Those who know me beyond blog, know being lazy is how i give back to the society. I guess about time i reclaim my life.

Hopefully, this time i'll continue writing. Its 2 in the afternoon, but this for sure calls for a toast.

Cheers !!

In no specific order

I’m tired of media cashing on every tragedy: Every time a dog pees on a car in Delhi, a Barbie falls on the face of earth from 22^nd floor in Mumbai, a crow dumps on Mayawati (I wish) or the latest shortcut to fame – a particularly self involved kid falls in some remote unfinished bore well: its Christmas time at Aaj Tak’s office. Not just the journalist will have a ball smashing microphone at everyone’s face instead of helping, news readers will keep reminding you every 30 seconds.

I'm tired of hearing people argue about abortion, quota row, female infanticide, mercy killing and all the other bullshit that makes up the average Indian political discussion board: It’s good that you’re arguing. But just for a change have you consider listening to what people on the other side are ranting about? If you do not care for the ideas presented by the other side, why even bother participating: might as well blurt out your partisan argument to a wall. It’s not like you are helping your case by selective acknowledgement of the obvious.

I’m tired of short term memory loss: more commonly known as, oh fuck!

I’m tired of self-help authors telling me how to live MY life: You think people like to constantly frown as if someone buried their face in a 10 ft deep pit filled with cow-shit? Well for this once, try to have a look at life from their point of view. My advice to you is put your pen down and bullshit before a person who isn’t already a designated loser. You'll end up empty-handed like every other shallow idiot in the room

I'm tired of science being set back by superstition: Human Genome Project receives little-to-no government support in India because of our moronic Prime Minister's twisted religious beliefs and woeful understanding of biology. The Big Bang Experiment at NASA keeps receiving lawsuits from paranoid dimwits with a limited knowledge of Physics who think slamming a few protons together is going to destroy the universe. And this hasn't happened yet, but eventually some idiot "numerologist" is going to freak out and try to ban Calculus for fear of causing the Apocalypse. I wish I'm exaggerating.

I'm tired of people whinging that TV and movies are getting blood obsessed for them: The developers of TV also give a freebee called remote control with it and you dont have to take lessons from Mr Poirot to look for it. Try pressing that red button on top corner before crying out loud. My suggestion to you is to get a DTH and subscribe Pogo for your sorry ass. And before you walk out of your momma’s lap, please throw away your rose tinted ridiculous idea of the world and face it head on. Dodge this.

I’m tired of people blaming my music for death of their sex life: If it did, let me play a record or two of Cannibal Corpse so it ends the remote possibility of you procreating. Its not my fault that you were busy chasing butterflies when He was distributing sense, connoisseur for creativity and music, fresh unprejudiced brains, better eardrums and mojo. The gene pool you are creating is anyways a total trash and not just by Spartan standards. Your DNA is not even worth a bottle of formaldehyde. So let me start by crashing a cymbal on your head, stuffing your elephant ear in my sub woofer and disclosing the fact of your slothful penis by confronting it to nude cheerleaders.

I’m tired of people crying after 2 shots of tequila: Our own Uncle Sam made coke for kids like you and then they made Diet Coke for the fussy ones. 50% alcohol is for people who CAN handle it. How I wish your age reduce by one year every time you sulk, I’m sure it would make your case more curious than that of Benjamin Button. And I know I’m a very good person but I’m not a brother of a cry baby.

Labels: Bitching, I, Sentiments, Wandering Thoughts, WTF

Homosexuality is a touchy subject; gay footballers even more so.

When you consider that footballers are invariably looked upon as role models for children (for better or worse), many otherwise liberal and politically-correct parents would throw a fit if they found out their precious offspring was idolizing a baller sporting a chin-strap, and I’m not talking about Mr Cech.

There’s a time and place for being sensitive and to deal with issues in seriousness - but most of the time, football is just football - entertainment for those playing and entertainment for those watching. And if the entertainment turns into sexual innuendo, as any contact sport invariably does, then we’re on the front line cheering on the participants while pointing and laughing at the same time.

Enough talking - here’s a look at some of the less serious moments in football. Football is not gay, and footballers are usually not gay, but if there was a gay football team, would feel comfortable watching such photos of them?

Labels: Laff Riot, Soccer, Sports, Wandering Thoughts, WTF

Few days back D was being at leisure on a scarlet lonely beach in a white shirt, really short shorts, slippers and a can of beer. She was sitting right by F who was decked in a floral tank top, red frilled skirt and bare feet with a Pinacolada in her hand. D was staring in the oblivion and F was trying to write something on the sand against the mighty waves. Dusk, wind, beach and alcohol. Girls tell each other everything, they say.

F: So what do you think of him ?

D : Him, who ?

F : You know..

D : Oh he !!

Most people think he is crazy, but I dont believe that.

I'm no shrink and I'm not saying I've got him all figured out or anything, but "crazy" just does not explain him. Not to me. Sometimes I think he is a retard, a big brutal kid who never learned the ground rules about how people are supposed to act around each other. But that does not have the right ring to it either.

No, it’s like there is nothing wrong with him, nothing at all - except that he had the rotten luck of being born at the wrong time in history. He'd have been okay if he'd been born a couple of thousand years ago. He'd be right at home on some ancient battle field swinging an ax, into somebody's face. Or in a Roman arena, taking a sword to other gladiators like him...

Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep !!

Snoooooooooooooze !!

F rolled over to drop a glance on her cell. 8:05 AM. Unwillingly, she picked up her toothbrush from the cup, and mumbled as she moved towards bathroom “Damn it!! I hate early morn snoozes.”

Labels: I, Sentiments, Wandering Thoughts

A young and pretty lady posted this on a popular forum:

Title : What should I do to marry a rich guy?

I'm going to be honest of what I'm going to say here. I'm 25 this year. I'm very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with $500k annual salary or above. You might say that I'm greedy, but an annual salary of $1M is considered only as middle class in New York. My requirement is not high. Is there anyone in this forum who has an income of $500k annual salary? Are you all married? I wanted to ask: what should I do to marry rich persons like you? Among those I've dated, the richest is $250k annual income, and it seems that this is my upper limit. If someone is going to move into high cost residential area on the west of New York City Garden (?), $250k annual income is not enough.

I'm here humbly to ask a few questions:

1) Where do most rich bachelors hang out? (Please list down the names and addresses of bars, restaurant, and gym)

2) Which age group should I target?

3) Why most wives of the riches is only average-looking? I've met a few girls who don't have looks and are not interesting, but they are able to marry rich guys

4) How do you decide who can be your wife, and who can only be your girlfriend? (My target now is to get married)

Ms. Pretty

-------------------------------

Here's a reply from a Wall Street Financial guy:

Dear Ms. Pretty,

I have read your post with great interest. Guess there are lots of girls out there who have similar questions like yours. Please allow me to analyze your situation as a professional investor. My annual income is more than $500k, which meets your requirement, so I hope everyone believes that I'm not wasting time here. >From the standpoint of a business person, it is a bad decision to marry you. The answer is very simple, so let me explain. Put the details aside, what you're trying to do is an exchange of "beauty" and "money": Person A provides beauty, and Person B pays for it, fair and square. However, there's a deadly problem here, your beauty will fade, but my money will not be gone without any good reason. The fact is, my income might increase from year to year, but you can't be prettier year after year. Hence from the viewpoint of economics, I am an appreciation asset, and you are a depreciation asset. It's not just normal depreciation, but exponential depreciation. If that is your only asset, your value will be much worried 10 years later.

By the terms we use in Wall Street, every trading has a position, dating with you is also a "trading position". If the trade value dropped we will sell it and it is not a good idea to keep it for long term – same goes with the marriage that you wanted. It might be cruel to say this, but in order to make a wiser decision any assets with great depreciation value will be sold or "leased". Anyone with over $500k annual income is not a fool; we would only date you, but will not marry you. I would advice that you forget looking for any clues to marry a rich guy. And by the way, you could make yourself to become a rich person with $500k annual income. This has better chance than finding a rich fool.

Hope this reply helps. If you are interested in "leasing" services, do contact me…

Signed,

J.P. Morgan

-------------------------------

Here's a reply from oh-not-so-dumb blonde:

To the gentleman who called me a depreciating asset


Dear Sir,

I must confess that I was somewhat taken aback upon reading your email. Indeed, it has taken some time for me to sufficiently recuperate from my surprise. Lest your confidence quickly inflate for little reason (as we know is the predisposition for Wall St. types), allow me to hasten to reassure you that the source of my surprise was neither your candor nor the accuracy of your perception. Indeed, it is your "claimed" success in light of your poor grasp of economics which has me baffled. If the standards required to meet with financial success on Wall St. have sunk so low, perhaps I should indeed "make my own money", except for the fact that the effort/reward ratio is far too high for my liking - especially when so many of your ilk have displayed a far more cogent grasp of market realities than you have.

By now you are likely scratching your ever-vanishing hairline in confusion, so allow me to elaborate. To build some credibility I will tell you a bit more about yourself. Though you did not mention the details of your occupation, it is clear that you are an investment banker and not a trader, as any good trader would understand that human courtships are based upon a semi-efficient open market, and not an investment banking cartel. However, your inability to grasp the realities of the dating market is not surprising, given that you have successfully employed the tools of collusion and market manipulation rather that true acumen in your supposed wealth generation.

If your grasp of finance were not a minority partner with your ego, you would realize that the "outflows" associated with my depreciating "assets" are quite certain, and therefore subject to a low discount rate when determining their present value. In addition, though your concept of economics evidentially failed to move past the 1950s, advancement in plastic surgery is not subject to the same limitation. Thus, with some additional capital expenditure, the overall lifetime of "outflows" generated by these assets is greatly increased. Sad that Ashton Kutcher has demonstrated understanding of the female asset class which you, in all of your financial "wisdom", have not.

You, on the other hand, are, given the uncertainty of the Wall St. job market, more of an inflation-indexed junk bond with an underwater nested call option. Though you may argue that you are more of an equity investment, my monetary minimums required from you do not change, and if you are unable to pay them, I will liquidate you without the benefit of a chapter 11, just as you would me.

Because your outflows are so much more uncertain with respect to mine, I require additional compensation in the form of a underwater nested call option on your future assets. I say underwater because, even taking into account the value of your junk bond coupon payment to me, the value of my "outflow" is in excess of the market price of your equity (which is quite low due to its riskiness associated with your poor grasp of finance and my existing claim upon your junk bond coupon).

I must thank you though for raising the question, despite the reputation cost of subjecting your weak logic to such widespread scrutiny. This took either considerable courage or ignorance on your part- and we'll give you the benefit of doubt, just this once. My current boyfriend (a trader who lives in Central Park West, of course) and I thoroughly enjoyed discussing your response and we wish you the best of luck in your unhappy pursuit of that elusive market inefficiency.

Ms. Pretty

Labels: Bitching, Laff Riot, Wandering Thoughts, WTF

What happens when you start reading BBC football transfer gossips amidst your daily doses of Bloombergs, Moneycontrols, Economic Times’ and Wall Street Journals? An economic dribbling I’d say.

Euro has strengthened considerably with respect to GBP in last one year. Currently GBP/Euro ratio is hovering around 1.26 while last year same time it was around 1.47. Now the importance of same time is linked to the fact that it is the time of season when soccer clubs managers start nagging their directors/owners for fatter cheque books. Transfer season is embarking upon them and all the European big shots have already started working on their scout reports.

“How does it matter?” I hear you ask-Well, it does. Especially to English clubs owing to the fact that other European clubs have their transfer budget in Euros. For example consider transfer of almost discarded Brazilian prodigy Ronaldinho. He is valued around 40 million Euros by the Catalan club. Assuming that his valuation has not changed in last one year, mere inflation has changed his price from 27.2 million GBP (40/1.47) to 31.7 million GBP (10/1.26). This extra 4.5 million GBP can cost English clubs dearly while their European rivals still have to pay same 40 million Euros.

Applying reverse engineering to the argument makes players in Premiership an easy target for European giants. Regressing further, England team did manage to not qualify for Euro 2008 which basically means no divine heroics to be seen by top flight English players, who mostly play in Premiership, to boost up their prices in international transfer market. With lot of Premiership clubs looking for new managers this season, it’s going to repercuss their budget even more. One way English clubs can salvage from this plight of inflation is browse and hunt within shore. But that will further devalue Premiership players.

According to latest Forbes reports, there are 6 English clubs in top 20 richest clubs of the world but equation might wobble big time post season. Will the financial blasphemy of English clubs be confronted by the Reals, Barcas, Milans and Bayerns? How much will they make use of this loot? Will it give all the more reason for young South Americans to join Portuguese and Spanish clubs and not English? Are English clubs going to raise record breaking funds this summer or is it going to be mutual transfer agreements amongst them?

It’s going to be an interesting transfer season this time.

Labels: Soccer, Sports, Wandering Thoughts

The Hacker Manifesto

by
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker

Damn kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

Damn underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I'm a smart ass.. Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike. Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

Labels: I, Sentiments, Wandering Thoughts