How Twitter changed my life!

On a fateful night two years ago I have absolutely no recollection of, I joined the “microblogging” site popularly referred to as Twitter. Little did I know that when I filled in that form with my details and clicked on “Create my Account”, my life would be changed forever.

Before I joined twitter, I was just like you. I foolishly thought that I had my life all figured out, thanks to the secret of life revealed to me in the book, The Secret. If all I had to do to make things happen was to WISH for them, I could do that all day long. So I quit my job and spent my days wishing for things. When after a few months nothing happened, I began to question my worldview. One particularly tough night, after spending hours wishing for a measly glass of Rum & Coke, I realized that the Universe wasn’t really listening to me. It was probably spending it’s time paying attention to some malnutritioned African kid and serving him MY rum & Coke. It dawned on me that the universe was a socialist with a bleeding heart and an NPR tote bag!

So it was up to me to look after myself. I bought a bootleg copy of The Fountainhead (free markets FTW!), and spent the next month reading it (have you seen the size of that damn book?).One day, the ghost of Ayn Rand appeared in my dreams and asked me to sign up for twitter. The ghost also asked me to lend it some money, because apparently, the shops in hell are a little expensive, being monopolistic enterprises and all. I realized that Ayn was testing me and refused to lend her ghost any money. In fact, I told Ayn’s ghost the same thing Ayn would tell a bearded 90 year old man who just lost his life savings in the stock market, “Get a job, whiskers!”.

Now, unbeknownst to me, Twitter was a treasure trove of wordly knowledge. It had the wisdom of Socrates, the catchiness of Confucius, the gimmickry of Yoda and the cultural relevance of Lady Gaga. So when my life changed for the better, I thought I had to share the secret with the rest of the world, as all enlightened beings are supposed to.

Here’s a gist of all the knowledge I was able to amass:

1. The art of listening: The first thing that surprised me about twitter was that in order for people to pretend to care about what I have to say, I had to accord them the same courtesy. Being a blowhard IRL (i.e. In Real Life for all you n00bs out there!), this was hard for me to understand at first. Did other people expect me to listen to them? Why would I listen to anyone when I already know what they want to say, based on how they look? Is this what being social was all about? I know that now, because of twitter. Another thing I learnt was that all I have to do to make people feel “special” is to feign interest in what they’re saying! Who’da thunk it?

2. The art of letting go: On twitter, once you write a tweet, you need to let it go.Though, be warned, It’s not that easy. In the beginning, when you see the vowels from your tweets being plucked out as harshly as a catholic priest plucks the virginity of a choir boy, all you would want to do is physically punch the culprit. You tire of the constant need to bang your head against the wall when you see someone appending a word to your tweet and totally changing it’s context. You also learn to not care about the dozens of people who will simply copy your tweets and tweet them as their own. Once you put something out there, it isn’t yours anymore. So let it go. Set it in the wild. And, if it loves you as much as you love it, it will come back to you in the form of a text message.

3. The art of sounding exotic: Thanks to twitter, I was able to learn how I can get people from other countries to pay attention to mundane events in my life like waking up or raindrops. All you have to do is romanticize everything, sprinkle a bit of melancholy, and voila before you can say “Jai Ho”, you have thousands of followers! For example, my room isn’t filthy, it’s “proof that I live a full life because each millimetre of dust contains millions of memories!” (Sadly, that doesn’t work on my Mom!). Similarly, politicians aren’t just corrupt, they “feed off the carcasses of hungry children, remaining oblivious to their plight, all the while trying to fill their insatiable greed and rotund bellies”. 

4. What women want: Earlier, all my knowledge about woman was gathered from the Mel Gibson movie, What Women Want. However, since recent events have revealed that Mel Gibson clearly has no idea about women (at least not the type of women I would like to attract), I had to turn to a new source of wisdom. And I found him on twitter. My new personal love guru, Chetan Bhagat, has made me see the light with his constant tips & tricks on how to impress women. It has not worked until now, and I have ten restraining orders against me. However, I’m pretty sure I’ll find the one one of these days. If the woman on twitter are any indication, I am almost certain that woman in general think more about sex than men. That’s because statistically,  if you’re a woman and you’re on twitter, you probably spend most of your time spewing more innuendo than an 80s British sitcom. Although, my guru tells me that the women on twitter aren’t the ones you take home to your parents. I wonder what he means by that?

5. How to support a cause: Before twitter, I was always in a flux whenever I wanted to do something for the world at large. You know, give back to the world and all that jazz. Now, whenever I hear about a cause that I think I can support, I always add a ribbon to my twitter profile picture (or as the cool kids call them, a twibbon!). Joining a facebook group is so 2007! In fact, thanks to twitter, I got Barack Obama elected as President, brought real democracy to Iran and helped cure breast cancer. That pretty much concludes my quota of “good deeds” for the rest of the decade. Santa better bring me loads of stuff this christmas!

6. Feeding your insanity: Whatever mental illness you suffer from, twitter can act as an enabler. If you are a masochist, you can follow “celebrities” on twitter and their banality will help mangle all your senses. This is even more painful than lying on a bed of nails. If you suffer from low self esteem, you can follow people who have poor language skills and a really delusional sense of self, which helps you feel a little bit saner about yourself. However, don’t feel that sane, you’re on twitter after all. I mean that as a good thing. In this Jersey Shore-ified world, being insane is a one-way ticket to popularity. Remember, all the insane people have the most followers.

7. Creating lazy content – Not only do the people on twitter like reading whatever’s on twitter. they are also really eager to read other people’s analysis about twitter. Even though almost every post/article on twitter says the same thing, people still like to read them and then retweet them, because this way they can pretend to laugh at themselves. Another reason why twitter posts are popular is because a post on twitter is the easiest thing to write. Start the post by making fun of a public figure you revile, throw in a few references to people tweeting about the food they eat, add some banal celebrities and rephrase what everyone else has said before along with some jokes. End the whole thing by adding a few meta references (because it’s important for the world to know that you can laugh at yourself too!) and your twitter post is ready.

Jairam Ramesh takes a brave stand against fictional wizards!

Jairam Ramesh, the UPA’s most forthright comedian and India’s #1 collector of wigs designed by Susan Boyle , has finally come out against a crazy, cultish breed of human beings who believe in boy wizards and magic wands!

No, I’m not talking about the RSS, silly!

It’s fans of Harry Potter!

India's environment minister, Jairam Ramesh, who suggested Harry Potter may be at least partly responsible for the decline of the country's owl population. "Following Harry Potter, there seems to be a strange fascination even among the urban middle classes for presenting their children with owls," he reportedly said.

Finally, someone brave enough to stand up to those irritating and demanding human beings commonly referred to as “kids”.Toupee Gandhi will not stand by while all those helpless parents, terrorized by fear, yield to the demands of their powerful and cruel children.

Jairam always knew this would happen. How, you ask? Well, Jairam always knows. It’s among his many gifts. He’s psychic like that! They don’t call him Captain Haircut for nothing!

The report by the wildlife group Traffic, also cited the dark arts of magic as being responsible for the owls' decline but did not blame Harry Potter, instead suggesting that a number of owls were being killed, trapped and traded for traditional rituals."While the exact number of owls traded each year in the countrywide is unknown, it certainly runs into thousands... There are anecdotal reports of owls becoming rare throughout India due to loss of suitable habitat, especially old-growth forests," it said.

Ha! Screw you, “Traffic”! What do you know? You’re just a bunch of people doing comprehensive research on a particular subject. You don’t know what Jairam Ramesh knows. Not only does Jairam Ramesh think outside the box, he’s so far away from the box that the box appears as a dot to him. After all, he is, what Malcom Gladwell calls, an outlier.

"Shaman or black magic practitioners, prescribe the use of owls and their body parts such as skull, feathers, ear tufts, claws, heart, liver, kidney, blood, eyes, fat, beak, tears, eggshells, meat and bones for ceremonial rituals." The report, which is supported by WWF India and the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, says that half of India's 30 species of owl can be found on sale in markets.

You better stop teaching black magic to little kids, Harry. Or Jairam Ramesh will take all the owls in the world and hide them in his hair. Why? Because he can.

 

The Hedwig effect: Harry Potter blamed for endangering owls [The Independent]

(via IyerDeepak)

BREAKING: Arundhati Roy arrested by fashion police!

After appearing at a public event a couple of days ago, noted writer and regular user of Dabur Amla Hair Oil, Arundhati Roy, was arrested in the evening today for crimes against fashion. She has been taken into stylist custody. Tomorrow morning, she will appear before a panel headed by Justice Tim Gunn which will decide on further action to be taken. Her sentence might include watching the movie The Devil Wears Prada everyday for the next year and a free lifetime subscription to Vogue magazine.

An insider who refused to publically give his name as he wasn’t appropriately dressed said that Ms. Roy has been repeatedly warned against committing such heinous offences like wearing a cocktail dress to a morning event and buying off the rack.

Noted designer Manish Malhotra termed her outfit at the public event as a ”seditious felony against couture”. “She acts as if the rules of fashion do not apply to her”, he continued.

Sources in the ministry of fashion told us that in a report submitted by LIFW agents assigned to spy on her it was revealed that she gets her hair done from the same barber as Jairam Ramesh.

Sagarika Ghose, CNN-IBN journalist and the second person ever to be given the title Nightingale of India, wondered on twitter “Why has Arundhati not yet understood that Jimmy Choo is an integral part of the modern Indian woman’s wardrobe?”

The death of romance on Indian television

 

The other day I was aimlessly teevee surfing, trying to watch something watchable on Indian teevee (yeah. my bad!), which I tend to do from time to time, being the eternal optimist I am. I didn't succeed in that, as usual, but I did realize something which gave me the sads.

A sort of epiphany, if I may say so.

They finally killed romance at it's last remaining place of residence.

Television.

During the early 90's, when everyone was still innocent (because the internet was not that widespread and the only way to learn about sex was to read one of the 200 printed copies of  a Shobha De book) and the only supercouple on teevee was Ram & Sita (they were like Bella & Edward from Twilight, except with less brooding and no sex), the leading protagonist from the epic Ramayana (it was just like Avatar, except instead of an American company, the good guys were fighting a really smart evil king. And the leader of the good guys was an actual real life AVATAR! In fact, he was probably the first Avatar ever!!).

So this ancient supercouple were the ideal representation of love on the small screen.  However, their love took an ugly turn (which was very Alec Baldwin/Kim Bassinger-esque) and Sita ended up visiting her aunt in the earth's core, forever. (That's how the used to break up in ancient times. None of the modern 'I hope we can be friends' crap. Once you were done, boy, were you fucking done!).

Apparently, melodrama was all the rage back then!

The next supercouple which caught the nation's eye was from a cartoon show. Even though the show was for little children, it caught the adults fancy. That was because it contained the cutest couple on Indian television ever, Bagheera & Baloo.

Yes, that's right.

Though they weren't a conventional couple, and their love was the love that dare not speak it's name, (homophobia was all the rage back then) those of us in the know nodded our head and played along.

On Sunday morning, whenever that really irritating song came on, the whole family sat together and saw Bagheera and Baloo bring up their adopted retarded human child, whose name was Mowgli. In fact, if it wasn’t for them, Mowgli would have grown up to be an animal!

They bickered, fought over all the little things like household expenditures and in-laws, however, just like every other teevee couple, they made up.

Awww, love, thy name is Bagheera & Baloo!

Then, in the aughts, came the supercouple to beat all the other supercouples.

The greatest one of them all.

Mihir and Tulsi.

Indian teevee’s Bragelina!

They had 1,000,0000,00000,0000000,0000000,000000 kids, of both the legitimate and the illegitimate variety, magically born without them ever “bumping uglies”. They stayed together through so many ups and downs, aided in their adventures by one lonely woman who was probably as old as the earth itself.

Both Mihir & Tulsi loved each other so much that they came back from the dead, a couple of times, just to be with each other again. In fact, both of them voluntarily kept changing their appearance so as to keep the romance alive!. Say what you will about them but, boy, that's called commitment.

Now, even thought those two are not on teevee anymore, sometimes, when the night sky is clear, one can see them floating in space, along with their favourite old woman, because their saga is endless, just like a Manmohan Singh speech .

That was the past.

And this is the present.

'I just want to grab once' is the new 'Honey, your eyes are so beautiful'

Just like everything else, the most unreal thing on the teevee, "Reality Television", has ruined romance!

All everyone wants to do in these shows is fuck each other & get famous! Nobody wants to do the hard work of developing an actual talent. Even if they want to sleep their way to the top, they should do it discreetly, like in they used to do in olden times!

I don't know about you, but I'd rather believe that some woman lived for a thousand years rather than some misogynist who looks like Himesh Reyshamia and Shakti Kapoor had a love-child will get two, intelligent woman to get "intimate" with him. Although, girlfriend, if you end up with that guy, you’re really not that intelligent!

There was a time when people actually cared for the pretention of romance. In fact, some families were so modern that they let both their children speak to each other before they arranged their marriage!

And from that we went to this?

What has the world come to? A person can't even cheat on his significant other. Isn't that what they are there for? Why can't they find out about each other’s ventures outside their relationship in twenty years, when the illegitimate child comes to take his share of the money, like other normal people?

This began when all of us started watching Ally McBeal and took relationship advise from the cast of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.! 

We took something so beautiful like forcibly living together with each other even though the love died long ago and all you’re doing now is keeping up appearances and we turned it into something so ugly! 

This is going to be our generation’s teevee legacy. A bunch of illiterate people shouting the f-word at each other, completely out of context.

We helped kill something which gave hope to millions of suppressed kids that maybe one day they might actually have a chance to be happy before they grew up and their cynicism took over.

For that, we need to hang our heads in shame.

Just like the old guy wearing a wig young woman in the scene below.

Huffington Post SLAMS brown people*

The Internet’s favourite do-rag, the Huffington Post, where the real housewives of Jim Carrey go to “educate” people on the dangers of getting their children vaccinated and actual writers are forced to sit in a slave shop under Arianna Huffington’s desk and write for free, encourages people to racially profile their fellow passengers while boarding a plane.

In an article published a couple of days ago, written by the wife of David “Axis of Evil” Frum, Danielle Crittenden. goes all Mike Huckabee and masks her ignorant bigotry as with “concern for her children”. Not surprising, because these days even David spends his time trying to unsuccessfully pass of as a reasonable person! 

In January and February, 2004, there was a flurry of terrorist threats against international flights between London and Paris and Washington; some flights were canceled; aircraft were grounded and searched; in one instance, F-16 fighter jets escorted a British Airways flight from Heathrow to Dulles.

In March, my husband and I took our three children on a holiday in Europe: our return flight, aboard Air France, connected through Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport. We had a three-hour layover before we could board our homebound jet to Washington-Dulles. After clearing international security and poking around the terminal for a bit, the five of us settled into benches in the empty departure lounge -- empty, that was, except for two suspicious-looking men in a bench opposite ours.

Let’s see what those suspicious men looked like:

I say suspicious because they matched almost every profile of a terrorist I'd ever read: Both looked to be about 25 or 26, of Arab descent, beards, dressed in the modern Atta traveling fashion of jeans and t-shirts. Neither had any carry-on bags for an eight-hour flight. One of the men was reading an Arabic newspaper while the other seemed twitchy -- he kept looking around, and repeatedly kept pulling out his documents from a small bag to check them over again.

So, apparently, dressing in jeans and t-shirts is now part of the terrorist garb. Why couldn't those Muslims be conspicuous and wear “Death to America” t-shirts, instead of dressing like normal, harmless white people?. Also, how dare they pretend to act like every other bored airline passenger and keep checking their documents? So what if a middle-aged white woman kept staring at them like they were terrorists? They should have simply sat there silently, and not act twitchy and roam around the lounge making fragile people shit their pants!

Gradually more passengers began filtering into the lounge as the flight departure grew closer. Then, promptly at three o'clock, the two men went over to a large window, fell to their knees and began elaborately praying to Mecca.

"That's it," I told him. "I'm not getting on this plane."

Elementary, my dear Watson! That’s a sure-fire tell-tale sign. Not only were those two wearing the latest terrorist chic, they were praying TO Mecca, instead of in the direction of Mecca, just like the Catholics pray TO the Vatican and the Jews pray TO Jerusalem!

But, hey, maybe talking to security can allay her fears?

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t!

There was a very French-looking security man: white bushy hair, a big white mustache, and a girth that suggested he enjoyed his duck confit and lunchtime Bordeaux as much as his other fellow citizens of the Republic.

Okay, now she has a problem with the French? Then, what the fuck were you doing in fucking France? If you really are so afraid of everybody, why step out of your house at all? And, seriously, being an American, the capital country of obesity, you’re going to snark on the girth of a Frenchman? Also, just because he’s fat, does that make him incapable of being a proper security guard? He has to check people’s luggage for shampoo , not run a half-marathon! I’m beginning to think this lady might have a problem with people in general!

He listened to my husband, nodded, glanced over at the two men, then came over to speak to me. I stepped away from the children, who were all preoccupied with their electronic playthings. I reported everything I'd watched and he listened gravely -- I could not tell whether he thought he was dealing with a hysterical mother or not.

"Madame, I can assure you that no aspect of security has been overlooked on this flight."

"Why are you so certain."

He smiled slightly. "Because I am privy to security measures that I cannot discuss with you. French security is not so -- ahh -- let me say it is different from American security. Let me repeat: this is a very safe flight."

Over his shoulder I watched the two men join the boarding queue: they looked actively jumpy by this point.

Yes, jumpy! That is so suspicious. Because terrorists are known to attract attention to themselves while boarding a target. This woman is so smart, my brain hurts!

My husband and I discussed it between us. He was prepared to go ahead but equally okay to cancel out of the flight if I was that nervous; I felt a little embarrassed by my fears. Then I looked at the bent line of the heads of my children, fighting imaginary enemies on their toys. Was I going to trust their fates to the assurances of an airline security guard?

"If we stayed, we could get a room at one of the airport hotels, take the train in to Paris for dinner, and return here tomorrow morning," I proposed. "That wouldn't be so bad --"

"No."

"The alternative," I continued, "would be for you to have me digging my nails into your forearm for eight hours..."

We waited for our bags to be removed from the plane. The children were delighted at this turn of events. They had never seen Paris

Bigot McGee is right! It’s all about the children. That was her only concern. This wasn’t about her at all. She just didn’t want to see any of those evil looking, jeans wearing, Mecca praying “terrorisors” to harm her children. So what if her children grow up to be brown people hating bigots too? Isn’t that what’s American conservatism is all about? Passing on your own deep-seated fear of the “others” to your children, as inheritance?

But, hey, as Racist Barbie will tell you, just because she looks at brown people in a funny way, she ain’t no racist!

Three years after the shoe-bombing incident, I experienced my own episode of terrorist profiling (and maybe that's what we should call it: not "racial" profiling but "terrorist" profiling, because the two are completely different. The latter does not arise out of irrational prejudice).

Yes, it’s not “racial” profiling if you don’t call it that. Just like if you are for “family values” & “traditional marriage” doesn’t mean you hate gay people and want them to remain second class citizens. You just want to protect your children. And it’s not that you think women have a right to make choices about their own bodies, you just love believe in the sanctity of life. I mean if God didn’t want that baby to be born, he wouldn’t have let that frat boy date rape you! It’s that simple, people! God probably has a plan for you. It might include you spending your after-life in “eternal damnation”, but hey, a plan’s a plan!

Why is that so hard to understand?

However, let’s find out what ugly fate was wrought upon all those people who were stupid enough not to say something.

The flight we had rejected landed without incident.

So that means that you’re not going to do that again right? I mean, once bitten, twice shy, right? Right?

Now, nearly seven years later, and in the wake of the Juan Williams incident, I ask myself: Would I make that same decision again?

Without question. And I hope I would still have the guts to report a troubling passenger to an airline clerk without fear that I might be branded racist.

Basically, what she’s trying to say is: I was wrong. But I’d do it again, because of terrorism!

 

* Post headline written in the style of Huffington Post articles!

[via Gawker]

India wins seat on UN security council; takes over the world!

The Indian government has been hard at work trying to convince the rest of the world to start giving a fuck about our opinion. It would been simpler to get a twitter account or write a free article for the Huffington Post and bait everybody into listening, but I guess we don’t do simple things, due to our impending superpower status.

Speaking of superpower status, guess what? We finally got a seat on the UN Security council! YAY! We numba one, bitches! Suck on that, Pakistan!

Uh, what?

After A gap of 19 years, India will once again be at the UN high table — the Security Council — as a non-permanent member.

As many as 187 countries in the 192-member UN General Assembly voted for India, the largest support received by any country for a non-permanent seat in the past five years. India has been on the UNSC six times in the past.

Huh? It’s just a non-permanent seat? And we’ve already held it six times before? You mean to say we’re doing it again with our own sloppy seconds? That’s simply preposterous!

But, hey, so many countries voted for us. That should count for something, innit?

To be elected to the Council, candidate countries need a two-thirds majority of ballots of Member States that are present and voting in the 192-member Assembly. The seats are allocated on the basis of geographical groupings.

Colombia, India and South Africa ran unopposed and were elected to represent their respective regions, having received 186 votes, 187 votes and 182 votes, respectively, in the first round of balloting.

Ahem, so what? We won, that’s what counts right? Now we can set the agenda, make them talk about real issues, show them who’s boss, right? RIGHT?

Following their election, South Africa, India, Colombia, Germany and Portugal will become non-veto holding members of the Council in January with the mandate to impose sanctions, as well as deploy peacekeeping forces around the world.

That’s it? All we get to do is write strongly worded letters and referee stupid civil wars? We don’t even get a measly ten percent discount at the UN gift shop? This is so disappointing! It’s like attending a Broadway musical choreographed by straight people! Or being a fan of the Kolkata Knight Riders! Or winning an all-expenses-paid vacation to New Jersey!

This is so unfair. We so deserve to be on the security council. We invented the zero, bhangra music and Anil Kapoor.

Isn’t that reason enough for everyone to ask us out and make us prom king?

 

Five new countries elected to two-year terms on UN Security Council [Joy Online]
187 of 192 backing it, India gets UNSC seat [Indian Express]
South Africans “Ecstatic” over Security Council Selection [VoA]

The India-Pak OMGLOLPalooza!

So I wrote this post when India and Pakistan had started bilateral talks last year, for the first time after so many months! Anyways, this got lost in the ‘drafts’ section, and since both countries are back to talking again (because as they say  538061844791849173583629172491312 time is the charm), this is relevant. So you could read it both ways, as something that happened in the past, or something that will happen in the future. Whatever works for ya, guvnor!

Note: Some dialog may have been changed to reflect recent developments. Also, watch out for the clichés.

***

After three false restarts, India and Pakistan are ready to finally start the dialogue-to-plan-start-of-dialogue. Yes, welcome to Season 4 of So you think you can hold a bilateral dialogue? Even though PM Singh has had a few bilateral meetings with both President Zardari and PM Geelani, everyone's pretending that didn't happen, and this is the first time they're meeting, after thousands of years of sending rude superpokes to each other through facebook.

And since there is no definite name for the summit/meeting/whatevs, we have helpfully named it OMGLOLPalooza, because, why not?

So the stage was set for Nirupama 'I got a fancy new hairdo just for this' Rao, who was representing the Indian government, and Salman 'Made in China' Bashir, who was representing the civilian government of Pakistan, the Pakistani army, Bilawal Bhutto, Pervez Mussharaf's bad-ass moustache, Jeebus, let's just keep it as a TBD.

Anyways, with the rest of the world watching (Not really. The Europeans are busy trying to save their economies while getting their ass kicked in football, the Americans are busy praying, sexting and blaming Obama for their hernia. the people in the continent of Africa are alternatively starving and killing each other, the South Koreans are occupied with playing video games, the Japanese spend their time having sex with female robots, the Australians are planning to spend the summer punching and kicking anyone they can get their hands on, meanwhile Israel and Iran are scheduled to spend the rest of the year trying to cockblock each other. Also, the whole world has seen this movie before and knows how it ends.) both these nuclear 'powers' on the brink of 'war' to finally set aside their differences and finish negotiating the divorce settlement they started negotiating more than six decades ago!

So here is the conversation that happened during their super-secret meeting:

SB: Hi . . .
NR: Oh hai, I can haz Hafiz Sayed?
SB: LOL! No! Strategic Asset FTW!
NR: Sadface
SB: I can haz Cashmere?
NR: R U Crazy?
NR: Can't even handle territory you actually have! Amirite?
SB: True dat! LMAO!
SB: But I can haz Cashmere?
NR: *facepalm*
SB: Is that a yes?
NR: No, no, a thousand times no! From our cold dead hands! Also!
NR: Which reminds me, stop trying to kill us all the time!
SB: Non-state actors, we can't control them, trolls etc. You know the drill . . .
NR: Yeah, pretty much.
NR: Okay, so here are some new dossiers. New evidence against old & new people.
SB: Ummmmm, yeah, sure, we're going to "read" this and take it "seriously".  *snigger*
NR: Umm, yeah. I'm sure about that!
SB: So can we talk about Cashmere, then?
NR: On two conditions. . .
SB: Which are . . . ?
NR: First, stop pronouncing it as "Cashmere", it's a place, not a sweater. K-A-S-H-M-I-R.
NR: Second, are you fucking kidding me?
SB: Fair enough.
NR: Now that we've got that out of the way, what’s with spying through our embassy staff?
SB: Well, I can’t speak for the ISI, because I’m not even allowed near their offices and if they ever see me there they might shoot me . . . but they must be doing that just to piss off Arnab Goswami.
SB: If they wanted real intelligence about your country, they would just ask the Chinese to send it over, in PDF format!
NR: Well, the Chinese are efficient, to say the least.
SB: Yes, yes they are.
SB: Have you seen their phones? They can do anything! Anything! Even talk dirty to my wife, while I watch my favourite TV show, The Secret Adventures of Agent Rana! It’s the #1 show, in Pakistan.
NR: Dude, calm down! And really, that was way serious TMI!
SB: Well, I was promised that we could talk about anything we want . . .
NR: Anyways . . .
SB: Sorry to interrupt, but before I forget . . . . something something Indus Water Treaty
NR: Huh?
SB: Just needed to mention that too!
SB: Which completes my checklist.
SB: Now I can go on teevee and proclaim that all issues important to Pakistan were discussed.
NR: You’re a sneaky basted!
SB: Guilty as charged! LOL!
NR: *rolls eyes*
NR: Okay, now can we get back to talking about terrorism?
SB: Yeah, sure.
SB: We want you to stop terrorizing us . . .
NR: O RLY?
SB: . . . with Mahesh Bhatt movies!
NR: To tell you the truth, he is one of our secret weapons.The other one is Himesh Reshamiya.
NR: Collectively, they are known as the Weapons of Mass Irritation.
SB: I see your Himesh, and raise you an Atif Aslam.
NR: Oh, that’s a good move. A bloody good move.
SB: Want to play a game of Poker?
SB: Whoever wins gets Cashmere!
NR: Jebus Hussien Christ! You’re an idiot!
SB: Well, you’re starting to sound like my wife!
SB: It makes me horny.
NR: I can’t do this right now. I have a headache.
SB: That’s what she says! Hahahaha!
NR: …….
NR: ……..
NR: This meeting is over.
SB: See you again . . . . in a few months time?
NR: *Sigh*. Yeah, I guess.
SB: You bring the food, I’ll bring the wine. *Wink*
NR: *Mumbling to herself* The only thing I’ll be bringing is a frikin pepper spray.
NR: *Exits*

The way we live now: The Internet in 2010

With every new internet application that becomes popular (Twitter! Facebook! Chatroulette!), there are millions of pixels written about the said phenomena. Almost all the “good” reporters write articles or do teevee news reports about how “<insert name of new web application>” is either ruining the internet and/or is a new revolutionary way to communicate with each other. (Except at Slate magazine of course, where I’m pretty sure that they’ve either written or are currently writing an article about how email is still the world’s most important “killer-app”).

Now, traditional journalists are not that fond of the internet as they claim to be. For them, the internet is sort of a bête noire. They may pretend to embrace it, but in most cases they simply come across as people devoid of any understanding of it whatsoever. Whenever they talk about the “new media” you can almost spot the froth coming out of their mouths. They can’t even know where to begin to understand the internet (to be fair, no one can. Maybe that is the beauty of the internet? OMG, we made an observation! And since it’s not on an old media platform, it probably doesn’t count!), but they bravely continue to talk about it. With embarrassing results.

The Internet in 2010: It knows everything. Just like that obnoxious kid in school.

Now here is the internet’s most common phenomena:

(a) Person A writes something and puts in on the internet.

(b) A large amount of people agree & disagree with Person A’s opinion

(c) Some snarky blogger links to Person A’s article/post and metaphorically tears it into pieces

(d) Person A writes post about how everyone who didn’t agree with them misunderstood them and/or the internet is full of mean and rude people.

The Internet in 2010: Just like your abusive ex-boyfriend. Nothing you do is ever going to be good enough.

Journalists' pride themselves in being the “first chroniclers” of history. However, nowadays, apparently, anybody with a computer and ability to type thinks “their opinion matters more than that of a journalist!” Silly idiots! How dare they think that? Thanks to the damn internet, the first chronicle of history will be by some stupid un-important person who doesn’t even have a teevee or dead-tree magazine gig and didn’t even go to some fancy journalism school.

Now, for a moment, imagine if you could read Cleopatra’s first person blog (Fuck like an Egyptian), how would you be able to figure out what she was saying? Would you have guessed that when she posted about her epic orgies with a Roman general named “Mark A”, she was referring to Roman general Mark Anthony? How would you be able to put two and two together, without the help of a journalist? How would you know that she was the first woman to ever get vajazzled?

And would Shakespeare have even bothered to write “Julius Caesar” if he found out that Caesar's death was caused by an harmless frat prank? Would there even be a “Caesar salad” if people thought that the man’s last words were “Don’t Ice me, bro”?

The Internet in 2010: Ruining history for future generations

The internet is a lot of things to lot of people. It even helps people create their own reality. Whether you want to still believe that the earth is flat, or that Paul is dead, there is an app for that. There is no universal truth anymore. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. And as it turns out, to their own facts. You don’t have to believe anything you don’t want to. And only on the internet can you have a second life, even if you don’t have a first one.

The Internet in 2010: Your own personal echo chamber

On the internet, opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one.

You may think that you’re smart, funny and insightful, but there is someone on the internet who is smarter, funnier and plenty more insightful than you will ever be. For every person who likes what you say, there are ten who think that you are full of crap.

The choice here is between speaking your mind or not saying anything at all.

If you think that anyone owes you respect because of whatever, well, just remember that on the internet no one gives a shit who you are.

To paraphrase some dude, The internet owes you nothing. It was here first.

The Internet in 2010: We’re all like a bunch of monkeys trapped in a cage. You can duck all you want, but one of these days you’re going to end up with shit on your face. The best you can do is to wipe it off and hope that no one figures out that the stench is coming from you.