$hootin ¢oke

The classic drug user movie cliche is true. Apparently

Sure if you're a broke homeowner with a few dollars left in your pocket sniffing them will not make you feel any better. But if you were swimming in the stuff like Uncle Scrooge, theoretically you could go high. Wonder who I know with a large stash of bills these days. Hmm....this explains all the greed on display at Wall Street. Investment bankers are literally addicted to the stuff. I would imagine that the first thing Goldman bankers do when they receive their ridiculous bonuses, is to sniff hard on all the notes and lie back in a daze. At least now we have a legal reason to put them in jail(or rehab whatever).

Really sad names for movies

I have long taken offense to the kind of movies that Samuel L Jackson seems to consider his forte but as far as names go 'Snakes on a Plane' has to be, hands down, the most laziest choice of a movie title in the history of man. You'd have to be like "Snakes on a Plane? Hmmm, I wonder what that movie is gonna be about?". I mean, what is the point of watching it anymore! Did the director decide that the suspense would be too intense for Samuel L Jackson's octagenarian fanboys? Its as if they decided that the audience couldn't handle anything more than the blatantly obvious.

If only every movie ever made had names that told it like it is. The movie going experience would be just so much richer and exciting. You can just imagine 'The Matrix' being called 'Guy killing robots in alternate reality with super special effects' or 'Memento' being called 'Movie played backwards to simulate amnesiac recovering'. 'The Shawshank redemption' would become 'Man digs out of prison with Morgan Freeman voiceover' while 'Million Dollar baby' would be 'Boxing with Morgan Freeman voiceover'.

The greatest films of our time would be reduced to nothingness at the hands of the people who came up with 'Snakes on a Plane'. I can hardly imagine '12 angry men' occupying the 7th slot of the IMDB top 100 if it were called something like 'Hung Jury: 96 minutes'. Or 'The Usual Suspects' being called 'No way! 'Twas Kevin Spacey all along!" and still leaving you breathless at that last scene.

We must really thank the stars that not every film producer is so factual in deciding the names of upcoming blockbusters. Oh and before you notice and craft your brilliantly sarcastic comments, the title of the post is intended to be ironic.

Check this out too
http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/snakes_on_a_plane_2.jpg

Worst Trip Part I: Queue wait Airlines

or just drop the K and make it UWAIT as someone wisecracked. Either way...
Not that it was entirely their fault. I can understand bad weather delays in winter. But I have to say this trip made a turn for the worse and then flew unwaveringly in that direction. Funny that the post on the return flight after my Eurotrip should come before my adventures there but guess I was having too much fun to blog while in Europe.

On arriving at the airport we were greeted with the fact that my 11.30 flight was already 3 hours behind schedule. I somehow found an isolated corner to nod off in the labyrinthine maze called Fraport (which sounds like a warm coffee trading cove in Jamaica and which it most decidedly was not) but the noble Denial spirit can take adversity with the best of them so I gallantly maintained a brave face even while snoozing.

The security check was a breeze. A very chilly one that makes you shiver once you've stripped off all but the last layer of clothing. Somehow the guy with the metal detector took a fancy to my shoes and decided that something smelt fishy about them. I was inclined to agree with him and didn't offer any resistance even when he made off with them. I believe he was searching for the perfect pair for himself and wanted to try mine on for size. The fact that I had to go through the whole process twice endeared these efficient individuals to me all the more. I promised to praise them in public whenever I could.

Misery loves company and I was glad to have two guys I knew along with me for the flight....sorry, the wait. One of them, the owner of the joke mentioned above had decided to lug along some beverages of the non non alcoholic variety which turned out to be a pain in the as(s) we shall later see.

I ascertained from sources that the incoming flight from Geneva had only started at 2pm and so I had a reasonable estimate of a 4pm takeoff time from Frankfurt. Since I didn't share this knowledge with the general public it was funny to see them jump at every announcement with hope and fall back with despair. But conservative estimates are made to be broken. After having waited 4 hours at the airport we then waited half an hour in the bus staring at our plane for god knows what.

Repeated announcements thanking us for our patience only served to test it further. The icing on the cake was of course the hour long delay after getting on the plane. The pilot thanked us for choosing Kuwait Airlines, a ghastly ironic joke at which I would have laughed had I not been drained of energy and emotion already.When the plane finally started moving the passengers actually applauded, no doubt thinking that positive affirmation was the way to improve the situation.

But alas, my nightmares were only beginning. To my left a largish individual had comfortably engulfed the window seat and the fight for the armrest was over before it started. I gave up hope of pushing the Golem aside after two tries that left me panting. I decided that if the mountain won't move away from Mohammad then Mohammad must go away from the mountain. To top it all off he was already sawing wood. He looked like he did it for a living. Why did he have to do it in his sleep too?!

To my horror the family to my right seemed to have not one, not two but five babies! Now don't get me wrong I love babies just as much as the other guy does...if the other guy was Jonathan Swift. And yeah I am kidding. But I prefer to enjoy other people's babies, just like other people's dogs. That way you can admire the little cutie pies without having to go through all the messy parts of their upbringing. IMO parents who successfully bring up their children to be a useful part of society deserve a medal.

But nothing could have prepared me for the unholy racket made by these little buggers. I couldn't decide whether to curse or to find some choice biblical passage for exorcising the banshees that appeared to have possessed this lot. To say that they were screaming would be like saying that Saddam Hussein was a naughty boy. Together with the deep basso lumberjack on my left they pretty much covered both extremes of the the audible spectrum. Perfect quadrophonic sound with distortion levels so low as to make a brave man weep and believe me,I did. I just had to play rhythm and we could start a death metal band. We could call it Insomaniacs.

If the dad had started a conversation with me at that point somehow I am sure it would have turned towards eugenics and birth control. He and I were having a cold war. It started with him glaring at me, when I was on the phone while the plane was still on the ground waiting, as if to say "How dare you use your phone in the plane? What a jerk! Don't you know it interferes with the communication blah blah blah". To which I gave him a look that said " Man, We're still on the ground and we're not even moving! Besides right now, my phone just uses one band. Your daughter there is broadcasting an infinite bandwidth white noise signal.". I don't think he got it :(

Here is where I noticed a distinct advantage of having a blog. Usually I'd be so mad by now that I'd be steaming at my ears. Now I was thinking "This is so bad I can actually rant about it! Just wait, you losers. I will have my revenge mwahahahahah!". So I did something absolutely positively evil. I woke up the man mountain next to me and asked HIM for a pen so I could write down all that I hated about this trip. Mwahahahahaah. I'd recommend a blog as an effective anger management solution any day.

Finally we landed at our stopover in Kuwait. We were only 7.5 hours delayed. With the connecting flight long gone we waited to see what would happen. More of this sad tale in part II.

Cmd+X bread

Trying to make a Mac user stop gushing about his damn product is like trying to flush a clogged toilet. The more you try the more the shit spews out. Apparently Steve Jobs didn't highlight this feature when the Air came out. But this is what happens when you have crazed cult worshipers who can't go two minutes without praising Apple's almighty goodness. It's just ONE more thing irritating Mac fanboys will whine about I guess. In case you haven't yet encountered one of these faux artistic losers, head over to the best page in the universe.

A-hole in the Zeiling

Last week in Frankfurt means walking around random malls looking for shit to buy. Sad, I know. Anyway at this weird looking mall called My Zeil(apparently the architects were looking to recreate a wormhole. Looking at the prices inside I got the hidden symbolism...it was a wormhole in your wallet) there was a huge rush at this strange looking store with people waiting in line to enter. Yes, it would not be weird in India but here its a wtf.

We couldn't make out what all the fuss was about anyway. Suspiciously the store architecture looked like a typical traditional Kerala house resplendent with the coconut trees and tiled roof. Actually reminded me of mine too. Discreet enquiries with a person standing in line revealed that 'a new US store was in town called something like Holler...Holster'. Hah..Even he didn't know.

Wasn't funny till I read Maddox's fashion tips on Hollister. Suckers

No laughing matter

I am most comfortable speaking and typing (we hardly write anymore, I think it’s time the verb fell out of use) using the Queen’s tongue. Not literally of course, that would be gross. My lack of mastery over the language of my forefathers is a result of both not having the opportunity to learn/use it at school and having parents who were perfectly comfortable with a conversation where speakers carried on in different languages (Mallu by the parents and English by my brother and me) which made for very interesting phrasing amidst arguments but more of that some other time.

So English is my only effective literary weapon seeing as my Hindi is rusty, my French is blunt and my Malayalam is double edged (i.e. it would hurt me more than the other guy if I used it). Also for me to write a blog is to put my above mentioned wickd lit skyllz to the test. Any way the long and the short of it is I’ve often opinionated lazily, mostly to inanimate objects, that there’s really not that much to write about and who would read all these blogs anyway.

But given my appreciation for good humor which is evident from my super intelligent comments ranging from the simple LOL to the gut busting ROFLMAO when I started reading blogs like krishashok, indiauncut and others, I was of course inspired to start my own version of blather. At which point I encountered the challenge that makes most aspiring bloggers give up like the Indian team, despite the best efforts of Sachin. Namely, what do I write about? Still working on it.

However what I wanted to know after reading those blogs was how post after post these guys could carry on the banter. In short, not being content with getting my funny bone tickled, I wanted to learn how I could tickle other people’s ribs without becoming an orthopaedist or getting a restraining order.

Which led me, the thoroughly unfunny person that I am, to a whole host of wiki articles on humor that were more of the mind numbing variety than the type mentioned previously. Nevertheless I learnt completely useless things like how sarcasm was only one version of irony and that ‘polysemy’ was not a euphemism for a trailer park.

And with it the realization of what E.B White ( the author of Charlotte’s Web) said of efforts like mine. "Analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it."

Ford! You're turning into a penguin! Stop it.

The complete radio series available here. Thanks to nondescriptnair for introducing me to the original series and my brother for finding the site.

The Doctor is in the House

The best show ever! I will not stoop to argue with you on this one, whatever pathetic little show you bring up as a counter. Curious to find who was behind all the acerbic wit that House spews forth show after show I stumbled upon this article.

However I was amused to read the part on page 3 where they talk about the 'consternation of die hard Wilson fans!' lmao. Wilson is portrayed as about the most pathetically nice and servile buddies you could have. I certainly wouldn't want to be such a doormat, as House calls him in the latest episode. And is it me or did you find Wilson's acting a little funny in that one, the whole of which was focused on him. That's not why I watch House, Writers, so definitely not the way to go.

Frutti di bosco

The rich tang of berry
Is not ordinary
The fruit pulp within
Truly makes your head spin


Its deep crimson hue
refreshes our lips anew
Each spoonful of ice cream
A heavenly dream

Rafaello and Tiramisu
Sorry but I won't miss you
Flavours are ad infinitum
but of this one I can't keep mum

I do not claim to be
a great or famous bard
but an ode to this dessert
even they would find hard

But the Gelatos before us
offer a divine chorus
From New York to Moscow
In the praise of Frutti di bosco

The Ski Trip

At some point during your stay in Europe you will begin to tire of churches, statues, bridges, monuments, ruins and the rest. Seeing is one thing but doing is much better. That is how the search for a different experience on the Eurotrip led us to the Ski town of Saas Fee in the Valais, home to some of the best all year ski slopes in Europe. Not for us the mundane train rides to the Jungfrau or the Titlis (where I am told the restaurants even have signs in Hindi). However not knowing the first thing about skiing this would be, in the words of the one and only Barney Stintson ‘legen… wait for it… dary!’.

Saas Fee turned out to be really beautiful and there was not an Indian or a non European in sight. Unique experience… CHECK.

What with all the ski schools closed the day we landed up there and the lady at the rental shop actually dissuading us from trying on our own (even though it’s bad for her business!), we almost gave up hope of being able to try the slope. But out of sheer bloody mindedness we decided to just shove caution out the back door and give it a shot. Apparently the beginner’s slopes would open only the next day or so we were told when we reached the counter for the ski pass. "Whatever..we're here so let’s try it out" said I. A slope called Morenia was recommended to be the easiest available place to try.

In retrospect, BAD decision. We could have easily ended up dead. On a slope gravity is your enemy and your friend. One wrong move and it’s ‘bye bye cruel world’. Climbing the ski lift we took silly photographs trying to get the pro skiing look. Even though I would give myself 10 points for style, it is saddening that I will do anything for a facebook picture.

Walking onto the slope we boldly plonked the skis down and strapped our boots in. This was going to be awesome. Then I started sliding backwards. Panicking I dug my ski sticks into the ice to no avail. Gathering speed I fell backwards under the wood platform outside the restaurant. Luckily for me it wasn't a full out drop or I wouldn't be writing this. An embarrassed smile and a cheery" I'm fine" was the best I could manage to reassure the worried faces looking down on me from the platform.

Falling isn't the hard part about learning to ski. Falling is easy and for me it was effortless. But as in life the hardest part is getting back up.

It was plenty of entertainment for a large group of snowboarders sitting outside the Morenia Restaurant. There was constant laughter whenever I managed to fall in a new and interesting way but also some cheers when I managed to stay up on the skis for a bit.

Finally when I decided to take a break and went in for a Coke, I wondered whether they could possibly offer me some advice. I sauntered over to them. "Could you tell me how to turn?" I inquired. Turns out they don't speak much English. "We are snowboarders, not skiers" one of them managed. "Never mind then" I said. "Where are you from?" One of them wanted to know. "India" I replied to much murmuring, "…and you are Germans, I think?". "Swiss Germans" he corrected. I detected the slightest hint of pride. "So… why are you here?" he asked half wonderingly and half sarcastically.

It irritated me a bit that he would consider it incredible for someone like me to be there on that slope with him. I really wanted to make him understand that in the future there would be many more Indians on the slopes as in every other field that we have excelled in.

I could have lectured him for hours on how India was an emerging economy with strong growth and a powerful democracy with a larger youth population than that of the whole of Switzerland and how we would, along with China, soon be one of the two largest economies in the world, but I didn't think it would have left any impression, given the little English that he understood. I had to convey it in much simpler terms.

"Why!?," I countered with false surprise," Why NOT?" as I picked up my gear for one more try on the slope.

cushion of safety

I know these are tough times for the Indian Airline Industry, but some cost cutting measures can border on the outright ludicrous. I recently had the pleasure of travelling by Jet Lite from Mumbai and their latest in cheap really chilled my spine!

Being really tired I was just about to doze off during the pre-flight briefing when I heard the announcer say it.

" Between Rows xxx and yyy we have removed all life jackets! Instead we give you the amazing floating seat cushion!! It makes a water landing a fun filled experience for the whole family!" With two plastic strips that are too wide to be of any use, you'll just have to hug the cushion for dear life till help get here!

In fact, for that added thrill, we make it a little more challenging for rescue teams to save you. We did away with the lights on the vest to make it virtually impossible to see you in the dark.

Have a nice flight!"

Looking at the air hostess running through the drill, I wondered how she could keep a straight face while asking people to use that piece of junk.

I mean just think what would happen if there were kids on board. Obviously they can't hug a seat cushion. And only if your dad was an olympic gymnast could he hold u and your kid brother while hugging a seat that just may float. But that picture makes it look all too easy.
I mean how hard can it be?! In fact I can run you through it right now:

Step I: The plane's just crashed onto water. Fires have started in the electricals and smoke is filling the cabin. Don't mind the disorientation of dropping oh say, 20,000 feet~! and crashing onto something that would have the consistency of concrete under those conditions...Just remain calm and start tugging your seat while people around you calmly do the same.

Step II: If you manage to rip off the seat from its place, put your arms around the seat and hug it with all your strength because standard issue seat cushions aren't going to be a snug fit.

Step III: In this fashion exit the aircraft from the aircraft and dive into the sea.

Step IV: Enjoy your swim! This is aptly illustrated by the fully dressed man looking comfortable in the picturesque blue sea, lying on the cushion just as if he were on his living room sofa.

It was enough to make the strongest atheist start praying. But when I looked around people were still as relaxed and nonchalant as ever. It wasn't like we could have immediately done anything about it but even showing the slightest concern to match the frozen expression on my face would have been nice. I guess fatalism is still in vogue.

Respect

Some crazy whim in me has made me try to write a blog almost 2 years after my first attempt!! And like I suspected I never got around to writing anything on the first blog. Just like I never got around to doing many other things that I always wanted to do. Because I never found the time. Rather I never made the time. All said and done self improvement is one tough nut to crack.

I actually wonder if there was anyone on earth who found it easy to 'self improve'. Creativity is another thing I can't grasp. Millions of people are blogging away furiously. How many of those blogs are worth reading? Is this blog ever going to be worth reading?

Time inexorably ticks away. Every passing second is one second less in your life. Cliched or melodramatic, call it what you want, but a lot of people really seem to believe that . Work gets crazy at times and people still push on and on. But I always wonder what is good enough for those striving to reach higher and higher. I mean where is the point where a super achiever can say: " There! I've done it. And now I will rest." Even God had to rest on the seventh day! But we have no rest.

Solow's model says that the percapita income can increase only through the productivity increases of the worker whether through technological breakthroughs or by just plain working more. (Yeah I have a fondness for the dismal science but then again maybe I just feel dismal right now) Anyway some people seem to have taken it to heart. What it fails to capture though is the individual motive to try and increase his income and standards of living. Here I'm not talking from a subsistence level but from a point where a person is pretty comfortable already.

I have a theory that may sound controversial or offending to people who have worked hard to reach where they are today, but being willing to take that risk, let me go ahead and say that a strong need for respect and appreciation lies at the core of all attempts to improve oneself. If that sounded too mild let me put it this way: People who keep working hard don't have the self confidence not to.

I'm no psychologist and attending Organizational Behavior I and II hardly puts me in a position to comment on people's traits, especially after having slept through most of the lectures and listening to endless BS in the others, so at the outset let me relieve your worries by saying I have only anecdotal evidence from a single source ie myself.

But maybe you can agree with me when I say that I feel I only tried to excel to earn the respect and liking of others. Which is pathetic. Why should I bother what others think of me? And did it achieve what it intended to? I hardly think so! On the contrary there is resentment and suspicion among peers "Why is this guy trying to change the status quo?".

What people don't always realize is that the most likable guy in any group will be the one with the lowest ambition and ego. No one feels threatened by him. As Trump said "Show me a person without an ego and I'll show you a loser." That's how society measures people who don't march to its beat. It is our fear of falling short of society's measuring rod that forces many of us to give more than required to pursuits which turn out to return less than expected.

Then we come to the pressures by people who have influence over you, like parents for instance. Even if you are content to be yourself, the need to be one step ahead of the Joneses forces many parents to drive kids to perform more consistently and better than ever before. Recently an article said that children now start coaching for the IITs from the 6th standard. I hadn't even heard of things like that back then. I just knew that after 12th grade people left home for college as dorks and came back cool. A 'cool factory' if you will.

Considering these things knowing a few non achievers might actually be a good thing. If you are already better than your existing social circle you will be more than satisfied to bask in the warm glow of admiration and appreciation that it provides you. The niggling doubts of self worth arise only when you meet someone better than yourself. Then you are forced to think "hmm...what can I do to be as respected and as liked as that guy?"

And its a vicious circle. If by some unfortunate chance you manage to rise a little above your circle, they start feeling uncomfortable. And on it goes. Because a good standard of living is only in relation to a worse standard of living. But no one I know compares his life with say prehistoric cavemen. No one says "Hey! I'm in no danger of being chomped on by a t-rex. Life's just great isn't it!". No. Everyone compares himself with his immediate circle of interaction. " That guy got a raise" or "He's got a new car/wife/house...".

Also its not as if your troubles ended after getting one upper hand over your friends. Once you reach the next level you make another set of friends who are at your same level and again the same cycle of beating the Joneses kicks in. Its like a nightmare Nintendo game. If you do reach the top there's no one left to share the victory with!

The core of my argument in case you thought I was rambling is that there are 2 basic forces at play:

1. We associate best with people who are similar to us in most respects

2. We want to be better than those people to gain their respect. Unfortunately in the process of oneupmanship we lose those friendships and gain a new set of people at our new level with whom we associate best.

To allow others to be your yardstick
will keep you enslaved all your life.
~ © Alison Stormwolf ~

the last person to start blogging on this planet

Yeah u guessed it....me.

What i cant figure out, though, is why would anybody want to read something i've posted.

Im here to check out what its all about.

*tada* -my first post-