Watching that news bit on Aaj Tak yesterday where they went on like a broken record about how Mandira Bedi had insulted the Indian flag because the tricolour on her saree happened to be below the knees, I couldn't help thinking what a petty-minded nation we've become. Apparently according to the constitution, wearing the triclour waist down is considered a dishonour to the flag. I say thank God it wasn't covering her crotch or they'd have accused her of crossing the Line of Control.

And why were they after poor Mandira in the first place, when the real blame lies with that idiot (not to mention atrociously bad) designer Satya Paul. But the media in our country cannot resist a soft target, can they?

A sad irony that the men who wear the tricolour on the sleeves couldn't give a rats ass about the nation they're playing for.

***

I've just been listening to some tracks by this dude (and fellow Goan) named Warren Mendonca. Good stuff ... nothing too complicated. Calls himself BlackStratBlues (I like it!). You can download the whole album here. It's called Nights in Shining Karma ... I notice a very distinctive Gary Moore influence.

This one for Bunny ... not sure if you're still reading, but you should know I think of you often. Gary Moore ... Still got the Blues!

Signed up to Monster.com cuz a friend told me they send you the best offers. Two days on what am I getting? Loads of emails - all I.T. shit ... Java, Lava, This ++, That ++! One that had me laughing my ass off was where they said they were looking for specialists in backend design!

***

Anyway, I gave Ash and Abhi six months. Now I'm giving them three. Overheard at La Mer last night by ever vigilant neigbours--

Ash (screaming at the top of her voice): Woh aadmi hai kya jaanwar ... is he a man or a f*****g animal??

Abhi: He is part of the Bachchan family now baby, you know that. There is nothing we can do. If it wasn't for him, we'd be-

Ash: I don't care, get it ... I just don't f*****g care! No normal human being can eat so many laddoos!

Abhi: It's just that Amar Singhji has a big appetite darling ... I don't see what the problem is.

Ash: The problem is he doesn't know when to stop. As long as it's your fathers laddoos he's eating, that's fine, but the minute he starts eyeing my laddoos....

Abhi (shaking head): I don't understand why you're getting hyper like this

Ash: Stop shaking your head! ... ever since you did those stupid ads all you do is shake your f*****g head!!

***

The heat here is really getting to me. Damn, I could drink a whole case of beer. Speaking of drinking, a question I've often asked my non-drinker friends when we go out to a pub or a restaurant: How can you buggers not drink?? Because I tell you, it is the most boring thing in the bludy world going out with people who don't drink. Cuz you're having a beer and they're like having a fruit juice or a soft drink ... and while a person can down 4 to 5 beers in the span of an evening, they can drink one, maybe two fruit juices/soft drinks max. So after they're done, they're left staring at you and your glass of golden manna! And then they want to eat, the bludy rotters! And I'm like: Hey hang on Jack, I don't want to eat so damn soon ... I'm still on my third beer!

Nobody's saying drink rum or whisky or vodka ... have a beer man, it won't kill you. But no, they look at it like it's the poison that killed Bob Woolmer!

***

So who do you think's gonna take the Cup ... damned Kangaroos of course. Though I'm secretly hoping them Lankans give them a good whopping!

Sheryl Crow - Sweet child of mine .... news is Axl Rose and Slash the Ripper be making a trip to Mumbai soon ... yeah, you heard it here first. Rock on brothers!

there are no answers
... only clues

There's a reason why many of the worlds greatest thinkers were loners ... recluses. Because they could never make up their minds. They didn't want to have to make the decisions and face the choices that people who live in society had to. And so they withdrew to somewhere where those choices and decisions were not needed.

***

There was once a girl who came to know of a loner living far away and wanted to get to know him better. He on his part had no such interest. But little conversations soon turned into larger ones and she reminded him of what life was once like before he went into his shell. How nice it felt to be loved, wanted, cherished. And he found himself opening up more and more to her, forgetting the hurt of the past. And then one day he told her he loved her. Though he wasn't quite sure what it was about her that he loved.

He happened to be walking through the woods near his house one afternoon when he spotted a little yellow butterfly nestling its delicate body on the petals of a flower. He remembered how when he was a boy he and his brother would quietly sneak up behind them, grab them by the wings and stuff them into empty matchboxes with tiny little air-holes on the top so that they could breathe. But they always died. It didn't seem cruel at the time, but it did now. So very cruel. A thought ran through his mind -- Why did they put those butterflies into those matchboxes and make air-holes in them when they knew fully well that every butterfly they had done that to earlier had died?

It was the hope that one of them would live ... for how long was not important. It was then that he realised what he was doing to the girl. He loved her but he did not want her to be a butterfly in a matchbox. She should be free - free to fly, and free to come back to him whenever she wanted. And he wanted the same for himself.

And so he told her there was someone else. A butterfly. But she did not understand.

I haven't had a blog addiction in quite a while. Which is why I must declare I am totally in love with this girls' writing ... and she's pretty too! Says she's in advertising ... I'm just praying she ain't with JWT, what after all the fun I made of their Pepsi/Shahrukh ads.

Y'know, I think I'd have made a great adwalla. Oh yeah, I'd have kicked ass!

***

There's enough been said in Blogsville about Indian girl Minal Panchal killed by that psycho Korean bugger in the most recent US college shootout. And thanks to Orkut we can now convey our condolences directly to her. I wonder if the guys at Orkut will now think of introducing a new status that says Deceased.

But please you guys, if you come to know that I've been run over by a truck tomorrow, please don't leave me no 'may your soul rest in peace' messages. Cuz my soul ain't gonna be resting ... it's gonna be bludy rockin!

***

Here's something from T (aforementioned pretty blogger) that had me laughing so damn loud, guys at work thought I'd gone loco!

o huzooooooooooooooor

if we cut off himesh's nose,
will he start singing?

Nope ... I'd say he'd probably try to get a tune out of his bum! Himeshbhai has turned actor now, did you know? Yeah, read it in the papers the other day. And it seems he's wearing a different coloured cap in every scene! They should have got some dame to do an item number where she sings Topi ke neeche kya hai?

This one for T ... Sweet home Alabama!

Blogging wisdom ... from the old to the new/not so old.

If you try to make (too much) money from your blog by inserting (too many) ugly advertisements all over the place, you start to look like one of our Men in Blue who focus more on endorsements than the bludy cricket.

If you get the feeling that what you're about to post is utter crap, in all likelihood it is. And even if you feel that way after posting, please delete ... never mind that two days have passed. But if you don't mind posting utter crap once in a while (like me!) go right ahead.

If you have to sit down and think for more than 10 minutes about what you're going to say, log out and go have a beer.

Don't try to be politically correct and make an idiot of yourself. Shit stinks, even if you garnish it with strawberries and cream.

If you find yourself checking your blog stats/counters more than once a day, you need professional help. And if you keep refreshing you page every 15 minutes to see if there are any new comments, you need to be institutionalized.

... Talking of stats, you know the ones that show you the visitors from a particular country with the little flags and all - well, I have news for you: nobody, I repeat - NOBODY - is interested in knowing how many tribals in bludy Equatorial Guinea are reading your blog.

RSS Feeds -- Just cuz you have 235 readers does not mean there are 235 reading! So don't flatter yourself.

For the boys -- Don't get too lovey-dovey with the ladies. Because if there's one thing they're damn good at spotting, it's a creepy-crawlie.

And finally ... and most importantly -- Don't try too hard. Not everyone can be the Blues. Anybody can be an Amit Korma or Great Dong ... but it takes something very special to be the Blues! :)) ROFLMAO!!!!

***

That said, THREE CHEERS for Sarah-Jane! We love you gurl ... Mwahh, Mwahh! I gotta admit though, I didn't think she had a chance in hell! In fact, I felt Nicole was a lot better. Nicole sweetheart, we love you too!

Peace, love, and dark horses

PS: All in a lighter vein. No offence intended to anybody who might be (even remotely) offended.

So - Greg has finally decided to go home. Good on ya mate! And I don't for the life of me understand why Viv Richards wants to coach India. Dav Whatmore I can understand ... but Sir Viv?

Anyway, Chappell's made his bucks, the players have made theirs, the Boards made plenty! Only ones made chutia is the devoted Indian cricket fan.

... And it'll be most interesting to see who is brave enough to take up what can now be termed a hazardous occupation -- coaching Pakistan!

***

Too much work this past week has ensured that apart from the cricket I've pretty much been out of touch with what's happening in the world. I was talking to Ally on the phone yesterday when he reminded me that India's premier beauty pageant is underway.

Dude guess what - our dames are going to win bleddy Miss India this year.

Our dames ... who man??

Sarah and Nicole dude.

Who??

Sarah-Jane Dias and Nicole D'Silva dude ... tu paper padta nahin kya? I'm telling you it's going to be Viva Goa this year. Who says our girls are not winners!

Sarah-Jane the VJ?? ... Why the hell is she contesting Miss India?

Why means? ... because she wants to show the world what Goan girls are bleddy capable of.

Yea rite ... probably looking for an entry into Bollywood. And who's this other dame Nicole?

Your mother-in-law! ... Dude sometimes I think you're a bleddy Mangi; Goa se bilkul pyaar nahin hai!

Bullshit! I am very proud to be Goan you know that.

Then you better vote for Sarah and Nicole - 8888. And even if you don't they are going to win, just see ... because every self-respecting Goan around the world is going to vote for them!. We have already started an sms campaign here.

Self-respecting! ... LOL

You bleddy find everything I say funny.

Not just me ... a lot of other people do too.

Achcha ek Mangi joke sunao kya? Why do Mangaloreans have big nostrils? .... Because air is free! :)

(and I must admit I laughed for like 5 minutes. Apologies to my Mangi friends)

***

Just read on the Beeb that those 15 British sailors held captive by Iran for trespassing into their territorial waters are on their way back to Limeyland. Good for them ... terrible having to spend Easter with a bunch of thugs.

And I don't for a minute believe any of that crap about diplomacy having done the trick. I bet that villain Ahmadinejad just took a coin out of his pocket and said -- "OK lads, say your prayers ... tails, you go home; heads - you lose!" :))

Last Dance with Mary Jane ... Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Break my heart, Tommy boy!

there is always
something left
to smile about

... and sooner or later
the champion will falter
and the underdog will have his day

The smiles say it all, don't they? At least now we know of one sure way to transform Indian cricket -- annex Bangladesh and get those chaps to play for us! Kicked our bludy asses black n' blue they did. But I gotta tell you - I enjoyed every minute of it! What joy watching our overpaid, overrated, over-hyped, over-adulated Great Indian Cricket Team getting beaten by a bunch of boys. I say way to go lads! The legend of David and Goliath lives on.

***

If all goes per plan we're gonna be seeing Shakira wriggling her lovely bottoms next weekend. I can't wait!

Here's Pauly Fuemana and OMC. How many of you remember this one? Big hit back in '96 I think. Dedicated to Rahul and the team. Chin up, fellas ... ain't nothing a good session of Jamaican rum can't fix :)

From EDGE 203.

Falling in Love
by Marvin Minsky

What is Love, and how does it work? Is this something that we want to understand, or is it one of those subjects that we don't really want to know more about? Hear our friend Charles attempt to describe his latest infatuation.

"I've just fallen in love with a wonderful person. I scarcely can think about anything else. My sweetheart is unbelievably perfect — of indescribable beauty, flawless character, and incredible intelligence. There is nothing I would not do for her."

On the surface such statements seem positive; they're all composed of superlatives. But note that there's something strange about this: most of those phrases of positive praise use syllables like "un," "less," and "in" — which show that they really are negative statements describing the person who's saying them!

Wonderful. Indescribable - (I can't figure out what attracts me to her.)
I scarcely can think of anything else - (Most of my mind has stopped working.)

Unbelievably perfect. Incredible - (No sensible person believes such things.)
She has a flawless character - (I've abandoned my critical faculties.)
There is nothing I would not do for her - (I've forsaken most of my usual goals.)

Our friend sees all this as positive. It makes him feel happy and more productive, and relieves his dejection and loneliness. But what if most of those pleasant effects result from his success at suppressing his thoughts about what his sweetheart actually says:

"oh, Charles — a woman needs certain things. She needs to be loved, wanted, cherished, sought after, wooed, flattered, cosseted, pampered. She needs sympathy, affection, devotion, understanding, tenderness, infatuation, adulation, idolatry — that isn't much to ask, is it, Charles?"

Thus, Love can make us disregard most defects and deficiencies, and make us deal with blemishes as though they were embellishments — even when, as Shakespeare said, we still may be partly aware of them:

"When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies."

We are equally apt to deceive ourselves, not only in our personal lives but also when dealing with abstract ideas. There, too, we often close our eyes to conflicts and clashes between our beliefs. Listen to Richard Feynman's words:

"That was the beginning and the idea seemed so obvious to me that I fell deeply in love with it. And, like falling in love with a woman, it is only possible if you don't know too much about her, so you cannot see her faults. The faults will become apparent later, but after the love is strong enough to hold you to her. So, I was held to this theory, in spite of all the difficulties, by my youthful enthusiasm." — 1966 Nobel Prize lecture

What does a lover actually love? That should be the person to whom you're attached — but if your pleasure mainly results from suppressing your other questions and doubts, then you're only in love with Love itself.

(Read the whole thing thing here.)