This whole Third Front twist to the Indian political scene has me quite amused. But more than amused I am worried. Because I reckon we're not far away from the kind of chaos that has engulfed Pakistan today. And even though the situation here may never reach the stage where democracy itself is threatened, I say a democracy standing shaky on one leg is about as good as no democracy at all.

***

OK - The muzak just got better here on the Blues. How much better you ask? Oh you will never believe how much! Cuz sitting up late last night I discovered a way that lets me play pretty much any track I want, which is where Radioblogclub fell short. So all I will say is Enjoy!

Kick it off with Rusted Root. It was my brother who first introduced me to this wonderful band and their music ... if I'm not mistaken he'd been to one of their shows somewhere in Rhode Island and was blown away more by the percussions than anything else.

Send me on my way!

The Hard Rock Cafe. Only thing it's hard on (here in India, I don't know about elsewhere) is your wallet if you ask me. Or is that what it costs to have the company of so many gorgeous pub-going, loose and forward women? If it is then it's paisa vasool. Because OMG! - Honey you got the prettiest baps I ever seen, but if you go out looking like that you better be accompanied by a third-dan black belt in bludy Kung Fu or you could be asking for trouble!

But she didn't look too worried. Which really is a wonderful thing to see.

***

Sad though that an international name like the HRC would want to make a fast buck off us deprived desi pub goers. No Indian whisky I'm told, so I have Fosters, which for those who know their beer is Australian for piss. After two of those I'm told by the nice man in black that they're out of that as well. Try Tiger, he tells me. Yea rite, and how much is that? 140 a pint. How lovely! Old trick dude, but this ain't no roadside dhaba ... this is - or at least it's supposed to be - the Hard Rock Goddamn Cafe! People at the next table go quiet. Man in black gives me a take it or leave it look. And somewhere at the back of my mind is the sight of those half a dozen beefcakes manning the entrance. I take it. Awful! The only thing Tiger them Singaporeans should stick to making is that bludy Balm of theirs if you ask me.

Then all of a sudden some of the staff and a bunch of others get up onto the bar to do a Coyote Ugly for us. Oh wow! Only this turned out to be a Coyote Fugly. But the others seemed to be enjoying it. Hell you're getting ripped off, might as well make the most of it.

But it's funny how nobody seemed too interested in all the rock memorabilia up on the walls. And the music - there's more to rock than those standard beaten to death numbers, but somehow DJ's here would rather not take the risk. I wonder why.

***

For all the women in my life who've made me a better man, and indeed all the women who read this blog - Cat Stevens ... If you want to sing out, sing out baby!

Well I'm not the worlds most physical guy
But when she squeezed me tight
she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola lo-lo-lo-lo Lola

LOL :) Drove me crazy this bludy song .... trying to find it I mean. Because all could I remember of it from the time we used to hear it on the radio back in the old country were the words 'Cherry Cola'. But after an hour of frantic Googling here it is - Lola by The Kinks from way back 1970. Wish it was a better recording though.



International Wimmen's Day tomorrow. You make our world so beautiful. Yes, even the boys who wanna be girls! Which is what this song is about actually.

So what would I like to change for women in this country? ... Everything! Especially the way we idiot men think. Which is why I make JC go up to the counter at the booze shop to get me beers. OK I admit it's more to see the looks on the faces of all the buggers there ... makes me laugh very single time.

Peace, love, and wimmen with balls!*

*no pun intended :)

Well bugger me blue! I bet the producers of all those other nominees for Best Picture are scratching their heads wondering why the hell they spent all that money making them movies when all they had to do was go to India, pick up a bunch of slum kids, an ageing Bollywood star who danced around trees for twenty years, along with a couple of other nobodys, and voila - mission accomplished! Oscars by the bagful.

Goes to show it's not always about how good or bad you are, at times it's just plain ol' luck.

And at the risk of sounding like the girls at HHC I have to say Freida's dress was totally not happening. A midriff baring saree would have been killer.

Jai Ho!

To me it looked like chicken, but still I asked the guy what it was. Breast piece, he replies. Okay cool, I thought, and asked him to pack me two plates. When we get home and start eating it tastes like anything but chicken ... tough and rubbery is what it was. Damn, these ain't chicken breasts, these are bludy goats balls, says one of the guys .... No even goats balls taste better than this! I'm gonna take it back and kick that buggers ass, I said, quite pissed off at having been taken for a ride. No hang on SwB, says our man P, what did the guy say exactly? He told me it was breast man! Yes, but did he say whose breasts? What do you mean "whose breasts?" Other animals have breasts too you know, he says, with a stupid smirk on his face. Because I think I know what we're eating - these are udders dude. What do you mean udders ... as in tits? Exactly. These are beef tits! They call it Khiri, it's something of a delicacy.

Bludy hell! I have a good mind to turn vegetarian I tell you ... enough of this shit.

***

Will Slumdog win it? JC sure seems to thinks so. Don't think I'll be up at 6:30 tomorrow morning to catch it live.

And it seems there's something going on between Freida and that Patel bugger or so the tabloids are saying. Now I feel even worse for that boy she dumped. These wimmen I tell you!

Till tomorrow morning then. You reckon Freida will turn up in a sexy midriff-baring saree?

See - even her fiancé didn't expect the movie to be that big a hit! Otherwise he'd have wasted no time marrying her. But now she's given him what we Macs lovingly call "the kick". I kinda feel sorry for the chap though, seems like a nice boy. Don't worry dude, as my buddy Al says: 9 out of 10 wimmen are bleddy matlabis ... you'll find the one soon enough.

***

Did a little browsing at Landmark yesterday (which is one my fav ways to spend a Sunday morning). And it's always the same routine whenever I go there: start with the magazines- the auto magazines first, then Osho Times followed by Guitar Player and if I see something interesting then Business Today or one of those. Followed by a quick walk through the music section and finally the books - Indian authors first ... Blue Penguin, Green Rhinoceros, Yellow Chimpanzee ... yeah they usually have titles that sound like that. Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a little. The three mistakes of my life by Chetan Bhagat caught my eye, flipped through and put it down. Might even be good who knows. But to be honest the only books I really enjoyed reading were the ones that made me laugh. Like anything by Spike. So I went to the guy behind the computer and asked him to look up his inventory for Spike. Spike who? he goes. Milligan, Gunner First Class. Milligan ... Nope, no Milligan. Bugger!

***

Clicked on HHC in my feed reader just now and there is Freida with some old British dude on the High Streets of London. Sure beats Hill Road I'll bet ... or does it? I always found them High Streets very boring to be honest ... maybe it was because I couldn't afford anything. But it does seem like our girl is going overboard with all the designer outfits, bags, and worse - shoes! What a waste! I mean wait till you're Angelina or something. One (unexpected) hit don't mean you go on a splurge fest. She'll learn.

But she does look pretty drained, doesn't she? Yeah the life of a celebrity ain't easy honey. Ask me I know :) LOL

***

Something yesterday got me thinking again - of life and love and all that can go wrong. How much of it is due to the mistakes we make and how much is left to chance. But it's how you pick yourself back up that makes all the difference.

JJ on a Monday morning. I love this song. Nice week.

It's hard to concentrate on someone else's story when you've got a hundred swimming around in your head.

Slumdog didn't cut it for me to be honest. Saw it this morning by myself (which is how I like to watch my movies) and came away with pretty much a blank. It's one of those see it and forget it films. A story must be told for a reason, and here I could find none. Brilliant acting can only do so much to hold together a patchy story.

As for our girl Freida I'm thinking of asking her to marry me. Don't think I've ever felt so in love with someone I've seen on screen.

***

A friend in the music business was talking to me yesterday about hooking up with them and doing some gigs around town. Something I'd really like to do, long as I don't gotta sing no shit by Hoobastank. And no weddings. Strictly no weddings. Cuz if there's one thing I ain't it's a goddamn wedding singer.

***

Here's a song by a guy who never had trouble telling a story. This for someone I've known a long time but never really known. Calls herself the Lost Little Girl.

After seeing how he'd become the object of much teasing in the office in recent days, I said to the guy called Ramalinga Raju-- Why not change it for some time to Rajalinga Ramu? Not too much of a hassle really ... cuz you'd be leaving the Ling where it is and just moving Rama and Raju around. He didn't seem to get the humour.

But seriously, Satyam- who would have thought huh? Who's next I wonder - Infosys, Wipro? And now the government has stepped in to bail them out. Which is both a good and a bad thing. Good because we know that if the next one to go under is the company we're working for it's not all curtains for us. Bad because it sends out the wrong (or the right, whichever way you look at it) message to all the other aspiring Ramalingas out there. And God knows how many there are.

***

Slumdog Millionaire. Start with what's a slumdog? I think it's important that the makers of the film clarify. Because from what I've read there's a very real danger that people outside of India watching the movie might somehow be inclined to call us all slumdogs. Just think- the Indian Street in Edison, NJ (actually they're almost all Indian streets there) could end up getting called Slumdog Avenue! Hell, the state of New Jersey itself could well go from being the Garden to 'The Slumdog State'.

But don't you just love Freida (Pinto)? Yeah, she's pretty, isn't she? I tell you I'm gonna watch that damn movie just for her. And I'm not saying that cuz she's one of us*.

*Actually she's Mangy but that's ok ... we'll make a concession here.

***

My first weekend off this New Year. I feel like doing something ... have a few drinks with the boys, maybe go out to town, I don't know. Anything but sit here and blog.

Jack Johnson and Ben Harper. Tell me how you like the vocals on this one .... High Tide or Low Tide.

I watched Rock On last night. Finally! Right here on my home PC. It could have been a much better movie I think, but it does a good enough job of giving the audience a glimpse of what music does to your soul if you are really passionate about it. If I could I'd quit my job right this minute, buy a new guitar and sing for whoever wanted to listen. But sometimes I wonder which is worse - having too many who want to sing or too few who want to listen.

***

The girl who plays Joe's wife Debbie - what's her name?* - she's brilliant as the Mac wife, totally the part. Reminded me of my mom when she says to him: "You're taking up the job and that's all!" When they say that you know it's end of discussion. And then when she goes: "I wanted to be a fashion designer, but now look at me- I'm working in your goddamn family's fish business!" LOL I love it when our wimmen swear!

There's just one thing wrong though - Mac families don't speak Hindi at home. English dialogues between Joe and Debbie (with Hindi subtitles) would have been much more convincing. The whole film in fact lacked that touch of reality, which is what I felt could have made it an awesome movie. You need to make a story look real.

You know I'm thinking- What if I write a screenplay and send it to Farhan Akhtar? If he likes it and decides to make the movie, I could quit my damn job and do what I really wanna.

I am this close to buying a Bullet btw. Big silver beast with Windancer II painted on the tank.

Yeah, it's all in the head at the moment.

*Shahana Goswami's her name. And she went to Sophia's, so no wonder.

***

Kick off the New Year with this blast from the past from Blondie & Deborah Harry. This a belated birthday dedication to Yashita.

One of the perks (if you can call it that) of travelling these inter-city Volvo buses is you get to watch some of them Bollywood movies you would never see otherwise. And that's how this time I happened to see Rab - or rather Aditya Chopra - Ne Bana Di one crapload of a movie. Masand is right when he uses the word 'contrived'. And I'd say it's unfair to call it a modern day fairytale, because fairytales come with a message or a moral. This one comes with nothing - just one very sweet looking Punjabi kudi. And I can understand that there might be a Punjabi kudi dumb enough not to recognize her own husband after a makeover, but when that husband happens to be Shahrukh Khan, it just cannot be. Because along with the hair, the clothes and the mousche, he'd have to get himself one heck of a nose job!

***

Last day of the year. I hope '09 delivers on everything '08 couldn't - for you personally, and for the world and mankind in general. As for me I hope to put more effort into my music, pick up another degree, and just be a better person than I was this year. Also maybe travel a little.

As for the Blues, yeah I think we'll be around.

Close it with the Blues Brothers. Cheers!