Blog Mania!

Was bored to death at work and hence started this exercise in blog-statistics:

On http://blogsearch.google.com/ :

Keywords entered ----------- Number of results
___________________________________________________________

reservation india OBC ------- 3,158
mallika sherawat ------- 6,039
blogs ban india ------- 12,658
india sex ------- 130,508
Arjun Singh ------- 7,596
terrorism ------- 868,264
terrorism in india ------- 44,177
Bin Laden ------- 280,755
viagra ------- 440,419
Mahatma Gandhi ------- 32,269
George Bush ------- 492
Angelina Jolie ------- 293,809
Shah rukh ------- 23,234
nihilism ------- 27,396
libertarianism ------- 14,924
multiple orgasm ------- 32,362
greenpeace ------- 69,020
threesome ------- 354,093
virginity ------- 172,145
9/11 ------- 868,125
Fountainhead ------- 16,782
kamasutra ------- 28,502
Sigmund Freud ------- 30,860
Sonia Gandhi ------- 12,160
Monica Lewinsky ------- 14,183
implants ------- 300,128
Picasso ------- 126,528
Communism ------- 130,811
Communalism ------- 2,471
Lesbian ------- 1,639,241
Gay ------- 10,666,095

The verdict:
Sex rules. The average blogger writes about philosophy, terrorism and Angelina Jolie quite often. The Kamasutra isn't as popular as we thought it would be. Women are highly anxious to get implants and men love it. We rather write about multiple orgasms than worry about George Bush. Picasso is the only artist most people have heard of and they write too much about him. Too many people wrote about reservations with absolutely no results. Most men prefer threesomes (with two men or women? that I don't know) and most of them rely on viagra. Global terrorism isn't only about Kashmir. Mahatma Gandhi hasn't yet been forgotton. Indians prefer writing about sex to actually doing it. There are more gays than we thought there were while others fantasize about lesbians.

PS: The above verdict is mine and mine alone. I merely want to share it with fellow bloggers and have no intention of imposing it on anyone nor does any of it have to be necessarily true. So, up yours.

Black

Yeah I know.. too much Pearl Jam.. but then again.. so what?
Dunno why, but I can't stop listening to this song non-stop for the last couple of weeks.

Pearl Jam - Black

.
.
and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass,
of what was everything.
all the pictures had all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
all the love gone bad, turned my world to black
tattooed all i see, all that i am, all i'll ever be...
i know someday you'll have a beautiful life, i know you'll be a star
in somebody else's sky, but why
why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine?
=======

awesome poetry!!

Among other things, I watched Corporate - Paisa, Power and Politics. Funk and I came to this unusually rare mutual agreement that it should have been : Corporate - Sex, Sex, Sex... Sex, sex,sex and More Sex. What a way for him to depart from Oracle!!

I also feel extremely fuck'all working for an MNC whose taxes contribute to the power yeilded by those supporting the rocket that killed 35 kids while they were dreaming of another morning.

The design of the new Pulsar 220 somehow reminds me of LML Adreno. It's fake and it sucks.

I miss quake3 and final block :(.

Bald and not exactly beautiful

Yes. It's true. I have shaved my head. And I blame it on the escalating petrol prices.
No really! I do.

You see, increase in the petrol prices caused me to tune my bike for better mileage. This as many bikers would know, reduces the pick up and maximum speed as the bike loses torque drastically. And me, being the speed demon that I am, who could never compromise on anything less than 24kmph on my former Kinetic Pride - 73cc vario drive, ripping through Koramangala-Indiranagar ring road at blinding speeds (yes, I have touched 57 kmph) during my good old Christite days, could not take this blasphemic demotion of a Pulsar 150cc DTSi.

Hence, riding on a tremendous brainwave, I decided to introduce aerodynamics in my analysis which led me straight to the barber in front of my house. I explained the situation. He didn't ask any questions. Being an avid biker himself (TVS champ, the best that India has produced), he asked me to sit on the holy chair. The rest, as they say, is history.

I have increased my average speed by 2kmph since the last two days (did I mention the add on effect of the french beard?). Sure, I don't exactly get too many compliments. But then, neither does Rakhi Sawant. Both of us are too comfy in our state of bliss to notice any criticism. I'd like to meet her, you know. Over coffee or something like that. I'd tell her not to worry abt this cruel cruel world. That I understand. That I like what she wears with me as long as she likes what I do to her. About the pain I would give to people like Mika Singh/Hakkinen.
Sigh.. if only.

Do the evolution

(Best enjoyed when you read the lyrics given below while listening to the song above)


Woo..
Im ahead, Im a man
Im the first mammal to wear pants, yeah

Im at peace with my lust
I can kill cause in God I trust, yeah
Its evolution, baby


Im at piece, Im the man
Buying stocks on the day of the crash
On the loose, Im a truck
All the rolling hills, Ill flatten em out, yeah

Its herd behavior, uh huh
Its evolution, baby

Admire me, admire my home
Admire my song, heres my coat
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
This land is mine,
this land is free
Ill do what I want but irresponsibly

Its evolution, baby

Im a thief, Im a liar
Theres my church,

I sing in the choir: (hallelujah hallelujah)

Admire me, admire my home
Admire my song, admire my clothes
cause we know, appetite for a nightly feast

Those ignorant indians got nothin on me Nothin, why?

Because, its evolution, baby!

I am ahead, I am advanced
I am the first mammal to make plans,

yeah I crawled the earth, but now Im higher
Twenty-ten, watch it go to fire
Its evolution, baby (2x)


Do the evolution
Come on, come on, come on

Death of the Individual?

There are several occasions where I have found myself desperately searching for a hero/model/ideal to look upto. Perfectly normal I guess. Everyone does.

What pisses me off is that fact that I know too many people who deify these role models to such an extent that they mould their frame of mind and attenuate their thought process to blend into that image. They stop thinking. They only believe. A belief that while some actions are justified, others can never be forgiven. They look at people as sets of properties/talents/resources. Those who fit in the image of their demi-gods(or themselves) are the ones they will consider discussing their borrowed thoughts with. "Stereotype and Reject" is their motto. Their points of view are suddenly facts and those of others are fiction.

The level of arroganceof the slave/god here surpasses any ordinary sense of superiority. These guys have a constant snicker going on inside represented by a perpetual smirk on their face. Bah!

I've come close to becoming 'these' people on several occasions and maybe I have. But each such occurrence makes me even more resolute about my convictions.

Well I do have a few words for these suckers : Get a life. Form opinions. Don't borrow them. Noone is perfect. And you definitely are NOT. At the same time, just because someone is not your ideal, he is NOT just another loser capable of nothing. Avoid being so predictable. If something impresses you, be inspired.. don't fuckin try to copy!!

I Duddit!

Abandoning the idea of writing a seemingly hortatory but rebarbative travelogue on my recent trip to Dandelli with my friends, I'd just like to say that this trip helped me immensely by giving me a much needed break from the SSDD routine. Awesome trip. Great Company. Feeling much better now.I feel good :D

Check out the pics here.

But before you leave, do read this poem that flashed my mind while staring at two pairs of fiery feline eyes probing us at night with only a 100 meters of forest ground seperating us..

The Tiger

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

-William Blake