Ad Libbing

[We were bored out of our minds and started ad libbing. Surprisingly enough, we kept it clean. And since I have nothing else to do, I am posting it.]

Nik: Can all mothers kill joy?
Bharat: Yes. Its their one common talent.
Nik: I see. I need to get the fuck out of here.
Bharat: Take me with you.
Nik: Where to?
Bharat: We'll get out of the country and go our separate ways.
Nik: Sure.
Bharat: I'm headed to Turkey.
Nik: I'll go to Italy.
Bharat: You could sail from Turkey to Italy. Go to Sicily.
Nik: Yes. I could do that.
When do we leave? The sooner the better.
Bharat: Yes. How 'bout tonight?
Nik: Ok. Lemme get my socks and my towel. That's all I'll be needing.
Bharat: No wait, I think I should inform my girlfriend before I leave the country. It'd be the gallant thing to do, right?
Nik: Yes, it would. Go on then. Hurry up. We dont have all night.
Bharat: You know what, she's probably studying right now. I'll call her tomorrow. Let's leave
I got my staff and towel.
Nik: Ok then. We're off.
Bharat: Yes we are.
[off the rocker]
Nik: [that happened ages ago. This is a continuation of the same]
Which path do you reckon we should take?
Bharat: Throw your towel. Let it decide.
Nik: It landed hobbes up.
The forest?
Bharat: Yes.
Bharat: Had it been Calvin I'd have called for a space ship. But Hobbes is the forest.
Nik: Fair enough.
To the forrest!
Bugger, what about food?
Bharat: Berries.
Nik: Adequate?
Bharat: We'll kill a few animals, all I need to do is tie this knife to my staff and we'll have a hunting spear.
Wait, did you get string?
Nik: Nope. Ivy?
Bharat: Yes, ivy.
Nik: We need hermit names.
Bharat: I'll be Cuchulainn.
You be Rimmugygr.
Nik: Works. Might scare the squirrels.
Bharat: Yes.
Nik: Hmm. We need to start a fire.
Bharat: My staff can be a torch too. Tie the towel to it, we'll set it on fire.
Nik: No! The towel is our hope for survival.
Bharat: My towel, it's special, it suffers no fire damage.
Nik: Fascinating staff you have Cuchulainn.
Bharat: Thank you, Rimmugygr.
We need to find you a staff.
Nik: I have socks. Don't require a staff.
Bharat: Chuck some stones and nails into your socks.
Nik: My socks are hardly ordinary. Don't need any rocks to make them hard.
Can be pleasurable.
Bharat: Ohhh, man socks
Nik: Yes, very manly indeed.
Bharat: Let's keep moving, I want to be out of the state by dawn
Nik: Let us eat first.
Bharat: Howbout venison?
Nik: Yes. I'll be back in a moment.
*Back with three dead squirrels*
I think I might have overdone it a bit.
Bharat: Nah, its perfect.
Nik: Ok. You need to cook yours?
Bharat: I'll stick it in the torch for a bit
Ah! the fur is smoldering. Just right and succulent.
Nik: I think I'll have it raw though.
Bharat: Suitcherself.
Nik: We'd better be off now. As you said, out of the state by morning.
Bharat: [In Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha they give a viking funeral to a rat they killed.]
Yes, I'm sure my mum has the police looking for me
Nik: [lol. Gotta read that book.]
I'm sure my parents have the entire intelligence force after me.
Bharat: [Yes.]
Nik: Cuchulainn, be wary.
Bharat: Halt and stay silent.
Nik: I think I heard a bee.
Bharat: Thats a tribal warrior.
Nik: Bee warrior it be.
Bharat: These people communicate using bee sounds.
Nik: Ah, we can fool him by doing the same.
Bharat: No, lets kill him. My knife thirsts for blood.
Nik: And my socks for rigor mortis.
Bharat:
*Throws the knife*
*Kills the warrior*
Nik:
*Lets the socks sit on the dead mans chest for a while*
Ok, They're both satisfied and tempered. We can go now.
Dawn approaches. We are close to the state boundary. We'll need a plan to circumvent the police. I'm certain, by now, they know our faces
Bharat: We kill them.
*Extinguishes the fire*
*Ties the knife to the staff with the towel*
Nik:
*Prepares self with socks in either hand*
Bharat: With Gaebolg I will kill them all.
Nik: You take the left flank, I the right.
Bharat: Works.
*Yells the ancient Irish war cry and charges*
Nik:
*Charges while singing Galway Bay*
Bharat: Ut ut ut ut ut.
No wait, that's Saxon. Meh, who cares.
*Throws Gaebolg*
*Gaebolg slices through the air and kills a dozen soldiers in one go*
Nik:
*Chokes a few men with her socks*
*Makes a few dozen sniff them*
Bharat:
*Kills the rest with his towel*
*Retrieves towel and kills another dozen*
Nik: All dead.
Bharat: High five!
Nik:
*Stares at Bharat*
Cuchulainn, you're a friggin hermit.
Bharat: Oh yeah, sorry.
Nik: Let's get moving.
*Dog starts following the duo*
What shall we do with the mutt?
Bharat: Let's domesticate it. Dog meat for when the squirrels die out.
Nik: Yes. Good plan.
It's male. Testicles always taste good.
Bharat: Yes. No need for condiments.
Nik: Yup.
Where in Chewbacca's name are we?
Bharat: We entered a portal. We are in Reykjavik.
You know what's considered edible here, right?
Nik: I know what's considered edible in Gultimysk. Is it the same?
Bharat: Is it fermented?
Nik: Of course.
Bharat: Splendid.
Nik: You still wanna head to turkey? We could live here for a while.
Bharat: Sure.
Nik: I believe grass is legal too.

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Lumps of Coal

Yes, I'm not supposed to be blogging. But yesterday I wrote out a short post which I put up on Sensory Overload. It's a simple proof related to the twin prime series. Check it out if you're interested.

You see, math problems are my only source of entertainment (albeit, a great one). So, I've been spending my breaks working on getting the hang of infinite series in calculus which, for some absurd reason, we don't study in school. CBSE... bah!

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So Long And Thanks For All The Net

I am confronted with a set of highly paranoid and partially ballistic parents and so, my net connection is on quota. Sweet.

I might be able to regain computer rights after my pre-board result which will be somewhere mid-Jan I reckon. For the mean time, blogging is suspended. That too when I finally got an idea or two and started a new blog. Ah! what a wretch. I was looking forward to writing something on Bees And Quantum.

Anyhow, see you lot in roughly a month. Though, I will drop by every once in a while to invade your blogs, worry not.

Merry Christmas and enjoy the new year.

[Edit: Results out on 3rd February.]

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Yes. No. Maybe?

Today I read an article about a court ruling in Maryland. In this particular case, a woman agreed to sex and then in the middle of it, that is after penetration, she said no. The man, Baby (it took me a moment or two to realize that was in fact his name), continued for 5 to 10 seconds after she had told him to stop. Baby was convicted of first degree rape.

On the woman's side of the argument, it can be said that it is for her to decide whether or not she wants to have sex. And the right to this decision does not end with the beginning of sex. But here is what's bothering me, the only form of defense for the person being convicted of rape is the absence of physical injury. If now you say injury is not a criterion nor is consent to sex, then how in god's name is the man supposed to defend himself?! Since it's just her word against his, he'll inevitably end up in prison for the next year or two. Seem a bit sexist?

Under different circumstances, say had he carried on for minutes after she said to stop, the act would qualify as rape for then he would be forcefully having sex. But not here. In this instance, the guy may be called a variety of splendidly obscene names but he is certainly not a rapist.

P.S.: I think Baby appealed, I don't know what happened after. I was too lazy to do the research.

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Happy Thanksgiving

[Right so, I shouldn't be posting this since I wrote it while half asleep and entirely pissed. But since now I am equally tired and feeling wretched.. I don't care enough]

Ah, the irony of today. People across the world stuffing themselves with stuffed turkey while we all stand under siege. I am thankful to man for his not so benign idiocy.

But now it's finally over. Two days and 250 lives later, there are 20 less terrorists trolling the streets. The statistics seem just a bit off. If 20 can take down three iconic buildings, bring an entire city to a standstill and scare witless a nation, then what of a hundred? Nevertheless, I'll go out on a limb here and take the role of the naive optimist and say that things will change  after this. Our government will do something. Anything to keep this from happening again. And no, adopting a couple of sniff dogs won't be adequate. We need initiative. We will take it. But will any of it work?

Ishmeet earlier asked how one can deal with people who don't value their own lives. Somebody said education. It seems like a logical thought- spread education, keep people from getting brainwashed into thinking blowing themselves up somehow gets them closer to that invisible  omniscient being up among the clouds. But frankly, how well do you reckon that will work? Our most recent and potent terrorists have been well educated people who managed to convince themselves of the altruism of murder.

Never mind illiteracy, religion is the culprit. The root cause of fundamentalism is the religion. If you don't get worked up because some poor fellow happen to believe in a different all-powerful egomaniacal man than you, then you don't slit his throat. So there you have it, a solution. End the age old farce, end the new age violence.

Now if you were to apply similar logic to the solution, you'll realize even that wont make an iota of difference. Because humans are congenitally oriented to destroy, create havoc, kill. The ancients went to war over territory. Then we had religious wars like the Crusades, the French Wars of Religion, the Muslim Conquests and the Reconquista. We have fought battles over honour, for love and respect. In high schools, kids initially fight over pencils then over girls and often over nothing at all. I was bored, I picked a fight. Anthropoid brilliance.

Maybe, just maybe, the reason is that we just fucking love to fight. A war, regardless of how it came about or how it manifests itself, satisfies a need for blood. The Romans had gladiators, we have wrestlers, cock fights, terrorists and wars over the pretext of democracy. So why not cut the charade? We like to kill. Accept that.

The interminable bloodshed makes me prefer the company of Count Dracula to most humans. Besides the fact that it would be incredibly cool, vampires are more benevolent. Sublime oxymoron- vampire more humane than human. Thing is, in either situation there is a high probability that I'll be killed. At least Dracula will make nutritional use my blood, won't pleasantly let it drain into the earth.

In brief, either we go extinct because of self inflicted global warming or self incurred WWIII. I like mankind, I'm also a fan of sadomasochism.

There might be one little solution tucked away in the nooks of grey matter- work. Find yourself a passion and as long as it doesn't involve decapitation and evisceration of strangers, pursue it. Then magically, you might even become productive. So my advice to you: shut up and calculate (or make anthropological flow charts).

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In Lacking

My blog has been on a slow downward spiral for a while now. So, being somewhat sadistic, I thought to prolong the wretchedness. And here, I post a short poem which I wrote yesterday about being all out of inspiration and my dying blog.


In and around every niched corner
Above and beneath those dusty racks
It evades me still after these months past.
Scoured and sifted in hopes for an ounce.
But not one cares to cease in less than a scowl.

Searching within for the deep seated guilt,
Else maybe for the hatred of enervation
Or lastly for the hope of salvation.
But none yield ideas worth the written word
None provide inspiration for this dying work.

In a tepid attempt to express a pondering
I put down that which occupies us all-
The very truancy of occupation from others and all.
The void of faith now be filled with a specter, that of
Despair fused with far seeing hopes for a savior.

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