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Posts Tagged ‘humor’

The 5 PM Girl

In Writing on August 6, 2015 at 6:07 am

So there was this girl I used to know who
would send sad-sad stuff to my email
at 5PM in the evening. I will
call her: My five PM Girl.

If I were to take out a quick inventory today
of all the things she emailed to me
over those last few months, I could mention
the following three items (the last
three) –

One sad story
One Sad poem
One sad song

For the life of me, I cannot say with
100% certitude, the exact event, or the
set of events, that triggered her on an
email sending spree.

Maybe, it was something to do with me:
something I wrote, something I said, or
maybe something I left unsaid.

I once sent her a short story: The 100%
Girl by Haruki Murakami. It was about a
short story — of two 30 year olds, who
were 100% match for each other, only for
both of them to fall sick and lose each
and every loving memory they had of each
other.

Shortly, afterwards, I received an email:
a short story on knaves who pretended
to be knights and about a working girl
miserable because of the many unwanted suitors in her
life.

Then, once, while I was travelling deep
South, trying to nurse my broken heart (I
still don’t know what broke it; or who
broke it; or the exact day it broke) the
5PM girl sent me a link to a sad song (it
was 5 PM).

The song was about unrequited love: guy
meets girl on the subway, falls in love,
comes to know she is already taken,
doesn’t let go (because, oh!, he has a
plan). The song ends with the guy
realizes the futility of his love. He
takes takes off his shoes, watch, and
dives off a bridge into a river. It was
kinda sad.

Sometimes, when we met, she would look at
me, and say: “Why so sad, Amit?”.

I would mumble something about the
weather, some vague illness, centuries old tiredness, but never the truth: that it was the meeting and the leaving her that left me sad…

Why top [pick your number] lists suck

In Writing on November 12, 2013 at 5:42 am

Top [pick your number] lists should come with a statutory warning – “Top [pick your number] lists are bad for reader’s well being and mental health. Tests carried out at the university of XYZ show that top [Pick your number please] lists impair brain function and lead to a lazy disposition of the reader. Reader’s discretion is advised”

Now, you may say, why this grudge, why this rant, why this all-out, till the end-of-the-world, declaration of war, against something as innocuously worded as “top seven sex tricks to jazz up your love life” or even “top seven apps that will make you a model employee”. Bear with me, let me first introduce you to a top [pick your number will] writer.

Basically a top [pick your number] writer is a megalomaniac who see themselves as some sort of a modern day seer. Now you tell me,  what kind of man or woman whittles down top sex positions to a mere six or seven – she/he has to be a megalomaniac, right? How can you whittle down something so important as sex to a top [pick your number] list.  Obviously, it has to be some kind of God complex at play. It is like – “Ooh! My words are final.   And there is no way you can ever enjoy or achieve anything in life if you’re not acquainted with one of my top [pick your number] list.”

Top [pick your number] writers are overbearingly arrogant, know- it- alls. You know the type. And you see them everywhere, spawning like the matrix – no wonder there are so many top [pick your number] lists on the big WWW.  They are the kind that believe that life’s important questions and everything in between can be distilled down to top [pick your number] lists. Let me ask you – what kind of moron does that? You’re right, only those with some kind of insufferable God complex, the know-it-alls, and the top [pick your number] list writer wallahs.

You can trust them to take the joy out of your Sunday book reading sessions. Trust me, you’ll do well to stay away from their weekly reading suggestions or top [pick your number] things you need to enjoy a book.   I chanced on one that recommended tea, coffee, chocolate cake to make your book reading more enjoyable. Isn’t that depressing? Tea, coffee, chocolate – really?

Here is my question – why limit yourself to only tea, coffee, chocolate cake? Why not add acid, coke, LSD, mescaline? Don’t they know that a good read is like a sustained release Dopamine capsule kicking in at regular intervals and keeping the reader on a perpetual high. Why the hell do you need stimulants?

Then there are top[pick your number] writers who see themselves at the forefront of women’s empowerment. So every article is a top [pick your number] [pick your favorite app/too/software] for the working women. It is sexist really. And it is a tad bit sad because they have taken a perfectly egalitarian thing – technology – and turned it into a male-female divide to serve their respective constituencies.

Here is the thing,  top [pick your number] lists won’t make you any smarter as they are written under the impression that you are too dumb to do your research.  So are you dumb? Your favorite top [pick your number] writers think so? Mad, huh? Time to shun them. 

Writer Mercenary

In Writing on January 2, 2013 at 4:45 pm

I am a writer mercenary. I write for a living. Pay me well and I will do a hatchet job on your competition. I will dish out the vilest untruths and half lies with the greatest relish. I will rip into your rival’s product and drag it through the mud – leaving reputation in tatters. If the money is not good or the other side offers more, I will switch to the other side, just like a mercenary switches sides mid battle. I will do it with no qualm in my heart. I am a writer mercenary.

Here is a secret – I never use a product before writing a review. Your product may be the best, but I don’t care. My job is to tarnish your reputation and I mean to do it well.  All I need is my imagination and some bitterness in my heart.  I can feel bile rising now. I will trash, burn and savage your competition to your heart’s content and ground your rival into the dust. But you must pay me my money. Or Else..

For a price I will write you nice reviews. Your cake is the sweetest! Your diet works magic!  Your home gym rocks! Your exercise bike is the safest! African Mango, Acacia berry – name it. And I will say it works.

Even though I have never assembled a bike, I can write manuals on assembling the most complex exercise machines in less than 30 minutes. Do you know what a “Crosman Benjamin 392 .22 Caliber Bolt Action Variable Pump Air Rifle with Hardwood Stock and forearmfeels like. I do. It feels like a Crosman Benjamin 392 .22 Caliber Bolt Action Variable Pump Air Rifle with Hardwood Stock and forearm. If you want more information, read the review.

Being a mercenary has its advantages. I can write the way I like. I am a writer mercenary after all. Writer Mercenaries are not known for their allegiance – not even to the rules of grammar. Hell with your “subject and word agreements”, “dangling modifiers” and what not’s. Commas are boring. Use your brains and put them where you please.  If you don’t like the way I write, find another mercenary.

Since I am a writer mercenary, I am not bound by rules and regulations. I am not your employee.  I work when I want. I work where I want. Sometimes I tell my client to take a hike. It feels good. It feels good to get back the control. I control the rudder to my ship. This ship sails to where it wants. Sometimes it drifts. There is great fun in drifting. Try it sometimes. But of course you must come back from your drifting. There is money to earn.

End of Individualism and the Rise of the Bots

In Business on December 11, 2012 at 4:29 pm

Soon you will have an army of bots descending on your town – selling everything from biscuits to cauliflowers. The wheels are already in motion. You see the rise of botdom everywhere.

 I realized this while ordering a Re 300 Margarita Pizza at our neighborhood Pizza outlet.

 A unisex uniformed BOT took the order. No, I don’t remember the person taking the order. The Pizza Company had succeeded in taking the individual out of the person. It was  a mere shell of a person – a BOT taking orders. The BOT had a company manual compliant smile #1 firmly in place while it was taking the order. A medium Margarita Pizza, sir. Do you want ketchup? Do you like my company manual compliant smile #1 smile, Sir?

 I must say no effort was spared to ensure I noticed the company manual complaint Smile #1.  This was important because later on I was given a form with a single question – did the BOT serve me with a smile or not.

This is the end of anarchy.

Before you jump the gun and start lambasting me for harboring leftist ideology let me tell you anarchy is good. It is the only way to ensure equality in society by breaking down established orders.

A small businessman is an anarchist because he is not part of any organized order. He is there on his own – buying goods, selling goods. He is independent. This exactly the sort of entity the governments don’t like.  Variables are dangerous. They have a voice. They are not trained to act in a particular way or behave in a Pavlovian way.

 BOTS have no personality. They just serve their masters. The tragedy is they don’t even know the damage causing to PEOPLE. You can’t blame BOTS. They have been trained. You tell them to jump they will jump.

Biting into the Re 300 Margarita Pizza and hating myself I looked at the tea stall outside. The tea seller had more personality than any of the BOTS inside. Every time I went there to have my “Chai” he actually smiled and the smile actually registered on his face and None of that Company Manual Compliant Smile #1 you see at BOTDOM.

Each independent businessman is an act of anarchy in the face of standardization. Every “Samosa”, every cigarette sold, every “Chai” you drink supports anarchy.

It is an anti government as it can get because the government clearly wants them out. Get them in unisex uniforms, snatch away their freedom, give them an ID card, give them a number, standardize, standardize….

Of a philosophical disposition

In Uncategorized on May 6, 2012 at 7:58 am

If life gives you a lemon you make lemonade. But what if you don’t like lemonade, what do you do then? For all you know, all that lemonade could bring you down with a bad case of cold. That would be like a double whammy if ever there was one. You get a lemon (what is wrong with a lemon anyway), and then you get a bad cold. Better, wouldn’t you say if you left the lemon alone and turned to philosophy?

But why am I discussing about a yellow, citrus fruit, early in the morning? It is a Sunday too. The kind of Sunday that you dream about on Tuesdays and Wednesdays: Mellow Sundays with newspapers in a roll, egg sunny side up and lemon juice, the T.V on full volume, and the smell of just washed clothes in the air. Coming back to the reason, it is because, lately, I have been blighted by a curious set of circumstances that has led me to question life and my role in it.

Some people would call “the curious set of circumstances” fate, but not me. I will be damned, if I am going to let a highly strung, seriously disturbed and paranoid women, called fate ,decide, over my life. No I am not being a sexist. I would rather call it a game of chances. See, you will eventually lose some. You will lose your health, your youth, your job and everything there is to lose. The trick is in gaining something all the time. This way there will be a balance. If you sit on your losses for too long the losing streak will get an extended run. If you keep on trying the laws of probability will turn in your favour eventually. And you will have less to moan about.

That is why I root for philosophers. Everything for them is eventual ( I read that in a Stephen King novel, he is also a good philosopher it seems).They look at the stars, birds, flowers and come up with some deep shit which does not make any sense to you and me. Let’s take up this fellow called Borges. Argentine writer, philosopher and solver of mysteries, he writes with fecundity and insight.

Sample this: Borges wrote that the mysteries of the universes would unravel if we truly understood the rose. I didn’t understand it one bit. And the beauty of the thought is that Borges never explained why only a rose. The reader is left with his own devices. This is the beauty of philosophy. You learn it the hard way, through experience.

So I thought. I thought hard and I finally understood. The rose starts as a bud, flowers, sets into full bloom and then withers away: hope, beauty and finally a thought – the quintessence of human existence.

Shit. This is life.

Blah, Blah, Blah

Yawn