This Beach Called Life - the aka_lol's blog

Parallel Lives

2007-07-16T20:59:00.000-04:00

The best things in life run in parallel and this blog is the one exception. I am now updating my blog-life at an almost parallel blog at Wordpress because I find Wordpress nice to look at. I am doing this for the same reason celebrities have plastic surgery done on important body parts - the paparazzi.

http://akalol.wordpress.com/

Larry vs Paris - The Blog Interview

2007-06-30T14:58:00.001-04:00

LK: Welcome Paris. How was jail?

PH: I wasn’t in jail; I was at a correctional facility. You make it sound so gross.

LK: You were behind bars, weren’t you?

PH: Bars are for hardened criminals and houses in Trinidad and I am not a hardened criminal nor was I in Trinidad.

LK: How was your stay at the correctional facility and what was being corrected?

PH: Larry, you know a judge sent me there because he thought I was a menace to society. He thought I should be taught a lesson and my behavior was what he was trying to correct. And I think I was corrected.

LK: That sounds so profound coming from one who is so blond. Are you a true blond?

PH: Didn’t you see my movies?

LK: Let’s not go there. Miss Hilton, there are those who love you and those who hate you. Why is this? What do people hate about you.

PH: I know people hate me for my looks, my partying skills, my vanity, my money, my dog; Tinkerbell, and I am a natural born beauty with a perfect figure. What’s not to hate.

LK: But some say you’re dumb.

PH: Dumb is a four letter word that should never be used to describe people you are not related to. I am the perfect package so it’s natural for those who envy me to find one little fault in me and make a big deal out of it. I am not dumb; I just don’t have the time to be smart.

LK: So then why do you have so many fans?

PH: My fans are those people who appreciate perfection not brains. I don’t choose my fans they choose me. People don’t like you or hate you because of your IQ. You can’t always take IQ to the bank but you can always bank on beauty.

LK: You cried like a baby when they were taking you to prison; you called for your mommy. Was jail for you a turning point in your life?

PH: I had been handcuffed before but never like this. I cried because I couldn’t take my friends with me and they all should be there. Yes, it was a turning point for me, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I had time to reflect in a sober mode and for the first time in my life. I am sure I am a different but better person, a more responsible person who appreciates the consequences of not wearing makeup.

LK: Was that the reason you were whisked away from the paparazzi when you were released?

PH: Yes.

LK: Are you real or are you a made up girl.

PH: Feel this Larry…just joking, I know about your hearth condition.

Cough, cough! Larry almost falls off his chair.

LK: You almost pulled my plug there girl…what would you say would be the biggest change in your life after prison?

PH: I will party less, look at Discovery Channel…and the Larry King Show, naturally. I will wear underwear more often, learn to read, find out where the bookstores are…there are a whole host of things I was putting off.

LK: Would you call yourself a bad girl?

PH: Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t bad the new goodness?

LK: Would you say your parents brought you up in the wrong way?

PH: What is the right way? I was born to look good and that is my calling. The public need me Larry, they need to look see what they are not. We are all not equally blessed and why should I pretend I am not who I am.

LK: You sound smarter than you look. I am impressed.

PH: That is what I do best Larry, I impress.

A Wealthy Nation

2007-06-30T14:56:00.001-04:00

Corn-curls are important to any nation aspiring to become developed. You can tell by the speed and urgency which the corn-curls delivery trucks pelt down the highway at six in the morning. I have nothing against early deliveries but driving like a menace to meet an unrealistic delivery schedule is criminal. All corn-curls investors want a high rate of return on their investment because they have boats and girlfriends to buy. In order to make more money the output per corn-curl worker has to be increased, thus giving rise to speeding trucks at daybreak. Higher profits mean increased employment and the employed not only provide for their families, they provide them with corn curls. The more corn-curls a country possesses wealthier the nation.

Beer trucks are slower than the trucks of their corn flavored counterparts. What they lack in speed and aggression they make up for in causing traffic jams in narrow country roads where the people-to-bar ratio is legendary. Beer distributors claim using smaller trucks would be uneconomical since they would cause less traffic, giving people less reason to drink. The main reason men drink beer is not to relieve stress but to attract females by developing an appealing beer-belly. Like corn curls, the beer-belly is a wealth indicator.

SUVs deliver children to schools and contribute positively to global warming. Not only is the SUV fuel-inefficient but also their drivers sport oversize sunglasses to hide wrinkles and hangovers. By driving an SUV a person makes a bold statement about what they are and that statement says, I may not be pretty but I sure got money. The typical SUV driver talks about the dangers of global warming while driving. They justify buying an SUV by claiming the roads are bad, and that is why they swerve from every pothole they meet. In most wealthy countries, the SUV and its owners are considered as important as corn curls and beer as wealth indicators.

We are a wealthy nation.

This Thing Called Lite

2007-06-19T09:00:00.001-04:00

A Diet cola is a sugar-free drink bought by people who need to reduce their waistline by reducing their guilt. Diet cola is an acquired taste and people who have been drinking the stuff for years manage to convince themselves that it taste better than its sugary sister. To say one thing taste better than another is to say one girl looks better than another, or that Chinese taste better than Indian. It’s all a matter of the personal taste an individual develops after years of patronizing countless fast food joints and porn sites.

I have been drinking Diet Coke and Coke Light for years and I do feel fat when I taste the regular Coke. Numerous studies suggest all foods, including diet drinks and curry duck, can cause you to suffer and die in a Government run hospital by age fifty. The main cause for concern in diet drinks is a sweetener named aspartame, an evil sounding word coined by rat-killing scientists. Searching on Google, I didn’t find any conclusive evidence that suggest aspartame will harm you any more than being hit on the head by a falling Julie mango will.

The alleged dangers of diet drinks was first raised by and alarmist looking for new ways for people to die from food. Alarmism is the world’s fastest growing second-job and it attracts those who are not only caring, but social oddities. The alarmist warns anyone who is bored enough about the dangers of everything, including alarmist and activist. According to the alarmist, there is nothing in the world that’s safe. Manufacturers have acknowledged this and now place appropriate warnings on products in their finest print.

Beer brewers now warn people that drinking and driving can be dangerous, and driving should be avoided rather than drinking. I agree; why should beer manufacturers promote the auto industry. Manufacturers’ warnings are legal loopholes that send profits up and customers to opticians. Even razorblades now come with the warning “sharp edge,” and I certainly hope so. Cautions are too common, and alarmists are even more so. The warnings are unnecessary and obvious - sleeping tablets can cause drowsiness, thongs may stick, rap music sucks. Vital information is lost among the clutter and the needless. Google is crawling every nook and blog to populate their databases.

We can no longer tell good from and bad so we listen to Britney and look at Paris. Our information filters are defenseless and our brain is overloaded. More dangers lurk than ever before and our blogs are useless. Information overload is turning us into zombies writing warnings in blog-form that no one will ever read. I feel like a cigarette pack.

The Journalist 101

2007-06-11T21:34:00.001-04:00

A local daily newspaper with variable circulation and don’t know why, advertised for trainee-journalists who are willing to work for a stipend before being rejected for the job. They requested a resumé, and a written reason in one hundred words or less, why you want to be a journalist. I am not that inclined but writing anything in one hundred words or less is too tempting to turn down. I clocked 101.

Why I want to be a journalist 101

I am not sure if I want to be a journalist more than I want the stipend. Being a journalist is more than driving big cars and partying with the latest lingerie models. It’s seeing my name in print and getting letters from people who imagine I am good looking. Journalists rub shoulders, and sometimes breast, with the best. Top journalists know unnamed sources and even a few reliable ones. Reporters are knowledgeable people and that’s why Stephen Glass is my hero. Journalists are quite unique and have the power to save the world in one column, but only after editing.

Mosquitoes

2007-06-09T11:41:00.000-04:00

There is no love-hate relationship between man and mosquito - only hate and bug spray. Mosquitoes serve no useful purpose and that is one similarity they have with man. Other similarities are, mosquitoes spread diseases and bite people. Mosquitoes evolved around the 9^th of June, 170 million years ago and for no good reason. Since then, things have never been the same.

The female mosquito lives up to five times longer than a male mosquito and this has been linked to a diet high in greasy foods and too little activity, making the male fat and easier to whack. Swatting a mosquito is the second most enjoyable thing a man could do, and swatting a male is the most gratifying thing a female could do. Domesticated mosquitoes live within a one mile radius from its breeding site, until they become teenagers and learn to drive. Mosquitoes can detect a human from 100 feet away by sensing body heat and the scent of the human’s CO2 emissions. The mosquito hum is the most irritating sound known to man, and is second only to the voice of his wife. The female mosquito sucks blood and the male simply sucks. This is not surprising since all females, regardless of specie or wingspan, are programmed to draw blood from males. Men only want a female and blood type is not important. Mosquitoes can cause havoc and one mosquito at a nudist camp can cause more panic than a plague of photographers with 10x zooms and high-speed Internet access.

The mosquito evolved long before man and only Darwin, or Dawkins knows why. But, like the cockroach and political opportunist, mosquitos will be here for a long time to come.

Paris Hilton

2007-06-04T21:34:00.000-04:00

Paris Hilton is doing time for violating a three-year probation for drunk driving and possibly bad acting. She should be forgiven since she is young and has too much money to need a real brain. Miss Hilton was initially sentenced to 45 days in jail but had it cut in half for good behavior and nice legs. Paris Hilton will be serving semi-hard time in a 12-cell special needs section of Lynwood Century Regional Detention Facility, also known as the county slammer. With semi-hard time she will be wearing the same outfit everyday. She also has special needs and to be locked away is one of them.

Paris Hilton has been described as a socialite, heiress, sexy, over-sexed, brat, spoilt-brat, airhead, dumb, blond, dumb-blond, narcissistic, intellectually misunderstood, prison-bound, and enhanced. Half of what you know of celebrities is normally untrue and the other half is silicone. She is grossly misunderstood and needs to learn English. In order to understand Paris you need to put your self in her shoes - preferably one of the pink pairs. She can sell a man anything but it’s not for sale.

Being born of rich parents is no guarantee that the media will seek you out, but a sex-tape and no underwear, especially if female and pretty, is a sure thing. The media craves what the public craves and the public craves a beauty less ordinary and a bald Britney. We make celebrities by feeding their starving egos, and they in turn feed our hungry imaginations, and our desperate blogs.

Miss Universe 2007 etc

2007-05-30T10:52:00.000-04:00

Until she fell, the Miss USA delegate at the 2007 Miss Universe Contest was hardly noticeable. Some critics said it was her fall and prompt recovery which landed her in the top five. It probably also earned her several boos. She is a very pretty girl and had the typical bubbly Miss USA delegate bubbliness. Even as the other delegates counted her down time, she appeared only momentarily bothered. Slowly, her embarrassment showed as her shock wore off. She developed an appealing blush. Miss USA is not the first Miss Universe contestant to hit the floor and, if my memory serves me right, Miss Philippines toppled in Trinidad and Tobago in 1999 and still made it in the top three.

If Miss USA was very pretty then why was she scarcely noticeable until the fall? It is a well know fact that too much of a good thing is bad for you and too many pretty girls on one 32 inch TV, though not necessarily bad for the average man, makes individual beauty elusive. I had trouble telling Miss Brazil from Miss Japan. I mixed up everybody. But, then she fell.

The swimsuit section is actually the skin-wear section and is judged on the creativity and beauty of gyrating female hips. Nothing above the navel has a serious impact on the points a contestant receives. All the bikinis have to be the same and over-gyrations are frowned upon by wives and girlfriends. Tall contestants leverage more points but being too tall strains the eye movement of the amateur judges.

Trinidad and Tobago did not field a delegate this year and it was the first time in sixteen years this happened. The official reason is not enough sponsors. The real reason is that pretty girls don’t need this added stress to become famous. They now use YouTube.

The winner of the 2007 Miss Universe competition is Miss Japan and though she is Japanese, she is not foreign-used. I doubt a bad selection for Miss Universe could ever be made since the selection is highly subjective and never political. The Miss Universe competition is losing its popularity because the Internet makes smart and pretty girls more common. I don’t think the competition can be easily revived with everyone knowing a prettier girl than the prettiest girls competing. It appears great beauty is no longer hard to find.

The Rainy Season

2007-05-29T22:09:00.000-04:00

The start of The Rainy Season is a happy time for most people. It signifies the end of bush fires, the Sahara dust, and WASA's dam prayers. It brings with it, not only the greenery, but also half a dozen old fridges floating down and blocking up the neighborhood ravines. The rains have a way of exposing bad habits and faulty people. The showers can make flowers grow and carpets smell. It also brings with it warm cozy feelings and frequent TV appearances of the minister responsible for flooding.

Some say the best part of the rainy season is waiting for a hurricane to nearly hit Trinidad and nearly miss Florida. There is always misguided eagerness that hurricanes and storms bring out in people who never had their houses end up in another neighborhood or island. Some say God is a Trini and that is why they don't bolt down their roofs or think before they vote. I say, God is migrating sooner than they think, and it has nothing to do with West Indies Cricket this time.

The Rainy Season can be unsympathetic to insurance companies and their customers' premiums. The rain doesn't claim to be anyone's friend or anyone's enemy. The rain is simply a natural occurrence made worse by Global Warming and disaster movies. We can either love the rain or collect it in buckets, it doesn't care. We can blame the weather all we want but we still have to buy new wiper blades and life rafts. The Rainy Season is not a living thing but it is necessary for our existence and that of umbrella salesmen. The Rainy Season is not here for our convenience or entertainment. It is here because that's how the Earth spins.

Dear aka - again

2007-05-18T13:09:00.000-04:00

Dear aka, I know this may sound as senseless as your blog but I needed to ask you this before the correct answer is made public. I read this question on another blog and think you need to answer it properly this time. My question is - do short people fall less often than tall people, and do thin people feel less pain than fat people.

-----

Dear Questionable,

Firstly, short people are now called vertically challenged and tall people are called by their names. A recent study of one hundred falling humans have revealed that a tall person is ten times more likely to topple when dropkicked than a short person. Researchers also discovered that short people are poor targets for dropkicking and should be punched hard in the stomach instead.

A recent random pinch test conducted on the streets of the nation’s capital revealed that the police only responded to one out of fifty incidents of random pinching. The test also showed that fat people were slower to slap the pincher and it was harder to find something to pinch on the thin people. One researcher observed that fat people wore tighter jeans, and received large amounts of oggoling while thin people pretended not to care. The study concluded that both fat and thin people felt the same amount of pain and almost the same amount of embarrassment in clothing stores and popular beaches.

aka_lol

aka_lol's respones to - How To Choose a Digital Point-and-Shoot by Mike Johnston

2007-05-13T13:06:00.000-04:00

My comment in response to Mike Johnston's blog on

                                                  How To Choose a Digital Point-and-ShootSome of these silver-boxes are even more expensive than a DSLR, but look more fashionable and can fit easier in a shirt pocket or wallet. 
I get the impression that Mike Johnston is either being a devil’s advocate, or an aggrieved photographer. Incidentally, the aggrieved photographer is becoming trendy and they, more than likely, may displace the poor and the needy as the object of charity and tax breaks. 
I believe Mike Johnston is suggesting that if you only have a limited time on this planet you might as well use it on something useful like real photography or cussing. I almost agree with him. 
Not everybody who can afford a BMW buys one and similarly not everybody who can afford a DSLR believes they are worthy of such a device. The average BMW owner craves a status symbol and comfort, and has little appreciation for the intricacies of how the engine really works or why the car must be rebooted every weekend. The average DSLR owner hopes to make the quantum leap forward in his/or her photography, but usually ends up blaming the lens. 
What I have discovered is that the world doesn’t come to an end, or become less happy because people are not interested in photography. I don’t know anything about classical Indian dance, or appreciate why the Mona Lisa is such an overpriced painting, but I am happy with that ignorance. Some may scorn me for my ignorance but it’s their scorn and my bliss. Similarly, millions of people are happy with their silver light-capturing boxes, fitted with Leica lens, and set on the green auto-mode because they don’t want to learn the difference between an f-stop and a bus-stop. I doubt these people want to go through the frustration of acquiring photography knowledge, and the even more frustrating process of applying that knowledge in the pursuit of creativity and impressing others. 
Because we are not all the same we all seek different pursuits for happyness. Unfortunately, some may not be happy with this latest state but, as the old saying goes, that’s life.

The Goodly Cleric

2007-05-06T11:55:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, on a tiny diagonally shaped island located not too far away, there lived a goodly cleric. He was loved by all the people, revered by his followers, and even tolerated by his wife.

One day, as bad luck would normally have it in April, the cleric was discovered hiding in his closet by a bunch of his most possessed followers. He was humming along to an Elton Wrong song being played on his iPod while eating a fruit. Pink with embarrassment and fearful for his life, the goodly man declared he didn't know it was Elton Wrong and thought it was Dire Straight - It should be noted that turning pink while eating a fruit was not considered helpful in such situations and shouting Dire Straight had only a minimal effect on the amount of blows received - This enraged the loyalist even more and they started to shout imaginary passages and a real nursery rhyme from their collectively small minds. He begged his followers for forgiveness but they didn't know the meaning of the word and no one walked with a dictionary that day. The mob demand answers and a full cash refund, but he still could not explain why he seemed to have a passion for eating fruits in closets. Maybe he had a thing for seeds.

The followers, believing that love not only changes everything but should hurt, agreed on some good licks. They dragged the MP3 player by the ear buds, along with the fruit by the bag into the parking lot and leh go some good wood onto the deviants. The followers knew that lehing go some good wood was the answer to all the world's problems, and things like kindness and understanding were for marketing purposes only. The mob then called for an embargo on all iPods and Mac computers because its maker was closely associated with a major foreign fruit. Fearful of contamination by ignorance, the mob also stopped eating vegetables since most followers had great problems distinguishing real fruits from real vegetables in nightclubs. The cleric couldn't understand what all the fuss was about since after a few drinks they all tasted the same anyway.

The preacher man finally succumbed to pew pressure and turned his life into a bigger mess. He started to eat straight meat and poultry, but no hen. He took part in village fruit-hunts, where even jams, jellies, marmalades and the better quality fig newtons were not spared a good trashing. But he didn't care anymore since, along with kindness and understanding, it was removed from his job specification. All they required of him was to carry a straight public face that was washed in a gold, fruitless sink all year round.

The Writer

2007-04-26T12:42:00.000-04:00

The writer twiddled the pen over the blank sheet of paper for over an hour as his thoughts flowed right out the window, completely bypassing the pen. Maybe he should close the window.

He was in the twilight of his life and all he had to show for it were three-dozen successful books and a goatee. It was true that the books were highly regarded and not the goatee but that's how it was with goatees. It was also true that he had won the most prestigious awards for his works, but despite his successes he had this empty feeling deep down inside, and a little to the left. He thought it might be those damn mixed feelings again.

The local University was honoring him for his lifetime achievements and he wondered if they were going to serve pholourie. It was not a Pakistani dish. He liked the speeches and tried not to fall asleep. Some of the best minds in the land were invited to ask him questions about his work so he pretended the sound system was acting up. But the public wasn’t fooled; it was a DJ Lallo system. The next day they forced him to wear a suit and sit in a hot room with three hundred exam-ready teenagers. The teens asked him questions about the easy way to success and he told them go blog themselves. The press smelled blood but all he smelt was gas. That was when the effigy burning began. He even bought two to take back home.

For all his life there were only a few moments he ever wanted to give the young ones stock tips like do your homework, obey your parents, floss daily, find out who your father really is, but those moments had long since disappeared together with his once-prized Theroux's inscribed first editions. In his opinion, if there was one thing the young ones needed apart from a good pimple cream, was an early introduction to recognizing good books by their covers. If you want to fake intelligence you might as well go all the way, he chuckled.

Maybe it was his age or maybe it was the Johnny Walker, but she looked too good that day. He remembered his friends telling him she didn’t deserve him and he was better off with the scotch. He should have listened. Like all wives of celebrities, she became the object of insults, and not just from him, but the public. She created quite a stir and it felt odd that reviewers now reviewed his wife as much as his books. They even speculated on the current state of his sex life and he didn’t like the intrusion one bit. His wife didn't like his either. The writer felt that his bed life was his private life, or as someone once said, the life of his privates.

She became the shadow he didn’t want and he became the bank account she never had. He wrote, analyzed, lectured, and signed only new books. She sniffed them for age, the books that is. He was honored for his work. She acted like it was hers. He remembered thinking how a writer’s life was so difficult and how a writer’s wife could be so easy. But he was old, and needed someone to help him be obnoxious when he was tired. That is what they liked about him and that is what they hated about her. She was just what the PR people might have ordered to keep his audience curious between books.

The writer longed to return to his homeland since it was where it all began, and where the honorarium was good. With his enormous success in the literary world he didn't need any more honors, but at his age, he needed to let people know he was still alive. And this he did, so they wrote about him in the newspapers everyday. He could tell they had mixed feeling about him so he ordered mixed drinks and wore shorts by the pool. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

He sat in his first class seat and pretended not to notice the flight attendant was bending over just enough to make him happy to be alive. Then he looked across at his wife and wondered if they loaded all his baggage. Losing baggage is not always a bad thing, he thought. In a strange way, it was sad to leave but he was taking back with him memories of a place he should never forget and a few little bottles of shampoo. It kept his goatee soft and manageable. The plane was delayed for only half an hour, but at least it gave him some more time to figure out how to insert the metal flap into the buckle. He was tired. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and passionately squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, as lovingly as any flight attendant could, considering how close his wife was. But she didn't notice, she never does.

The plane took off and he rocked his seat back. The writer was happy for the first time since he was last happy. He was about to start a new chapter in his life.

THE END

B.C vs V.S

2007-04-22T08:06:00.000-04:00

My version of B.C vs. V.S

B.C - Sir V.S, I understand that even as we speak there is good-sized mob is burning an effigy of V.S. Naipaul in the car park. How do you respond?

V.S - Mimic Men!

B.C - But Sir, are you not a least bit disturbed by this vile and grotesque action?

V.S - No, and I am actually pro-effigy burning. I might even have said so in one of my books, but I don’t have them all in my head. It’s a lot safer than burning the author, when you think about it.

B.C. - Why would anyone want to burn an effigy of you?

V.S - Ignorance and stupidity can make people do the strangest things; look at politicians. I think people who have never read or understood my work want to burn me. But then there is the intellectual set who think they understand my work and want to desperately sound as if they do; British accent and all.

B.C. - I did a satirical piece on Miguel Street which was.........

V.S. - ....My lawyers will be paying you a nice little visit in the morning. Do you have any court clothes?

B.C - Ahem! ok. Let's move on. There is a classic question which people ask you that you don’t seem to give an acceptable answer. The question is……..

V.S - ....It was a simple omission, a bit of forgetfulness, call it Nobel fever if you will. How many times do I have to imply that I am sorry! Wives!!

B.C - No, that wasn’t what I was going to ask – the question I have in mind is “What advice can you give to budding young authors”

V.S - What are you, a school child! That is not a valid question, please, can we move on. You are a past-paper oriented society. Get out into the world and immerse yourself. Do the bloody work child, and if you are any good maybe one day someone will ask you to autograph one of your books. I have said it before and I will say it again, literature was meant for adults and adult literature even more so.

B.C - Sorry I asked!

V.S - They usually are.

Five Doubles, The Mindless-Mouth and World Peace

2007-04-04T08:25:00.000-04:00

“Five doubles, two with no pepper, three without, six in all.” Naturally this order for doubles had the doubles lady cleanly stumped like a lackluster West Indian cricketer during a World Cup Match held somewhere, except Trinidad and Tobago, in the West Indies. Sometimes people say stupid things which can make a doubles line grow unbearably longer, and that was definitely one of those unbearably longer times.

We all make mistakes with our words when our mind has left our mouth to fend for itself for any time longer than it takes to say the shortest word in the world which, incidentally, is no longer floccinaucinihilipilification. I am yet to meet a mouth that could live peacefully without a mind and the mindless-mouth phenomena is the reason countries start wars, politicians give political speeches, men say I do, and young people drop dead from old age in slow moving fast food lines at Church’s Chicken in Grand Bazaar. The mindless-mouth is generally the cause for all forms of human suffering, except ingrown toenails and the reappearance of the dinosaur formerly known as extinct.

Some say the secret to world peace is to have more mind and less mouth, but such humans are not evolving anytime soon because of some genetic dispute with human nature and the low wages paid to sheep-cloning scientist. The non-believers and the believers, despite their disagreements on whether the Milky Way is really a galaxy or a chocolate malt-flavored nougat and caramel bar covered with milk chocolate, have both agreed that the world not only needs more love, but less mouth. Personally, I believe that more mouth and more love can happily coexist depending on the technique applied. I also believe the world could do with a more equitable distribution of human fat and mirrors which make people look as good as they think they should. Judging from the success of the war and human strife channel, CNN, it appears that world peace is still as elusive as a Miss Universe contestant wanting something else.

300 - Not Just A Number Anymore

2007-03-18T12:07:00.000-04:00

I, like most of the over 300 or so people in Screen 1 at Movietowne yesterday, thoroughly enjoyed the movie called 300 (pronounced chee hundud when chewing gum). It was hard not want to be a Spartan before the movie ended and I still have the urge to continually shout in a deep testosterone rich voice and grow a Spartan beard. I am so taken in by 300 that I also have this cavernous urge to buy a spear, a sword, and a good multipurpose, arrow-resistant shield, but my greatest urge is to seek out a new body by dusk. I will go shopping for these items tomorrow.

Despite rumors floating around in critic’s circles, this movie wasn’t made to generate international support for Sparta, or to expose current Persian aggression, but simply to entertain those who are so inclined to be entertained. If there is any criticism about this movie I hope it’s criticized for what it was intended to be rather than what the reviewer thought it was. This movie wasn’t intended to be a Driving Miss Daisy Home and it did not have those moments. 300 will not receive a best picture nomination and I doubt any of the cast will receive nominations for anything other than body of the year, or best male voice in a mainly computer generated gladiator flick. The only real criticism I can level at this movie is that it sorely lacked the usual amount of revealing female bodies that male moviegoers are accustomed seeing for $45 at Movietowne.

300 was rated 14+ in Trinidad and Tobago but in the US it's rated R for graphic battle sequences throughout, some sexuality and nudity, all (female nudity and action)of which I thoroughly enjoyed and clamored for more. Apparently, young Trinidadians are not too affected by what affects young Americans since it appears we are almost Spartan in nature.

To Serve, Not Command

2007-02-09T07:47:00.000-04:00

The Prime Minister was visibly more angry than usual with the line of questioning from reporters at yesterday’s news conference. Unfortunately, he once again didn’t come across as a leader but as a spoilt child who is not getting what he wants – praise, power, and his own way.

In this country we have a history of vindictive leaders who care more about their fragile egos than their country. All these leaders have forgotten they were and are simply public servants who work for the people. They may be, and have been the top public servants, but that’s all. That is why their arrogance and contempt for the people is always hard to stomach. Yesterday, people saw the re-announcement of the Chatam Smelter as an act of revenge on the people by the Government. What else could it be? It could be to distract the people from the uncontrollable crime situation. It could, but it seems more like an act of revenge. What kind of leader purposely inflicts revenge on the people for complaining? That is not a rhetorical question.

The message, which was intentionally sent to the people, is “shut up and don’t complain, the country belongs to the Government, not the people.” Maybe the Prime Minister is annoyed that that everything his Government touches turns to stone. Maybe he is simply feeling we don’t appreciate the know-it-all cabinet decisions. I agree that people make mistakes but when they do the mistake makers should own up. If we are to count the amount of mistakes this government has made by the amount of times they owned up we would come up empty handed. If we count the amount of mistakes the people think the government has made you would fill every page of every daily newspaper for five years.

What Governments always fail to understand is that the people and Governments should never be at war. The only reason a political party is elected and a small group selected to "govern" is simply because most people wouldn't get time off to attend cabinet meetings and fly in private jets. The Government and the people should be one but recent industry trends show they are two separate bodies with two separate agendas. Is it any wonder the country is falling apart.

For any Government to be effective they need feedback on their performance from the people. If the Government ignores or sends four police Jeeps to stifle this feedback then the people are doomed. The former Government was like that and the present Government is even more so. The best and most effective Government will always be one that serves rather than commands, and listens rather than dictates. Clearly, judging from the state the country is in, and the rudderless direction it is heading, we need an effictive Government before it's too late.

Why We Survive

2007-02-06T13:18:00.000-04:00

Portuguese Man o' War - a potentially lethal pink creature which is in no way associated with this blog or the current crime wave sweeping the country

The main purpose of a newspaper is to report bad news while pretending to look for good news. Every unsuccessful newspaper owner and vendor knows that good news, like hair spray for bald men and skimpy carnival costumes, will never sell. That’s human nature, the nature of baldness, and our lack of passion for revealing clothes. I am beginning to wonder if a human begin could even survive in the imaginary and blissful world that John Lennon and many others described. In my opinion, human begins need conflict and an enemy or two because it gives one the best reason to live – revenge.

Drunk with joy is probably no different to being drunk with Scotch and coconut water on Christmas day. I believe what we want in life is not to be drunk with Scotch and joy, but to be constantly challenged to get a drink. Yes, we want to be challenged but not challenged to stay alive as it is in some countries like

Iraq

and

Trinidad and Tobago

. We want to be surprised, but not by bandits, kidnappers and stupid Government Ministers mumbling on TV. People want the freedom to choose from good choices. People need brief, but regular periods of happiness and to see a constant light at the end of the tunnel.

Man has always been under the constant threat mainly by our own kind so we (yes, I am human) didn’t evolve into creatures of happiness, but rather creatures of survival. We men (yes, I am male) are in our element when we are in survival mode, rather that lying on the beach gulping beer while watching bikini strings go by. That is probably a bad example but what I am trying to say is that the main reason people blog is to survive and the only reason we want to survive is because we are not good at anything else.

The Last Puff

2007-01-30T20:51:00.000-04:00

January 30th, 2020

Three years ago the last puff of natural gas made its way through a rusted pipeline and into the last functioning generator to give the last feeble jolt of electricity to the depleted, debt-ridden nation. The dictator, who had squandered the future of the nation on huge concrete monstrosities, unsustainable transport systems and several other nonproductive idiocies, had long since fled the country in his shinny private jet along with his entourage of mindless devotees. They went to a better land and any land was now better than the destroyed and polluted land of this once beautiful country. The people, who for some bizarre reason, were once revered by the rest of the world as the highest per capita consumers of electricity, were left to fend for themselves without even a candle of hope. There was no more greenery as the dictator loathed the color as much as he loathed intellect. The multinationals, which by nature loved Banana Governments, jumped at the chance to plunder the nation and rid the country of not only its greenery but its future. The dictator passionately disliked intelligent people so he helped the crime sector to flourish beyond belief. The flourishing state-encouraged crime industry caused the brain drain to accelerate leaving the dictator unchallenged and the country mindless. Any form of opposition to his ideas was met with the full force of his loyal enforcers. Internationally, he claimed the people were free but little did they know they were only free to worship him. Access to the Internet was closely monitored, and the blogging of opposing ideas was made the most heinous crime in the land.

Operation Hand Bill

2007-01-28T11:02:00.000-04:00

Citizens breathed a sigh of relief as it became apparent that the countless millions spent on intensive crime-fighting training for the much respected police service, and the countless millions more on hi-tech balloons did not go to waste as the latest crime plan was unleashed by the Government onto the population. High ranking security officials, including the CoP, are said to be overjoyed over this latest, and last crime fighting initiative which they once again feel will hopefully be the blimp to break that back called crime.

Officially, the anti-crime drive is called Operation Handbill but unofficially it’s called Get Him Now. It is also reported that the Police Service, like CEPEP, will leave no stone unturned in the quest to make the country safe by eradicating those who commit the unpardonable crime of handing out handbills without the printer’s name and address. The announcement of this latest crime plan has now caused countless thousands of once perceived law abiding citizens to go into hiding but not under stones, or cable TV stations for fear of being uncovered by CEPEP, or the Government’s Telecom Authority. Experts have indicated there is now little difference between the two organizations and they are expected to be merged later in the year.

Full page ads are to be placed in the all the daily and weekly newspapers informing citizens to immediately report the sighting of any handbills without the printers name and address by calling 800-HAND or 800-BILL. Millions have also been pumped into a special handbill witness protection program to ensure its success. Operation Handbill will continue until citizens learn that final lesson of the lengths and depths the Government is willing to go to retain the status quo.

Diehards, the Destroyers

2007-01-22T05:06:00.000-04:00

For a large percentage of the citizens of Trinidad and Tobago known as diehards, which party is in power is more important than what is happening to the country. For them, the party takes precedence over any crime committed, human plight, ethical values, logical thinking, or the destruction of the country. For reasons unknown to the few reasonable people left in the country, diehards seem to put party above self, or any concept of God ever imagined. It’s frightening to normal people to see when a member of a particular party does something that is either morally wrong or illegal their supporters cheer loudly and endorses the act with a passion. That is something only a diehard could understand and savor.

Diehard supporters are never concerned about the consequences of the wrong, but only which party the wrongdoer belongs. The obsession with the party makes me feel that diehards are even more dangerous than kidnappers or drug pushers because they promote evil hidden under the guise of national development. I am no longer amazed at how easy it was for Hitler to get supporters to believe in evil. Diehards have constantly shown that they are dishonest, vindictive, pretentious, ruthless, delusional, and destructive. The moral (really immoral) value system of diehard supporters on all sides of the political Atlantic is ripping this country apart and they are enjoying it.

Trinidad and Tobago is rapidly degenerating simply because our leaders only speak the language of hate with passionate venom and encourage their loyalist to do the same. Their mantra is “Hate, hate, hate!!” Our leaders are ruthless and manipulative egomaniacs with evil in their hearts, and not one ounce of love. I have never heard any political leader, maybe until now; speak with compassion. We get the type of leaders we grow, and those leaders grow more supporters in their likeness. I am afraid, very afraid for what Trinidad and Tobago has become because there is no light at the end of the tunnel of hatred our leaders continue to build as their legacy.

Legal Piracy aka DVDs: 11 for $100

2007-01-04T07:00:00.000-04:00

I can't help but feel that lawlessness is a part of our culture and mindset. I recently read in the newspaper where the CEO of Directv in the Caribbean was complaining about the legal cable company pirating some channels, mainly the so-called premium channels like HBO and Cinemax. This was supported by a statement from HBO that the cable company had no permission to broadcast those channels. The Directv CEO also said he wrote the Minister responsible for the protection of intellectual property about a year ago on the issue and he is yet to receive a reply. This lack of interest shows where the Government stands on intellectual property - nowhere.

I feel successive Governments have turned a blind eye to cable and DVD piracy because it would create an uproar among the masses and the masses have too much to worry about. The reasoning goes beyond that. If the Government clamps down on big "legitimate" business because of piracy then the Government would also have to clamp down on the "small man" for the same reason. This is a no-win situation for the Government because hitting the small man means losing votes and hitting big business means losing friends.

The people continue to be ignorant about what makes a society better and therefore continue to support the things that are illegal and/or immoral. Our leaders continue to only run their mouths about the value of intellectual property while blatantly refusing to protect it. Laws and their enforcement would not eliminate piracy but it would make a strong statement about the value of intellectual property to the nation.

The only renewable resource this country has is its intellectual resource. If we as a country do not encourage the development of intellectual work, and enforce its protection, then we are doomed to be living on handouts after the oil and gas burns out. The Government and the people talk about the future but only care about now. We are our own worst enemy but we blame everything else. Granted, not everything legal is right, but piracy is wrong.

Critical Mass

2007-01-03T09:34:00.000-04:00

Speed kills and that’s a fact. Stupidity is the lack of understanding of the consequences of one’s actions. People who speed on the roads are not fully aware that it is not an acceptable risk, and insurers will tell you that. People who speed are stupid people, but even more that that, they are dangerous to society. Self-contained stupidity is typically safe but public stupidity can be lethal. That is what we are facing now, an exponential increase in the amount of people who are a menace to society. When this number of people reaches critical mass society will meltdown, and I think we are on the verge of societal meltdown. Excess speed is one symptom, pig manners and government arrogance is another. There are too many other symptoms to place in this blog but I am sure you can easily name at least three more.

New Year Scrooge and All That

2007-01-02T15:39:00.000-04:00

I have no fans or fan club so my quiet reentry into the blogging world will go as unnoticed as my departure. For those who are curious as to why I gave up blogging I can only say it was due to my disillusionment with blogging. So what was I disillusioned about you may ask, but I have no answer which I can remember. Maybe I simply wasn't achieving the level of fame I thought blogging would bring. Maybe blog wasn't the answer. For those who are now way past the edge of their seat in curiosity as to why I am back again I can only say I have discovered that Blog is a many splendored thing and what the world needs now is blog, sweet blog. I have also realized it is just as important to find out why we blog as much as how we blog.

-----

I would normally wish people Happy New Year or All the Best around this time of the year but this year I decided to not put more rubbish in people’s head. It’s not good to do people’s jobs for them and filling heads with rubbish is the job of politicians and clergymen. Also, those greetings are customary and empty. We do it because we are afraid no to but fear is not the answer. Furthermore, asking someone How Are You is a highly rhetorical question and as such, more than other rhetorical questions, requires deep silence because it is a reflex action greeting. Since I do not wish people happy new anything I simply look at people with disinterest and grunt vaguely as they offer their hand to be shaken as a gesture of goodwill while spewing new year greetings. They think I belong to some strange religion that doesn't believe in fireworks. I might also come across as sour and that is my intention because I am a born again New Year Scrooge.

Macadamia

2006-09-15T07:40:00.000-04:00

Macadamia, a nut since birth, rolled over the lazy dog as he prepared to make his journey into the uncertain world of single-fruits. He departed with convention and decided to make it on his own as opposed to being picked, sorted, canned and sold to people with too much money and too much time on their hands. Macadamia somehow knew there was a bigger and more exciting world beyond his shell and he wanted it more than a politician could ever want a vote. He was afraid and he blamed his fear on his sheltered upbringing by his typical parents who treated and fed him like a mushroom. Eventually the food will hit the fan he thought, and today is eventually.

Macadamia’s parents, two huge proteaceae, were typical nuts; non-athletic, non-adventurous, TV-watching, lock-the-house-up-by-8:00pm type of hard-shell fruits. Though they were good and tasty, especially when roasted and slightly salted, they were exceptionally uninteresting and predictable at best. They offered safety but not growth. Yet, when stories are told about them fifty years from now they would be described as quaint as the old woman who lived in the shoe, or the quite contrary Mary. Time will always hide the truth.

Time, like alcohol in sufficient quantities, has a way of numbing the brain and it also has the ability to take things from the past and mold them into something more pleasing and suitable for a child’s high school essay. Without the proof of photographs, time can make the bland beautiful or the grotesque handsome. It can make the coward brave and the stupid almost a genius. It can make the recluse into a party animal and the unemployed loafer into a wealthy businessman who lost all his wealth due to the trickery of a cunningly beautiful woman. Time - the greatest invention before the wheel, fire and possibly even the g-string.

Blogers note: Macadamia was last seen in a straight jacket being escorted into an asylum. Apparently he went nuts.

Banana Airways

2006-08-16T18:32:00.000-04:00

The flight between Tobago and Trinidad takes about twenty minutes, but checking in takes about two hours; it only seems like four because the line doesn’t move. Someone recently remarked it is the world’s shortest flight but with the world’s longest checking in time. Despite the meticulous and almost-computerized checking in process passengers, like myself, were left holding hand written boarding passes with nothing to board and no official word as to when and if we would be leaving Tobago. As usual, the staff of Tobago Express knew less than the passengers about flight times and they seemed at a loss as to why passengers were angry.

Finally, and more than likely by a stroke of luck, the over four hour-long chaotic wait ended with the boarding announcement for my flight, followed by a rush for seats. I didn’t look behind when I was running to the airplane while pushing aside the folks in front of me but judging from the distant screams and nearby cussing I am sure some true Trini style pushing went on.

Tobago Express, aka: Banana Airways, broke civil aviation rules by allowing passengers to sit where they wanted on the aircraft. This was further proof we are still a first rate banana republic with a third rate banana airline. The purpose of assigned seats is not only to avoid passengers rushing and fighting for the seats of their choice but a seat number can be used in the same way dental records are used in identifying those who died and shriveled up, strapped to their seats, while waiting for the aircraft to takeoff.

Civil aviation rules are very strict about preflight safety instructions, and though boring and unbelievable, the safety instructions are there for the passengers' own good. I, like millions of others, don't ever listen to the safety show the flight attendants perform because it lacks any genuine excitement, and furthermore the danger of an aircraft exploding in mid air is not effectively highlighted. I would agree that fear is not something you want to have on any flight so keeping the bloodshot eyes of the pilots away from the passengers is important. Seeing that we live in a world where we need to be entertained every minute of the day, I would suggest someone looking and dancing like Shakira perform the preflight safety instructions. Surely, this would have passengers at the edge of their seats waiting and drooling for the part that goes “insert the metal tag into the buckle and tighten by pulling on the loose end.” Shakira, Shakira!!

Zinedine Zidane Helps Italy Get A Head

2006-07-14T08:00:00.000-04:00

It's impossible to know what was going on in Zidane's head when he decided to use it in the most unconventional, but effective manner at the World Cup finals against Marco Materazzi. But, even if we do know, it wouldn't prevent a movie being made about this everlasting one-second-pride-of-France incident.

The head butt incident, as it is now affectionately know by the French, was the highlight of the most watch event in the history of television and it took away almost all the glory from Italy. Even with the Italians poorly dancing in victory while holding the most coveted trophy in the World, the name Zidane was on everyone's lips and in everyone's inbox. I imagine that Zidane said if you can't score against Buffon you might as well floor an Italian. Zidane has, by this one action; changed how the game is played with chest and head pads soon to be made mandatory on the field, especially when playing against the French. It is rumored that Zidane has signed a deal to star in three French films as a head-butting superhero that takes on the Italian Mafia and selected football players.

It is suggested that the name Zidane be included in Wikipedia with the definition being a form of head butt used by star French football players to floor random Italian footballers at World Cup finals. Regardless of how much people dislike Zidane for what he did, several million people admired his flawless and flowing execution of this now classic and effective street fighting move. Zidane is truly talented.

Zidane - Hey Materazzi, check this out! I am using a new razor on my head!!

Plonk!! Materazzi falls to the ground and screams in pain while shouting the name Zidane, and pointing to a funny shaped head in the distance.

Zidane - Help, Somebody help!! Materazzi is clutching his chest. I wonder why?

It is well known that the French are people who pride themselves with being able to use their heads effectively and Zinedine Zidane has proven this is not just a myth, butt a fact.

I am Superman

2006-06-26T18:23:00.000-04:00

Your results:
You are Superman

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Why Fast Food is Slow

2006-06-21T06:53:00.000-04:00

The customer may always be right but that doesn't mean the customer isn't stupid. Casual observation of the slow-moving lines at fast food outlets would indicate something has gone dreadfully wrong and must be corrected immediately. It may be the way counter attendants operate, or the new wave of customers with no fast-food savvy. Customer stupidity might be the problem so naturally I am qualified to suggest a solution.

In order to make fast food outlets fast again I propose two types of lines at these outlets. One would be labeled "People Who Know What They Want aka: Smart Customers" and "People Who DO NOT Know What They Want aka: Stupid Customers." There is no point in punishing the smart with the stupid so customers should know their fast-food ability. Further to this, the fast-food association should launch a massive advertising campaign alerting customers how to identify the tell-tail signs of mental dullness. Typically, stupid customers look at the menu board above in shock-and-awe every time. The stupid usually say things like "The fries big-big?" "Let me see what the biscuit look like? It does taste good?" “All yuh have breast? Gimme two nah. Not that breast, de leg next to it.” “Yuh have any vegetarian pizza with meat?" “Ah chicken roti with beef.”

A smart customer is a joy to behold in action because they know their stuff; their answers are faster and crisper than the food. They show mental alertness and spend less than one minute placing their order. A stupid customer, on the other hand, can spend as much as 15 minutes, and as long as 30 minutes at the counter before fast-food security is called in. The stupid-line will be staffed with specially trained psychologist who will guide them through the maze of choices. These customers would be required to wear a special red armband so they can be easily identified, and pulled out of the smart-line and herded where they belong. If these proposals are implemented then getting fast food will be fast once again.

Hair-Goal, hair-goal!!

2006-06-19T17:22:00.000-04:00

The hopeless, and once Almighty England decided to ask Almighty God to help them win their crucial match against Trinidad and Tobago, but God, not being one for favoring one country over another for ethical reasons, especially in the World Cup, firmly declined. England, desperate to look like a football playing nation once again then turned to the Almighty Referee who, being from the First World, had absolutely no trouble in favoring the pseudo football playing country over the better team.

Hair-goal, hair-goal cried the proud and lackluster English, as they pulled their way through to the second round of FIFA World Cup 2006!

Soca Warriors 2006

2006-06-09T07:11:00.000-04:00

Today is the start of the FIFA World Cup 2006 in Germany, an event that not only billions of people all over the World were looking forward to for the last four years, but also a few North Americans. Football is the most widely played competitive sport on planet Earth, followed by strip poker, and finding parking in Port of Spain. For the next few weeks, until the 9th of July, the Word, except for North America, will not be the same, and in fact be a much better place. It is events like The World Cup, which makes the Planet livable and people insanely happy. With all the competitiveness between the 32 nations which qualified, and even those which didn't, there is also togetherness. Sport has unified more people on the planet than any religion, or crusade against terror.

Trinidad and Tobago, the smallest nation to ever qualify for this event, will make their first appearance tomorrow. That is an historic event, which will be proudly written in all the future history books. I wish the Soca Warriors well, but what's more important, the World already has. The World Cup is much more than a sporting event, it is a necessity, and If it didn't exist it would have to be invented.

Long Live The World Cup!!!

Much is at Stake, but why not Steak?

2006-06-04T08:43:00.000-04:00

Some words can only best be understood when written, and not when said. One such word is stakeholder which, to the average man in the street, or meat-eating village idiot, may sound like steak holder. Not many years ago, when one heard the words steak holder, or stake holder their minds immediately drifted to butchers, meat packers, cooks, gamblers, and vampire slayers such as Buffy, and even Blade. In modern times, everyone is now a stakeholder, and not by choice. Most of us are even holders of many stakes and sometimes even steaks, depending on our fetish.

Imagine stakeholder, a Johnny-come-lately to the glossary pages, is a fused word, but the ice cube, and Ice Cube the very popular rapper-turned-actor, are a more useful duo of words, and still two, not one. How could that be right? How could that be just? If that is not word discrimination at its most blatant and scandalous, I don’t know what is.

Instead of saying "everyone affected,” “all concerned,” or “having an interest in,” someone with a thing for word fusion, and probably a malfunctioning spacebar (space bar), came up with the word stakeholder. I have nothing against stakeholders, but why stakeholder and not the rest? Apparently, this biased fusion went unnoticed and without protest, since we now live in the age of the dot com where word fusion is now a way of life. Not necessarily a good life, but a life nevertheless (never the less).

I am sure by now you must be at the edge of your seat, biting your nails and shaking your head or heads in disbelief with this revelation. I am sure you may also want to know the way forward and what you, as an average model inhabitant of a country where the legal language is now English, could do to help. But all I have to say to you is Perro que no camina, no encuentra hueso. Also, I say, ask not what you can do for your language, but what your language can do for you.

Being a lone crusader in this battle for the unified and equal treatment of words, I suggest steakholder also becomes a word. The word steakholder will mean someone who is holding a steak. Simple and precise is the way of The English Language, and clearly, steakholder is a step in that elusive, but right direction.

Help stamp out word discrimination and visit:

http://www.steakholder.com

Here are but a few examples of the correct use of both words, stakeholder, and steakholder:

Buffy was not simply a stake holder, she was also a stakeholder in the vampire slaying business.
The cook, having caused last Friday’s scandalous food poisoning fiasco, never wanted to touch meat again, so he employed Gargoyle, who was a professional steakholder.
I am a stakeholder and I am proud.
I am a steakholder and I am proud.

Clearly, without seeing the words written, you can tell which word is which, and in every example. I rest my case.

Stakeholders can be people, but so to can steakholders.

aka_lol

p.s. If you do a Google search for steakholder you will get results which can be either be caused by gross misspellings due to indifference between meat and wood, or support for my word :)

http://www.steakholder.com

What Popped Out - An Essay On Nonsense

2006-05-31T07:15:00.000-04:00

Nonsense and beauty have close connections.

E. M. Forster

The best conversations I have are the ones that take place with sales attendants in bookstores. It's the one place I can go, mention a book, and people don't look at me as if I am mad. Did I mention the fact that the best conversations I have are with female sales attendants at these bookstores? I should have because that might be the point of this blog, or totally pointless to any blog. Let's see.

I think an average looking girl can appear much more attractive to me if she is smart. Not a smart aleck, but an intelligent female who looks good in tight jeans. Not straying from the topic, but when I say tight I don't mean vulgar-tight but daintily tight. Yes, there is a distinction between the two levels of tightness, and I prefer level-one tightness - for jeans that is. Level-two does have its appeal, and it all boils down, or up, to personal taste. Some guys are blown away by level-two, and can even briefly lose consciousness on the first sighting. As someone once said, it all depends on how the package is wrapped. That last statement reeks of male sexism, but I first heard it from a liberated female with intense male bashing tendencies.

It would be impossible to write an essay on nonsense without mentioning Mr. James Bond from the UK. I, like much of the movie going population, am not a big fan of Mr. Bond or even his gadgets. Some women seem delighted by his gadget(s) but those would be the gadget minded females of our planet. I am however a big fan of the pseudo-intellectual Bond beauties, who are not afraid to reveal their true shape to PG audiences, and who only know English as a second or third language, if any language. These exotic and erotic beauties radiate a raw sexiness via various body parts, while cracking complex Russian codes, or hacking into Cray type supercomputers in order to save the world before the movie ends. Their reward is a night with the gadget-toting Mr. Bond, who remains calm while excitement lap dances the audience into a frenzy. These erotic beauties normally don’t go very far in the movie business, and usually end up as posters in the rooms of deprived men and boys. We (men and boys) envy Bond and his ability to charm the pants, or pull the bikini strings off most exotic beauties in full view of vivid imiginations.

Yes, I have strayed too much and I need to regroup, and try to remember what my point was. I think I remember. I am one of those guys who are turned on by a brain with a body (sexist statement). Failing the right mix of the two ingredients, then I will have to give in to instinct and go with the jeans, which wraps the body to perfection, or a skirt, which cleverly but clearly implies where the treasure is. I think this blog is probably nonsensical, and appears for no reason other than I started to type, and this is what popped out.

p.s. This blog was done in h.s format - the quote intros :)

Indonesian quake death toll passes 4,300

2006-05-28T12:42:00.000-04:00

The worst devastation was in the town of Bantul, which accounted for three-quarters of the deaths. One man dug his 5-year-old daughter out of the rubble of her bedroom only to have her die in a hospital awaiting treatment with hundreds of others.

"Her last words were 'Daddy, Daddy,'" said Poniran, who like many Indonesians uses only one name.

"I have to start my life from zero again." said Poniran's father.

Here is my question - Does it matter what was the nationality, color, race, or, God forbid, the religion of Poniran? And if so, why, and to whom.

Initiative Against Crime

2006-05-25T07:23:00.000-04:00

Check out the Initiative Against Crime which was initiated by firemanboyzie, aka:Kwesi Stewart.

The team so far is made up of a wide cross-section of people, who are listed below, and was introduced by firemanboyzie at the blog. Click here for introductions.

At The BEEP!!

2006-05-18T15:54:00.000-04:00

You have reached that famous, but captivatingly handsome bloger, aka_lol, and I am either unable, or unwilling to take your call at this time. However, if you think you are important to me, please leave your name and number, along with that of an attractive female, at the beep, and I may get back to you if and when I see it fit to do so - you calling me doesn't mean your call is important to me. However, if you are that attractive female, and have a thing for blogers, please send proof via MMS. If I am impressed I will get back to you sooner than you think.

BEEP!!

The Lonely Flammable Gas Ball - A Brief History

2006-05-14T10:38:00.000-04:00

Long before men controlled their sticks and flicked their BICs, the Sun wasn’t the Sun but a lonely ball of highly flammable gas aimlessly floating around the Solar System, oblivious as to what Solar or flammable meant, or even to the benefits of rotating car tires. Since there was no Sun, the Earth was a dark and cold place, much like how it is today except happier. The gas ball was actually called "The Lonely Flammable Gas Ball" and not "The Sun," contrary to what the history books and daily newspapers might have said at the time.

According to a budding grapevine, it all started one Sunday morning, at around noon. There was a certain bikini walking along a beach that night (since the day was yet to be invented), which triggered a heavy bout of stick rubbing on planet Earth. This walking bikini also caused friction to be developed between two sticks competing for the same flame. A spark, born out of this latest bout of wild and meaningless friction, grew fed up of the typical spark-life and managed a daring escape.

This aggravated spark bobbed and weaved across the Universe, skillfully avoided principles of physics, asteroids and film crews shooting yet another retroactive episode of Star Wars, and landed in, of all places, a no-smoking zone on the "The Lonely Flammable Gas Ball.” This caused what is now popularly know as The Spark and Gas Fiasco , aka: Here Comes The Sun. This created not only the sunrise, the daytime soap opera and the sunny-side-up egg, but also the need for sunglasses, sun block, tan lines, nude beaches, and daytime fragrances. It also caused nightclubs to have shorter opening hours and probably shorter skirts, which triggered pleasant daydreams, even at night. The rest is Solar System History and this blog.

Digicel Trinidad and Tobago - A Review

2006-05-10T07:42:00.000-04:00

With and estimated 1.3 billion dollars invested in Trinidad and Tobago, along with probably hundreds of thousands of skilled man-hours in planning and implementation, you would have expected Digicel to be blowing away the competition. This is not even close to happening if I am to judge by how empty their scores of stores (that rhymes) are and how so few people I know actually have a Digicel phone - I know of only one so far. I have a feeling Digicel expected to be successful simply because they thought people were unhappy with bmobile and liked free red tee shirts. For their investment sake, I hope this was not the case. "More customer service" is a good catch phrase but without customers it remains only a phrase.

My five experiences with Digicel were all bad since they seem to only be selling these scarce phones to friends. The Trini culture of "contact" to get anything might be the way these stores prefer to conduct business. I am sure the novelty of The Red has now worn off and I think Digicel has missed, not only the boat, but also the entire ocean. I, like many frustrated and fed up people, will not be begging Digicel to pay for a service anytime in the near future because customers don't beg to pay when there is a competitor available, even if that competitor is bmobile. We are not that desperate. Any cell-phone company hoping to compete, and which cannot anticipate or cater for the public needs, must be headed for failure. A superior network is all well and good, but you need customers to use it, otherwise it would be like the proverbial tree falling in the woods with no one to hear it fall. Sadly, I have to say, being red now looks like being dead.

update (11-05-2006): If this were not true it would be very funny. I was told today that Digicel (or one of its franchise holders - same thing really) in Grand Bazaar now has phones but they cannot sell any. This amazing hi-tech company cannot do any activations because they have no paper and customer-hopefuls should return in a few hours. Yes, that's correct, no paper is what I understand they are telling potential customers. When probed further the sales attendants are saying they have no paper to photocopy something or the other. I imagine Denis O'Brien would be pleased. So much for more customer service. All this from a company without a customer base and is proposing to be the leaders in the cellular market. That's a joke. I would throw a big party if I were the folks at bmobile. Apparently the stupidity continues, only better than before.

update (15-05-2006): Today, on page 25 of the Guardian, Digicel has a 3/4 page advertisement saying their rate, until the 15th June, is now 3 cents a minute after the first three minutes. On page 26 of the Guardian, bmobile has a full-page ad saying their rate is now 25 cents a minute after the first three minutes. There is no cut-off date for the bmobile rate. These rates apply to Red to Red and Green to Green - you know what I mean.

I assume the war between the Red and the Green will continue until they both have achieved some level of stability. I am still without a Digicel phone and as tempting as the 3 cents offer is, I won't do this at the expense of my customer-pride.

Aka's Blog Life

2006-05-09T09:01:00.000-04:00

Aka decided to share his blog-life with the public so he once again agreed to having Mini.....conduct an interview. This is what never happened.

Mini: You have suddenly posted three blogs, four if you count this one. Why?

Aka: Four comes after three but before five, that's why. If you meant why three blogs, or four if you count this one, then I would say it was an impulse.

Mini: Are you normally impulsive or not?

Aka: I am a blog-engineer; we are trained not to be impulsive in life and sometimes in blogging.

Mini: So that is what a blog-engineer is, a non-impulsive life-bloger.

Aka: Yes, and also irresistibly charming.

Mini: You definitely missed that boat. Anyway, I understand you recently received an email which went on and on about your frequent blog comments and your blogs.

Aka: That is true, and the email didn't even come from a blogger, but a very good friend of a few years.

Mini: Were you offended by the email?

Aka: Not at all, she was in high praise of my comments and my blogs

Mini: Who is she? Never mind. Why do you comment so much Aka? Do you have too much time on your hands? Is it some type of mental illness? What?

Aka: Why so negative? My blog comments are my way of telling people I read what you wrote and I either understood what you said or didn't. My comments might be my way of saying that people matter. People don't blog to be ignored Mini, except for me perhaps, but I love being unnoticed, most of the time anyway.

Mini: That is strange, why do you like being unnoticed?

Aka: I am up at 4:30 am every morning by choice and my cell starts to ring at 5:30 am. It doesn't stop until late in the evening, or at night on a bad day. People are constantly after my attention at work so that is why I sometimes enjoy being not noticed, even if only in blog form.

Mini: What are your passions Aka, what keeps you going everyday?

Aka: That's easy, my photography, the web, people, Mini Skirts, life, my job, my Honda, and cell phone ads.

Mini: You are not serious, are you?

Aka: Yes I am.

Mini: What are your vices?

Aka: According to my friends I am one of those poor unfortunate fools who never managed to develop a proper vice except for blog commenting and photography.

Mini: That is sad.

Aka:I know, but on the other hand they say it is the vices which makes a man interesting, so that would account for me being on the other side of interesting.

Mini: What turns you on in women?

Aka: I was about to ask you the same thing but I doubt you would tell me. What I find attractive in women? That would be hard to say, other than the perennial pair of nice legs wrapped in a short skirt, nice brain, good sense of humor, hips that don't stay still. There are too many variables in that equation which would give a good answer.

Mini: Very interesting answers. Aka, you seem to be happy, are you?

Aka: Yes and yes. I don't want to elaborate but I am not a down or depressed type of person, except when I think about West Indies Cricket. I am enjoying my life everyday.

Mini: What's next for Aka? Where is he headed?

Aka: I might beheading to Pt. Lisas today.

Mini: Very funny Aka, I mean where is your blog and your life headed?

Aka: My blog has a mind of it’s own so I don’t have to worry about that. As for my life, all I can say is that I don't see any need to change course but I might just change my cellular provider and also upgrade my PC. I think I will start to read Stephen King's The Gunslinger again or reread The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Douglas Adams was the best. I also need to make some website edits and call a friend in Colombia, they are three hours behind us so I will call around 9:00pm.

Mini: You and your Colombian fixation! Let's move on. Do you think people will read this conversation?

Aka: Would you?

Mini: No, it’s not very funny, or interesting.

Aka: Never said it was.

Sneek-Peeks

2006-05-08T23:01:00.000-04:00

Here is the much unanticipated Sneek-Peeks of the new, exciting, never before seen, sadly lacking in content blogs called The Misadventures of Aka_lol - the Ultimate Zen Blogger and Comment Specialist.

She was about six feet long, forteen inches wide, eight inches deep, and scarcely bulged on any side. She had just been crowned Queen and aka thought she would make a good ruler.

Aka was facinated by the book, "The Five People You Meet In Heaven" so naturally, after he died he expected to meet them. When no one came Aka realized this was going to be hell.

Aka wanted to be ignored all his life but when it finally happened he didn't like it one bit. It felt like winning a lotto the same day money was decleared obsolete.

He was called the local Mr. Bond for two reasons. The first reason had to do with how scecretive he was and the other was that he lived up to his name.

Aka had managed to fight off twenty swordsmen without so much as a scratch or the need for extra strenght deoderant. He was not only prolific with his sword, but also with his imigination.

Mini accused Aka of not answering his phone but Aka, a firm believer in the truth and infomercials, said this was not so. The truth is that Aka always answered his phone but not when it was ringing. It was less stressful that way.

A Cool Test

2006-05-08T22:38:00.000-04:00

I did this test and it blew my mind!!!

Here are my results:

Peaceful, Discreet, Non Aggressive

You are easy-going yet discreet. You make friends effortlessly, yet enjoy your privacy and independence. You like to get away from it all and be alone from time to time to contemplate the meaning of life and enjoy yourself. You need space, so you escape to beautiful hideaways, but you are not a loner. You are at peace with yourself and the world, and you appreciate life and what this world has to offer.

Crapo Smoke Yuh Pipe

2006-05-08T22:03:00.000-04:00

I did a Google search for Crapo Smoke Yuh Pipe and this came up.

Crapo Smoke Yuh Pipe

Fire Cell

2006-05-02T20:42:00.000-04:00

The cell phone phenomenon is no longer a phenomenon but a new way of life, and a new excuse for accidentally running over people and into electricity poles. It is also a new way of being rude and a certainly an extra special way of disposing of our income. It is also an easy way of staying in touch with those you don't want to stay in touch with, such as insurance agents and the owner of the green BMW you scratched in the car park at Movietowne last Wednesday at around 9:25 pm, while desperately trying to make eye-contact with a girl in an extra short skirt, but failed because your eyes never made it past her……legs. Yes, men do scratch cars but only for good reason. Let me continue. The world is getting smaller every day but does it have to get so small so fast. I liked the way it was, distant and unreachable. The Internet has made distance irrelevant but fiber cables necessary. The cell phone has made large countries small and caused tropical islands to replace coconut trees with cell towers and green balloons. Our landscape is changing but we are happy and connected.

The way the world works is like this; all luxuries becomes necessities, all necessities become conveniences, and all conveniences become inconvenient, especially when there is no signal. A classic example is fire. When fire was first invented by a caveman rubbing his sticks, it was a luxury enjoyed only by the upper-class cave dweller with someone to help him rub his sticks. In a few short years the fire business was booming as cave-women learnt how to light a cave-man’s fire simply by looking at his sticks. Then the inconvenience set in as cave-women grew to understand the power of the flame and cave-men grew addicted to it. The rest is painful history.

The magic is in the flame, not the stick.
The Unknown Cave-man

The Destruction Continues

2006-05-01T05:28:00.000-04:00

This bush fire started on the Pine Trail at Mt. St. Benedict yesterday evening, and raged well into the night. Thankfully the winds were low by evening time so the spread was contained. Like all bush fires it probably was manmade. In this country, once it's dry enough and it can burn, somebody will make sure it burns. Ironically, this fire took place next to a fire-watcher tower. It could have been worse but it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Isn't this a crime against all the people?

Dear Blog Friends

2006-04-27T07:05:00.000-04:00

Dear Blog Friends,

When people ask me why I don’t blog more often I ask, which came first, the chicken or the egg. So far, almost half the people voted for the egg and the other half only eat fish because of the recent bird flu scare. My mother always said if you blog more then people will come, but I doubt she knew what a blog was but she said it anyway. Most people are like that, making pronouncements on things they know very little of like how to remove a permanent butt-tattoo or where to get them. In my line of bloging a level head, along with careful thought, is necessary if I am to continue to contribute to the much-needed human development of this planet, which I am now a part of despite loud protest from certain circles and a few other out of shape people. That would account for my lack of blog.

Unlike you, my Blog Friends, I have no over flown toilets or roommates from hell. I don’t write poetry or know any lyrics by Creed. I didn’t find the Googleplex first or even know about nine precious gifts. I also don’t know how to make Divas or how to start a new beginning. Despite not knowing, all these topics were in my head long before they appeared on my fellow bloggers blogs, but as the old saying goes, he who hesitates will take longer, and probably will not get a cheap Digicel phone.

The competition for comments in the blog-world is vicious and this has made the blogging atmosphere tense and not as friendly as it once was. Despite this turmoil in the industry I believe in letting people know they exist and they are not forgotten, if I remember that is. That is why I comment on blogs, even if only four or five paragraphs. In my opinion, we must always appreciate what we have and also pay homage to the five greatest inventions of our time, the wheel, the blog, the blog comment, the semi-permanent tattoo and the bikini.

Best Regards

aka_lol

Floobletrix

2006-04-16T08:24:00.000-04:00

“Floobletrix,” how that word has come back to haunt me like a bad haircut from a rude hairdresser in Curepe. Floobletrix was first coined by firebird in the shoutbox of a rather infamous blog by a rather good looking blooger (good looking in his mind that is). Floobletrix is no easy word to pronounce and an even harder word to say. Some say you have never lived until you Floobletrix in the back seat of a car or in the washroom of an airplane. My advice is “never believe anything you hear,” especially about Floobletrix, except what you will read in this blog. This Beach Called Life as been appointed the sole authority on Floobletrix by those who can do so solely.

This word is unique in that it can be used freely as a noun, verb, adverb, pronoun, conjunction, or some other thing, since it means many things to as many people. Floobletrix, as versatile as it is, should only be used with great caution since it takes ambiguity to an uncertain level. It is similar to the blank tile in Scrabble, only it’s a word not a tile. One other rule is that no letters are ever added to Floobletrix and it is used as is, or not at all. Always use the capital F in Floobletrix since it is not a common word.

Here are some of the common ways of using this uncommon word:

Floobletrix, I forgot the chicken in the oven! I hope it's still alive.
Digicel has no more $49 phones; Floobletrix.
Dam, no cell signal, not even a single Floobletrix bmobile bar.
The PM regularly ate donkey brains in an attempt to gradually raise his IQ, but all he got was more Floobletrix for brains.
Life is not about Floobletrix, but how would I know.
The cleric preached about the ills of Floobletrix then promptly went back to his room for some more.
The magician was arrested after failing to make a rabbit come out of his pants pocket. All that managed to pop out of his pants was a regular sized Floobletrix that hopefully had seen better days. The police reported the investigation was scaled down because of the size of the Floobletrix and their doubts the evidence would even stand up in court.
Though the Floobletrix was not a specialist, his fees were so high you felt as if you had just visited a proctologist.
Before she was married she did not know her Floobletrix from her elbow, but after two years she was sure she was married to one (a Floobletrix, not an elbow).
He was sent to Floobletrix for seven years and came out with a better understanding of life and the perils of bending over to pick up the soap.

the simple things in life

2006-04-11T09:00:00.000-04:00

Dying by accident is tragic, but can be doubly so if one dies in a compromising position on a vibrating bed in Bangkok while lying on an inflatable doll. Death is inevitable but, despite the aluminum smelter means death, it is not inevitable. Many years ago, Albert Einstein was asked if the Universe was infinite, to which he replied that he is not sure, but he is sure human stupidity is. There is now sufficient proof that this is still so as politicians continue to roam the planet, destroying everything in their path.

To make life simple, the members from the four top professions in the world (engineers, lawyers, doctors and blogers), decided there would only be two causes of death, natural and unnatural (yes, it normally takes four professions to decide two things). What goes where continues to be vague, but so far the Cause of Death Organization (CODO) has made some strong recommendations. Under natural causes there is disease, old age, stray bullets from gang-related-shoot-outs, uninstalling spyware, and checking the price of steel. Under unnatural causes there is homicide, suicide, angry spouse and/or girlfriend, runaway bus, flying stones from weed-whackers, smelter fumes - aka: political effluent, and inflatable dolls. Regardless of your conviction, or lack of it, you will die from a cause, but not necessarily while lying in Bangkok.

Like most people of this planet I don't want to die too soon so, out of fear, I don't waste time thinking about it. I also don't willfully increase the odds of death happening sooner than necessary. I drive slow, eat healthy, avoid listening to political speeches, read The Hitchhikers Guide Four-Part Trilogy while climbing small hills, blog at least once a week, enjoy weekends, hate Mondays, download empeethrees, burn CDs, photograph everything, smile insanely, read blogs, refuse to grow up, keep an eye out for cell phone specials, collect pictures of Paris Hilton, and laugh while I write.

For me, life is simple and if I can get a Motorola C115 cell-phone for $49 I am happy. If I can top up at 10,000 locations across the country, I am ecstatic. Now, if only I can overcome my fear of cell phones life would be grand. Life is too short to waste on wanting, and the simple things in life are cheap, for everything else there is a layaway plan.

useless piece of information

2006-04-07T05:30:00.000-04:00

Studies of fossils discovered during a recent CEPEP stone turning ceremony revealed, not only did the chicken not cross the road, but it wasn’t even a chicken. This shocking revelation was made possible by scientist studying the modern-day, mind-boggling phenomena called CEPEP. It was discovered the poultry that did attempt to cross the road was in fact a mutated and shortened turkey that had grown white feathers, probably because it lived near an aluminum smelter and close to a cell site in a newly demolished forested area. (The Back Against The Wall Journal reported that it was also very strange that shareholders of the smelter, and the politicians who approved it lived very far from the heavily-subsidized-user-of-gas).

This useless piece of information was discussed at a recent cabinet meeting but no final decision was made since most of the members fell asleep as if brain-dead, a condition typically brought on by aluminum intoxication. At a media conference held after the cabinet meeting, a refreshed, but delusional spokesperson said this discovery will in no way hamper Government’s “Lets Destroy the Country before its Too Late” initiative. The spokes person reassured the public and other environmentalist that even more bulldozers will be brought into the country to level the playing fields, and the Green to Brown assault on the country will continue. It was also said at the media conference that citizens who show any concern about their security, health, happiness, environment, children, fellow citizens, and the future of the country are only doing this because they have political agendas and are to be completely ignored, and if possible, victimized.

The media was reminded, under the present system of government, democracy ends after the last vote is cast on an election day, when the ownership of the country is passed on to the ruling bunch of politicians. It is only when the next general election is around the corner the elected bunch will appear to tolerate people-power. Until then, as the old saying goes, "is crapo smoke yuh pipe."

For more information on environmental issues read the daily blogs of NOW IS WOW , this and other article in Trinidaddreamscape.net, and http://www.nosmeltertnt.com/

Many Shapes and Sizes

2006-04-06T05:40:00.000-04:00

The male ego can take many shapes and sizes and do this over a short period of time. What most people haven’t yet seen, or realized they have seen, is the male ego in the form of a blog. It is even more unsightly, but even more compelling in a disturbing sort of way. I now present to you my ego in blog form. If your heart is week and prone to sleepless nights when alone, or especially with company, do not click on any of the following links.

DO NOT CLICK THIS LINK – ?

OR THIS LINK – ??

NOT SURE ABOUT THIS LINK EITHER - ?

WHO KNOWS - ?

p.s. This will more than likely be my last reference of the male ego for quite some time. I am doing this by popular request and also for no other reason.

Red-Thing

2006-04-04T08:22:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, just after I put up my Carnival 2006 albums, I received an email from an unfriendly fan accusing me of favoring Digicel over bmobile. This annoying, but charming girl said she looked at all the Carnival photographs I put up and decided that Digicel was more favored than the incumbent bmobile. She was blunt and asked if I was on the take from Digicel. I didn’t immediately respond to the email since I was too busy basking in the glory of my Carnival photographs. Like with all things pretty, this initial excitement over the photos quickly died, and it is only now I have the sense of mind to give this accusation some thought. (Beautiful things can be intoxicating but overexposure can lead to indifference; but that’s beside the point. Also, I am out of blog material and I understand that I must blog often if I am to make a name for myself in the blog world.)

The answer to this accusation would be that I have no affiliation to Digicel or dislike bmobile any more than the average man on the street would. Digicel banners, t-shirts, and stickers were all over the place and my lenses could hardly avoid those bright red banners being a backdrop for the bikini-mas my camera is so fond off. I would say that the Digicel people knew what they were doing, knowing that Carnivals are probably the most photographed events in the world, second only to voyeur beach pictures and that of drunken friends at parties. Digicel apparently beat bmobile at what bmobile is famous for, propaganda.

I want to make it quite clear that I will not simply jump onto the Digicel bandwagon because I like red-things or once knew an Irish girl. I would be waiting to see who has the better deals and better network. I want more, I want to pay less, but I don’t want any more shoes.

p,s. The photo above shows how Digicel must be feeling about the whole interconnection fiasco. The worst is hopefully over with Digicel finally opening their doors to the public on Thursday.

Dear Aka

2006-04-02T22:02:00.000-04:00

Dear Aka,

I am one of those many women who take offence to most of your blogs. It’s not only your poor use of grammar, esthetic use of punctuation, or shabby attempt at humor, but it’s also the way you portray women in your blogs and movies. Personally, I find you make too much unreasonable fun of women and not enough reasonable fun of men. I believe Mini has a right to be annoyed but you don’t want to take her seriously. Yoo are cocky and arrogant and I wish you a bad woman.

Dream Woman

Somewhere Out There

-----

Dear Dream Woman,

Where have you been all my life?

I am not sure if you are really offended by the blogs or the fact that Mini is having a hard time with me. I think most women would have a HARD time with me but I am not going to use this blog for cheap advertisement and ego inflation.

It’s about time I reveal to you who Mini really is – she is a blog character who lives somewhere in my head, and speaks incessantly, but with a pleasing tone, crossing and uncrossing her legs at the most inappropriate times while I am looking from the most appropriate angle. Mini is a combination of women I have met, liked and feared. Some I have met in person, while others I have met via email, movies, umbrella, runaway-car, blog, and divine intervention (according to them that is). Apart from her taste in clothes, choice of interviewees, and amazing leg-crossing skills, Mini may not be the woman of my dreams but just a woman in my dreams. Mini, like Aka, is a work in progress and you never know what they would do next, or where they may do it. Stay tuned.

In real life, I find women are frighteningly intelligent and accurately perceptive, that is why I make so much fun of them via blog. I am afraid, very afraid to do so in person because I want to live and blog longer. My humor is my way of reducing that fear and it’s the equivalent to whistling in the dark, or telling a joke in the cemetery at midnight while searching for spare body parts on Halloween night.

Yoo are cocky and arrogant. Was that a typoo or meant to show disrespect for aka? No offence taken so it must be a typoo. Doesn’t cocky mean arrogant? In a man’s world cocky doesn’t mean arrogant so thanks.

I wish you a bad woman. Thanks again, I needed that.

Aka_lol
Here, There and Everywhere

OOBE

2006-03-31T13:19:00.000-04:00

Are you stressed out, tired, can't stay up at night or stay up period? Does life seem to be passing you by and only stopping to pick up other people? Then you need to fill out a product registration card and and describe your OOBE for the thrill of a lifetime. Yes OOBE, out-of-box-experience. Apparently, companies that make things that come in boxes such as ink jet printers, toasters, curling irons, electric toe nail clippers, chicken pluckers, cell phones and other vibrating devices want to know what that very private moment was like for you. This request is hardly ever in the form of a multiple choice question with answers ranging from wow to you must be joking. Sometimes the lonely data entry clerk in the warranty office wants you to write him or her a two-line essay. I always write him or her truthfully because I am a man and men are naturally truthful, and full of it as well. I write this underpaid, social misfit, sayings things like "I could hardly get it out of the box and had to have a friend help me pull it out. Needless to say this was quite embarrassing since I am a robust male with a big ego and there were several females in the room looking on and hoping it did not break since they needed to use it that night." Writing something like that can make my day and now I am addicted to the out-of-box-experience. I would say you haven't lived unless you, not only write about write about your favorite OOBE, but actually have one.

p.s. The photo above shows a small sampling of the boxes I have collected over the years. I never met a box I didn't like.

p.s.2 Don't shoot the messenger, bury him alive...... in a box.

aka

Pop Goes The Ego

2006-03-29T19:29:00.000-04:00

I think my recent blogs and blog comments have pushed me into scalding hot water once again. It has been confirmed that my name was dragged through some dirt, stomped on, then promptly placed on two hit-lists. Regrettably, none of those lists have anything to do with music or x-rated movies. The first list was generated by an underground women's organization of male-bashers and Ninja assassins called Pop Goes The Ego (PGTE). The other food-stained list was seen hanging next to a male-approved-photo of Miss Mini at a pub, and signed by members of the notorious, grossly disorganized, and typically clueless all-male organization known as (no, not “Pop It,” thought that might be appropriate) “Sleaze Ball,” or “Sleazy Balls,” as PGTE affectionately refers to them. One side thinks I am scum and the other side thinks I am dirt, so now I feel I am part of a laundry detergent ad.

All this attention has me terrified, as any good bloger should be. Unlike Bond, the ability to stay calm while holding a pretty girl during a crisis is not my cup of tea. I don’t know how many of you have picked it up, but Bond holding a pretty girl was the real crisis and not the nuclear bomb set to go off in 30 seconds. Apparently, Bond’s bomb always goes off in 30 seconds or less and after it goes off there would be very little action. Super slow motion was used but that had limited effect. Exactly what I am going to be hit with, how often, when, and where is still not known. I suppose the where part should be obvious but the rest remains a mystery. I complained to the International Blogers Union but there was a foul smell in the air as they simply laughed in my face and hung up; a feat which is very difficult to do by phone but yet they managed.

Not only have my recent blogs been cited as the cause of my demise, but one of the older ones:

Yes, This One

to be continued.........??

p.s. There is SOMETHING NEW FROM KRISTA-LEE BISSOON . She has moved on from being The Google Girl, to something emotionally honest and equally entertaining. Check it out, but only after you are through with this blog :)

The Fall of a Bloger - aka: Aka

2006-03-28T07:34:00.000-04:00

The famous and very revealing reporter, Mini Skirt, decided to interview the now infamous bloger, Aka, in an effort to find out why he has become what he has become. She decided to get down to the bottom of it all, as you will soon see, if you haven't already seen.

Mini: aka, I will get right down to it, people have been complaining that you are very full of yourself and sometimes crude and rude in your blogs and blog comments. Is that true?

Aka: I suppose it is true that people have been complaining and a blogers has a right to complain about perceived injustices and poor blogs.

Mini: What I meant to say aka was “is it true you have been crude and rude in your comments and your blog”?

Aka: I believe the question mark above should have been placed inside the inverted commas, right after the word “blog.”

Mini: You didn’t answer my question.

Aka: Of course I will spend the night with you in Barbados once you wear that micro-bikini again, or not wear it for that matter.

Mini: That is what I mean aka, you make a mockery of blogs by adding these pathetic and rude comments, which can make most of us very uncomfortable.

Aka: What am I now, a comfort zone? I always felt those micro-bikinis are a bit on the uncomfortable side but I don’t think their designers had comfort in mind when they were conceptualized. To answer your question about rude and pathetic blogs, I would say you are right and that’s just me at times.

Mini: Are you starving for attention or simply just have a huge ego?

Aka: Now, now, Mini look who is being rude and crude. Ha, ha, ha.

Mini: Such a hideous and sarcastic laugh! Get serious aka, you very well know what I mean by ego. You seem starved for attention and will do anything so that people will notice you. You think you are clever, amusing, charming, cultured and good looking. Why don’t you write something meaningful about life, or the smelter at Chatam? I think you are a very sad man aka, very, very sad.

Aka: I don’t know if to hang my head and cry or comment on your hemline slowly creeping up to the promise land. I much prefer the promise land thing though.

Mini: Aka, I believe there are men with very little hope in this world and you are one of them. Why don’t you see the folly of your ways and grow up. Life isn’t about fun and games, and creeping hemlines.

Aka: But I beg to differ. Life is to be enjoyed and I have spent too many years in my shell so now I am coming out of it in the form of a blog.

Mini: Shell? Are you some kind of turtle, a Ninja turtle perhaps!

Aka: One of my best friends reminded me about Ninja Turtles recently and it was good to remember.

Mini: Aka, there are reports that some blogers plan to protest your blogs and comments by burning tires on the connections leading to your blog. What do you have to say to that?

Aka: I would recommend they use Dunlop tires since it produces more and fouler smelling smoke. I think tire-burning is being perfected in this country and I also understand the University is planning to offer night classes in “Tire Burning and Road Blocking” but you have to bring your own tires.

Mini: Aka, you are either missing my point, being dumb, or being evasive again. People are appalled by your blogs and comments, and have decided to show their disapproval. Aren’t you the least bit concerned the protest will mushroom into violence and the defacing of your blogs?

Aka: Yes.

Mini: Yes what?

Aka: Yes Miss.

Mini: Be serious aka, your blog world is coming apart and you sit here like Nero, fiddling while Rome burns.

Aka: Oh my god, is Rome burning again? Was it tires this time?

Mini: Aka, you are beyond hope and redemption. I think you are pathetic and not fit to blog. I will recommend they take away your blogers license and be taught a lesson you will never forget!

Aka: I also would never forget that lesson you taught me while you did that lap dance. You nearly broke my…..

Mini: Enough Aka! People, including me, are becoming most fed up with your antics.

Aka: Sitting on a man’s ego is now called an antic? How quaint but painful. Shelly, I must admit you do paint this world in a very dim light.

Mini: I am not Shelly I am Mini. Shelly is the other one on CNC 3.

Aka: Sorry, you sound so much like her. Anyway, I think I must defend myself since, as you put it, my blog world is coming apart, but I don’t know what to say. In the world of blogging we can say things that we won’t say in real life. I would say bloging brings out the worst in me and that is my best. Some say I am confusing, some say I am confused. Both are right I guess. I would be the first to admit my mind is sane and enjoys life in many ways. I enjoy bloging and I also enjoy people not reading my blogs. I enjoy shouting in the middle of the forest so no one can hear. I also enjoy a little tire smoke and old cars dragged across the roadway. Life to me has now become several little things sewn together like a quilt. You can’t have a complete life unless you made a few little mistakes and no big ones. I think I am never what people expect unless they expect nothing. I am happy being me and I don’t even know how to put that in blog form. I can’t say if life is good or not because that would depend on if your car overheated this morning or the construction of the smelter has begun. That would also depend on if someone read and liked your poem, or if someone commented on your blog. There are so many things which affect life I would say it is neither good nor bad. I would say life simply is.

Mini: I hope you realized that you just spewed a whole heap of garbage again.

Aka: What’s one woman’s garbage is another woman’s treasure.

Mini: Here we go again.

Remember, Remember The Fifth of November

2006-03-19T17:23:00.000-04:00

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

V for Vendetta is much more than another feel good "Let's blow up Parliament" movie. It's not the Matrix Part Four or a color version of Sin City. And despite the rumors you might have heard, the highlight of the movie for me was not the young South American shaped girl with low rider jeans passing up and down in front of me, occasionally brushing her... ...legs against my knees. No, that was not the highlight. It (the brushing) was highly entertaining and pleasantly distracting, but it was not the highlight. Though it(the movie) was quite entertaining, it was much more than bits and pieces of clever dialog punctuated by diabolical action sequences. This movie made a statement about the state of the World and one likely cure if governments forget their true purpose and don't stop screwing the people.

I never understood why people would describe something in terms of its components when it was designed to be used or enjoyed as a whole. People often review equipment, movies, books and low riding jeans in terms of two general categories what I liked and what I didn't care for. They almost always list these care for and don't care for items in bullet form for easy reading. The better reviews also put up photographs of low riding jeans viewed from every enjoyable angle. Today I will abandon tradition and use words to describe a movie which is too good for words and reviews.

To give you an insight as to the plot I will quote these words from the main character in the movie, V:

V: People should not be afraid of their governments, governments should be afraid of their people.

It is a movie which some would say supports terrorism as a way to solve the problem of evil, oppressive and obsessive governments. The phrase "Remember, remember, the fifth of November" haunted the viewer throughout and it left the audience with a feeling of satisfaction up to the very end. V for Vendetta says that some governments are made up of ruthless, selfish people who use lies, deception, and fear to manipulate and control the citizens. The movie points out that there will come a time when the public will say they have had enough and a leader, called a terrorist by the government, will emerge to help take back the country from the evil, self serving government. I don't see terrorism as an issue in the movie but I do see evil, oppressive governments as the main one.

I would say the Wachowski brothers of The Matrix fame made another excellent movie which cannot be analyzed into its components because everything fits so well together it would be impossible to take it apart. At the end of the movie I was overwhelmed with the feeling to blow up a building while listening to Tchaikovsky 1812 Overture booming away on an iPod.

A traitor to the Government can be a hero to the people. ~ another V

Con-flum-mox-ed - No Laughing Matter

2006-03-17T20:16:00.000-04:00

He said: What movie do you want to see?

She said: Anything, it doesn't matter.

He said: Ok, let's see Hostel.

She said: No, not that, it's scary.

He said: I thought you said anything.

She said: Yes, anything but I don't want to see a scary movie.

He said: Walk The Line then.

She said: No, not that, it's too country musicish.

He said: Fire Wall?

She said: It's Firewall and no, too teckie.

He said: Memoirs of a Geisha?

She said: Read the book already.

He said: Good vibrations?

She said: Never heard about that, is it a Disney movie?

He said: Ahem! I don't think so. I am seeing three x's next to it and a duck, but I don't think it's Donald.

She said: Get serious, it's the middle of the week!

He said: I am serious and I thought you said anything.

She said: Yes, yes, anything I am in the mood to see. Why are you turning red again?

He said: Do you know the meaning of the word "anything?"

She said: Yes I do and I am beginning to understand that you don't.

He said: Now I am conflummoxrd.

She said: I thought we agreed you would not use that word anymore until the true meaning was sorted out.

He said: But I can't wait on the Oxford people forever. They are currently studying it and wrote back saying they were Conflummoxrd.

She said: A likely story. I bet the Oxfordians are men.

He said: Two men actually, James Conflummoxed and his brother Jessy.

She said: No wonder they are Conflummoxed. How do you pronounce it.

He said: Con-flum-mox-ed. It's a very sophisticated sounding word, almost like a serious medical condition.

She said: Is there a cure?

He said: Not yet but I am sure a breakthrough is eminent.

She said: Don't you mean imminent?

He said: Can't a cure be both eminent and imminent?

She said: If it's a cure for Conflummoxed I suppose it can be both. What are the symptoms?

He said: A chronic case of infrequent, pathetic and meaningless blogs.

She said: Like this one then?

He said: I am afraid so.

Moments of Deep Hysteria

2006-03-10T09:05:00.000-04:00

“One always writes comedy at the moment of deepest hysteria.” ~ V. S. Naipaul

I always thought this but Naipaul wrote it - it's no wonder he is so good.

That one quotation sums up my Blog - I am a deeply hysterical man.

When ah Bandit Calls

2006-03-09T23:11:00.000-04:00

A bandit suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at a man coming out of his car on a lonely road.

Bandit: Get out ah the car, this is ah holdup!!

Victim: What? Doe shoot mih, ah begging yuh!

Bandit: Give mih yuh wallet!

Victim: Here, take it but leave me alone!

Bandit: Wat dat is in de back seat?

Victim: A laptop, doe take dat, it wouldn’t be of any use to you. Ah have all mih file in it.

Bandit: Why, because I is ah bandit yuh feel ah doe know how to use ah laptop? Yuh feel I is a chupidy? Yuh think I ain’t go noe about files. Sir, in prison is only files we does think about. How yuh think ah reach here? Is ah file ah use to cut mih way out yes. You telling me about files!! Look, ketch yuh self yes.

Victim: Leave me with something nah. Leave the laptop alone!

Bandit: You talking too much, yuh is ah big man. Get a grip and get in the trunk!

Victim: Ok, ok, take the laptop!

Bandit: Ah not asking permission yuh know breds! Nah, ah change mih mind, ah just upgrade the crime to ah kidnapping.

Victim: What you mean upgrade the crime! Yuh say it was hold up!

Bandit: So ah bandit cah change he mind? Look get in the dam trunk!

Victim: Yuh wasting yuh time, mih wife ain’t going to pay noe money fuh me.

Bandit: Looking at you ah doe blame she nah.

Victim: Wah yuh mean by that!

Bandit: Like yuh doe have ah mirror or wat. You forget who you talking too! Look at dis gun, see it! You look like one ah dem businessman who people does like to rob. You think is we alone is bandit. Every time yuh turn yuh back all yuh raising prices! Yuh think is we alone is bandit because we have gun? Nah, nah, you is ah bigger bandit! You does even take Linx!

Victim: Boss, is not me who raise prices, is inflation, and ah does take credit card too.

Bandit: Well sir, because of inflation, I have to upgrade this crime to a kidnapping with aggravation. You really aggravating me yes! Get in the trunk, NOW!

Victim: Ah have too much things in de trunk, ah cah fit dey nah.

Bandit: Boss, yuh so skinny yuh goe fit in ah 120Y glove compartment. Open de dam trunk!

Victim: Look, see for yourself.

Bandit: Jeeze, yuh is a mad man or wat? Yuh never clean dis trunk since yuh buy dis car, yuh doe go on de beach with it, yuh is ah psycho freak!

Victim: Nah, ah doe like beach too much.

Bandit: Yuh have any rope?

Victim: How long?

Bandit: About two or three feet nah, it a go take much to tie up yuh skinny tail. Big businessman like you an yuh never get tie up by a bandit before?

Victim: Yes, once at mih business place buh he use ah phone cord. New, new phone and he cut up the cord jus so.

Bandit: Man you look like trouble yes, gih mih de dam rope and leh me tie you up yes. Ah feel ah wasting mih time with you. Time is money in my line ah wuck.

The bandit ties up the skinny victim and leaves him at the side of the road. The bandit then drives away with the victim’s car, with laptop in the back seat and trunk still full with things to horrible to mention, even in this blog.

The Cringing Man and Other Tales of Woe

2006-03-06T19:47:00.000-04:00

"When women speak, men cringe" is the popular saying from the perennial 10,000 B.C bestseller, "Surviving Women - A Caveman's Guide To Happiness and Sanity - Vol. 3." published by Baboon Press. Recent scientific studies done by the Men's Survival Institute and Strip Club has made a direct link between women's speech and men's apparent deafness and cringing. It has also suggested a theory to explain the sudden rise in mid-week strip club attendance and the Colombian strippers, but that will be the subject of another long awaited photo-blog.

The Institute discovered that most men have an attention span of almost 30 seconds to a woman's voice but a very small fraction of men mustered an amazing 45 second tolerance. The study also revealed that men's attention span dwindled to 5 seconds once they were roped and placed into captivity by a female. This ground breaking research showed the comprehension rate of men deciphering women's babble was half of a percent at best. However, The Institute surprisingly discovered that men's attention span at strip clubs and miss bikini contest was somewhere close to infinite, with male test subjects having to be dragged away, sedated, and in extreme cases, neutered.

p.s. this blog was inspired by a certain bloger who is quite unforgiving to aka so he has decided to take his chances and run :)

A Word or Two

2006-02-26T11:48:00.000-04:00

I have to apologize to all those readers who find my blogs infrequent and funny if you look at it in a certain light and if you squint just enough. I have been occupied reading certain unnamed blogs of which there is one I cannot name. Also, I was recently bombarded by one email from someone, who will go unnamed for now, to have a tagboard installed on my blog. Thought I knew what a tagboard was I didn't know it by that name and in reality didn't even know it by any name. As you can see I managed to overcome my ignorance and have the shout-box (a word coined by another nameless bloger) installed. Please feel free to use it, or not free to use it.

The First Word

Since my entry into the world by the normal means used for entering the world, I have spent countless days wondering why something was given a certain name. One of these names I pondered over was the word spoon. I choose to go into spoon in this blog because if I were to go into the word fork I might offend some. Believe it or not, fork is an offensive word to some, especially if mispronounced correctly. How exactly these good folks ask for a fork at dinner time remains a mystery to me. I suppose they would be too afraid to ask so they would either do without or take one if they see it. To do without a fork is not acceptable to me but I was also brought up to ask politely for a fork, or even a lowly sopoon if I wanted one. I don't want to stray too far form the subject and get back to spoon and the possible origins of the word. The word spoon was more than likely an amalgamation of the words spud (potato) and noon (lunchtime) - you eat spuds at noon with a........Spoon.

The Second Word

The kiwifruit was originally known as the Chinese gooseberry but for some strange reason that name didn't have mass commercial appeal. Some also thought that the name may have been offensive to the Chinese so it was renamed kiwifruit. Apparently the Kiwis are not easily offended. This fruit is rich in many vitamins, minerals and fur on its skin. It is said to be quite tasty to those inclined to find it tasty. Apart from being a fruit, the kiwifruit has many other uses which has eluded me. I suppose it can be easily decorated to look like a Martian's head or to scare of attackers who are terrified by furry fruits. I am one of those people who cannot eat something which looks unattractive and for that reason don't eat kiwis. Outside, the kiwifruit looks like a sapodilla, but on the inside it looks like a kiwifruit.

Ask aka: 1

2006-02-19T15:09:00.000-04:00

Dear aka,

I am glad that you finally listened to your fans and decided to host an advice column. I couldn't get an answer to a certain troubling issue and all my friends suggested I should ask aka, so here goes.

I decided to spring a few extra dollars on my wife and bought her a DVD player. I have to admit this was the best idea I have had in seven years and now she continually thanks me for it by using it all day and night. On receiving my generous gift she promptly went out and bought Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol 2, and urged me to look at it with her. She is particularly fond of the final scene in Vol. 2 where Bill meets his demise. I am a bit worried though since she has not been doing much of anything else since the DVD player arrived. I just don’t get it.

Bill

Dear Bill,

Maybe you don’t get it now but I am sure you will get it later. Women communicate in a very different way to men and recently they have been communicating through DVD movies such as Kill Bill, Buried Alive and Six Feet Under. I don’t think you have anything new to worry about since your faith was sealed long before the advent of the DVD.

aka

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13

2006-02-11T10:22:00.000-04:00

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13

26th April 2003 - 11th February 2006

My car battery died today without warning. It was a sad moment for all in front the poultry depot when its final surge of cranking amps turned into a trickle as the Civic's starting motor failed to volunteer even a churn. Good Samaritans, in shock and disbelief, rushed from all around with jumper cables, spanners and suspect advice in hand, trying to revive the dieing lead-acid power house. But, at last, it was not to be as the voltmeter confirmed what we all had dreaded. The Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13 was no more.

Though I am deeply saddened by the sudden passing of my faithful battery, I am grateful he lived a long, fruitful, and energized life, never failing to crank even once until his sudden demise. He was nearly three battery years old, which is almost one hundred in human years. His cells were practically free of impurities since I fed him only the best in distilled water from the finest distillers in the country. His poles were always clean and coated with petroleum jelly as specified by his maker. Though he did have a negative pole, he was always positive in his duties.

His replacement cost a whooping $590.00 as the price of lead continues to rise to almost astronomical levels on the international market since 2001. There was no rebate to be had since he died well outside his warranty period of eighteen months. This made my sadness even sadder. But, say what, and as a notorious roadside mechanic once said, a battery's got to do want a battery's got to do, - life cranks on.

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13 and may your plates not pollute the soil and cause lead poisoning.

Fat Chance

2006-02-08T09:30:00.000-04:00

The wind was cold by tropical standards and I shivered like all tropical people do, which is quite unsightly to the untrained eye. I started to look for the sun at around 5:45am, but when the first useful light appeared I knew the sunrise would be as bland as a politician on a door-to-door campaign. This prompted me to pack up the meager camera equipment and go back inside to enjoy what was now a room-temperature breakfast. Photographing a spectacular sunrises, or making an ordinary sunrise look spectacular, is all a matter of being at the right palace at the right time, understanding a bit about controlling the light exposure with the camera, and having a sturdy tripod along with two cans of anti-bandit spray in the cocked position. The point-and-shoot in Auto mode doesn’t quite cut it in the world of presentable photographs of sceneries. The day in the life of someone who is photo-minded and who needs to leave a visual legacy behind because he is not prone to making people happy with his visibility, is stressfully exciting at times. I have taken more photographs with my mind than with my camera, which proves to me that photography is mainly a mind thing, a learning to see something in nothing type of activity. Drawing is the art of seeing and so to is photography and Carnival.

Unfortunately, I have not been good at making people look real and exciting in my photographs and this made many people angry causing them to throw painted stones and bundles of dry grass at me. I think I don’t try hard enough, or have subjects who are accommodating when I try hard to accommodate. I am one who also believe all people can look good in photographs since I am into silhouettes and shadows. This, and my fear of painted stones, have me doubting if I will ever become a well-rounded photographer unless I continuously eat Hershey Bars for a few months. Since I don't care too much for sweets there is not even a fat chance of that happening.

AGWS

2006-01-24T17:22:00.000-04:00

In an attempt of achieve developed country status and protect innocent gravel, Government has not only passed an OSHA bill, but has also deployed an Advanced Gravel Warning System (AGWS). This highly sophisticated and technologically advanced system is currently being used to abruptly warn gravel-oblivious drivers away from the heaps of gravel, and onto oncoming traffic. The system is said to be highly successful as very few gravel heaps were reported to be injured or scattered since the warning system was deployed.

The Music Sucks!

2006-01-15T15:11:00.000-04:00

Legend has it that one morning a certain politician, who, like all politicians, was famous for pretending he cared about the people and for being rather arrogant though he was incredibly stupid; woke up, stretched, yawned, scratched here and there, then sleepily picked up the daily newspaper to look at the picture splashed across the front page. The picture showed an inconsolable and grieving Mother and Father at the funeral of their young son who was brutally murdered by bandits just a few nights ago. This bright and wonderful young man was a victim of an unprecedented crime-wave sweeping the country. It was a crime wave encouraged and fueled by the power-hungry, kick-back-ready, ego seeking, power-is-everything-people-mean-nothing, never-wrong, inhumane and evil politicians of this country.

This talented young man was what politicians like to call collateral damage, ah well, no big thing, or so what. It was not surprising to learn the first and only thought that came to this politician's mind was this will cost me more political mileage. There was no compassion, no sympathy, only feelings for himself and his political survival, and he was proud of these feelings. That is what politicians are famous for; useless souls, and destructive existence. But then, the evil and devious part of his brain, which is by far the most dominant part of every politician's brain, reminded the rest of his neurons and all of his soul, he had more than enough votes in the bag to maintain his status quo since his supporters see him as representing what they want.

People, regardless of who their political idol is, have developed a belief that the leader they choose should favor them at the expense of those who opposed their choice. What The Legend tried to desperately point out is that people get the type of politicians they deserve for he will be made from their wishes. If the chosen representative is heartless, arrogant, unkind, wicked, cruel, vindictive, and power-and-kick-back-hungry, then he is merely a reflection of his supporters. The situation gets even more hopeless when we realize the music is the same at all The Parties and the music sucks!

Add Vice For The New Year

2006-01-10T07:08:00.000-04:00

It is 2006 and practically half the year is over. No, I am not a mad man, well at least two people think I am not but they are not very sane either. Anyway, as I was saying, half the year is over and not in terms of time. It's half over since all resolutions start to come apart during the first week in January and by the 10th of the month they are halfway gone. In mathematical terms it is expressed as the equation shown below, popularly known as the Failure Equation or The Why We Amount To Zero Equation.

Will Power * Resolutions = Outcome

Where Will Power quickly tends to Zero and Resolutions can be any number from One to Infinity. The Outcome, aka End Result, can be seen on bathroom scales, KFC shirt stains, empty beer bottles, bloodshot eyes, same shady friends, fat-filled cholesterol test results, mounds of dust on religious books, the obscenely low standard of blogging, and probably the amount of porn bookmarks on web browsers.

As a good friend told me on Ole-Years-Nite, I have no meaningful vices and vice-driven people find me annoying to be around. Naturally, I hung my head in shame while I puffed my cigar and guzzled my eight or twelfth beer for the night, while my free hand hung around a still unidentified female's neck for support. It was there and then I resolved to pick up at least one or two vices for the coming year since I had none. As if time didn't stand still, I quickly stumbled around my vice-riddled friends on the floor and asked the few conscious ones what were the more common vices among bright and handsome males like myself. As I suspected, they had no idea what a vice was and quickly dismissed my pleas. But, having placed my faith in Google and the better search engines in general, I was amazed and impressed at how much I was missing in life and why my life seemed so boring at times. With this new secret to life in hand I vowed that 2006 would be a vice-filled year.

Positions Vacant

2005-12-27T09:02:00.000-04:00

The countries of this planet called Earth are on the lookout for budding politicians. The candidate must have the ambition to serve as back-bencher, government minister, member of the opposition, leader of the opposition, and even prime minister, president, pathetic senator (government, opposition and even independent) or any other useless, loathsome life form.

Suitable candidates must be able to lie, steal, hate, have no conscience, suffer from delusions of grandeur, think the world revolves around him or her, live for power, be unable to show or act with kindness, incite hate in their supporters for non-supporters, and must be functionally illiterate despite the level of education achieved by the prospective candidate. The ideal candidate must be able to not only hate non-supporters, but also victimize them at every opportunity. Naturally looks are not critical but the look of arrogance and cluelessness will go a long way in achieving success in this much sort after field by the brain-dead and facially challenged. Having the personality of a low-class sewer rat would also be a great asset.

If you are incompetent at everything you ever do and believe hate and arrogance is the answer, then this job is for you.

Tell Me

2005-12-20T07:12:00.000-04:00

The more people become “religious” the more likely they are to hate. For many people, religion is the kick they need to boost their self-esteem and rise above the rest of a pathetic World according to them. These “religious” people are quite frightening in their baseless hate for particular groups and religions in society. I am not knocking religion and it’s purpose but I am knocking those who see themselves as superior begins based not on their ability to show universal compassion, but on their ability to show very selective compassion, if any. Tell me who you hate and I will tell you who you are.

a poor blog aka another fiasco

2005-12-19T13:20:00.000-04:00

aka: Hello?

Mini: Is this aka?

aka: Yes, this is the aka speaking.

Mini: aka, this is Mini, Mini Skirt.

aka: Well hello Mini, Mini skirt, long time no speak.

Mini: It has been a while.

aka: So what’s up Short Hem?

Mini: I just got my new cell phone and decided to test it and couldn’t think of a better guinea pig than you.

aka: If I didn’t know better I would say you were meaning to offend.

Mini: aka, no one could ever offend you.

aka: Glad you remembered.

Mini: How could I forget, I nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to offend you.

aka: Short skirts are never offensive unless accompanied by unshaven legs.

Mini: Sheesh!!! I should have known better!

aka: Is there another reason for this conversation besides you suffering form cellularitis?

Mini: You haven’t changed one bit; you are still the same obnoxious aka.

aka: Thanks, so as I was saying, what else is the reason for you using up your minutes with my time?

Mini: Well aka, I was reading your blogs recently and I have to admit I wasn’t impressed.

aka: I am not impressed with your reading ability either but there are classes which you can take. Even you can benefit.

Mini: Get-a-life aka, I mean I wasn’t impressed with what you were writing. It just so-so.

aka: It’s just so-so not It just so-so. You really need more remedial classes.

Mini: Pardon my French, but you are avoiding the issue.

aka: You are barely surviving the English and now you want to take on the French...... If we were having this conversation face to hem line I would not be avoiding The Issue.

Mini: Aka, is your mind straying into the gutter again? You seem incapable of having a sensible conversation. Just tell me what has caused your recent spate of poor blogging?

aka: You seem to strive with my mind in your gutter but since you asked I will reply. I cannot say exactly why the poor blogging because I don’t know exactly why. What most people fail to realize is that we all make blogging choices and we have to live with those choices for the rest of our lives. It could be a case of blog pressure. The way I see it is when we are dead and hopefully gone, what we would have left behind are our deeds and our blogs. If they were any good then they will bear fruit, if not then obviously more fertilizer was needed.

Mini: If I understand you correctly, you mean you are all out of fertilizer.

aka: To put it in simple layman terms, yes, but this conversation seems to be inspiring more fertilizer than you could ever imagine.

Mini: You always seem so full of it, who would have thought.

aka: Don't write me off yet my dear short-skirt, I am still very fertile.

Mini: Oh, I get it, fertilizer comes from the word fertile.

aka: Yes, one can say it's the root word.

......the end, or something like that

Stranger Than Fiction

2005-12-13T16:49:00.000-04:00

Mission:
To find evidence to prove the world is a strange place.

Method:
I did a check to see if there were people as strange as I am out there in the nearly once civilized world. I wanted to register a strange name website and came up with the fact that there are people out there who are no only as strange as me, but strange before me.

These are all registered domains. They may not be operating web sites but they certainly are owned by strangers:

www.lookatme.com
www.areyoustupid.com
www.whome.com
www.yesyou.com
www.isitreal.com
www.yesitsreal.com
www.canitouchit.com
www.notthistime.com
www.ohbrother.com
www.leavemealone.com
www.smellyfeet.com
www.fingerfungus.com
www.myheadhurts.com
www.myballsitch.com
www.sosmall.com
www.wearandtear.com
www.goodgrief.com
www.theend. com

Thank you. Thank you all.

2005-12-06T19:36:00.000-04:00

Things with simple names can floor us such as the common cold, cars, and girlfriend(s)…. and even car(s) with girlfriend(s). I was floored at least once by two of these items but not on consecutive days. However, they can all take a toll on us, both on impact and during our hospital stay. Turning off the oxygen can also be a real killer.

I am currently recovering from the common cold and was once again deeply bothered by the name and a certain pharmacist. Who in their right mind would call a common cold a common cold, certainly not someone moaning under the influence of overheating and a bloody red, tissue-from-a-tissue-box wiped nose? Could this be Rudolph’s secret that Santa and the CIA trained elves don’t want us to know?

Rudolph, with your nose so bright would you kindly use a Kleenex tonight but keep it quiet.

The one thing that is not documented in recent medical journals of questionable integrity and readership is that the mind behaves even stranger while suffering from a bout of the common cold. I don’t know if you spotted it, but mind behaves is an oxymoron. As for me, I am simply a moron deprived of oxygen. Exactly how strange the mind behaves depends how strange the mind was behaving when the common cold struck. It simply builds on that level of strangeness and peaks when the do-gooders offer you chicken soup for the umpteenth time.

Thanks for asking and I want to let the general bloging public, and other shady characters know that I am well on the road to recovery. I also want to thank the countless bottles of pills, who never hesitated to give up a bit of themselves so that my time spent under the influence was a bit bearable. Pain killer, decongestant, you know who you are even though you are generic. At last, but not in the least, I want to thank my mind for taking insanity to a higher level.

Thank you. Thank you all.

Shrinking Happiness

2005-11-24T09:56:00.000-04:00

This blog first appeared today (24-11-2005) as a comment on the popular blog Just Stuff. In the absence of any new material aka decided to publish this as his blog for today. This blog has been slightly edited to fit nothing specific.

I am also skeptical about the perpetual show of happiness and optimism. Now, please note, I am not a pessimist but I know the mind simply cannot tolerate too many "happy pills" for too long. Yep, that's my theory about those who refuse to give up their good cheer and that irritating bubbly tone of voice for even a second.

I have a theory which also states that sadness and depression has a positive effect on the economy and the progress of the Planet as we know it. Without sadness and depression there would not be the multi-billion-dollar drug (legal) industry churning out the likes of Paxil, Viagra and various colon clensers. There would also be less psychologist buying yachts, beachfront homes and penthouse apartments for their girlfriends, while their wives sign up for liposuction, facelifts and boy toys. Needless to say the reason why some are called shrinks might have some relation to their chronic use of, and need for Viagra.

I think happiness is very similar to Aptie's Chicken Roti, Joe's Pepperoni Pizza and other perversions which may or may not involve meat dishes. If you have it everyday it doesn't taste as good. We would indeed be happier people if we learn to quell extended periods of happiness just so that it doesn't become worn and incite our friends to blog about it. The worst thing that could happen to a person is for sadness and depression to creep up on them. We would be much better off if we control when these bouts of unhappiness were to appear. Similar to medication we all need happiness but only in small doses and only at the times we choose.

Christmas With The Martians

2005-11-18T07:37:00.000-04:00

It was on Christmas day 1953 when the Martians first landed on our planet. These aliens had no idea that Christmas Day was a War Holiday since they had downloaded the CIA World Fact book from the CIA’s website nearly two years before and were pleasantly surprised at the amount of hostility and bloodshed on planet Earth. Little did they know this “Intelligence Agency disguised as a website” was a war-based organization that seldom documents peace and joyous events in a good light. Based also on their searches on Google, Planet Earth seemed to be the ideal planet for a Martian vacation resort and conference center. Unfortunately the bloated Martian Government report titled “Planets We Should Invaded – aka Hostile Atmospheres for Martians – aka 101 Things Brain Dead Governments Should Do Before Christmas” didn’t paint Earth as even a remotely aggressive Planet after the Christmas Landing of 53. Martians are a people (oxymoron) who strive on War and other forms of meaningless aggression. The aliens from The Red Planet would not last a week if someone repeatedly greeted them with “Peace On Earth,” “Joy To The World” or even the worn, hidden-aggressive greeting “Have a nice day.” Their body chemistry and odor would never allow it. Needless to say this lack of Earth invasion by The Martian military may soon come to an end since Earth as a possible planet for a Martian invasion comes up for review sometime in 2007 by the Happiness Committee of Mars, who is actually scheduled to visit a shopping mall on Earth a few days before Christmas this year.

p.s: This blog was inspired by the first Christmas blog for the Season. Please visit The Cuke Is In during the week and selected holidays between normal opening and closing blogging hours.

Universal Filler

2005-11-15T07:24:00.000-04:00

To put my thoughts in writing is taking less and less effort. The reason; I am having fewer and fewer thoughts. A blank mind is a receptive mind is one of the biggest fallacies of our time. A blank mind is blank for a reason and the reason is usually not good. Look at all the great blank minds of our times and you would see what I mean. I am more like a drop of oil on an ocean of water; spreading very thin on the surface until I appear one with the water. In reality I have become unnoticeable but happy. That’s another thing, being inconspicuous doesn’t mean having no effect. Look at the wind in the hurricane season – the inconspicuous has decided to make its power known. It’s like the silent majority banding together or a speck of dust in your eye. Those would be poor examples but poor examples cause more neuron activity than good examples. Symmetrical shapes are only briefly admired but an unsymmetrical woman burdens the mind for much longer. Since the mind isn’t perfectly symmetrical it gets turned on by some of the weirdest things like hairless moles above the lip, spaced out front teeth and long legs in tight jeans (even short legs for that matter.) By now you may be wondering what is the purpose of this particular blog and I can’t blame you for wondering. I can’t blame you because I don’t know you as well as I think. We never know what people are like until we lend them money, try to cut in front of them in traffic or go out with their girlfriends. The point I am trying to make is very simple and it is this. Jeez, I forgot what it was again….oh yes, now I remember. The reason we blog is not for the entertainment of others or that we are overflowing with wisdom, but because the Universe is filled with empty space (as opposed to filled space which is probably an oxymoron), and blogging is just one more way in which the Universe is attempting to do away with unstable equilibrium and other oxymorons.

Random Thoughts - Two

2005-11-04T09:40:00.000-04:00

I never sleep late because my mind won’t let me. My mind has a mind of its own. There are advantages to getting up early such as sunrises and quiet. There is a distant neighborhood rooster who insists on announcing daybreak but lately I am beating him to it. No, I am not the new neighborhood cock, and FYI rooster and cock are synonyms. I suppose if the rooster didn’t crow in the morning he would be considered a dysfunctional rooster, and we all know what happens to dysfunctional roosters.

I recently found a good recipe for pelau. I am not big on cooking but I think cooking is a soul-satisfying art form just as photography is, except you can’t download the results to your PC or email it to friends. I understand some dishes were put, or is it thrown, on walls but not for beautification purposes. However, photography and cooking are similar because when done poorly they both can induce nausea.

Photography is amazing because it trains the photographer to see what no one else sees and to look when there is nothing to look at. It can help eliminate boredom and, by extension, reduce insanity levels. It can also cause your friends and acquaintances to whisper whenever you approach and give praise when you are gone.

My friends are poor photographic subjects since Photoshop doesn’t have a “remove ugly” feature just yet. That might be Photoshop’s biggest challenge to date and we can only wait and hope for a breakthrough :) I think the World is now spending more on eradicating ugly than on eradicating deadly human diseases.

Our second Local Over-Inflated Wonder, The Blimp, (the first being our leader’s head), flew over my house on the 30th of September 2005 at approximately 10:50 am. I suppose The Blimp was on an intelligence gathering mission. Apparently, no signs of intelligence could be found inside The Blimp on landing so the mission was deemed a failure, and as a result, the floating cash drain felt deflated.

Random Thoughts - One

2005-10-26T06:31:00.000-04:00

Sanity is mainly another name for inert and it's the main cause of boredom, which quite often leads to insanity.
I am not ashamed or afraid to admit that "Harry Potter" has never sparked my curiosity. There is something about an imaginary boy wizard having more powers than I have that's just irksome.
The most abused modern-day technological wonder is the cell phone, especially with the camera built in. Nothing is sacred anymore and everyone is a potential spy and private detective. This is a total abuse of a convenience.
The new Santana CD "All That I Am" is to be released soon and it is to be one of those "Content/Copy-protected" CDs. I think the recording industry is clutching at straws because since when does copy protection prevent people from copying?
If I ever wanted to open a store it would definitely be a book store selling only books. My reason would be that the chances of a break-in would be minimal since in this country books are not attractive to thieves and politicians (but I repeat myself). Books are not any more expensive than other pleasure devices but it requires greater brain effort than most pleasures. When I say pleasure and pleasures I mean it in the most decent way your brain could understand the word. The word pleasure has taken on a new twist lately and word association games have proven this many times over. We are a society of pleasure seekers, especially on Fridays after work...so I hear.
Small and miniature can impress friends and onlookers but it depends on what they are looking on to.
The Police have finished their investigations into the recent bombings and is unable to determine who is responsible since the bomber did not leave his name, address and phone number. How else can they solve any crime?
The fact there were four consecutive full-page ads for the Jaguar X-Type in a local newspaper today is mind boggling. It used to be that the people who could afford these cars in this and many countries were few and far between, but now they are everywhere there is a load of gravel on the road, government contract, or kidnapping establishment (but I repeat myself). I must now conclude the wealth is being distributed evenly, tough forcefully. That's what is known as good governance.

The Back

2005-10-20T07:25:00.000-04:00

At a recent concert, which was held at a location not too far form where I am typing this blog, I sat behind someone’s exposed back. The back wasn’t a bad back since it was an early to mid twenty something year old female back and seemed to be in good visual shape. Don’t for one minute think that I am one of those many weirdoes who spends the better part of his waking hours observing and scrutinizing female backs. But you see folks I had time to kill because the music was too loud to have any meaningful conversation without screaming, also the back was practically begging to be watched and even admired. I succumbed to the begging and the admiring.

Being an armature photographer exposure is always on my mind. The back had me thinking whether this back was correctly, under or over exposed. In my opinion it was correctly to under exposed but some conservative people would say any exposure is over exposure.

Backs are normally ignored until it starts to act up or become exposed. In this case it was clearly an “in your face” issue. At first I looked at the back in general terms, not as components which made up the back. To fully appreciate back beauty you need to look at it as a whole and not break it down into its components such as freckles, skin conditions and hair content. Believe me, this back was quite attractive but not when it was separated and analyzed, and few things ever are beautiful that way.

Mind you I didn’t constantly stare at the back as if to burn a hole in it and I doubt there is any back worth more than 5 minutes of attention in any given hour. What really happened was every look brought a thought and I looked several times therefore I accumulated several thoughts.

Apparently The Back had a nice Motorola cell with a camera, which she used to take several pictures of Mr. Grizzly, sitting next to her. What a waste of pixels I thought. Then, as if she sensed and was curious about my presence, she took a pic of me without turning around. It was a perfect voyeur photography technique. I then saw her look the captured image and scream. She then deleted the photograph without any indecision. The Back must have thought it was too early for Halloween. My feelings were not hurt because I knew if she did turn around or kept the picture Mr. Grizzly would be less than pleased and I less than alive. I was thankful to be still alive and physically intact because the concert hadn’t even started. However, after the first act performed on stage, my imaginary demise by Mr. Grizzly didn’t seem to be such a bad idea.

Maybe I will say more on what happened under the fancy lighting coupled with the over amplified sound but for now I will go. And despite popular request I will be back.

My Nobel Prize

2005-10-09T09:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I developed a theory which would either earn me a Nobel Prize or no prize. My theory proposes to explain a mysterious phenomenon which has been bothering men and some women for thousands of years. The phenomenon is known as “Unexplained Missing Socks (UMS).” Yes, people have suggested alternate theories before but they were all preposterous and never intended to be serious theories. At best, the existing theories can be used as standup comedy material or in politicians’ speeches, which are the same things actually. However, I must admit my theory also sounds ludicrous on the surface but once you start to give it some thought, it flies.

I want to propose to the world that socks are going missing because aliens are kidnapping and studying them in their quest to find out what makes The Earth tick. The reason socks are being singled out is quite simple; the aliens in question look like socks therefore think that Earth socks are the highest form of intelligent life on the planet. Some of you may know people and several politicians who are less intelligent than Earth socks but generally speaking, socks are not very smart. The aliens probably came to the conclusion that "Socks are it" not only because socks are their look-alikes, but because they have been observing that socks are involved in every meaningful activity on the planet, except swimming. Just think about it for a moment and you would see what I mean. The Sock Aliens also observed how some lesser intelligent life forms, namely humans, throw a fit when they can’t find their socks. The aliens think humans are the slaves of the socks because if a slave ever loses his master all hell will break lose. That is probably why some humans go ballistic when they lose their socks. Could you imagine what would happen if you couldn't find your Prime Minister? Ok, bad example, but you see where the aliens are coming from.

I submit two photographs of these Sock Aliens for your consideration. The first (above) was taken one morning. The hideous creature looked so much like my socks that it almost went unnoticed. The second (below) was taken more recently when I spotted the alien at a popular DVD club taking out two movies for the weekend.

As more evidence is gathered about UMS and Sock Aliens I will share it with the World, even if the World doesn’t want it shared. Even if the World is afraid of the Truth.

In-line Entertainment

2005-09-30T09:23:00.000-04:00

There are two types of line entertainment in the world today, on-line and in-line. On-line entertainment would be like reading this blog or happily scrolling through the pages of www.mayarobeach.com. In-line entertainment would the type found waiting in-line at banks and other line oriented institutions. From my experience I would say that there is always one intensely extroverted character in every human line of a certain length, and whose sole purpose in life is to prevent the other linees from dying of boredom or old age. Today there was one such character in the line at the bank. In less than ten minutes I learnt about his whole life story, his sister’s bad luck with men, his parents dislike for each other from marriage till death, how to live a virtuous life, why women wear makeup, and finally why banks place people inside ATMs instead of computers. I can’t complain and I have to say I got my money’s worth of in-line entertainment.

After the extrovert left us I entertained myself by wondering where the word teller came from. I went into amusing mode and thought it came from the fact these are the people you tell what transaction you wanted to do. They would in turn tell you the transaction you choose cannot be done. This would then lead to some serious telling form both sides; hence the name teller. The dictionary cannot prove or disprove this theory so for now I take it that it's true.

An L.A Story

2005-09-27T09:06:00.000-04:00

I am thankful for small blessings and eternally grateful for the larger ones. In the five hours I spent in L.A I was able to see the enormously famous Hollywood sign, Huge Hefner’s mansion and Tom Cruise’s home. I didn’t photograph the dwellings because some things are best left to the imagination and also they might be very disappointing in reality. Hey, that’s probably a good definition of a playboy. However, what I did find most interesting is the numerous would-be actresses everywhere you looked, and I looked everywhere. I didn’t do a survey but these young girls looked seriously would-be to me.

In Hollywood and Beverly Hills looks and impression are everything. Nobody could be trusted and nobody is. The place is big, bright and full of life. True, it’s probably not meaningful life but still full of it. There are parts of Beverly Hills which has a strong resemblance to the upscale suburbs of Trinidad such as Goodwood Park (or is it Good Wood Park), Fairways and even parts of St Augustine. The other amazing feature of L.A and Beverly Hills is the numerous amounts of exotic sports cars driven by equally exotic girls talking on trendy cell phones to outdated lovers. Both the cars and the girls looked well maintained and slick. I could probably write a story about every one of these girls but it might be the same story for all.

Nearly missing your connecting flight triggers a type of excitement which can only be savored days after the fact. I was grateful that my bags were lightly packed and my stamina was in good standing. The boarding of the plane, which wasn’t full, made my muscles relax and my eyelids heavy. It was about 9:00pm when the pilot announced that we have been cleared for takeoff. It was 9:15pm, when the pilot then announced that there was a mechanical problem and we had to return to the hanger. It was 30 minutes later the pilot finally announced the problem was fixed but some cargo had to be left behind. All the standby passengers and their luggage had to be removed. What? The problem was fixed but cargo had to be removed? Obviously the problem was not fixed completely and I didn’t feel too encouraged by this hidden admission that all was not well on this flight. Also, since when are people considered cargo? Granted, there were a few people who did look like cargo but the pilot shouldn’t have announced this publicly. As the pieces of cargo made their way down the narrow aisle, I pretended not to bother but still noticing the embarrassment on the cargos’ faces. That’s called adding insult to injury. It was another two hours later when the plane finally shuddered into the air.

I like flying but it takes five long hours from L.A to Miami. To pass the boredom, the in-flight entertainment that night was the movie Herbie: Fully Loaded and a snoring old woman in the seat in front of me. I couldn’t sleep because who could sleep knowing something mechanically was amiss at 36,000 feet above solid dirt.

I also observed that flight attendants are so well trained I can imagine them making that dreaded announcement that the aircraft was about to crash. “Ladies and gentlemen the pilot has announced that all engines are now hopelessly on fire and we should be hitting the ground much sooner than expected. A life-vest is located under your seat but it won't be of much use to you on land. We sincearly hope that you listened to the safety instructions given before takeoff because we are not going to repeat them. Please fasten your seat belts, have your chairs in the uright position, and your tables cleaned and locked away. You can assume the crash position or scream like a mad man, it won't make a bit of difference on arrival. On behalf of Captain Nearly Sober and the rest of the sobbing flight crew, we hoped you had pleasant flight and thank you for choosing Crash Test Air as your number-one carrier. All cell phones should be switched off at this point and do have a nice day.”

to be continued? …….maybe......maybe not.....?

Airportee

2005-09-07T10:50:00.000-04:00

The closest thing to a perfect one-stop-shop for an alien on a modern human-collecting expedition would be an international airport. In fact, if an alien landed at an international airport probably no one would even notice. The rumor mill has it that this has happened a few times before but the aliens were denied entry because of some mix up with their visas. That’s why I love airports; they are the best human zoos and causes of confusion on the planet.

An airport is a place where people of all nationalities, languages, races, colors, ages, waist sizes, genetic defects, gender disorders, and incomplete immigration forms, converge on the lost-luggage counter and take turns strangling the attendants. For just the cost of parking you can be senselessly entertained at any airport on any lazy Sunday afternoon. It is what I like, and what I do, that’s why I am called an airportee.

To be honest, the airport has more of the appearance of a circus than a zoo but I prefer to use zoo to describe the airport, and circus to describe the government. On that Sunday afternoon, with the temperature high enough to melt the coldest stares a woman could produce, I smiled to myself as insane people always do. There were the South American girls who turned faded blue jeans into a work of sculptured art, and the couple who walked into the immigration lounge with no less than 36 boxes of KFC. There was the French-looking girl with the see-through top and the drooling guys loudly thinking in silence “look at me.” The see-through girl probably had this thought running through her head “Ils sont gentils. Vous les aimez?” and I probably had this one “Oui, oui je les aime beaucoup!”

I have also been observing airhostesses over the years and noticed they are becoming more functional and less attractive. I suppose airlines have discovered that pretty girls are very useful but a girl who can push a food cart up and down a narrow aisle for five hours, and row a life raft full of people from the middle of the ocean to the nearest land mass is a rare find. I think it was George Carlin who first pointed out airhostesses are a much maligned bunch because of the fact they continuously walk in and out of cockpits. I think that gave the public the wrong impression as to their job function and it begged an answer to the question “What is really a cockpit?” Since there is an increase in the amount of female commercial pilots the name “cockpit” is to be changed but I have no idea as to what, or even why.

As a trained airport observer I have to say that the finest samples of female human life congregate there and not at Club Zen as previously thought. At the airport the skirts are as short, the jeans are as tight and the tops as transparent as those of Zen. The only difference is at the airport the people are more varied, the drinks are cheaper and there is no music, but at those prices you can’t complain.

The airport could be my home away from home but security had my cot towed away, and burnt.

Violent Clouds

2005-09-01T15:51:00.000-04:00

This scene is frighteningly beautiful. I have always been fascinated, intimidated, overwhelmed, terrified and painfully attracted by beauty. There is a hidden power in beauty which chips away at the protective layer of the soul, and leaves its nerve exposed and vulnerable. This appreciation and vulnerability is not a sign of weakness but a sign of being truly alive and I am glad to be alive.

Time

2005-08-27T09:49:00.000-04:00

Time - can't live without it

Silent Explosion

2005-08-27T09:35:00.000-04:00

I don't know what this looks like to you, but the first thought I had was "explosion." The entire "cloud-explosion" happened over a twenty minute period at around daybreak. Another bloger pointed out to me that the cloud movement is also interesting. This animated-gif is made up of twenty two frames.

Blogers-block and Other Non-fatal Conditions

2005-08-21T10:58:00.000-04:00

Gonzo

A creative bloger is one who has no sense of bloging purpose from the first keystroke to the last. Being confined by a sense of purpose, order, spelling, grammar and hideous rules of composition will only stifle creativity. The only rule for being creative is that there are no rules. Creativity is the art of letting the neurons be themselves and letting them have fun. Neurons are like children, they grow and flourish when left to explore. Naturally, I wouldn't recommend children play near a cliff which is unguarded nor would I let my brain be artificially simulated by substances know to be neuron-unfriendly. Ok, that's a rule, so what? I am being creative.

Some complain about suffering from blogers-block. I have also suffered from this blockage and now realize there is no single cure. This is no laughing matter since a blocked bloger can wreck havoc on the planet in search of the perfect creative laxative. I unfortunately can offer no real hope since I have recently taken up the dark art of blog-commenting rather than bloging in my own space. I reasoned that blogers-block is caused by the idea we must have something meaningful and worthwhile to say. Don't be caught in this trap since life itself is struggling to find even one universal meaning and any blog is likely to be more meaningful than that.

I have seen meaningful blogs in the form of an eye drawing, the observation of dry to green ferns, and the dressing up of feet with foot gloves and then snapping it with a cell camera. There are no rules and they all make perfect sense.

Blogers-block should never happen since the easiest thing in the world is to have nothing to say and then just type it. Can you imagine what would happen if a bloger did have something to actually say? I shudder at this thought :)

p.s. this blog is subject to change without notice for reasons never to be revealed to the general public and itergalactictic friends.

It Breaks Every Day

2005-08-20T08:48:00.000-04:00

Daybreak

"If it ain't broke don't fix it." These are words of wisdom born from ages of experience by those who broke many things and whose wives, girlfriends, or lovers have had enough. A day breaks every day and that is natures way of telling us he answers to a Female. He? Nature has a Male side? Yes, yes and yes. Father Nature does exist and is responsible for daybreaks (day breaks). Mother (or Female) Nature ensures that it happens more or less on time.

I took this series of pics from my front porch today. They were taken over a 6 minute period sometime around 6:15 a.m. My philosophy is "if you can't sleep then snap."

My Doughnut Comment

2005-08-16T10:36:00.000-04:00

Dangerous Nut

This is the comment I made on a very inspired blog called Sirius83's Journal of Insanity under the heading A donut with a rash . I have recently become an uninspired bloger and I decided to draw on my comments on other blogs to tide me over until my normal level of abnormal creativity resumes. What lies below was hardly modified to fit this blog.

Over the years I have become quite sympathetic to the plight of the doughnut, not only locally but internationally. This up-and-coming modern-day food group has been subjected to the most despicable treatment by food sellers and food buyers alike. This affectionate food has been callously dunked, sprinkled, jellified, choclified and now appallingly fungerised, much to the indifference of mankind, and certain educational intuitions. But all is not lost.

Hope is once again on the horizon since a lone bloger, Sirius, is raging a one-man campaign against food-group abuse. In Sirius's latest book, Doughnuts - The Hole Story, several hundred appalling cases of doughnut-abuse are documented. This graphic book also lashes out at the TTSPCF and accuses them of sitting on their collective butts while doughnuts are mercilessly squished and squashed by two-faced doughnut lovers. Some even go missing, never to be found. He is also championing the fight to extract finances from various notorious sources to help fund research into the cure for doughnut fungus and selected jelly diseases. Donations can be made to the Save the Doughnut fund by calling 800-DNUT, and you can be rest assured that the money will be very well spent :)

Cloud Formation

2005-08-14T05:38:00.000-04:00

For reasons unexplained, I captured this rain cloud formation on a Friday afternoon. This can be considered time-lapse photography. I think it looks scary but exciting. It looks like life, coming for us, whether we like it or not.

The Rice Mother

2005-07-31T07:58:00.000-04:00

A great book is one which causes the reader to think about it long after the last words are read. It is a book which makes you forget you are reading and throws you through the pages into another world. The Rice Mother by Rani Manicka is one such book. This book drained me emotionally at times but I don’t know how it did, or will affect others.

Before I finished reading The Rice Mother, I started to think about my ancestors and realizing even more there is merit in understanding our relatives of old. I don’t only mean understanding them historically but also emotionally. This is not about dwelling in the past but about understanding the struggles which brought us here today. You may find out that you are a chip from some old blocks, a replica of a good soul, or a completely new but unclassifiable branch of the family tree.

In every family there are skeletons in the closet but some families have more than the average amount of skeletons and, as a result, closets. However, what is more important is appreciating the day to day burdens which people endured in order to ensure the future generations are born, and hopefully into a better life. It is important to understand where the skeletons came from. Studying our ancestors may show that we are a product of both kindness and cruelty, and sometimes to the extreme.

While reading the book I kept asking the perennial question; how could the same two parents raise children, some whom came out as angels, while others ended up as perfect examples of strife and family shame? The reality is that no two people are alike and parents are rabidly judgmental about their children. Life is never fair and parents even more so. Yes, in the end both parents and their children are responsible for their own actions but when one family member takes misguided action, the others members also suffer, and shaped or distorted by its results. Whether we like it or not, a large part of who we are today is a result of who our ancestors were, the choices they made, and the fate they were handed. The rest is our history to create for the future.

p.s.1 - This book was recommended to me by Tunks :)

p.s.2. - I took the photo above during the wee hours of this Sunday morning. I clicked the shutter while the book lied captivatingly on a table which, incidentally, might be Malaysian :)

Night Lights

2005-07-23T18:39:00.000-04:00

The night lights of St. Augustine

I took four photos last night (22nd. July, 2005) using a 2-second exposure time. I actually took more than four shots but the choosen four were shot from the same position on the tripod. I was trying to capture the streaks of light (white and red) from the passing cars. I then put the pictures together in an animated GIF file. I think the inspiration to do this came while flipping through the pictures. The effect created is almost the same as a movie flip-book.

Bin and Bomb

2005-07-19T05:37:00.000-04:00

Humor masks our greatest fears and an event yesterday proves I am still full of it, the fear I mean. This blog is my mask.

Blame it on a sick sense of humor and fear, but I laughed when Shelly Dass on TV6 reported that the police were still investigating what caused a "garbage bin to blow up in down town Port-of-Spain on July 11th ". I laughed when a friend told me that the police was now on the hunt for Dust-Bin Laden. I laughed all the way to St. Anne's.

The reason is not important, but only the fact that I had to take a trip to mid-town Port-of -Spain starting from somewhere on the extreme west of Park St. My regular route through Victoria Square soon turned into a nightmare when I suddenly noticed that I was surrounded by bins upon bins (see illustration above). If the amount and the placement of these bins (poor attempt at small circles on the drawing) were typical, I could not say because like most people, I never paid attention to garbage bins before. Take a look at the drawing. Wouldn't you say the amount of bins and their placement are strange? This had to be the work of a sanitation engineer gone mad or the Government.

Gripped with fear, my mind, independent to my brain and body, told me "get the hell outta here." The only two other people in the Square were vagrants. I made this assumption because they had that very calm, not-a-care-in-the-world look about them and their sense of fashion begged to be forgiven. Their calmness was reassuring but their distance from the bins weren't.

As good fortune would have it, I came out of the square physically intact but mentally shattered. I couldn't help but wonder if I was the only one in the country who reacted, and is reacting this way. I think not. My humor only hides my fear but my ski mask probably does a better job.

Imperfection

2005-07-17T11:12:00.000-04:00

This is the first real drawing exercise in the book. The actual drawing from the book is much better and much less flawed. It's strange though, how people admire perfection, never realizing the better part of interesting is the imperfection.

Flat Glass Bottle

2005-07-13T18:33:00.000-04:00

I distorted this image using Photoshop while waiting for the ever-popular Tropical Storm Emily to either hit, or not hit. The original image was that of a flat glass bottle. Yes, such bottles do exist and this image is partial proof of that. The full proof is on its way, threatening to silence the skeptics forever.

Hitch Upon a Star

2005-07-10T11:19:00.000-04:00

Shouldn't a blog tell you something about the bloger? It should, but what is says is not always useful. I posted this blog to prove my case.

I decided to collect ticket stubs from Movietowne because years from now I hope to retire and live a lavish, and occasionally vile lifestyle, on the vast sums I will have made from the sale of these collector's items. The future is brighter than I could have ever imagined, as you can see from the preview of my collection above.

What's the saying again, Hitch upon a star, or is it Wish upon a star? I could never remember but that’s what I have done.

Q.E.D

Girls of Red Square

2005-07-09T17:50:00.000-04:00

I captured these shots from the DVD Paul McCartney - In Red Square. This photo montage I put together could be called Girls of Red Square, The McCartney Red Square Concert Girls, The Cameraman Likes These Concert Girls or Aka's Picks. The pictures were sewn together using Corel Draw 11. The DVD was called a concert film, but since there is no film in a DVD I prefer to call it a docu-concert. The DVD was put together by the A&E/History Channel people so that should give you an indication what the DVD is like. Amazing; that's my opinion.

half -a-brain

2005-07-06T18:06:00.000-04:00

Almost three years ago a small but rebellious bunch of brain cells, nestled somewhere in my head, formed themselves into a pressure-group. This seditious group immediately jumped into action and complained that I was unbelievably boring and I didn't seem to support neuron growth. With my ego shattered, feelings hurt and sedation wearing off, I listened to their grievance. "What do you do in you spare time?" the loony pack of neurons asked in a most neurotic tone. "You sit around waiting for the sun to rise with a Canon strapped to your eye. What is that about, its boooring, that's what?" "Don't you get it? It's the same sun everyday. You point and click, point and click. True you play around with a few settings, a few angles but so what. Move on, do something different, get a life." The truth hurts but not as much as the headache these poor excuses for a thought process were giving me. This headache forced me to take up an interest in peace and neuron growth. This also led me to take up drawing, not because it would be a challenge but because it was something I was sure to fail at. I would show these neurons who was the real brains!

What this fore-paragraph is leading to is the book "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" by Dr. Betty Edwards. I bought this book because it was designed to make non-sketchers into sketchers by using a revolutionary method of right-brain activation. Apparently learning to draw is learning to see and seeing is not as easy as I thought, especially if you have only half a brain.

The sketch above was one of my early and few efforts. It represents me trying to reproduce a sketch I saw in a book called "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark." (This book is a challenge because reading in the dark is not easy).

The yearning to restart this journey into the right side of my brain, after a three year absence, was inspired by Words Unspoken, and also my insatiable quest to cause public outcry. The reason for bloging about it is to put myself up for further public ridicule if I slack off, or not.

A Simple Sample and All That Jazz

2005-07-02T05:15:00.000-04:00

A picture is worth a thousand words, but a picture of a desktop is worth considerably more, especially if it was painted by Picasso.

I have a feeling that the lost art of desktop-reading will soon replace toothbrush-bristle-reading as the number form of fortune telling and psycho analysis. "Show me your desktop and I will tell you who you are. Give me a hundred dollars and I will tell you what you want."

What can you tell about this bloger by a simple sample of his desktop? Simple Sample is the latest method used in the psycho analysis of the distorted mind of some Blogers. It is based on the theory that things are arranged on the desktop as it is arranged in the mind. You allow things to happen in the physical world as you do in the mental world. This has to be true since there is mounting evidence which suggest that I do have a set of headphones and a pen precociously lodged among my neurons. You see, I have been hearing things that nobody hears and writing things which nobody reads. These writings have turned up mainly on my blogs and lately as graffiti in washrooms of certain alien spaceships. These sounds have not turned up at all. What else does Simple Sample reveal about the Bloger in question? Wonder no more - it says the bloger has the writing ambitions of a master storyteller, the smile of a 21st century female jazz singer and either looks like a Russian or a used Post-it. It also says the Bloger quite likely has the IQ of a used ticket stub. But all of this is only on the surface, and what lies beneath is even more disturbing, and yellow.

Batman: Before The Beginning and Whatever

2005-06-26T12:13:00.000-04:00

Before The Beginning:

Batman Begins (aka Batman Begi, aka Bruce and Alfred, The Early Years, aka Why the Well Should Be Covered Well) was fraught with fear and uncertainty as parking spots were much more than scarce. It was a night of warlike tension when what seemed like hundreds of incensed potential moviegoers converged on what looked like nowhere in particular. It was a night of high parking lot drama as the once peaceful drivers from all walks of life, of all ages, of all levels of stupidity and varying degrees of sexual activity and inactivity, resorted to primordial instincts in their quest for nonexistent parking spots. It was the ideal night for the parking lot Batman to intervene, but he never showed. The bastard!

Almost At the Beginning:

An Audi A6 reversed and gave me my first real hope of seeing Batman Begins that night. My Honda flashed its headlights in gratitude and the Audi A6 honked her horn in acknowledgement of our show of appreciation by way of our flashing headlights. I smiled and blushed as the pretty female A6 driver and I made, not only retina contact, but also made my retinas glad to be male retinas. It’s strange how the simple things in life can make a fool happy. That’s why I stayed a fool for so long, it’s cheaper and happier.

Closer than Almost:

The line to see this movie looked like a National Geographic aerial snapshot of a desert snake in motion. The paid up moviegoers were only pseudo-aggrieved since the time spent in the line gave people the opportunity to mako each other. That was 60% of the reason for going to see the movie in the first place. The other 30% was for the popcorn and the remaining percentage was attributed to boasting to the unsuspecting that you actually got a parking spot and saw the movie.

The Movie:

It was a good movie which I, like Thomas Cruise Mapother IV, will eventually get on DVD. I give it a 3.5/5, aka 7/10 for those fearful of the decimal point.

Could it be?

2005-06-21T21:46:00.000-04:00

"Could it be that a contributor to "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" is on this planet? Is it possible? Could it be?"

These words were echoed not too long ago and not too far from here and not too loud so as to disturb the neighbors. The answer to this three-pronged question was only known by the few select Muddleruts who were involved in the initial towel-finding exercise. Legend, and fortune-seeking Muddleruts looking for a book deal, claim THHGTTG, 1st swamp edition, not only answered these questions but also revealed The Secret of Life. This Secret would have remained intact but, by their default nature, Muddleruts and Earthling Women are famous for their leaky disposition to secrets. Six weeks ago a profusely leaking Muddlerut wanting to impress a female Muddlerut suffering from too much curvature, with a triple chin and nicely corrugated forehead, revealed to a crowded pub on the Redder Side of The Planet, The Secret of Life and also of lint-free towels. According to the grapevine, The Secret of Life was so desperately elusive since life began only because it was cleverly hidden in the labels of towels disguised as washing instructions. Who would have thought? Washing instructions are short, confusing and of the finest print, much like life. We should have known.

The Secret revealed:

"Use the recommended washing programme. DO NOT DRY CLEAN/GENTLE WASH ONLY. Limit the use of fabric conditioner on your towels. Whilst they give your towels a soft feel, overuse of conditioner leaves a coating on the towels and reduces the absorbency. Made in China."

These profound words confirmed what philosophers had suspected for hundreds of years, but no one knew what that was.

If you were so moved by the Words of The Towel Label then I say, Dry your tears on the towel of life but watch for lint.

umbrullat!

Ants, Umbrellas and Prehistoric Martian History

2005-06-18T09:52:00.000-04:00

My recent blog and forum readings have left me fearful of ants and umbrellas and also deeply suspicious of oxygen enriched Martians. Before I go any further I want to make something quite clear; I am not a Martian and I have never knowingly seen one, at least in the last month within fifty meters from where I live and on Sundays before 11 p.m. According to scientist studying the mating habits of unspecified fruits the Zabalian, pictured in a previous blog, is not an alien, but a cross between a Zabacado and an undetermined mammalian. A paternity test is to be done on the usual suspect.

Back to the topic at hand, but since there is none that should be easy.

Since reading a particular blog about umbrellas, I seem to have developed an eye for these notorious devices. It’s strange how just a few lines on a simple blog can be a real eye-opener. Incidentally, the word umbrella has its root in the in the early Martian word umbrellat, meaning ouch. And, by a very strange coincidence, the Government of Mars is also known as umbrullat. I have also become painfully aware that these devices have many uses and that no one can remember what original necessity sparked their invention. What I do know is that many a good street-fight was triggered by these gadgets and they are now in a close second to women as the root cause of all misery on our walkways.

It is written in prehistoric Martian history that ants were on our planet before life started. Prehistoric Martian History, published by Aliens Anonymous, is the only source of Prehistoric Martian History ever published on a Wednesday. In this book, chronicling the woefully unsavory history of Martian lust and sensuality, ants are portrayed as being shameless creatures of the night, invading kitchen counters, foods and certain novels, long before they were invented, cooked, or written. Earthly scientists have only recently done studies to determine if ants can make sounds. Early findings suggest that these pesky creatures do in fact make sounds but their only decipherable words so far were "get back in line you idiot!"

Since I don’t want to take pointlessness to new heights I will say what my chemistry teacher said at the end of class, "Argon."