There’s something very fishy about this business of so-called immor­tals that I see in movies and books. I mean, they don’t seem very smart, given that they’ve stuck around for hundreds or thousands of years.

There isn’t really a happy ending to these stories. If he happens to be a bad guy, he’ll invari­ably get himself killed in some rather stupid way, like allowing someone to put a stake through his heart. If he’s a good guy, he’ll live a long lonely brooding life — that is the essen­tial romance of the plot – until he kills the bad guy in some stupid way, like putting a stake through his heart. After that he’ll happily continue to live a long lonely brooding life.

On a side note, I don’t recall having seen many good gals – woman as the protag­o­nist — in these kinds of stories. I guess they just aren’t suited for such depressing roles, or maybe that stuff just isn’t marketable. I’m not sure how many actresses other than Kate Beckin­sale can pull off the “depressed-yet-cool” act.

So now that we’re on the topic, how smart are the immor­tals anyway? The last time somebody asked, I couldn’t remember what I had for dinner the previous week, but these guys – the immor­tals – always have flash­backs of ancient memories popping into their heads at some crucial times and lending the audience the much-desired “aw..” moments. I mean seriously, just because these guys live forever doesn’t mean they remember every­thing, do they? Even R. Daneel Olivaw had to have his memory-banks archived to tape (in a manner of speaking) on a semi-regular basis.

And then of course, there’s the mechanics of it all that’s inter­esting, to say the least. Take ghosts, for instance. I think it’s fairly well-established that ghosts retain their souls but not their brains. On the other hand, even religious people will agree that the brain does the thinking, even if the higher aspects of humanity – free will, conscious­ness etc – may be controlled by the soul. So what’s doing the thinking and the remem­bering for ghosts?

Or maybe — is that why the don’t-do-anything-stupid switch is turned off?

So I took a spoon to the dough, and it ended up growing a face. But is it art? I’ll let the audience decide.

I replaced my camera batteries this morning, looked through the view-finder and found the auto-focus all blurry. It took me several moments of panic to realize I wasn’t wearing glasses or contacts… (202 charac­ters, damn you, Twitter!)

Even Ewan McGregor couldn’t possibly disagree if I said that this seven-part review of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace by some guy on YouTube is so ruddy brilliant!

This is just the first part, but all the parts are avail­able.

I almost couldn’t believe it. Last night I was rummaging through my stuff when I found this little notebook from almost two years ago. Appar­ently, I did jot down many of the things said and done in class when I was at Cornell University.

Class notes always start with the best of inten­tions. Fresh clean notebooks. Crisp paper. Aahh!

Of course, one day later, the notebook is no longer fresh and clean. It has been written on, which could almost be slang for defiled. I have taken great pains to write neatly and clearly, without messing up anything, but…it isn’t the same.

Mistakes cannot be avoided. Eventu­ally, some words get messed up. In the begin­ning, I tear out the page and start over, but later I let it be. The notebook is no longer sacred.

And then there are those lectures. While my ears are listening and my brain is thinking, my hands are drawing cartoon charac­ters on the nearest piece of paper they can find. Did I just draw Bugs Bunny on the margin of my page? Uh…

So going back to the notebook I discov­ered: to fill up a notebook almost completely with no more than a few doodles and only the occasional change in handwriting is quite an accomplishment.…

Of all the different kinds of commer­cials you get to watch are forced to watch on televi­sion, the ones that adver­tise prescrip­tion drugs and medicines are the oddest. Here’s a typical break­down of a 45 second commercial:

1. 10 seconds announcing the product and explaining how wonderful it is. (“Chuchachuva gives you good night’s sleep!”)
2. 30 seconds describing the various side-effects of the drug. (“Possible side-effects include headaches, nausea, liver-damage, hallu­ci­na­tions, low IQ, kidneys shutting down, impotence and suicidal tenden­cies. And oh, your tongue could fall off.”)
3. 5 seconds telling you how wonderful the product is. (“Chuchachuva is the most awesomest thing ever! Ask your Doctor about Chuchachuva today!!”)

You’ll notice that the bad stuff is sandwiched between the good stuff, as if they’re hoping you’ll miss it. You can also see how they keep repeating the name of the product aloud again and again, and yet again, hoping to register it firmly in your brain.

The best part though, is how during the thirty seconds of hallu­ci­na­tions and headaches, everyone featured in the ad sticks around and gives you their best smiles, as soft soothing music plays in the background. Anyone who didn’t under­stand the language would think these guys thoroughly enjoyed their nausea and suicidal tendencies.

There was a young man who was a masta’
At making all kinds of great pasta
He cooked for the whole town
But gulped it all down
And wished he could eat it much fasta’.

Oh Capital One, how I missed you!

You used to be there for me. Every day, every season, I could count on you! I would come home from work in the evening, tired and sleepy, and when I opened my mailbox, I would see your credit card offer with 0% APR (* Terms and Condi­tions Apply) lying there happily, waiting for me. You used to greet me with your wonderful smile and cheerful words. Your humble spirit and never-say-die attitude inspired me more than you knew, oh Capital One! You were my hero, my idol!

And then things changed, I don’t know how or why. Sometimes you were there, sometimes you weren’t. Those days of uncer­tainty were the worst; as I reached out to the mailbox, those moments stretched out into ages and my hand trembled. Sometimes I couldn’t bear to open my eyes, lest you weren’t there.

I don’t know when you stopped caring about me, Capital One. After a while, you disap­peared from my life completely, and I gave up all hope. Life wasn’t the same anymore.

And then today, when I opened my mailbox like every other day, expecting the empti­ness to greet me with its mocking smile, you were there! At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes; I blinked in surprise for sometime before I could breathe again. You were there again, with your friendly loving promise of 0% APR (* Terms and Condi­tions Apply), and all of a sudden it struck me with full force how unhappy I had been without you, how unful­filling the world had been in your absence.

Oh Capital One, I don’t know why you left or what made you come back to me. Maybe you’ll leave me again someday, but for now you’re there by my side, and nothing else matters anymore.

My apple pie turned into a Rorschach Test when I tried cutting it with a knife. Some people see Princess Leia in that picture.…

I confess I am a fan of old Hindi music, the good ones at least. Even those in the audience who are indif­ferent to such music will find much to appre­ciate in the wonderful melodies that they present to us. Certainly, the fact that they have remained popular to this day is indica­tive of their quality.

EDIT: YouTube removed the video. How lame.…

The music is not all though; there is much that we can learn by watching the actors and actresses play out their parts in their signa­ture styles, and under­standing the dynamics of old-style courtship.

The video above is a classic case-study in romance. Notice the remote serenade — maintaining a comfort­able distance is the first step towards securing your loved one. The theory behind this is that close proximity exposes your loved one to your human imperfections…that are best hidden at the start of a relation­ship. Do you see how the actors are never close enough to be seen together?

The next useful technique is that effort­less trans­mis­sion of sound across the forest that the actor achieves, even when he’s barely moving his lips. This is a classic ninja technique, improved over the ages. The key to this technique is the (appar­ently) casual manner in which he strokes his guitar and the (appar­ently) out-of-sync foot movements. With practice, you can generate the right frequen­cies of vibra­tions to carry the slightest whisper across the forests and plains, across the oceans if need be.

Finally, notice the effect that the serenade has on the lady, and her orgasmic convul­sions. This technique was invented by our ances­tors who travelled distant places with no good means of commu­ni­ca­tion, and were forced to come up with something to keep their wives happy remotely. Unfor­tu­nately, with the passage of time and the devel­op­ment of modern means of commu­ni­ca­tion and trans­port, this technique has become an extinct, forgotten art.