Who's the Daddy? Conspiracy Theories...

Conspiracy theories are only all too common to stem from any public happening- most often tragic ones at that. And thus, I am sure, mine and the thousands of millions to follow over the next few weeks would only hardly touch the tip of the ice berg of an issue at hand.

Now lets start with the fundamentals. Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated. Nothing out of the ordinary in a country where coups, instability, conspiracies and fundamentalism are but ordinary. And already we can see fingers pointing at every direction possible. Now without a stronger premise, lets just get into the superficial reasoning behind such an arrogant episode.

Of course, contender number one would be the good General. His craze for power and love of the seat need no further extrapolation. And Bhutto was, after all, his primary opponent at that. But hold on a second. Lets drill a little deeper.

If there is anything General Mushraff has ever proven, he is not an idiot. A little complacent and arrogant perhaps, but definitely not an idiot. The tirade of sympathy and PPPs and PML(N)'s clear steer on the tide to follow now is obvious. Now then why would someone as wise with the workings of the state resort to such, as to taint his chances and give such a boost to his opponents? Especially when his rigging and manipulation techniques are too well known?

The other contender is any one of the millions of terrorists abounding the country within and without. Lets sit in the shoes of one of these guys. Democracy, coups or apparent democracy, these guys have always gotten their booze. Up until the current president joined hands with the evil west and started exterminating their forces by the dozen. Madrasas closing, border forces spiced up, evil western thoughts and ideas infused, and even the unforgivable sin of joint exercises with the agnostic Indians. A new government would mean new policies and perhaps a return to the glorious life with more Madrasas and more idiosyncrasies. Who would they then rather have off? The dictator bringing in evil thoughts, or a woman who has proven track records of corruption and failure running in the family?

By the simple lack of motive, I am of the opinion that Bhutto’s death reaches far wider than superficial vendetta or ‘get-her-out-of-the-picture’ processes. Now that I have come so far into the subject, let me go further into my conspiracy theory.

Who stands to actually gain, monetarily, emotionally or in political mileage through her death? Who actually benefits by not just getting her out of the picture, but getting her out with such a popular and public ousting?

Now lets take the picture of another ex-leader. Simple laws of ego state that such a person, united or otherwise, could never really play second fiddle. Moreover, trends and statistics say that this person in question would need a miraculous wave of emotion amongst the public to gain any hold even otherwise. I guess it would make perfect logical sense to fabricate an assassination of the popular darling of the masses, throw the blame on the popular villain and sing along in the heat this generates. Of course, to avoid trace backs I would have to intelligently stage attacks and assassination plots aimed at myself that I would miraculously escape. Or even better, knock a couple of useless supporters and turn to game to my side.

On December 27, in a CNN interview just hours after the assassination of Ms Bhutto, Sharif said:

“

This is not a sad day. This is the darkest and gloomiest day in the history of our country.

”

Amidst the shock of the death of former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto Mr Sharif has announced that he will boycott the January 8 elections and has called for President Pervez Musharraf to resign due to the lack of security leading up to Benazir Bhutto's death. Sharif rushed to the hospital where she died, comforted her supporters and sat next to her body. Sharif called Bhutto his sister and vowed to avenge her death.[1]

Shortly after the murder of Benazir Bhutto, Xinhua News Agency reported that four of Sharif's party workers had been shot dead at Karal Chowk in an attack on a procession to meet him. Although the gunmen were described as "unidentified", Nawaz Sharif accused Musharraf supporters PML(Q).

[Excerpt Source Wikipedia]

Standard Disclaimers:

• If you are in Pakistan, have a Pakistani IP or the likes, I do not exist.
  
• If you are, in any way, associated with politics or the likes, and this post does not appeal to you, my ID has been hacked and this isn't me writing in.
  
• If you are an assassin, a trained fighter, sniper or the likes, I appeal to your moral sense of right. Im retarded and it is improper to kill one in not so fair a mind.
  
• Im drunk.
• I do not exist.
• This is not my IP.
• I can make a disclaimer longer than the post.
• Go away.

First Love... Forever

Every word ever spoken, every sight seen, every thought that leaps is burnt deep and forever in the dark memory lanes. The mind never forgets. Always stocks them deep in the closets, always ready to pounce.

They tell me its better to have loved and lost. The truth is, once in love, it never dies. The sweet taste of the first love, those days where you are not-so-sure of your footing. The times before being infected with the ego, sly and dignity… The innocence of Reena…

I don’t talk about her too often. In fact, its been over six years since I spoke about her at all. It really feels dumb to talk about how serious I was about a girl when I was in eighth grade!

That was not when I first saw her. We were in the same school, went to the same club, and even had a couple of common friends. But it never struck me that way before. Before my friends imagined us together in an attempt to humor themselves. Before I chose to. Before I realized what was to be.

She was perched high up the ladder of sophistication. I was underground. I should say I took to her as a competitive inspiration. The movies I saw were of no greater help. As the protagonist, I HAD to better my heroine in everything. I tried, and consequently succeeded to quite a bit.

In all that time- a period of four years, I tried various hats- the angry guy, the kind hearted, the good kid, the evil villain… Never even caught a breeze. I tried tricks and stunts that I wouldn’t even recommend to a retard.

In the final year of high school, we got closer than we ever were. I loved everything about her. I doubt if ever I had a perfect girl painted in my mind- I would have sung for a girl with a skin as soft as Reena, a golden radiance that breathed and lived by its own; hair as silky, a bouncy curl, dancing on the shoulders; voice that could throw you into a haven of bliss; anger that could burn right through.

Eventually I got to where I wanted. Wars, battles, cheap shots, wins and falls. I was elected the leader of the entire school, and all I cared for was my Reena.

I don’t know if what I had for her was love. I had never loved before, and the wait had been for far too long that I never realized it until long after it had gone. But I know it was pure. It was innocent in that all I wanted was Reena. Sit by her side as we enjoyed the setting sun, waves lapping our feet. I have never felt that since. I have never felt that joy beyond touch or words- the joy in just the thought of her presence, sitting next to me. Letting the scent of her beauty fill my senses. The joy that Reena gave me…

She was never on the slim side. But she carried the air of confidence and beauty that made it quite impossible to not notice. I loved every moment I spent with her. And now I was up the ladder. And yet it took me a few weeks cajoling to muster the courage.

Im up the ladder… I no longer fear my stance or equality. In fact, I see no reason why I should even be apprehensive. I’ve waited enough. Just ask her out!

She said no.

Im a bad loser… Love is as personal as it gets, and I took it personal. It was just her ego, I told myself. It was easy to hide my feeling over a blanket of blame. I needed a vent, and who better than the cause. Love turned to hate over night.

She forgave me. And I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t accept the truth that she was still the better person.

I loved her attitude. I loved her aggression. I loved that “cho-chweet” dialect. I loved her for her confidence. If she had just said yes, I would have always had to fear my position of being her equal. The rivalry and power that the love had given me could have just as easily manifested as jealousy.

She said no.

I never really apologized, but I don’t think she ever wanted one. She never gave me an explanation. I couldn’t have taken that anyway. I just loved her, from far away- a distance I created for better or worse. I knew I loved her. And I knew there was nothing either of us could do about it. I just loved.

And yet, she said no.

And I love her for that. As I always will. Futile as it might be, it still is my thoughts… My Love… My Reena... My Laila...

Stupid 2.0

There are some stupid things on the net. And then there are GROSSLY stupid things.

Its not that this is the worst scam (worse still are around), nor that it targets a soft spot in love sick, desperate youngsters. The really shocking part is that it goes against one of the basic principles I believe in.

I mean, how could someone with enough intelligence to turn on a computer, open a browser and even assimilate a string of characters to formulate a coherent sentence be expected to act so stupid as to pay up for something like this?

And then again, the contrary breaks my faith that if someone trusts something enough to host it on a website, store et al, it must have seen at least sparing success.

In which case there could be a minor fabric of truth attached. Which, if possible, would mean spirits can be summoned by magic. And that makes the jostling around at the pearly gates of TASMAC (galeej wine shops in my city) irrelevant.

Oh and just to make you toggle less between the links, let me give you a fair, unbiased shot:

The magic lady would need a few essentials here- your name, your attempt's name, both your birth dates and here's the cream- three pubic hair, cut not plucked.
Ada paavigala... Bond 'Shaken not stirred' solra maadri solreengale da!

Next you pay in 690 USD so the witch lady can get her quarter and soda mixing. Now that the spirit has been invoked, she gives it a few gifts such as chips and ooruka so the mubbu does not cause the invoked spirits to make an early exit.

That done she makes the drunken call to the party (your attempt) and puts some international mokkai. I don't know whether this call has to be payed by you directly or is part of the 690 package.

Now we all know that the third-party mubbu call have a decently high hit rate. That done she will send you a talisman to remind you what an international maanga you've been.

PS: Sorry for the higher level of tamilisized words. Theres a glossary at the end but it only gets you as far as the context goes.

PPS: This post sure must have witch aunty de-spirited. But good for me, I'm guarded against spells... Thanks to this.

Glossary
TASMAC: Wine Shop
Galeej: Local/ Dirty/ Waack
Oorka: Pickle. Especially Garlic flavored ones
Mubbu: High
Attempt: The girl/guy one is trying for. Success results in park bench kind of deiveega lauve
Maanga: Mango

Disclaimer: I originally planned to write in an outburst against the sugarcupid site but this was a lot more stupid.

Being Me...

There lived one or two as intelligent, and now there's just me! And for that Im called an egotist!!

I don't see the big deal in not being one either. In effect I care about myself and am proud of that. In fact I'd even take it further and advice as many as I can chance to convert as well.

Talk about friendship and how you give your life and how the undies you share creates a divine link up of grime and fermented crap...
Talk about the deiveega Lauve you hold, and how she is all that matters to you. Tell me that her life and happiness is more important to you than yours. Go on about how your life would cease to exist in her void.

It all finally comes down to YOU. The sacrifices you do are for you goddammit. So don't throw the dust and push us realists into a realm of false act and belief. You tell me you were up at five to whip that breakfast? And spent big money on all the romance 'charm' artifacts? A week of headaches at night from her and you aren't going to be looking for that balm are you?

Phone calls through the day and night... Interspersed by messages every ten seconds. Get a job you a**h*** (thats ssole in the * areas. in that order).

Oh and did I forget? Don't cry to me when it bombs on your face. Im not going to sympathize for the good money you could've spent boozing with me but just didn't. Oh, and don't wrinkle my good sleeve crying on my shoulders. I care about me, and Im proud of it.

Try to respect yourself dammit. Just try. You could well fail, and if you do, swallow your towels and die.

On a lighter vein, came across a really good quote that more or less describes me now:

“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.”
Oscar Wilde

Dogs don't Piss me off

Have you ever noticed a dog relieving its sub level pressures? On first glance it is kind of unnerving to think about smelling, tasting and rubbing on the surface before you open it to your golden gleams. Not for Stinky Poo, the white dog just out of office (name changed cos the damn thing responds to ANY sound!)

To you and me its just getting rid of some extra fluids and dissolved ammonia. But to the dogs that’s territorial marking. Apparently, dogs use their bowels as weapons limiting boundaries. Still pretty primitive, you might be tempted to say. But while we, as humans, resort to bullets and fire and electric fences and nukes killing, murdering and butchering our own race look at the simplicity of the lower species. URINE!

Now just take a moment to get your critique hats off and get into Stinky Poo’s shoes… Or the lack thereof…

Imagine a world where we limit our boundaries with our liquids. Investing on land? Don’t waste time on sale deeds and NOCs. If it doesn’t smell of ammonia already, its all yours for the taking. Lets even go a step further. There won’t be any more disputed territories. No destructive wars. Pak says J and K belongs there, we say its here and Kashmiris say they’re independent. Fastest pisser first!

And wars! That’ll be an entirely new ball game (pun? Not really). Now Bush just has to fill in ballistic missiles with huge amounts of collective excreta payload. Its raining, Saddam! Defense will now consist of massive umbrellas and tents. Defense research would probe on faster spread, more invasive urine. A whole new arena to military advancement… The only problem is that falling motivation levels would lead to more and more soldiers getting pissed off with the government. But that’s a minor glitch…

Another amazing effect of such a view point would be the economic impact. Since more people would need to take a leak more often and in greater quantities, beer is going to become a sought after commodity. And public toilets can no longer be public- it’s a property of the last pisser. Therefore I can envision government pissifiers salaried to take a leak and reclaim the property after every user. That means more employment opportunities on the unskilled segment (it does require a certain skill, though).

Such amazing technology that would cause zero war mortality, remove paper work from business processes and reduce unemployment… And I can already tell you- its going to get scorned off like my million other brain waves!!!

btw: heres a picture of Stinky Poo and his latest land deed