Friday, August 29, 2008

Career Day at Whippersnapperville

So I heard some lady on CNN talk about glass ceilings and being what you want to be and so I thought it would be great to have a career, once again, even if it is for a week or two. Don't wanna try too hard, too soon, y'know.

I thought I'd be a politician but then I realized that it involves being nice and telling ugly people that "Beauty is skin deep" and doing other crappy things like kissing babies and shaking hands. That's really not any fun. Plus if you're in the system, it's pretty hard to criticize it and blame it for your unwillingness to do something about all the shit floating around in the world.

I wondered if I could be an activist working to change society and uplifting the poor and the downtrodden. Then I realized that it would mean that I would need to go to places which don't have air conditioning or bottled water or an espresso bar. Without these things, it's really impossible for me to exist. And I'm allergic to fresh air anyway. Also people who look like they haven't had to eat in ages freak me out.

So I thought that maybe I can try to be a lawyer. While I was reading article 1 of the constitution, I realized that why try to change things which already have a system? Poor people vote rich people into office. That's democracy. Poor people come into office and rob other poor people. That's socialism. And when poor people come into office and become rich by killing all the rich people, that's a revolution.

Then thought I'd become an actor. However, there's not enough money in the world to make me pretend to be a straight guy again. Unless it's straight guy who does other straight guys on the side. Then I'm up for it. Alas, to my utter disappointment, I found out that in the reel world, fat people don't have sex. So that ended all my silver screen dreams.

So on a bright, sunny day, I thought I'd take up a gig as a motivational speaker. Then, when I was getting ready to write my first speech, it dawned on me that telling unsuccessful people that there is still hope in their life and giving them a reason to live is really not my cup of decaf mocha. I mean with one stupid speech, I can't change their destiny, right? There is a reason lethal prescription drugs are sold at most pharmacies. I'm not suggesting anything, just pointing out some facts. Don't shoot the messenger.

Then I thought I'd become a psychologist. Why the fuck not, eh? But something made me realize that if I hear one more person bitch about how fucked up their life is I will go ahead and beat them with their own arm after I tear it out from it's socket. And then shave them bald and write "this mind is clusterfucked" on their big, bald head. Finally, just when they think it's over, I'll make them watch John McCain speeches in an endless loop. Nothing can be a more fitting punishment for such people.

Afterwards, when I was flipping through CNBC, I thought that I can try to be a successful Investment Banker. However, good sense prevailed over me. It's not that I won't enjoy wiping out the life savings of unsuspecting shareholders right when they need it. I just don't see myself spending the rest of my life copy/pasting things into a Microsoft Excel speadsheet. And all this talk of bulls and bears puts me to sleep. It also turns me off for some reason. Maybe because it's so unsexy.

So I came to the conclusion that I should stick to my current career path. It's the only thing I'm good at. And the only thing I want to do, really.
Being fat man passed out on bar stool.

Sounds like a perfect profession for me.


Wednesday, August 27, 2008

You know you are really fat & lazy when

- all the eateries around your house have installed a special private line just for your calls

- a restaurant introduces an "all-you-can-eat" offer for it's regular patrons, it sends you a notarized letter informing you that the offer does not apply to you

- in a time of crisis, your family turns to you after they have exhausted ALL their options

- you don't want to have children and/or pets because taking care of them will be "too much work"

- you receive an award and you phone in your acceptance speech

- when you show someone your photograph, you tell them that "the camera adds 1800 pounds"

- at your favorite restaurant, when you ask the waiter to bring "the usual", it actually refers to everything on the menu

- your t-shirt size is "oh my god! what the fuck"

- the reason you got late for the meeting? the escalator got stuck

- you classify dialing a phone number as exercise

- your daily intake of food could feed three countries in Africa, for a month

- your doctor privately refers to you as "my house-in-the-Bahamas fund"

- when a car bangs into you, you barely notice while the car is damaged beyond repair

- you are legally required not to jump because the last time you did, it cause an earthquake which was measured at 7.5 on the richter scale

- you have your own postal code

- your blood group is sugar

- you supersize you burger and fries and order a diet coke

- you'd rather die of thirst then go to the kitchen 5 feet away from your room to get a glass of water

- you get invited for an event, your first thought is "how can i get out of it?"

- your insurance company pays you in tubs of your favorite ice cream instead of money

- you haven't watched tv in ages because you can't find the damn remote

Monday, August 25, 2008

The world is going to the dogs

So I was half asleep, lying on my bed, out of sheer exhaustion, having been working the whole day. And then ...

Fine. I know you folks wouldn't believe me anyway. So let me rephrase that.

So I was lying on my couch, almost passed out from having had a little extra to drink than usual, when suddenly I found myself privy to some strange conversation.

I have always suspected that animals speak to each other and just pretend to be dumb in front of us. Yesterday, I got proof. I heard my family's pets talking amongst themselves. Coincidentally, it was about me.

So let's call these pets M, D and S.

Here's whatever part of their conversation I could remember:

M: So he's passed out again on the couch.
D: I'm getting sick of this shit, ya know. This guy has no life.
D: I mean, I'm not trying to judge here, but get a job, buddy.
S: I know!! He just lies around all day doing nothing. What a bum.
M: What are you guys talkin about? Don't you see him typing away on his notebook most of the time?
D: He's probabaly seing some porn again. What a fuckerhead.
D: That's the good thing about being a dog. You don't need porn. You're always naked.
M: You're such a dweeb, you know.
S: Shut up both of you, you'll wake him up.
D: Oh, don't worry. He's not going to wake up for another few hours.
D: Even a bazooka wont be able to wake him up right now.
M: That was funny, *giggle*
D: I'm funny like that, sometimes.
S: Oh, shut the fuck up asshole. I already hear him say that the whole day long.
S: Now you don't start. If I hear it one more time, someone's going to need a rabies injection.
M: I know. He thinks it's funny. Someone needs to tell him that it's the best seller at the lame-o-rama.
M: Lamer than his joke about calling us "Sons-of-Bitches" the whole day long.
M: I mean, for the love of the big woof in the sky, get a new joke. It's been two years, jackass.
D: Oh, he thinks he has a sense of humour.
S: Well, I don't know where he gets such weird ideas from.
S: And he's really been unstopable the last few weeks.
S: Someone's been giving him the wrong idea that he's funny.
M: You know, sometimes, when I hear him talk, I want to kill myself, just to feel a little better.
M: I agree. It's just not worth it.
D: You guys, you should start meditating.
M: Where do you get such weird ideas from?
D: Well, I was hungry and got one of his books to eat, but it was this new age spiritual book and it got interesting.
D: I now know three types of meditation. Yay for me.
D: And, I started my second bok already. I'm currently half-way through something called The Secret.
S: What's it about?
D: It's about positive thinking and shit like that.
D: You need to tell the universe what you exactly want and it ends up giving it to you.
M: Like a drive-in McDonalds?
D: No, not exactly.
S: Then?
D: Well, it's complicated. Too deep for your primitive minds.
M: Who died and made you a neo-guru, huh?
D: You know M, you can be such a bitch sometimes. Bow.
M: Yeah, like totally.
S: You dogs are crazy, you know that.
S: You're stealing and eating too many of his "special cakes".
S: I think you're getting delerious.
M: Oh, man, fuck, those cakes are delicious. They take me to a place I never even new existed.
M: Like a higher ground or something.
D: Forget that. I was talking to you about catharsis.
D: Whenever you get angry at him, just go and pee on his car.
D: He hates that.
D: And I love it when he gets a panic attack everytime I leave my man-juice on his car tires. The expression on his face when he discovers that is priceless.
D: It just makes all his bad one-liners worth listening to.
M: D, stop licking you own balls. You should know how to behave in front of a lady.
S: Like you're a lady. Ha!
M: Well, I'll have you know, that I pee sitting down. Hmph.
S: Oh yeah, that's the most important thing for a lady. You're right. My bad.
D: I'm hungry. I need some chow.
M: Well, I think he got a new batch of his special cakes made today. It's on the table in his room.
S: Let's go.

Friday, August 22, 2008

The Dream

After having a zillion bad days, finally he was having a good one. It was as if, for him ,the tide had suddenly turned. Finally all the pieces of his life were coming together.

Just yesterday, he had received the reply to his message. The first real date of his life was going to be tonight.

And now the call from the publisher. His dream of seeing his name in print was finally coming true.

All those years of struggling to come to terms with himself and all that time he spent wondering whether he was doing the right thing or not was a now a part of the past. The past which he could now bury and move on.

He would not be a failure in world's eyes anymore.

He could not wait to tell is parents. He cut his morning walk short and started running towards his house.

Then, in a flash, it was all over. He never even saw the car speeding towards him.

His name did appear in print. It was in the form of his obituary.

However, he would have to wait for that date. For an eternity.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Finally, the whippersnapper offers his wisdom to the world

Read this before you read anything else: I know most of you are going to ignore this anyway, but let me warn you that the following post may contain language and or euphemisms which might offend you if you are any of the following: God, Women, Men, Gay people, Straight people, Bi people (wtf), Sad people, Happy people, People with big wankers, people with small wankers, people without wankers, anybody who can read. It also compares the so called sacred institution of life with male genitalia. It also equates happiness with having a big wanker and a bubble butt. Wat the hell didja expect? I'm gay after all. D-uh.

Don't tell me you haven't been warned. Read at your own risk.

(Why is the disclaimer bigger than the whole fucking post?)

Since almost everyone in our blogging clique (are we a clique? possibly) is getting serious and profound, and because I cannot offer them individual sessions, I think everyone needs a dose of the world famous, universally renowned, tried & tested (mostly by me), WhipperSnapper Wisdom.

Firstly, all of us have questions. Questions about life. About why we are who we are. About our purpose on earth.

To tell you the truth, no one really knows the answers to these questions. Everybody just wings it. Even God. Or any other fairytale you believe in.

You see with all the shit that has been hitting the fan lately, I think G-d's been dialing it in for a few centuries. Or maybe he's getting laid in the Bahamas. It just depends which particular issue of Satan Times one is reading.

Anyways, I grappled with these questions too. For almost a week. And considering how short my attention span is, that is the equivalent of ten light years in whippersnapper time. What i found was deep and disturbing.

Basically, God was having fun one day and decided to create the earth. He made men who loved men and women who loved women and kids who could be ordered on Amazon dot com. So almost everyone on earth was living happily. Then God's wife saw how everything was going so well and decided to fix it. Typical woman. She made men who begun to like women and women who begun to like men. And people talked about feelings and monogamy. Pffft. Not that there is anything wrong with that. However, there were some original inhabitants who were too powerful even for Mrs. God. So she made priests whose only job was to condemn the original inhabitants. Soon the printing press was invented and everyone started believing this crap. Because people believed that everything that is published has to be true. So after a few centuries the original inhabitants were marginalized. Why? Because most people are stupid. Stupid people believe anything. That is why China does not want democracy and fifty million people voted for George W Bush. Holy Mother of God.

Now, a lot of people think that life is cool and shit and that positive thinking will cure anything. Fuck that. Life is supposed to be one long foreplay before the sweet orgasm of death. That is why alcohol was made. So that you can delude yourself that you're actually enjoying the foreplay and also fasttrack towards the orgasm. That's called killing two birds with one stone. Or licking two nuts with one mouth. Depends on which team you play on.

What I'm trying to say is that people will always find a way to be unhappy. Even if someone has the biggest wanker on earth or the best bubble butt ever, they will find some way to fucking fell sorry about themselves. It's natural. it's human nature. Happens to the best of us. That's how God intended it to be.

That's because if people start thinking that life is one constant blow job after another, who the fuck will pray?

People also wonder where they will be in a few years time. Let me break this one for ya. In a few years time, this beautiful, flawed race will be gone from the face of this earth. Yup. All of us. That's because we'll either choke ourselves to death or we'll nuke everything that breathes. Meanwhile, the best idea is to stop worrying about the future and concentrate on getting laid. Or getting high. What I'm sayin is pick a fucking hobby.

That's all.

Edit: By the way, I hope it shows that I'm an optimistic person. It does, right?

Sunday, August 17, 2008

The one in which we further the "homosexual agenda"

There are those when you get up and you have that feeling that it's going to be a really, really long day?

And even though you wake up at 2.30 in the afternoon, you have this feeling of impending doom. You know it's some festival but you don't remember which exactly? And after having your coffee you realize that you actually promised your sister an actual gift this time around for rakhi instead of handing her some cash and saying "Dude, get yourself sumthing nice." Then you remember that you didn't get her anything but you know she's gonna forgive you when you go sniff sniff and tell her that you have a "bad cold-d". And she knows how lazy you are. She's probably expecting it. So why to shock & awe her?

But that's not why it's going to be a long day. Or a long post. It's because people are coming over. People with kids. Kids of people who I am supposed to be related too. Which is scary. In both ways.

I mean cousins and relatives are kind of funny. I mean people you meet once or twice a year. I, as a rule, don''t bother with their names or occupation because I mostly just say a simple and effective Hi or nod my head to them anyway. The point I'm trying to make is that it's strange that people you are so unfamiliar with act like they're your best friend. Which is kinda stupid but the whole concept of "relatives" is kinda stupid. So I guess it goes with the territory.

Anyways, so this women (cousin? cousin's wife? avon lady??) suddenly decides to take it upon herself to talk some "sense" into me about marriage. Though almost everybody in the room cautions her against it. There have been great men and women who tried to argue with the whippersnapper but alas everything they said or did came to nought. So this women thought that she could change the course of history and change my opinion about something.

So she started her monologue about marriage and she said the usual stuff like you need to further the human race by having more children and that according to her I should now bring in someone take "care" of my parents. Yes, exactly. Like there aren't already enough children in the world and like my family needs a maid or something.

And then I realized, that like most people, she really doesn't know what she's talking about. That she doesn't get it.

I mean isn't mariage supposed to be about two people who love each other and want to spend their lives together. Not because they want to further their clan or get someone to cook & clean. Just like those idiots who accuse the proponents of Gay marriage as trying to further the homosexual agenda (can anybody memo me on this please?) their marriage is based on the wrong principles.

I mean if this is their definition of marriage, then I really don't want any part of it. I'd rather have a "commitment ceremony" or whatever other kinds of crappy names we can come up with.

Not that I woudn't call two people who would want to spend the rest of their lives together lazy and a little bit dellusional, but in a cute way. Cute like having a double chin.

p.s. We have a double chin. So cracks about double chins will not be appreciated. Well, unless they are funny. We'll laugh at anything, really.

Friday, August 15, 2008


Freedom means being able to choose your own destiny.

Freedom means giving and receiving love, without being judged for it.

Freedom means not worrying about what someone else thinks about the choices you make in life.

Freedom means wanting to embrace who you really are, without worrying about what other people say.

Freedom means not wishing to be anyone else but yourself. Nothing added, nothing subtracted.

Freedom means not having to compare your own life with the lives of other people.

Freedom means feeling happy for others for the love & happiness in their lives, even though it may be missing from your own.

Freedom means following your own bliss and not living your life according to someone else's script.

Freedom means to always be yourself and not pretend to be what you are not.

Freedom means making mistakes, owning up to them and learning from them.

Freedom means the right to find your own way to God. Or not believing in him/her at all.

Freedom means not subscribing to the classification of every action into good or evil.

Freedom means realizing that the world is your oyster.

Freedom means chasing your dream, even though everybody else and their uncle think you are meant to do something else.

Freedom means the ability to laugh at everything, especially your own self.

Freedom means opening your eyes to see the funny lining of the dark cloud, even though others choose to be blind to it.

Freedom means not becoming a prisoner of your own mind.

Freedom means not owing anybody any explanation.

Freedom means not to fall in the trap of "right" or "wrong".

Freedom means not putting a label on yourself or on anyone else.

Freedom means not living up to any stereotype.

Freedom means saying what is in your heart and not worrying about the consequences.

Freedom means trusting your own judgment, despite those various moments of weakness.

Freedom means defying convention to do your own thing.

Freedom means laughing at your own joke even though no one else thinks it's funny.

Freedom means letting go. Finally.

Freedom means moving on without looking over your shoulder.

Freedom means singing your own song, no matter how much out of rhythm it is.

Freedom means to look fear in the eye and saying "Bite me, bitch".

Freedom means deciding to risk it, just one more time.

Freedom means telling someone that you love them. Even if they can't hear you.

Freedom means leaving the job you didn't love to chase after the job that you really want.

Freedom means having that last piece of choclate cake. Even though it's too many calories.

Freedom means that even though they can chain you, jail you, trap you, maybe even kill you, but they cannot change who you are and what you believe in.

Freedom. Independence. This is what it means to me. What does it mean to you?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

How to be a dumbass in four easy steps

Step 1: Inspite of having a severe cold, shower with very cold water.

Step 2: Right after the shower, sit in your room with the AC on full blast and the fan running on full speed because "
The weather is so bloody humid."

Step 3: Instead of having delicious chicken soup your Mom has made especially for you, go and have a cold can of diet coke. Add ice for extra dumbass points.

Step 4: Refuse to adhere to anyone's advice and have only those kinds of food which aid the frikin flu. Use your own "Hit a cold with loads of ice cream" dumbass logic.

Final Result: End up worse then before and have no one but yourself to blame.

Congratulations, you're now a perfect 10 dumbass. Please take your head out of your derriere and collect your prize.

A two day trip to Urreallyfuckednow town. Enjoy.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Whoever said that happiness is a state of mind was an alcoholic

They can put a man on the moon, send a mission to mars, shoot a camel in the middle of the Kalahari desert from the sky, divide a fucking molecule into sub-particles, but they cannot come up with a cure for the common cold? Priorities, people. Where are our priorities?


You're bravely weathering the flu. You fell as irritated and helpless as the guy trying to teach John McCain about the internet. You decide to watch TV to distract yourself from everything. Then you switch it on, expecting to be entertained out of your miseries, when suddenly you see the following message on your tv:

"The STB cannot receive a signal".

You try to stay calm. You restart and try again. Maybe the bad message will go away. It does not. You then remember that it's satellite television. It does not work during rain, tornadoes, eclipses, sunshine, moonlight, boogie nights etc. Basically the equipment is a piece of crap. Then you get more cranky, call up the customer service and ask them to shove the stb up their useless asses. They pretty much don't have an answer to that, so you bang the phone down. Yes, you showed them.

Then you realize, that you still can't see the flippin TV. Aargh.


Thinking positively only works when you're high. Or when you're scaling Mount Everest.


I have more medicines flowing in my blood stream right now than Courtney Love has in her medicine cabinet. In fact, I think all the bacteria in my veins must be really, really high right now.


Does anybody else find it strange that even though I'm heavily drugged, I can still recall who Courtney love is?


This has been one boring, big-ass post. However, please do not blame me. Please blame western medicine. Thanks.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Open Letters: Rated "O" for offensive

Warning: The following post might be offensive to people who love children, dogs, mothers, early morning risers, parents, family members, know-it-alls, women etc. Consider yourself warned. The author of this blog takes no responsibility whatsoever. Well, you already know that, don't you?


Dear Blogger,

Could you please remove those pictures of those darn kids from my blogger dashboard page. No, I have nothing against children. I sometimes even acknowledge their presence. However, I really don't want to see someone's grown up sperm every time I wish to blog. It really freaks the crap out of me. And I don't freak out easily. Yeah.

which reminds me
Dear parents of infants,

You have a child. Well done. Good for you. They cry. They poop. They suck on their mother's tits. Unless baby's first word is the f-bomb, please don't call me with stories you think are funny and cute. Everything a infant does is not worthy of ohmygodyouknowwhatthelittleonehasdonetodayitssocute.
And I really don't give a rat's ass. It's that simple, really.

Dear Dog Owners (including my family),

You have a dog. Good for you. They bark. They poop. They smell each others ass. I don't find that cute. Not by a long shot. Thank you. Some of them have that "oh-I-am-so-needy" look going on which reminds me of suppressed straight married (oxymoron) guys. Just keep them out of my room. And my life. Not the straight guys, stupid. Just the dogs.

Dear People who use "." instead of space in their text messages,

Do you see the zero key? For the love of all that is good and pure, please, please, use that to separate your pearls of wisdom. Otherwise.I.Will.Go.Crazy. When you put a "." (referred to as a full stop) after a word, it becomes a sentence. This was perfect when people could only communicate through telegrams. However, advancements in modern technology has provided us with an ability to put spaces between the words we type. Not only is that better, it also does not freak me out. Which is what makes the world go round. No, seriously.

Dear the next person who asks me to buy insurance from their company or get liposuction from their hospital or get their company's credit card,

May a thousand camels feast on your nether regions. May a thousand birds shower your head with their choicest excreta. May your first born be a reality show contestant. May the next muffin you eat be sneezed upon.

Dear people who sit on their high horse and look down upon other mere mortals,

There is no bigger fool than the one who thinks he knows everything. There is also no bigger source of comic relief.

Dear people who love getting up in the morning and are beaming even before their first cup of coffee,

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? STOP READING THOSE SELF-HELP BOOKS. Life is not all rosy and shit. Jesus frikin Christ. Why can't you wake up groggy and sad like the rest of us. And fyi, it's not called being an optimist, it's called being delusional. Thanks.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Baby's first hate mail

Sometimes, just when you feel a little down the dumps, something happens which warms the cockles of your heart. The universe lets you know that it is watching over you.

So I thought I'd check my mail a little. Then, I saw a couple of mails which really made my day. It was such a pleasant surprise. My first anonymous hate-mail. Then another. Then another.

Usually I receive hate mail from people I know/have crossed paths with. But for the first time, unknown senders have taken it upon themselves to cheer me up.

Yes, for the those uninitiated in the ways of the whippersnapper, I love it when I receive hate mail. It just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. No, I'm actually not being sarcastic.

So some wonderful souls out there, have asked me a series of questions. Some are personal and some are spiritual. Some are just statements which I've interpreted as questions. I know what you're thinking, that I clearly have too much time. Well, yes, you're right. However, my first few hate-mail senders deserve an honorable mention. After all, they bought me such joy & happiness. So let's answer some questions.


Q: You said you don't work. You claim to be mooching of your parents. Don't you have any self respect?

A: Self respect is hypothetical. It was made up by some poor schmuck in the early 20th century England because he couldn't afford a room in the Ritz. So, to convince himself, he invented the words "Self Respect". Legend has it, that he kept muttering "I've got self respect, I've got self respect" over and over again to keep himself warm. Alas, that didn't help and after a few hours, he died of cold & hunger. So self respect doesn't even get you a warm cup of coffee or even a torn blanket. Also, modern usage includes a middle-aged woman who leaves her philandering husband after she catches him screwing his secretary. She continuously tells her spinster sister "At least I've got my self respect.". What she really wants is some action. This demonstrates that there is really not much practical use for "self respect", except maybe to provide motivation for a few vague characters in a Daniele Steel novel.

So to answer your question, no, I don't have any self respect. I have air conditioning.

Q: When you say that people hate you, you're right. I hate you more than anything else in the world. I hope you DIE.

A: Awwwww ... You really mean that? Thank you. It's really touching when someone says something so sweet.


Q: How will you reach out to God to atone for your sins?

A: Usually, I just send him a muffin or something through facebook. That does the trick.

Q: When did you sell your soul to the devil?

A: When I was five. But then he couldn't enforce the agreement when I grew up because according to Satanic Laws, contracts signed by minors without the presence of parents and/or guardians are null & void and are not valid in a court of satanic law. You see, I was a sharp cookie even back then.

Q: Your lifestyle has already reserved a seat for you in hell. Repent. Change you ways now and the lord may forgive you. Accept ***** ****** as your lord and savior. If you continue in your ways, you will roast in hell for eternity. For ETERNITY.

A: Meh. I'm pretty much set in my ways. I don't think I can change them. Plus since hell will be filled with a lot of us, I'm guessing I'll be getting lots and lots of action there. So thanks. It's the math, really. Though it's sweet of you to ask. Hopefully, you can find some other chump who will let you ruin his life. There's one born every minute. By the way, I've said it before and I'll say it again, people like you shouldn't be reading Gay blogs. You might CATCH it. *gasp* *gasp*. Now stop tickling my funny bone and get back into the asylum, you hilarious little thing.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Missing Blogger found . . . . . alive

The Blog police has finally managed to locate the missing blogger, Mr Rambunctious Whippersnapper aka Whippy aka Ramby aka RWS aka Ramb (you get the drift).

Mr WhipperSnapper was found today, lying unconscious on his bed.

He was wearing a black t-shirt which had the words "Mayor of WhipperSnapperville" on the front and "I disappear like that, sometimes" on the back.

The police got suspicious when various blogs started to miss a few stupid, lame, repetitive and moronic comments. It led them to the conclusion that Mr WhipperSnapper is either dead or in a coma. Sadly, he was just missing.

After they found him, there were various attempts to revive him. One fine day a mysterious lady appeared wearing a dress made out of the Union Jack and threw some dew drops on his face. The next day a minister wearing a bandage on one hand and holding a dumbbell on the other, came in and read out some hitherto unheard of psalms from the bible. Also, all the time there was a fly buzzing around him, watching his every move, clamoring for him to wake up.

Then, thanks to his co-conspirators, after a few days, suddenly, he woke up, still a little sedated, muttering "I need to blog ... I need to blog .....", over and over again.


I know, I know. Very, very cheesy. But I couldn't resist. We shall resume normal programming shortly. You all are wonderful people.