Tuesday, August 15, 2006


What happens when you're phenomenally bored during meetings? Don't know about you, but my mind tends to wander off in some very weird directions indeed. At the end of the last five-hour meet, I came to and looked down at the notebook. I'd picked up this habit of assiduously and industriously taking notes while fast asleep (actually, I have a nasty feeling there's a whole different alter ego that does stuff when I'm asleep. I definitely know I drove some 5 km in Goa with zero recollection...)
And in the book, this is what I saw...
A product that exists only in code, only recognizable by the way current flows are directed in semiconductor microchips, that still fulfils a function.
That function is media analysis.
a science
dedicated to analyzing the impact of planning an art (advertising)
of selling an idea (I must become thin)
of a concept (because thin is good)
of a brand (X will make me thin)
that's a perception (X the non-real personality with aspirational values)
of a product (non-aspartane-based sugar substitute)
that fulfils a need (looking good by being thin)
created of another perception of social expectation (looks are important)
created of a set of mores (looks means 34-22-36)
based on social psychology (34-22-36 means healthy, fertile, breeder)
that grew out of evolution (healthy fertile breeders are your best bet for preserving your genes)
from genetics (survival of the fittest)
from biology (fit means most efficient organisms, adapted to environment)
from chemistry (efficiency comes from best enzymes, molecules, oxygen conversion)
from physics (molecules form operating on electron orbital linkages between atoms)
from quantum physics (atoms are made of quarks)
from string theory (top, bottom, left, right, charming, and strange quarks are made of unidimensional vibrations in different directions)
which is a... faith?
I need help, right?

Monday, August 14, 2006

Telecaller 2.0 - The Next Generation

she: sir this is ___ calling on behalf of orange.
me: yes?
she: sir you are using prepaid or postpaid?
me: madam, are you prepaid or postpaid?
she: sir i can be whatever you like sir. if you want prepaid i will be prepaid, if you want postpaid will be postpaid.
me: ??!
she: sir you are interested?
me: umm... how much do you charge?
she: sir it depends on the plan sir. i have starting from Rs. 250 per month sir.
me: and what do i - er - get in this plan?
she: blah blah blah blah blah
me: sigh...

But the day is not far, I feel...

Sunday, August 06, 2006

an ode to nice guys

Found this on a a rainy sunday afternoon.

And this is so true. (Sniff.)
I don't get it. We might be socially dumb but at least on the overall, have a fairly above-average level of intelligence. Why can't we see that being 'nice' just isn't working?
We listen, we escort, we drop and pick up, we buy thoughtful gifts and do the life-saving, career-boosting work / idea / solutions... and still go home in the end. Hasn't it occurred to us by now that there really isn't any point in doing this? Sure, I'll get appreciated, remembered, kiss my ass. There's no RoI. Even the odds of anything happening by chance are way way too low.
Why do we persist in this self-destructive behaviour? Does niceness come with a side order of masochism? Or just a special kind of dumb?


Tuesday, August 01, 2006

view from the loo, part two

A loo is not just a place to pee in. It's an entire world in itself, with it's own rules, culture, and most of all, it's biodiversity.

Undresser: He'll walk in, take off the belt, open 3 shirt buttons, and drop his pants halfway down before getting within 2 feet of the urinal. Hello! You coming to take a leak or father a dynasty?
Spitter: Will lean morosely over and spit... spit... spit... ok, so you really needed to let it out, but try and do it from just one end, hmm?
Talker: Cellphone precariously slung between shoulder and jaw, will close deals, comfort parents, flirt with GFs, and argue with wife. Spends an average of 10K a month on new phones and an average of 10 minutes on each leak.
Conversationalist: Unlike the talker, who tends to remain lost in his own private world, the conversationalist will discuss work, life, cricket, the stock market, the latest release, music, philosophy, motorcycle maintenance, yes, zen too, and anything else you can think of with you while you're both together. Usually tends to be your superior in rank or size since the juniors die horrible deaths in mysterious and disgusting circumstances.
Choked: Can't go if there's anyone near him, or in the room, or in his imagination. Will stand with desperately blank look for up to 15 mins at a time. Usually dies by explosion. If you see a blankly pained look on a fat guy, RUN!!
Will aim for the scented napthalene cakes / ice lumps and chase them around, displaying a skill and resourcefullness rarely seen outside most top-level hockey leagues. Usually runs out of ammo before objective is achieved, forces himself, and bursts a blood vessel.
Bather: The urinal's not where all the action is; check out the washbasin. This guy apparently walked in from 10 years in the Sahara, 'coz he's been splashing his face, hair, neck, head, shoulders, arms, and everyone around him for the last 5 mins. Some one throw this dude in the pool please!
Psycho caller: Not strictly a denizen but intimately associated with the natives, the psycho caller is telepathically linked to your urethra and will phone you exactly as you get going. You then struggle with L'il Bro, your pants, your embarassment and your phone while Himesh sings out polyphonically from your crotch.

On the other side, the Stalls!

Singin' in the rain: Or humming, whistling, whatever. Fairly content and happy camper. Usually revered as holy man, sage on the mountain, or local tech guru in the outside world.
Tycoon: Will read entire paper and do his NAV checks and P/E ratio analyses before he arises. Is usually banned from most libraries due to Pavlovian response.
Big Boomer: Will fart LOUDLY and follow up with rich-media sound effects. Grunts and sighs for additional benefit.

And how can we forget the underpreviliged left-out-in-the-cold species, Desperate Andy, the Guy Next In Line. Usually found in pubs where bladder pressure soars in inverse proportion to loo capacity. Will bang on door, swear, dance the macarena, and finally semicollapse against the door in agony. Great fun to watch after 4 pegs when you wait for him to realize the door opens the other way and he's been roasting in bladder hell for an empty loo.

Coming next... the girl's loo counterpart, as soon as I get this damn spycam hooked up properly...