Slope 45
9 years ago
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
What's the name of your kid?
A psychiatrist was conducting a group therapy session with four young mothers and their small children.
"You all have obsessions," he observed. To the first mother, he said, "You are obsessed with eating. You've even named your daughter Candy."
He turned to the second mom. "Your obsession is money. Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny."
He turned to the third mom. "Your obsession is alcohol. Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Brandy."
At this point, the fourth mother got up, took her little boy by the hand and whispered, "Come on, Dick, let's go..."
"You all have obsessions," he observed. To the first mother, he said, "You are obsessed with eating. You've even named your daughter Candy."
He turned to the second mom. "Your obsession is money. Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny."
He turned to the third mom. "Your obsession is alcohol. Again, it manifests itself in your child's name, Brandy."
At this point, the fourth mother got up, took her little boy by the hand and whispered, "Come on, Dick, let's go..."
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
VIDEO: Dave Chapell makes fun of George W Bush
6 mts 39 secs
George W doesn't hate blacks. He IS black!
George W doesn't hate blacks. He IS black!
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
VIDEO: Electronic Voting Machines in United States (specifically in Florida)
1 mt 08 secs
Click on the image above, and then click on play button once it becomes available.
Click on the image above, and then click on play button once it becomes available.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Some interesting questions
If all the nations in the world are in debt, where did all the money go?
When dog food is new and better tasting, who tests it?
If the “black box” flight recorder is never damaged during a plane crash, why isn't the whole airplane made out of that stuff?
Who copyrighted the copyright symbol?
Can you cry under water?
Why do people say, “you've been working like a dog” when dogs just sit around all day?
Do fish ever get thirsty?
Can you get cornered in a round room?
What does OK actually mean?
What came first, the fruit or the color orange?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
What should one call a male ladybird?
If a person suffered from amnesia and then was cured would they remember that they forgot?
Can you blow a balloon up under water?
Why is it called a “building” when it has already been built?
If you were traveling at the speed of sound and you turned on your radio would you be able to hear it?
If you're traveling at the speed of light and you turn your headlights on, what happens?
Why is it called a TV set when there’s only one?
If a person owns a piece of land do they own it all the way down to the core of the earth?
Why do most cars have speedometers that go up to at least 130 when you legally can’t go that fast on any road?
When dog food is new and better tasting, who tests it?
If the “black box” flight recorder is never damaged during a plane crash, why isn't the whole airplane made out of that stuff?
Who copyrighted the copyright symbol?
Can you cry under water?
Why do people say, “you've been working like a dog” when dogs just sit around all day?
Do fish ever get thirsty?
Can you get cornered in a round room?
What does OK actually mean?
What came first, the fruit or the color orange?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
What should one call a male ladybird?
If a person suffered from amnesia and then was cured would they remember that they forgot?
Can you blow a balloon up under water?
Why is it called a “building” when it has already been built?
If you were traveling at the speed of sound and you turned on your radio would you be able to hear it?
If you're traveling at the speed of light and you turn your headlights on, what happens?
Why is it called a TV set when there’s only one?
If a person owns a piece of land do they own it all the way down to the core of the earth?
Why do most cars have speedometers that go up to at least 130 when you legally can’t go that fast on any road?
Communication Gap: The case for context
Mr. Sharma comes home one night, and his wife throws her arms around his neck: "I have great news: I'm a month overdue. I think we're going to have a baby! The doctor gave me a test today, but until we find out for sure, we can't tell anybody. "
The next day, Mrs. Sharma receives a telephone call from AEC (Ahmedabad Electric Company) because the electricity bill has not been paid. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Sharma?"
"Yes. . . . . . speaking"
AEC guy, "You're a month overdue, you know! "
"How do YOU know? " stammers the young woman.
"Well, ma'am, it's in our files! " says the AEC guy .
"What are you saying? It's in your files. . . . . ! . HOW ? ? ? ? ? "
"Yes . . . . . . . . . . . . . We have a system of finding out who's overdue"
"GOD ! ! ! ! ! ! . . . . . . . . . this is too much. . . . . . . . . . "
"Madam, I am sorry. . . . . . I am following orders. . . . I have to inform you are overdue"
"I know that . . . . . . . let me talk to my husband about this tonight. . . . . he will speak to your company tomorrow "
That night, she tells her husband about the visit, and he, mad as a bull, rushes to AEC office the next day morning. "What's going on? You have it on file that my wife is a month overdue? What business is that of yours? " the husband shouts.
"Just calm down, " says the lady at the reception at AEC, "it's nothing serious. All you have to do is pay us. "
"PAY you? and if I refuse? "
"Well, in that case, sir, we'd have no option but to cut yours off.
"And what would my wife do then? " the husband asks.
"I don't know. I guess she'd have to use a candle. "
The next day, Mrs. Sharma receives a telephone call from AEC (Ahmedabad Electric Company) because the electricity bill has not been paid. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Sharma?"
"Yes. . . . . . speaking"
AEC guy, "You're a month overdue, you know! "
"How do YOU know? " stammers the young woman.
"Well, ma'am, it's in our files! " says the AEC guy .
"What are you saying? It's in your files. . . . . ! . HOW ? ? ? ? ? "
"Yes . . . . . . . . . . . . . We have a system of finding out who's overdue"
"GOD ! ! ! ! ! ! . . . . . . . . . this is too much. . . . . . . . . . "
"Madam, I am sorry. . . . . . I am following orders. . . . I have to inform you are overdue"
"I know that . . . . . . . let me talk to my husband about this tonight. . . . . he will speak to your company tomorrow "
That night, she tells her husband about the visit, and he, mad as a bull, rushes to AEC office the next day morning. "What's going on? You have it on file that my wife is a month overdue? What business is that of yours? " the husband shouts.
"Just calm down, " says the lady at the reception at AEC, "it's nothing serious. All you have to do is pay us. "
"PAY you? and if I refuse? "
"Well, in that case, sir, we'd have no option but to cut yours off.
"And what would my wife do then? " the husband asks.
"I don't know. I guess she'd have to use a candle. "
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The Art of Communication: What's the right question?
Jeevan and Mahesh are on the way to a religious service. Jeevan wonders whether it would be all right to smoke while praying.
Mahesh replies, "Why don't you ask the Pujari Ji?"
So Jeevan goes up to the Pujari Ji and asks," Pujari Ji , may I smoke while I pray?"
But the Pujari Ji says, "No, my son, you may not. That's utter disrespect to our religion."
Jeevan goes back to his friend and tells him what the good Pujari Ji told him. Mahesh says, "I'm not surprised. You asked the wrong question. Let me try."
And so Mahesh goes up to the Pujari Ji and asks, "Pujari Ji , may I pray while I smoke?"
To which the Pujari Ji eagerly replies, "By all means, my son. By all means."
Moral: The reply we get depends on the question we ask.
For example: Can I work on this project while I'm on Holidays?
[Ed: This joke is based on an actual incident involving Swami Vivekananda's guru Ramakrishna Paramhans. Ramakrishna used to chant his prayers all through the day, except when, every morning, he would go to the woods to relieve himself. As he grew old, he used to need a disciple's help in walking to the latrine.
The disciple asked, "Swamiji, why do you stop praying while you are relieving yourself?"
Ramakrishna, obviously, said, "Because it is not good to be defecating while I pray."
And the disciple said, "But swamiji, why do you pray at all other times?"
Ramakrishna replied, "Because I want the Lord's name to be on my lips when I die."
The devoted disciple reasoned, "Swamiji, death can come at any time, even when you are relieving yourself. You think defecating while you pray is bad, but it can't be bad to pray while you defecate."
Thereafter, Ramakrishna was praying every waking minute.]
Mahesh replies, "Why don't you ask the Pujari Ji?"
So Jeevan goes up to the Pujari Ji and asks," Pujari Ji , may I smoke while I pray?"
But the Pujari Ji says, "No, my son, you may not. That's utter disrespect to our religion."
Jeevan goes back to his friend and tells him what the good Pujari Ji told him. Mahesh says, "I'm not surprised. You asked the wrong question. Let me try."
And so Mahesh goes up to the Pujari Ji and asks, "Pujari Ji , may I pray while I smoke?"
To which the Pujari Ji eagerly replies, "By all means, my son. By all means."
Moral: The reply we get depends on the question we ask.
For example: Can I work on this project while I'm on Holidays?
[Ed: This joke is based on an actual incident involving Swami Vivekananda's guru Ramakrishna Paramhans. Ramakrishna used to chant his prayers all through the day, except when, every morning, he would go to the woods to relieve himself. As he grew old, he used to need a disciple's help in walking to the latrine.
The disciple asked, "Swamiji, why do you stop praying while you are relieving yourself?"
Ramakrishna, obviously, said, "Because it is not good to be defecating while I pray."
And the disciple said, "But swamiji, why do you pray at all other times?"
Ramakrishna replied, "Because I want the Lord's name to be on my lips when I die."
The devoted disciple reasoned, "Swamiji, death can come at any time, even when you are relieving yourself. You think defecating while you pray is bad, but it can't be bad to pray while you defecate."
Thereafter, Ramakrishna was praying every waking minute.]
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
The travails of single South-Indian men
"The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..."
Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)
Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.
Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.
If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.
Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)
How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in "Badsha".
Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at the 3 in the morning. The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks.
Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..."
In one last effort here we attractive young men have taken on alter egos which may interest some of you women:
1. Gautam Kumar Raja, will now be known as Joshua Perreira
2. Sidin Sunny Vadukut, henceforth will be known as Dev Chopra
3. Ashwath Venkataraman is now Vijay Desai
4. Sudarshan Ramakrishnan no more, from now he is Barath Sharma
5. Gautam Chandrasekharan will now respond to Alyque Shah
Do mail me any time for a meeting with one of the above. One week notice if Italian or Chinese food is involved, or if the individual is expected to dance.
[Ed: This is actually an original blog entry by Sidin Vadukut http://sidin.blogspot.com/2004/05/travails-of-single-south-indian-men-of.html]
Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)
Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.
Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.
If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.
Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)
How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in "Badsha".
Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at the 3 in the morning. The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks.
Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..."
In one last effort here we attractive young men have taken on alter egos which may interest some of you women:
1. Gautam Kumar Raja, will now be known as Joshua Perreira
2. Sidin Sunny Vadukut, henceforth will be known as Dev Chopra
3. Ashwath Venkataraman is now Vijay Desai
4. Sudarshan Ramakrishnan no more, from now he is Barath Sharma
5. Gautam Chandrasekharan will now respond to Alyque Shah
Do mail me any time for a meeting with one of the above. One week notice if Italian or Chinese food is involved, or if the individual is expected to dance.
[Ed: This is actually an original blog entry by Sidin Vadukut http://sidin.blogspot.com/2004/05/travails-of-single-south-indian-men-of.html]
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
VIDEO: Conan O'Brien on Indian Call-centers
7 mts 49 secs
Click on the image above, and then click on play button once it becomes available.
Conan O'Brien Late Night Show staff writer Andy Blitz traverses the seven seas to seek a cure for his computer. Hilarious!
Click on the image above, and then click on play button once it becomes available.
Conan O'Brien Late Night Show staff writer Andy Blitz traverses the seven seas to seek a cure for his computer. Hilarious!
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