The Death of Hypocrisy

Long, long time later, an alien space ship landed on the third planet from the minuscule Sun. It was looking for a potential planet for its interstellar refugees. Refugees were always a problem in many alien galaxies, every since intergalactic travel had been invented. Species from culturally and intellectually inferior planets would just jump onto their space travel modules, ignore all hostile sentiments and rude alien transmissions, and land on planets that were eons more civilized than them.

So a new mission had been assigned to Captain BjorkZouk, to find planets that were marginally habitable, with docile, impressively stupid lifeforms, stupider than the refugees at least. And turns out, Eh-rth, as the indigenous people pronounced it, was a perfect candidate.

With an enormously large number of two-legged dumb birds, that looked more like baboons, who thought that they were rulers of the universe, it was Captain BjorkZouk’s job to capture them and somehow find some use of them. These two-legged baboon-like dumb creatures were not very kind beings at all. They killed each other for non important reasons, such as pieces of paper, pieces of rock, pieces of land and pieces of other beings. They killed the much intelligent and extremely kind animals, that did not speak their language, by keeping them in tight cages, giving them hormones instead of proper food, using their milk by keeping them pregnant for years, and then slaughtering them by kicking and smashing their mutilated bodies.

Captain BjorkZouk concluded that such in-humane humans did not deserve to live, that they must be treated the same way they have treated other animals, that they should be hunted for pleasure, killed for their body parts, forever kept in dark small dingy farm houses, and sent for slaughter when they were no longer useful. These humans were to be the food for the refugees, till they settled down, and started growing their own native crops.

After Captain BjorkZouk communicated this brilliant plan to his star-ship headquarters. He then proceeded to inform the leaders of all the little imaginary land partitions of their imminent fate, translated in their local, much crass languages. The leaders were furious, so also all the other humans, for being treated like some commodity, that didn’t have feelings, that didn’t feel pain. How could any being deny another being from their desire to live, to survive, to be free? It was their birth right, no other being could take that choice away from them.

“Hypocrites!”, exclaimed Captain BjorkZouk and he hit the red button. That was the end for all the beings who wrongly called themselves human.

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A diamond is not my best friend..

They say a diamond is a girl’s best friend. Not any more, not for me atleast. I dont want to caught up in these mushy mushy lines, I dont want to turn a blind eye to what it really is. A probably crimson covered stone in the rough, stained with the blood of crushed hopes and murderous dreams, a ticket to nowhere, a mascot of death, violence and unfathomable cruelty. A diamond is not something you can just buy at the corner store and not give it another thought as to its whereabouts. Not now, not anymore. To truly enjoy the beauty of a diamond, to be able to sleep in peace, to make it a part of your family and tradition, to pass it down through generations, to simply know that you did not just pay your hard earned cash to a group of people mercilessly killing each other in the name of war, just for that, there is something you need to know first.

The truth.

Truth about what is happening in parts of the world, where the borders of justice have long been crossed, where slavery is a part of life, where humanity is no longer a word. I was blind, blind to the truth, blissfully ignorant rather. Then the movie Blood Diamond shred my ignorance to pieces. I never thought a diamond could be something more than a rare crystal, a symbol of eternal love or a best friend. A diamond was not rare, not an embodiment of love if it had been churned from the depths of hatred and death. Not for me.

The next time I buy a diamond, I will have one thought in my mind. Where did it come from? Is it worth it? Worth somebody’s life?

Get Rich Quick!

Here’s one amazing GET RICH QUICK scheme, for all you bounty hunters and money worshippers! Mind you, this scheme is mind-blowingly simple, and will leave you with this irritating thought – “Why didn’t I think of it?”

Okay, here it is, hold on, take a deep breath..

“Look in the garbage!”

Yes, that’s it! And to prove that it works, here’s a true story.

A New York woman, Elizabeth Gibson, with an eye for priceless things, noticed a beautiful painting amongst a pile of morning garbage bags. Unlike most of us who think that if something is in the garbage, it must be garbage, Elizabeth went back and picked up the painting, just minutes before the garbage pickup truck.

After a little bit of web research, and cobweb cleaning,  Elizabeth discovered that the painting was a stolen masterpiece, called Tres Personajes or “Three People”, painted by Mexican artist Rufino Tamayo. What more, the auction price of this painting can go upto one million dollars.

As I have always said, honesty pays in the long run! So it did for Elizabeth, who returned the painting to the rightful owners, earning a reward of $15,000 and an undisclosed percentage of the auction generated revenue, which will be conducted next month. If she had chosen to sell the painting in the stolen goods market, wherever that is, she would have procured a good amount, just my guess though, since I have never tried to ‘officially’ sell anything in this “Thieves-Only” market, due to my strong ethics and all. But in the long run, it might have led crime-fighting guys to her doorstep, so good for her.

So, anyways, the next time you find people throwing garbage, just try to get a glimpse at the contents. If you do find something that looks valuable, don’t be shy to pick it up, you just might get richer than you currently are.

Catch more of this story here.

Tick Tock! Tick Tock! Life’s too short!

Tick Tock! Tick Tock!

The countdown has begun! You have only sixty minutes left to live! Sixty minutes to do anything and everything you ever hoped for and dreamed of! Because that is precisely the amount of time it is going to take for the asteroid ‘Doom’ to hit earth! Fifty-nine minutes and counting down!

Once the asteroid hits earth, its massive size will rupture the surface where it hits, sending mountains of earth particles into the dark space. The impact will create a massive wave within the earth’s surface, whatever is left of it anyways! The wave will be a thousand times bigger than the biggest tsunami, and it will be made up of rocks, dust, metal, bricks, concrete, wood and water. It will travel around the remaining surface of the earth, destroying each and every life form on its way! It will take only a few minutes to circle the earth, only a few minutes to destroy it!

No! It is not happening right now, but what if it does in the future?

What will you do, given the information that you have only sixty minutes to live?

A recent survey was conducted in London, stating precisely the given scenario, one hour left to live on earth! Commissioned by Ziji Publishing, the survey was conducted to promote the release of the book “Cloud Cuckoo Land” by debut novelist Steven Sivell.

Majority of the Britons surveyed, 54 percent to be exact, were the family loving kind, wanting to spend their last minutes with their relatives and loved ones. 

Another 13 percent were ardent fans of destiny, deciding to pick a glass of champagne, sit back, relax and resign to this impending quirk of fate. There were no teetotalers in this category.

Astonishingly, only nine percent chose to remain true to their self-gratifying selves, preferring to satisfy their primal needs. 

And a measly three percent decided to pray to Almighty, either for a miracle or for atonement of their sins.

So far, so good! The odd part begins here! Two percent of the people were so deprived of their favorite foods that they chose the last one hour of their life eating fatty greasy foods! The upside was that there would be no permanent weight gain!

In most groups, a few people are always overly optimistic. So was the case in this wild bunch. A whopping two percent did not really think that the world would end. In fact, they believed that they would surely survive. So they chose to start looting the neighborhoods to gather as much wealth as possible. Even if the world ended, they would surely die rich!

Life’s too short, so would you eat a lot?  What would you do during the last sixty minutes of your life? I, for one, would try to blast off to space aboard the next space shuttle scheduled for launch! And for that to happen, I will need to get rich as quickly as possible. Therefore, on second thoughts, looting does not sound like a terrible option after all!

For more or less of this odd story, check this!
 

An odd error of biblical proportions!

This is just in people! Apparently, a bible-reading 26-year-old man from Singapore tried to steal something valuable that, after a fair trial, landed him in jail for four months. Now what this person tried to steal was not money, not gold, not a car, certainly not love. He tried to steal a Bible! He just needed a new copy of the Bible, since the one back home was quite battered and worn out.

What amazes me is that how the Bible at home got so worn out in the first place, considering that this gentleman must have never reached the page containing the eighth commandment ‘Thou shalt not steal!’

The district judge Bala Reddy presided over the case, and presented a small gift to the accused shoplifter having prior unsuccessful pilfering experience. As our aspiring ‘new’ Bible owner opened the gift, his original purpose was accomplished; the glossy gift-wrapping paper contained a brand new shiny divine Bible. And what more could he have asked for, he now has four dedicated, uninterrupted months to read it, especially the part which explains that there is no such thing as “petty theft” in God’s sight, the character of those who steal a little is the same as those who steal a lot!

More of this news here!

Its a weird weird world!

Its a weird weird world!

Quite recently I got introduced to the world of weirdness. It was not a very pleasant introduction, considering the weirdness of it all, but nonetheless quite entertaining.

The weird world did not have any preconceived notions about ‘what’s proper’, and the words apt, right, suitable, correct and sane were excluded from its insanely small dictionary. When I asked him to describe himself in two words, he used a couple of hundred instead, which struck me as quite odd. Either he did not know how to count, or that was the way he counted.

It all started with gossiping couples at a bar. Not really, but who is going to know! Apparently, a happily married couple, with a ten-month-old infant, went to a bar. Didn’t anybody think that was odd? What was a couple with small baby doing in a bar? Shouldn’t they be in a more family friendly environment, where you know, people DONT SMOKE? Whatever their excuse, they were there in that Czech bar, presumably with the infant, since otherwise why would anyone comment on the baby? So here they are, with fellow drinkers noticing the color of the baby’s hair, which was blonde, whereas both parents had dark hair. How on earth did these people, after a couple of drinks, notice the color of this baby’s hair? Doesn’t it all become fuzzy after a little while?

So here are these drinkers, persistently gossiping about a baby, in a pub, with a baby, gossiping about the baby’s hair. Now that is really weird! So one thing led to another, like it usually does in bars and pubs. And the couple somehow got themselves tested for DNA. Usually couples find themselves married, with strange tattoos or piercings, and filing for annulments, now that’s a nasty surprise. But our loving happy pub frequenting couple, got a different kind of surprise. The baby was not theirs! A quick mix-up at the hospital, and now we have a baby lying in a pub with two strangers, and a lot of weird drinkers commenting about his hair. The saddest aspect of this case is hard to decide, whether it is the premature exposure to cigarette smoke, or going through ten months of his life without knowing his true parents.

But on the brighter side, the baby will not have to hear taunts and gossip about his ‘weird colored’ hair from his peers during his childhood, teenage and adult life.

For more or less of this story, check out this news!

More weird world talk soon, very soon.

Passport to marriage

A zillion internet jokes are doing their daily rounds about the harsh realities of marriage. A majority of them usually address the manly-point-of-view, how men lose their invaluable ‘bachelor’ freedom, after being coaxed into a lifetime agreement of being bossed around, and how all roads to marriage end up in forfeiting half or more of their wealth.

Being fair and just, I would say it’s only a natural course set out for the supposedly intelligent species to ensure its existence.

A free independent frolicking man cannot suddenly be transformed into a loyal caring loving husband and by extension a similar traited father. For every fruitful reaction there is required a strong assertive action.

So if the desired reaction is replacing the free abandon of the male species with firm unswerving loyalty, the suitable action is the divorce law. Considering no pre-nuptial agreements have been signed, losing a chunk of wealth is more painful than being with a single woman. Since this might not work for all men, the private detective agencies are now known to be minting money, which usually is extorted from the man being spied upon.

Another desirable reaction is the loving caring nature of the male species, with a few tears sprinkled here and there to reflect their sensitive feminine side. My suggestion for this is woman-tears! Those diamond-like drops are known to work miracles; empires have been destroyed and battles have been lost all because of these deadly pearls. Onions and teardrop solutions have always come in handy. If the man is too rugged or just plain unromantic, try administering a legal dose of estrogen tablets, although that might sometimes result in losing future prospects of acquiring any fortune after the law suit that would follow.

And to mend the gross manly habits cultivated over time, the best solution is constant nagging. Its easier to change habits overnight than listen to the high pitched shrilly tones of the female voice range.

Well that said, the woman does give up a hell lot in return. Starting with her name, her very identity; that which she has been known for almost half of her life. Renounced! Abandoned! Lost in time! All in the name of the marriage. Followed by a change of address; transformation to a homemaker; and then permanent weight gain!

The path through marriage is far from simple, for both the man and the woman. In most cases, the woman sacrifices her passport in the burning pyre of marriage. The man is still unaware he is being transformed bit by bit, every day, into the perfect man his wife always dreamed of marrying!

Back to the future

Quite recently some scientists proclaimed with much regret that time travel to the past is not theoretically possible since the fourth dimensional time cannot be traversed in the backward direction. If that’s true, there go all my chances of being somebody in life! Somebody rich and famous, influential and adored, and having a ball of a time right this very moment!

Contrary to the new theory, if time travel to the past is possible, then we would chance to see a technologically advanced space-time continuum traveler from the future traveling back to our present. And we would most certainly detect the strangeness of that traveler, in his clothing, language or eating habits. So next time you meet someone weirdly creepy, don’t stare at him incessantly or mock him pointlessly, for he could zap you somewhere in the past or in the future if you start to get on his nerves, or for no reason at all! Unless of course, if you are flunking in math, random time travel might just be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Some other cult of scientists claim that time travel to the past is possible, but you will not be able to change a thing! It will be like watching a long movie about you. Boy, now wouldn’t that be boring!

And what’s the point going all the way back in time if I cannot tweak a few things here and there? There are, I might add, quite a number of things I would want to change!

Say for instance, the day when I placed a huge bet on ‘Speedo’ the racehorse. Boy, I would give anything to change that to ‘Sluggy’ the puny pony. Who would have thought that Sluggy had a few quick gallops up his sleeve, and that Speedo had short attention span disorder!

Another crucial event of my life I would have fiddled with is the day I decided to adopt morality as virtue! All those bribes rejected and favors declined have brought me nothing but threatening calls, 24-hour security and job switching from country to country! I would start the anti-morality drive right now, but my image is too tainted for anyone to believe me anyways!

I say that my best repose now is to time travel to the future. It would be lovely to meet and interact with like-minded people like myself, since that is such a rare commodity in the present. Plus, I would maybe get to hitch-hike with a space traveler too, explore exotic worlds filled with exotic matter and exotic people, much like Hawaii, and not have to go back to the future ever again! Back to my real future!

Meet Mr. President Clone

Once upon a time, there was Dolly. Dolly the sheep. Oblivious to the fact that after several failed attempts, she was the first sheep to be cloned using reproductive cloning technique from her donor twin sister Polly; Dolly went on to live a ‘famous by birth’ life. Actually, “Baa Baa Black Sheep” was more famous than her. Although Dolly never got to know what open meadows looked or smelled like, she did have a Bonnie baby. She now stands lifeless and in peace amidst a bunch of hay in a museum in Edinburgh.

The success of Dolly triggered a series of experiments on humans. Like all great inventions in the world, which later on turn out to be really bad for human existence, like say nuclear bombs, machine gun or war against terrorism, the success of human cloning was marketed extremely well by the Logically Unethical Cloning Knowledge-corps., just my luck!

This miraculous invention, for the rich and famous, was a new breath of life, a nip here a tuck there with a live tissue, a new face-lift, the dawn of organic plastic surgery, without the plastic. Already wondering what to do with all that stash of cash under the sofa set, and unable to adopt any more kids from the third world, getting a cloned copy was the new ‘in’ thing.

Not far behind were the politicians, who had always hunted for scapegoats for their poor decisions and incoherent statements. Now they could just blame it all on the harmless clueless clone, and then terminate the poor thing, or better still send it to fight the war against terror.

The middle class were the next to experience a whole new world of opportunities. Trouble at home? Get a clone to do your chores, fix that sink, clean that room. Tired of your nagging wife? Replace yourself with a clone while you are out playing golf. The opportunities were endless, imagination was the key.
 
Meanwhile, scientists had been freezing up the DNA samples of all endangered species, so that they can clone them in the future. Tigers, lions, pandas, elephants and flamingos had all joined the extinct list. The only animal life surviving were Ms. Hilton’s pet Chihuahua, Winnie the Pooh in Disneyland and a lone parakeet somewhere in New Zealand. The Chihuahua was genetically stupid-ifyed to bark out an equally dumb line, ‘It’s hot”.

Astounded by the stupidity of humans, and fed up of all the inhumane torture inflicted upon them, the clones decided to strike back. After destroying all the cloning production houses and the damning technology, they drove all humans out of their houses and shipped them to an unknown address in outer space. They then set up a new political party and the brainiest clone has now been elected as the new president.

Meet Mr. President, President (You Choose) Clone.

Beauty in a box..

I am lucky to be a woman. Apart from the fact that I am the proud member of the more fairer, composed, reliable, faithful, nonviolent, war loathing, mature, emotion-driven, kind and loving, humble, gentle, saner, life bearing gender; I am also important enough to now have a large industry toiling all day and burning midnight oil just to cater to my needs.

Take a short trip to the supermarket near you, and you will know what I mean. I have now at my disposal everything imaginable right from downright essentials to exotic perfumes, lotions, face masks, organic products, slimming pills, herbal tea, and hi-tech electronics just to make me more beautiful.

Of course, since I am so perfect to start with, I rarely would need all these multitude of products, but my excessive compulsive urge for shopping till my balance drops to zero always gets the better of me. I usually stock up my favorite lotions and perfumes, just in case there is a natural calamity and all roads to the supermarket are inaccessible.

As per a survey* conducted on woman perceptions, a majority of woman perceive their beauty through the eyes of the beholder. Now that is somehow a paradox, since another survey* concluded that women spend an enormous amount of time staring at their own reflections. They also seem to get bewildered, amazed, glad and sad all at the same time. No wonder we are famous for being experts on multitasking.

Anyways, somewhere in my making, as in the making of any other woman, this unusual hormonal imbalance was created, which made us always seek out approval of others, either directly or in a subtle fashion. This particular abnormality is the reason I always strive to be look prettier than I am today. Not that I am pretty today, but I strive anyway.

Of course growing more prettier over time is not naturally possible, atleast not for non-celebrities like me. Maybe its because I do not have the privilege to be in and out of rehabs, prisons, marriages or law suits at my whim and fancy. Either that or I cannot afford to laze around in the spa all day.

The only chance I have got is to step into my walking shoes, and hit the beauty floor. I pop all the thought bubbles from the angel perched on my right shoulder that preaches “Outward perception of beauty is not as important as the inner, long lasting, more powerful and ever increasing attractiveness of my beautiful mind.”

As I submissively surrender my card to the cashiers whopping bill, the devil on the left smirks, “Congratulations, you are now doomed to end up being a mere beauty in the box!”

*The surveys are fabricated, so its advisable not to attempt validating the authenticity.