhelming. Don't miss this movie. And, don't miss Killing Fields.

This is the End. My only friend, the end.

You scored as Suicide. Your death will be suicide. What more can I say? Fact: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Suicide 100% Bomb 87% Posion 67% Disappear 60% Eaten 53% Gunshot 47% Suffocated 47% Stabbed 47% Disease 33% Accident 20% Drowning 20% Cut Throat 7% Natural Causes 0% How Will You Die?? created with QuizFarm.com

This is Reuben Gubah

Trainer ExtraOrdinaire

Declaration of War.

Inventory Reloaded

I'm Looking Forward To Joining You, Finally..

Artist: Nine Inch Nails
Album: The Fragile
Year: 1999
Title: I'm Looking Forward To Joining You, Finally

as black as the night can get
everything is safer now
there's always a way to forget
once you learn to find a way how

in the blur of serenity
where did everything get lost?
the flowers of naivete
buried in a layer of frost

the smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes

thought he had it all before they called his bluff
found out that his skin just wasn't thick enough
wanted to go back to how it was before
thought he lost everything
then he lost a whole lot more

a fool's devotion
swallowed up in empty space
the tears of regret
frozen to the side of his face

the smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes

I've done all I can do
could I please come with you?
sweet smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes

Casual Carnage: A Day At The Vomitorium

Absent, dude

Note to the Casual Reader:
WARNING! The discussion you're about to read is about the use of explicit language in our daily gibberish. It is an insight, based on my daily observations of latent guy-talk that fills the streets and clouds the innocent & unsuspecting feline minds. If you are a connoisseur of delicately chosen, grilled cheese laden, ear candy vocabulary, then you might want to stop right here before visiting the Constabulary Of Carnage. If putrid language spat with renewed acerbity makes you recoil in horror like experiencing electrocution through your stubby belly button via crocodile clips, turn back right now! Be Advised. Remember, cussing right is a gift, foulmouthedness is a virtue. Fuggin' A.

You've been warned Fudgepacker.......................

I'm going to get down right to the brass tacks. The people I know, friends, colleagues and the idiots walking around me in funny costumes, swear, all the fugn' time. Be it related to poo or simply the act of 'qausi-matrimonius coitus uninterruptus' used casually in unnecessary circumstances. Now, you knew that too. So, in my quest to get down to the roots, I chose to observe the conditions and scenarios that trigger one's ability to recite tunes from the purgatory with unflinching perseverance. To that effect, I will quote my observations, describe each scenario and conclude with my disposition on the same. As if, you'd give a flyin' bug. But anyways. Let me start by recording the individuals I know, including my schizophrenic self and explain.

I have to start with the one and only, Al. We all have taken to cussing with childlike enthusiasm thanks to his soulful rendition of the act of manly love showered over another man. In another words, gay and ungay.

Alex & the word "fuck": Big 'Bubba lover' Al has a way with words. He actually has a freeway, you could say. When he starts to curse, there is enough torque dispensed to send a Geo Stationery Satellite Launch Vehicle into space and boot the satellite into its orbit with a splutch. The man actually says 'dick', 'shit', 'whore', 'miserable fuck', 'miserable prick' atleast a few hundred times a day. He doesn't curse, he chants. Possible Triggers include, wisecracks, vagrants, white trash (not in the racial context, please note), kentucky fried chicken and Ed.

G & "Fuckin' coksukka": Truly inspired by Corrado 'Junior' Soprano. Said like biscuits and gravy. I started using the terms liberally after the Second Season on DVD. It makes me crack up everytime I utter them words. I have been hearing a lot more soulful derivatives and I intend to be more subtle and highly selective henceforth. Wasted-piece-uhh-shit is a start.

Karim & "SunOfuhbiyecch": Karim's furiously following Alex, pretty much in his footsteps. The swearing, the sex-talk and the gory details of carnage echo in his monologues too. Most of the time he has to say something for anything and everything that is spoken in the office. It's like having a readily responsive remark for every single word you utter. Incoherence comes with the terrritory. His Algerian/French/American accent causes a slight detour in the aural realm sometimes, but it's effective nonetheless.

Brian & "Fuckin' Sheeyatt": When the boss frowns and violently stomps his foot, everybody pays attention. Usually occurs when the fax machine makes all kinds of sounds that simply translate to "it won't work, don't even think about it!!" Brian grits his teeth, gropes the paper with demonic zest, stomps his foot, pulls a long face and exclaims those very words of wisdom. We all reply in a monosyllable drone "moolah!"

Amilcar & "Son-Of-A-Bitcccchhhh": The self-proclaimed Frank Lloyd Wright incarnate trapped in the body of Le Corbusier is careful most of the time. He never swears; blasphemes mostly, to the tune of God-damn and Damn-it... But when he's busy working that crosshair on his ACAD screen and a crash sets him behind by a couple of minutes, Amilcar leans forward towards the screen, frowns like he's been asked to spell 'antiestablishmentarism' (NOTE:'tis antidisestablishmentarianism; thanks Saty!), swallows slowly and coos these very words with poetic romance.

Anshu & 'Fuck-the-shit-bastard-guy': He heard that very special, once in a life time derivative cuss in a Jerky Boys phone call. He's been using it ever since like a toy. Almost like a Klingon uses a McNugget to describe the size and extent of it's brain.