What is with the news this week being full of just sex, sex and very little else apart from sex? More so than usual, I mean. In fact, the papers have been so full of sex lately that I’m surprised that a renowned political science (or something) professor from St. Xavier’s College — who usually has a problem with anything and everything — hasn’t gone and filed a Public Interest Litigation to ban all newspapers.
Slight detour: Public Interest Litigation? Now there’s a misnomer if I ever heard one. I’d like to look at a list of all the so-called Public Interest Litigations filed (especially in Mumbai) and check just how many were really in the public’s interest and how many were just because one person was pissy that his/her kid wouldn’t stop watching WWE on TV. Or wouldn’t eat his/her peas. Or something.
But back to the sex part now, more on the issue of bans and banishment later. Here’s a list of only a miniscule number of “sexy” stories that popped up in the papers this week.
Cricket training dossier: The biggest story by far was arguably lifted from what was probably a tiny section in Indian cricket coach Gary Kirsten’s dossier to the team on preparation etc. He happened to mention that sex was a good preparation tool before a big game. In his words, “pre-match sex boosts players’ performance”. Perhaps so, but that was probably just a section of the whole dossier. Instead that was pretty much all that was written about. So much so, that they even had a section in one paper (I forget which) where retired cricketers were asked about their views on this dossier. There are many terrible things in the words and reading about Bishen Singh Bedi and Ajit Wadekar waxing eloquent about masturbation ranks quite high on that list.
Sex degrees of separation: According to Britain’s Lloyd’s Pharmacy, the average British person has had 2.8 million indirect sexual partners in a lifetime. What began as a survey of 6,000 adults to raise and spread awareness about sexually-transmitted diseases, turned within no time into what will undoubtedly form the topic of discussion at many a bar-type situation. According to the ‘sexual health director’ of Lloyds, “When we sleep with someone, we are, in effect, not only sleeping with them, but also their previous partners and their partners’ previous partners.” Lovely thought.
Moskau Mule: Nothing to do with a mule really, I just like the alliteration... But I digress. On the same week as I go and meet the US Ambassador to India, the US Ambassador to Russia filed an official complaint with the Russian government. Why is this relevant? Because the complaint was filed against someone who allegedly fabricated a sex video that popped up on a Russian website, depicting a US diplomat “doink the hokey-pokey” with some unidentified woman in a non-descript hotel room. Apparently, the video was made by splicing footage. Of course it was spliced. It was spliced the same way as Varun Gandhi’s communal speech was spliced with the footage.
Doggy Style: However, what is by far and a long way, my favourite sex story of the week is about 26-year-old taxi driver Mahesh Kamat. Now, as the story goes, Mahesh, after a hectic day behind the wheel, decided to unwinds — as you do — by having sex with a dog. The traumatised canine’s whines and yelps drew the attention of a passerby, who lodged a complaint and had the man put away. Now, after being in custody, Kamat demands bail. Why’s that, you ask? Because according to him, the police had not taken the victim’s statement. Read that again if you need to. The lack of the raped dog’s statement, according to Kamat, was reason enough for him to get bail. Honestly.
And that’s just some of them.
However, reverting to the talk of bans and banishment, some genius from that hallowed hub of Hinduism that is Nevada, USA has called for Kirsten’s resignation as coach, for attacking the moral fibre of the country. According to a “Hindu statesman and president of the Universal Society of Hinduism” by the name of Rajan Zed, Kirsten seemed to imply that women were to be used like gym equipment or some such shit. He also claimed that in India, cricketers are looked upon as role models and having them indulge in casual sex was a scary thought, as millions would start copying them. As an indication of just how mind-numbing that last statement was, my brain has gone blank and I have no idea how to finish this post, let alone continue it.
FIN
Friday, September 25, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
A letter to Mr Tharoor
Dear Mr Minister of State for External Affairs or just Shashi, if I may call you that?
Let me preface my letter by saying, I have no doubt that this must have been an trying week indeed for you. And doubly so, considering you happen to be a citizen of this Nation of ours, where everyone — from political parties to media houses — seem to be caught in some cutthroat deathmatch of one-upmanship. And as your luck (or lack thereof) would have it, your much publicised twittering (or tweet or whatever it’s called) happened to fall in the run-up to the elections.
You know that’s asking for trouble.
To recap, when you were asked if you would travel by “cattle class” the next time you travel to your constituency in Kerala, you said, “Absolutely, in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows”. Dunno about the rest. Makes me laugh (*).
And yes, you did put out many a clarification stating that “you were repeating the term used by the journo”, that “you incorrectly assumed that people would understand humour and not deliberately distort your words” and that it “wasn’t aimed at passengers but companies that herd passengers like cattle” and the Prime Minister too tried to play it off as a joke. Sadly, just as Jaswant Singh and L.K. Advani will forever be stuck with their Jinnah-love, so too will this remark stick to you like white on rice. That’s the nature of today’s world, Sir. Once the media and opposition politicians have sunken their teeth into something you did/said that is open to interpretation, they will all interpret it in the worst way possible and never let you forget their interpretation.
You and I, we’re not all that different, you know — minus the small matter of the UN involvement, the member of Parliament thing, the umpteen books and articles and the education... Apart from all that, we’re not too different. I once made a simple joke using the phrase “LS” for comedy effect. I was tagged elitist. I once referred to a George Carlin line in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and said to someone jokingly, “Stop being so suburban” and i got tagged elitist, snobbish, “townie” and a slew of other shit. <Small digression: And yet, these same morons are branded comedy superstars for potshots at the colour of my skin, my residential address, where I’ve studied, what I’ve done and what I do. The reason I put that (*) higher up in this letter, is because I’m certain that at some point, one or more of these aforementioned morons will question my right to laugh at the statement you made and call me elitist again. Good Stuff>
But I learnt something from all those “faux pas”. The reason I use inverted commas is because personally I did not see my foot even remotely near my face, never mind it entering my mouth. That people chose to make an issue out of it is why it will be known to them as a faux pas, but to me as a “faux pas”. Anyway, I did learn something and that is that if you make the mistake of wasting high-quality humour on these people, don’t explain the joke. They’re never going to understand it. They don’t want to understand it.
Take it easy and don’t let all the governance hoo-ha stop you from putting out some more books. Keep it clean.
Bye-bye...
Let me preface my letter by saying, I have no doubt that this must have been an trying week indeed for you. And doubly so, considering you happen to be a citizen of this Nation of ours, where everyone — from political parties to media houses — seem to be caught in some cutthroat deathmatch of one-upmanship. And as your luck (or lack thereof) would have it, your much publicised twittering (or tweet or whatever it’s called) happened to fall in the run-up to the elections.
You know that’s asking for trouble.
To recap, when you were asked if you would travel by “cattle class” the next time you travel to your constituency in Kerala, you said, “Absolutely, in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows”. Dunno about the rest. Makes me laugh (*).
And yes, you did put out many a clarification stating that “you were repeating the term used by the journo”, that “you incorrectly assumed that people would understand humour and not deliberately distort your words” and that it “wasn’t aimed at passengers but companies that herd passengers like cattle” and the Prime Minister too tried to play it off as a joke. Sadly, just as Jaswant Singh and L.K. Advani will forever be stuck with their Jinnah-love, so too will this remark stick to you like white on rice. That’s the nature of today’s world, Sir. Once the media and opposition politicians have sunken their teeth into something you did/said that is open to interpretation, they will all interpret it in the worst way possible and never let you forget their interpretation.
You and I, we’re not all that different, you know — minus the small matter of the UN involvement, the member of Parliament thing, the umpteen books and articles and the education... Apart from all that, we’re not too different. I once made a simple joke using the phrase “LS” for comedy effect. I was tagged elitist. I once referred to a George Carlin line in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and said to someone jokingly, “Stop being so suburban” and i got tagged elitist, snobbish, “townie” and a slew of other shit. <Small digression: And yet, these same morons are branded comedy superstars for potshots at the colour of my skin, my residential address, where I’ve studied, what I’ve done and what I do. The reason I put that (*) higher up in this letter, is because I’m certain that at some point, one or more of these aforementioned morons will question my right to laugh at the statement you made and call me elitist again. Good Stuff>
But I learnt something from all those “faux pas”. The reason I use inverted commas is because personally I did not see my foot even remotely near my face, never mind it entering my mouth. That people chose to make an issue out of it is why it will be known to them as a faux pas, but to me as a “faux pas”. Anyway, I did learn something and that is that if you make the mistake of wasting high-quality humour on these people, don’t explain the joke. They’re never going to understand it. They don’t want to understand it.
Take it easy and don’t let all the governance hoo-ha stop you from putting out some more books. Keep it clean.
Bye-bye...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Inhale... Exhale... Inhale...
I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around
— Every Day is exactly the Same (Nine Inch Nails)
I think it was a couple of days ago when I was typing in the dateline for a news report I was filing when typing “September” (actually it was just “Sept.”) caught me off guard and made me look at it again because it seemed so wrong. September? It cannot bloody be September already, I said to myself. Wasn’t so much that I had big plans for September, but really, September? I remember like it was just yesterday that I was adjusting to writing “2009” at the end of the date.
Where the hell did the year go?
And since I’m asking, why does most of it seem like a blur? And I answer, I think living on a day-to-day basis tends to do that. As Vinnie D said in the first Fast and the Furious, “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time”. Wake up. Do the bathroom thing. Eat. Walk around trying to find other people’s agony and ecstacy that can turn into words that will take up space. Actually sit down and turn life into statistics and words. Go home. Sleep. No wonder everyday seems like it was the one that came before it and the one that will follow.
Everyday, it’s drilled into my head that yesterday’s laurels are gone. Go out there and earn some more of them laurels. I suppose that’s why a daily newspaper is so much more disposable than say, a magazine. And then I think about it and I find it’s not that I dislike my job. It isn’t like I dislike the work. Dunno what it bloody is. I’ve never particularly hated or overly loved the idea of routine.
I’ve been pretty apathetic to it and accepted it as is. But I never expected myself to get so dragged into it that the only thing that changes from day-to-day and month-to-month are a few letters and numbers. Do I dislike it? Not especially... So what the hell am I ranting about? Or is this my feeble attempt at keeping you, the readers interested with some new material? Answers on a postcard or of course, you could comment here...
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
But then again
That might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
Now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around
— Every Day is exactly the Same (Nine Inch Nails)
I think it was a couple of days ago when I was typing in the dateline for a news report I was filing when typing “September” (actually it was just “Sept.”) caught me off guard and made me look at it again because it seemed so wrong. September? It cannot bloody be September already, I said to myself. Wasn’t so much that I had big plans for September, but really, September? I remember like it was just yesterday that I was adjusting to writing “2009” at the end of the date.
Where the hell did the year go?
And since I’m asking, why does most of it seem like a blur? And I answer, I think living on a day-to-day basis tends to do that. As Vinnie D said in the first Fast and the Furious, “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time”. Wake up. Do the bathroom thing. Eat. Walk around trying to find other people’s agony and ecstacy that can turn into words that will take up space. Actually sit down and turn life into statistics and words. Go home. Sleep. No wonder everyday seems like it was the one that came before it and the one that will follow.
Everyday, it’s drilled into my head that yesterday’s laurels are gone. Go out there and earn some more of them laurels. I suppose that’s why a daily newspaper is so much more disposable than say, a magazine. And then I think about it and I find it’s not that I dislike my job. It isn’t like I dislike the work. Dunno what it bloody is. I’ve never particularly hated or overly loved the idea of routine.
I’ve been pretty apathetic to it and accepted it as is. But I never expected myself to get so dragged into it that the only thing that changes from day-to-day and month-to-month are a few letters and numbers. Do I dislike it? Not especially... So what the hell am I ranting about? Or is this my feeble attempt at keeping you, the readers interested with some new material? Answers on a postcard or of course, you could comment here...
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