INDIA POISED LIKE HELL Thursday, Jul 26 2007 

               At the Headquarters of the Ministry of Baby-killers in Mumbai, a bunch of baby-killers were toasting their latest achievement: that of stabbing a two day old baby twenty six times and leaving it in a pile of garbage. They raised their glasses filled with their favorite drink- liquefied fetus – and yelled “to infanticide”. They all drank to it and proceeded to take bites of their favorite dishes: mashed placenta and grilled umbilical cords. The Ministry had been in existence since forever although they received organizational status only after the day they were able to attain an all time best performance of killing twenty-seven babies in one day. It was masterminded by a couple who figured that setting a maternity ward on fire was the smartest way to fight the epidemic known as childbirth. That was also the standard answer that every member of the Ministry was required to give if ever questioned about their actions; they had to say “I did it for my country. I did it to control our population explosion.” And it was certain that if not everyone at least some fellow citizens would be fucked up enough to share their perspective and lend them support.

               As the celebrations were proceeding with all prams blazing, one of the Ministry’s trusted informants rushed in, gasping for breath, with a very crucial piece of information. The members of the Ministry of Baby-killers shuddered on hearing the news. The Indian people were apparently protesting in anger after some loser rummaged through the garbage dump and encountered the most horrific sight. The Ministry couldn’t believe what they were hearing. They expected a small disparaging piece in the third page of all the leading newspapers and maybe a short pitiful segment on NDTV but that was about it. However, in an unprecedented turn of events, the proud sons of India had generated an angry uprising. The matter was placed before the management board of the ministry and thoroughly discussed.

Baby Killer #1: This is outrageous. We’ve been killing babies all our lives and the rest of the Indians have never given a shit. But we stab a little twerp twenty-six times and leave him to die in a dumpster and they are pissed. That doesn’t make any sense.
Baby Killer #2: Something does seem to be amiss. I mean, what’s up these people’s asses that’s making them butt their noses into our business. Especially at a time like this when Shilpa Shetty is back in the news again. They should be in front of their television sets not giving a shit about other stuff that’s happening around them.
Baby Killer #1: Could it be that they have gained an outlook on life that’s not selfish? Could it be that the rest of the Indians have finally realized what stuff to get mad at and what stuff to let go?
Baby Killer #2 (thinks for few seconds): I strongly suspect that they’re all just really high.
Baby Killer #1: So, I guess the best thing for us to do for the time being is to lay low and let things settle down on their own.
Baby Killer #2: Yeah, that and murdering babies and devouring their intestines.
Baby Killer #1: Of course, that goes without saying.

                However, the ruckus didn’t subside; it only seemed to get worse with every passing day. The brave sons of India, apparently, showed no signs of retreating. Roads were blocked, windows broken, candles lit, effigies burned, and assholes fingered. The aggression reached such frustrating levels that the Ministry of Baby-killers decided that it was best to surrender themselves before the angry mob and plead with them to not hurt them.

               Therefore, the next day, while a screaming throng was making their way down the road, the Ministry confronted them. It was the showdown between the Ministry of Baby-killers and the patriots.

The Patriots: Who are you people? Get out of our way.
The Ministry: We’re here to negotiate with you.
The Patriots: We’re patriots, negotiation is not in our repertoire. On the other hand, doing retarded stuff based purely on impulse is.
The Ministry: We’re sorry to tell you that we are actually the people you’re protesting against.
The Patriots (silent for a second): You traitors did that? That despicable act was your work?
The Ministry: Well, yeah. But you have to understand that we had our reasons. And they seemed quite reasonable at the time.
The Patriots: We don’t care what reasons you had, you sick anti-social freaks. The fact of the matter is you committed one of the most heinous acts a human being could ever do.
The Ministry: Oh, come on. At least, it wasn’t as bad as Jhoom Barabar Jhoom.
The Patriots: That may be but that doesn’t give you the right to do something like that. Perhaps you thought the rest of India would just sit back and not do anything about it.
The Ministry: Actually, yeah, we were under that impression. That is after all what we have been used to.
The Patriots: Get ready to feel the power of the new generation.
The Ministry (apologetic): We swear we didn’t mean to kill that baby. We were just teaching it self-defense.
The Patriots (confused): Baby? What baby? What the heck are you talking about?
The Ministry (puzzled as well): We’re talking about the baby we stabbed twenty-six times and dumped into a pile of garbage. Isn’t that why you’re protesting? We heard you shouting in the news stuff about the garbage dump and the irreprehensible act of hatred that was committed.
The Patriots: That’s true but we weren’t talking about any stupid baby’s death.
The Ministry: You weren’t?
The Patriots: Heck, no. We were talking about an offensive piece of writing that we found in the dump disrespecting our national pledge and in turn our nation.
The Ministry: And the dead baby?
The Patriots (pissed): To hell with the dead baby. We have more important matters to deal with here. Someone actually used the words “fuck” “dick” and “pussy” and made fun of our national pledge. We will not rest until we burn that sonofabitch up on a fucking cross.
The Ministry (softly): So you don’t mind us murdering babies and ditching their half dead bodies on the streets?
The Patriots: Look, wise guys, we don’t care what you do as long as you don’t criticize our history, our historical figures, and our legacy. You can whack all the newborns you want provided you don’t disrespect, by means of words or art, the national flag, the national pledge or the national anthem. You can rape as many women as you want as long as you don’t refer to them as “pussies” or “hoes” or “bitches”. You can even molest as many kids as you feel like because that’s not a crime that’s limited to our country alone. No country is crime free so that makes it alright for us to rape and molest and kill and torture. But if you talk about it in an obscene manner we’re not going to just stand by and let it happen. If some smart-ass hopes to write some vulgar shit about our nation, our religion, or our history and get away with it, by God, he better think twice about it! According to us writing “horny dick” is way worse than taking one out and slapping a girl with it.
The Ministry (pauses for a moment): So we’re good?
The Patriots: Yeah, we’re fine. Look, you people might have a fetish for killing babies but as far as we can see you communicate using decent language and you say nothing against our nation. And you are all men. So we got no problem. Now, we have to continue with our protests. Take Care.
The Ministry (still a bit stunned): You too…we guess.

               The ecstatic Ministry of Baby-killers thanked God for averting a potential danger and promised the almighty that they would change their ways. They gave their word to the Lord to never kill a baby again and dump it in a pile of garbage. They vowed to always get rid of the body by hurling it into the ocean. But right now, they had to celebrate this great close shave. They called a nationwide meeting of the Ministry and threw a grand buffet having dishes ranging from fried-rice, uterus curry, newborn’s heart roast, and stuffed infant with a side of baby pancreas.

INDIA POISED LIKE HELL Thursday, Jul 26 2007 

               At the Headquarters of the Ministry of Baby-killers in Mumbai, a bunch of baby-killers were toasting their latest achievement: that of stabbing a two day old baby twenty six times and leaving it in a pile of garbage. They raised their glasses filled with their favorite drink- liquefied fetus – and yelled “to infanticide”. They all drank to it and proceeded to take bites of their favorite dishes: mashed placenta and grilled umbilical cords. The Ministry had been in existence since forever although they received organizational status only after the day they were able to attain an all time best performance of killing twenty-seven babies in one day. It was masterminded by a couple who figured that setting a maternity ward on fire was the smartest way to fight the epidemic known as childbirth. That was also the standard answer that every member of the Ministry was required to give if ever questioned about their actions; they had to say “I did it for my country. I did it to control our population explosion.” And it was certain that if not everyone at least some fellow citizens would be fucked up enough to share their perspective and lend them support.

               As the celebrations were proceeding with all prams blazing, one of the Ministry’s trusted informants rushed in, gasping for breath, with a very crucial piece of information. The members of the Ministry of Baby-killers shuddered on hearing the news. The Indian people were apparently protesting in anger after some loser rummaged through the garbage dump and encountered the most horrific sight. The Ministry couldn’t believe what they were hearing. They expected a small disparaging piece in the third page of all the leading newspapers and maybe a short pitiful segment on NDTV but that was about it. However, in an unprecedented turn of events, the proud sons of India had generated an angry uprising. The matter was placed before the management board of the ministry and thoroughly discussed.

Baby Killer #1: This is outrageous. We’ve been killing babies all our lives and the rest of the Indians have never given a shit. But we stab a little twerp twenty-six times and leave him to die in a dumpster and they are pissed. That doesn’t make any sense.
Baby Killer #2: Something does seem to be amiss. I mean, what’s up these people’s asses that’s making them butt their noses into our business. Especially at a time like this when Shilpa Shetty is back in the news again. They should be in front of their television sets not giving a shit about other stuff that’s happening around them.
Baby Killer #1: Could it be that they have gained an outlook on life that’s not selfish? Could it be that the rest of the Indians have finally realized what stuff to get mad at and what stuff to let go?
Baby Killer #2 (thinks for few seconds): I strongly suspect that they’re all just really high.
Baby Killer #1: So, I guess the best thing for us to do for the time being is to lay low and let things settle down on their own.
Baby Killer #2: Yeah, that and murdering babies and devouring their intestines.
Baby Killer #1: Of course, that goes without saying.

                However, the ruckus didn’t subside; it only seemed to get worse with every passing day. The brave sons of India, apparently, showed no signs of retreating. Roads were blocked, windows broken, candles lit, effigies burned, and assholes fingered. The aggression reached such frustrating levels that the Ministry of Baby-killers decided that it was best to surrender themselves before the angry mob and plead with them to not hurt them.

               Therefore, the next day, while a screaming throng was making their way down the road, the Ministry confronted them. It was the showdown between the Ministry of Baby-killers and the patriots.

The Patriots: Who are you people? Get out of our way.
The Ministry: We’re here to negotiate with you.
The Patriots: We’re patriots, negotiation is not in our repertoire. On the other hand, doing retarded stuff based purely on impulse is.
The Ministry: We’re sorry to tell you that we are actually the people you’re protesting against.
The Patriots (silent for a second): You traitors did that? That despicable act was your work?
The Ministry: Well, yeah. But you have to understand that we had our reasons. And they seemed quite reasonable at the time.
The Patriots: We don’t care what reasons you had, you sick anti-social freaks. The fact of the matter is you committed one of the most heinous acts a human being could ever do.
The Ministry: Oh, come on. At least, it wasn’t as bad as Jhoom Barabar Jhoom.
The Patriots: That may be but that doesn’t give you the right to do something like that. Perhaps you thought the rest of India would just sit back and not do anything about it.
The Ministry: Actually, yeah, we were under that impression. That is after all what we have been used to.
The Patriots: Get ready to feel the power of the new generation.
The Ministry (apologetic): We swear we didn’t mean to kill that baby. We were just teaching it self-defense.
The Patriots (confused): Baby? What baby? What the heck are you talking about?
The Ministry (puzzled as well): We’re talking about the baby we stabbed twenty-six times and dumped into a pile of garbage. Isn’t that why you’re protesting? We heard you shouting in the news stuff about the garbage dump and the irreprehensible act of hatred that was committed.
The Patriots: That’s true but we weren’t talking about any stupid baby’s death.
The Ministry: You weren’t?
The Patriots: Heck, no. We were talking about an offensive piece of writing that we found in the dump disrespecting our national pledge and in turn our nation.
The Ministry: And the dead baby?
The Patriots (pissed): To hell with the dead baby. We have more important matters to deal with here. Someone actually used the words “fuck” “dick” and “pussy” and made fun of our national pledge. We will not rest until we burn that sonofabitch up on a fucking cross.
The Ministry (softly): So you don’t mind us murdering babies and ditching their half dead bodies on the streets?
The Patriots: Look, wise guys, we don’t care what you do as long as you don’t criticize our history, our historical figures, and our legacy. You can whack all the newborns you want provided you don’t disrespect, by means of words or art, the national flag, the national pledge or the national anthem. You can rape as many women as you want as long as you don’t refer to them as “pussies” or “hoes” or “bitches”. You can even molest as many kids as you feel like because that’s not a crime that’s limited to our country alone. No country is crime free so that makes it alright for us to rape and molest and kill and torture. But if you talk about it in an obscene manner we’re not going to just stand by and let it happen. If some smart-ass hopes to write some vulgar shit about our nation, our religion, or our history and get away with it, by God, he better think twice about it! According to us writing “horny dick” is way worse than taking one out and slapping a girl with it.
The Ministry (pauses for a moment): So we’re good?
The Patriots: Yeah, we’re fine. Look, you people might have a fetish for killing babies but as far as we can see you communicate using decent language and you say nothing against our nation. And you are all men. So we got no problem. Now, we have to continue with our protests. Take Care.
The Ministry (still a bit stunned): You too…we guess.

               The ecstatic Ministry of Baby-killers thanked God for averting a potential danger and promised the almighty that they would change their ways. They gave their word to the Lord to never kill a baby again and dump it in a pile of garbage. They vowed to always get rid of the body by hurling it into the ocean. But right now, they had to celebrate this great close shave. They called a nationwide meeting of the Ministry and threw a grand buffet having dishes ranging from fried-rice, uterus curry, newborn’s heart roast, and stuffed infant with a side of baby pancreas.

AESOP'S SLIGHTLY LOONEY BROTHER'S FABLES#2 Wednesday, Jul 25 2007 

                    Keeping in mind the importance of political correctness and honesty, only this could be said about Dan Bo: He was the dumbest creature in the whole wide world. Mentally retarded donkeys (or is it donkii?) had a better chance of passing a test than Dan Bo. Brain-dead sheep (why not sheeps?) thought faster than Dan Bo. Comatose hippos (or is it hippii?) had more cerebral action than Dan Bo. Apoplectic weasels (Ugh! Who cares about plurals-or is it plurii?) comprehended…(I think you get the drift).
                   Dumbness did not necessarily co-exist with lack of popularity. In fact dumbness was directly proportional to the number of friends you had (now you know why you’re so popular). The dumber you were the more mistakes you made and hence the more entertainment you created for the ones around you (for nothing is as entertaining to another as your mistakes). Although when it came to commanding respect Dan Bo was not exactly topping the chart. When the ones around him didn’t regard him with derision and mockery, they regarded him with jeers and sneers and when they were short of jeers and sneers they used gibes and taunts and so ran the list.
                  It was just another ordinary day except for the arrival of an alien spaceship filled with ultra-intelligent aliens who threatened to invade the Earth. Unless, they said, an Earthling could defeat them with superior intelligence and powers of comprehension. Professors, scientists, biotechnologists, Presidents(huh?)-almost everybody tried to leave the aliens hanging but they ended up hanging in the prison at the back of the colossal spaceship with their legs split and their heads shoved up their backsides. Finally, Dan Bo- who was resting in his long low seat-was zapped and made to appear in front of the B.O.A (the Board of Aliens as the alien intelligentsia called themselves). Maybe it was “divan intervention” or maybe it was just plain ol’ irony-whatever it was, after four hours of conversation with Dan Bo, the aliens emancipated the captives and got their out-of-the-world-blue-posteriors the hell out of Earth. Dan Bo thus saved the world and gained the love and respect of one and all (except that of the aliens).
Due to the extremely graphic nature of the intensely nonsensical conversation that transpired between the B.O.A and Dan Bo only a very small part of it is printed below which would be sufficient to show why the aliens scrammed:
Dan Bo(shrugging):You know what they say: “Curiosity spilled the milk”.
The B.O.A(gritting their teeth):What?
Dan Bo(surprised):It didn’t?
The B.O.A(with an incredulous look in their eyes):What?
Dan Bo (nervous and embarrassed):I mean the dead cat spilled the milk.
The B.O.A(their eyes widening further):What?
Dan Bo (flabbergasted):It didn’t?
The B.O.A(irate at the illogic digression):What?
Dan Bo(thinking hard):No…no…wait…What was the deal with the cat again?
The B.O.A(sighing deeply trying to retain their sanity):Curiosity killed the cat.
Dan Bo(with a relieved smile):Oh, ok. Curiosity killed the cat.
The B.O.A (their anger alleviated on finally sensing an end to this):Yes, that’s correct.
Dan Bo (with a quizzical stare):So then who spilled the milk?
The B.O.A (stunned):….

MORAL: EVERY CLOD HAS A SILVER LINING

INDIA SHINING LIKE HELL Tuesday, Jul 24 2007 

(Video link to the story) 

 http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/45521/accused-denies-eveteasing-10yrold–reporters-blog.html                                

                Paint a Hindu goddess with her boobs hanging out and you will be targeted as an anti-national; merely think about sketching a picture of Prophet Muhammad and you automatically become worthy of having your blasphemous little head rolling around the ground looking at your severed windpipe and vocal cords hanging off your neck; miss a Sunday mass and you’ll be pushed up in the list of those eternally damned; accidentally drop the Indian flag on the ground and the whole damn army will be invading your ass; wear an outfit that you like and you’re in direct violation of India’s moral code; celebrate Valentine’s Day with someone you’re fond of and you get the piss slapped out of your nuts by the cops for buying into the “western way of living”; but taunt and harass a ten-year-old girl, then run over her arm with your vehicle leaving her in a possible state of permanent trauma, and you shall find yourself sitting home-not the same as a jail-watching television and farting like a dirty motherfucker. I think it’s a moment when we should all stand up before our national flag- one that’s well above the ground- put our hands across our chest and roar our national pledge. And mean it, of course.

Not this one:

India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters. I love my country. I am proud of its rich and varied culture. I shall always strive to be worthy of it. I shall love and respect my parents, teachers and elders. To my country and my people I pledge my devotion.

But this one:

India is not my country. I was just fucking born here. All Indians are not my brothers, just the ones with rich dads. No Indian is my sister, not even the ugly ones or the newborn ones. They’re all just walking pussies and tits for me to try and grab at. I don’t give a fuck about my parents, anybody else’s parents, teachers and elders. Fuck them all. I shall strive to dedicate all my time to molesting helpless little girls and leaving them scarred for life. To my country and my people I pledge my horny dick.

50 PAISE'S LOVE NOTE Monday, Jul 23 2007 

A woman is nice if fine and fit,
Good firm tits and an ass to hit,
One tight pussy that’ll pop like a zit,
And a mouth that’ll swallow and not just spit.

50 PAISE vs GOD Sunday, Jul 22 2007 

(Created by 50 paise in his younger, immature days before he became a responsible doctor with his very own advice column):

God is the devil, he burns us alive
Made fuckin impossible rules for us to abide
God himself misleads us and makes us sin here
Forces us to wear masks, fuck our veneers
He watched over me tearin myself apart
As i crawled to the shore he lacerated my heart
You’re giving me the worst kind of pain, God,
Each one of my loved ones you find and maim, God,
I would never have fuckin complained even if you slit my throat,
You’re the fuckin storm which splits the boats
You split her life up, you ignored my prayers
You broke her methodically, layer by layer
What did she do wrong, God? She is Purity
But you put her through hell, you fuckin destroyed her security
Let motherfuckers trample over her pure heart and soul
Her role of an angel you reduced to a prisoner’s role
Her heart is paradise but you filled it with dark clouds
Her smile gave me light but you covered it with black shrouds
I did my fuckin best to be good I did it for her sake
All my interests for her I was ready to forsake
But that’s not what you want, is it God?, you are a perv
You’re unfair, you never give people what they deserve
You fucked our lives, I feel destroyed
What I thought I had is now null and void
I trusted you God, in you I sincerely believed
But now I feel dead, I’m my own bereaved
I always told myself that you’d set things straight
You didn’t, you never do, you enjoy hurting and call it fate
Do what you wish to me God, I fuckin don’t care
But don’t hurt her anymore, she’s a gem,a stone rare,
Love isn’t real, there that’s the truth right there,
Life isn’t divine, it’s a motherfuckin nightmare.

INDIAN PRESIDENT LOOKS LIKE A LADY Saturday, Jul 21 2007 

               India has just gone one step up in the ladder of women empowerment with the wonderful news of the bestowal of one of the most prestigious titles upon arguably the most important and underrated Indian woman ever. As you may have already guessed I’m talking about the fact that Shilpa Slutty is now Dr. Shilpa Slutty thanks to the overwhelming benevolence of our old colonial masters who’re nowhere near done giving the crybaby enough candy for making her bawl like a fucking bitch a few months back. However, another lesser meaningful title of India’s President was ascribed to some tiny old lady called Pratibha Patil who isn’t even half as sexy as Shilpa Slutty.

                CNN-IBN’s slightly lesser known sister channel CNN-SOB rose to the occasion and covered the story of India getting only its second woman president. The first was, as all of us Indians remember, Lord Mountbatten’s perverted little daughter who used to spy on Jawaharlal Nehru making sweet love to her own mother when her father went “hunting” with the stable boy. That story was covered by yet another sister channel of CNN-IBN called CNN-STD. They also reported that the flower tucked into Nehru’s coat pocket was symbolic of the neat deflowering job he had done on Lord Mountbatten’s bitch. CNN-SOB reported that unlike the first woman President of India, Pratibha Patil had no sexual perversions of any sort. In fact, except for the time she spoke to a dead guy on Mount Abu she could be said to have lead a completely normal life.

                However, India’s primary political party, the BJP, who treated all Indians with equal respect and dignity unless they were Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists and non-upper class Hindus, claimed that the new Indian President was not worthy of heading our country. They threatened that they possessed highly scandalous information regarding the new President and unless she quit her post they would reveal those details, which could very well bring the whole country into disrepute. Another sister channel of CNN-IBN, called CNN-HIV which specialized in sting operations managed to solicit the BJP leaders and obtain the shameful facts concerning our new President. The charge sheet leaked out of the BJP HQ, which was neatly typed and bulleted accused Pratibha Patil of two very serious charges:

  • Pratibha Patil is a woman
  • Pratibha Patil is not a man

       CNN-HIV later reported that President Pratibha denied both these allegations raised against her by the BJP. However, the entire operation was canned by the BJP after they received an anonymous tip-off about an M.F Hussain painting that displayed a three-headed rabbit sexually pleasuring a castrated tiger, which blatantly blasphemed the national pride of India by insulting our national animal and also the Trimurti.

                 Apart from that, President Pratibha enjoyed the unanimous support of the Indian people and also the Indian women who would soon, Insha’Allah and also Insha’Pratibha, be granted the status of “peoplehood”. On the very first day in office, President Pratibha brought about some radical reformations to our country’s laws, rules, and regulations. Firstly, she demanded that Union Woman and Child Welfare Minister Renuka Chowdhary should slim down so that people can view her using only a single television set. Secondly, she made gay marriages legal in India. And thirdly, she made having sex in public illegal. As soon as the third law was passed, she received an intelligence report from India’s most vocal Defense Minister A.K. Anthony who made hand gestures to her which conveyed that two men had been caught having wild butt-sex in an open land in the middle of Uttar Pradesh. Aerial cameras inside the Rashtrapati Bhavan telecast the tiny live images of two figures lustily rubbing against each other. On zooming in the two men were identified to be Amitabh Bachchan and Amar Singh celebrating the legalization of gay marriages. Madam President ordered both men to be arrested and sent immediately to Himesh Reshmmiya’s recording studio. 

INDIAN PRESIDENT LOOKS LIKE A LADY Saturday, Jul 21 2007 

               India has just gone one step up in the ladder of women empowerment with the wonderful news of the bestowal of one of the most prestigious titles upon arguably the most important and underrated Indian woman ever. As you may have already guessed I’m talking about the fact that Shilpa Slutty is now Dr. Shilpa Slutty thanks to the overwhelming benevolence of our old colonial masters who’re nowhere near done giving the crybaby enough candy for making her bawl like a fucking bitch a few months back. However, another lesser meaningful title of India’s President was ascribed to some tiny old lady called Pratibha Patil who isn’t even half as sexy as Shilpa Slutty.

                CNN-IBN’s slightly lesser known sister channel CNN-SOB rose to the occasion and covered the story of India getting only its second woman president. The first was, as all of us Indians remember, Lord Mountbatten’s perverted little daughter who used to spy on Jawaharlal Nehru making sweet love to her own mother when her father went “hunting” with the stable boy. That story was covered by yet another sister channel of CNN-IBN called CNN-STD. They also reported that the flower tucked into Nehru’s coat pocket was symbolic of the neat deflowering job he had done on Lord Mountbatten’s bitch. CNN-SOB reported that unlike the first woman President of India, Pratibha Patil had no sexual perversions of any sort. In fact, except for the time she spoke to a dead guy on Mount Abu she could be said to have lead a completely normal life.

                However, India’s primary political party, the BJP, who treated all Indians with equal respect and dignity unless they were Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists and non-upper class Hindus, claimed that the new Indian President was not worthy of heading our country. They threatened that they possessed highly scandalous information regarding the new President and unless she quit her post they would reveal those details, which could very well bring the whole country into disrepute. Another sister channel of CNN-IBN, called CNN-HIV which specialized in sting operations managed to solicit the BJP leaders and obtain the shameful facts concerning our new President. The charge sheet leaked out of the BJP HQ, which was neatly typed and bulleted accused Pratibha Patil of two very serious charges:

  • Pratibha Patil is a woman
  • Pratibha Patil is not a man

       CNN-HIV later reported that President Pratibha denied both these allegations raised against her by the BJP. However, the entire operation was canned by the BJP after they received an anonymous tip-off about an M.F Hussain painting that displayed a three-headed rabbit sexually pleasuring a castrated tiger, which blatantly blasphemed the national pride of India by insulting our national animal and also the Trimurti.

                 Apart from that, President Pratibha enjoyed the unanimous support of the Indian people and also the Indian women who would soon, Insha’Allah and also Insha’Pratibha, be granted the status of “peoplehood”. On the very first day in office, President Pratibha brought about some radical reformations to our country’s laws, rules, and regulations. Firstly, she demanded that Union Woman and Child Welfare Minister Renuka Chowdhary should slim down so that people can view her using only a single television set. Secondly, she made gay marriages legal in India. And thirdly, she made having sex in public illegal. As soon as the third law was passed, she received an intelligence report from India’s most vocal Defense Minister A.K. Anthony who made hand gestures to her which conveyed that two men had been caught having wild butt-sex in an open land in the middle of Uttar Pradesh. Aerial cameras inside the Rashtrapati Bhavan telecast the tiny live images of two figures lustily rubbing against each other. On zooming in the two men were identified to be Amitabh Bachchan and Amar Singh celebrating the legalization of gay marriages. Madam President ordered both men to be arrested and sent immediately to Himesh Reshmmiya’s recording studio. 

AESOP'S SLIGHTLY LOONEY BROTHER'S FABLES #1 Friday, Jul 20 2007 

                Sensas De Funct, the French (who else would have a two-letter middle name? ) serial killer caught the local bus home and returned to his comparatively (compared to the others who did not cut off people’s heads for the heck of it) cleaner single apartment. He was not empty-handed. But this time it was just the grocery.                 

                 He was a tenant under a landlord who did not tolerate his tenants keeping pets in their apartments. Sensas De Funct, who was not as keen on following the laws as some other people (ones who did not, on Christmas Eve, make Snowmen with actual heads), did more than be insolent to these rigid directives of the landlord. He kept a cat, a salamander and a platypus in his apartment. These animals, much like the heads De Funct collected (he lost interest in stamps very early in his life) and stuffed inside his refrigerator, stayed close to each other (but the animals had better eye contact). But the two groups never met. What Sensas De Funct meant when he said he was having a tête-à-tête or what did he did for divertissement was kept very discreet from his quadrupedal roommates. They were unaware of the fact that their master was a man who did not put roofs over heads but rather heads under their roof.

                 A momentous day arrived when Sensas De Funct’s refrigerator couldn’t accommodate any more heads (be it of humans or cabbage). He decided to proceed and do what any ordinary serial killer faced with such a situation would normally do. He went out shopping for a new refrigerator.

                 Granted a cat, a salamander and a platypus, by no means, made a formidable intelligentsia but inquisitive nature was given by the almighty to all things breathing. Nevertheless, the need for a second refrigerator in the same apartment would awaken the interest of almost anything and anybody. The cat talked to the salamander who talked to the platypus who concurred with the cat’s idea of opening the refrigerator and taking a peep inside.

               After minutes of speculation, calculation and determination (which would bring pride to any creature who defecates in public) the trio joined paws, claws and what else and advanced with their plan. With a degree of teamwork that would put international sportsmen to shame, the odd trinity accomplished their objective. And when they saw what they saw they were shocked out of their furs, scales and everything else. However, very little time did they have to let this “heady” sight sink in as the shock of the quadrupeds were quadrupled on seeing their master stand in front of the door alongside a tall box. He looked at his pets with a wry smile and said, ‘Bonjour Mes amis’. The new refrigerator was very quickly inaugurated.

Moral:¾Curiosity killed the cat and also the salamander and the platypus.

AESOP'S SLIGHTLY LOONEY BROTHER'S FABLES #1 Friday, Jul 20 2007 

                Sensas De Funct, the French (who else would have a two-letter middle name? ) serial killer caught the local bus home and returned to his comparatively (compared to the others who did not cut off people’s heads for the heck of it) cleaner single apartment. He was not empty-handed. But this time it was just the grocery.                 

                 He was a tenant under a landlord who did not tolerate his tenants keeping pets in their apartments. Sensas De Funct, who was not as keen on following the laws as some other people (ones who did not, on Christmas Eve, make Snowmen with actual heads), did more than be insolent to these rigid directives of the landlord. He kept a cat, a salamander and a platypus in his apartment. These animals, much like the heads De Funct collected (he lost interest in stamps very early in his life) and stuffed inside his refrigerator, stayed close to each other (but the animals had better eye contact). But the two groups never met. What Sensas De Funct meant when he said he was having a tête-à-tête or what did he did for divertissement was kept very discreet from his quadrupedal roommates. They were unaware of the fact that their master was a man who did not put roofs over heads but rather heads under their roof.

                 A momentous day arrived when Sensas De Funct’s refrigerator couldn’t accommodate any more heads (be it of humans or cabbage). He decided to proceed and do what any ordinary serial killer faced with such a situation would normally do. He went out shopping for a new refrigerator.

                 Granted a cat, a salamander and a platypus, by no means, made a formidable intelligentsia but inquisitive nature was given by the almighty to all things breathing. Nevertheless, the need for a second refrigerator in the same apartment would awaken the interest of almost anything and anybody. The cat talked to the salamander who talked to the platypus who concurred with the cat’s idea of opening the refrigerator and taking a peep inside.

               After minutes of speculation, calculation and determination (which would bring pride to any creature who defecates in public) the trio joined paws, claws and what else and advanced with their plan. With a degree of teamwork that would put international sportsmen to shame, the odd trinity accomplished their objective. And when they saw what they saw they were shocked out of their furs, scales and everything else. However, very little time did they have to let this “heady” sight sink in as the shock of the quadrupeds were quadrupled on seeing their master stand in front of the door alongside a tall box. He looked at his pets with a wry smile and said, ‘Bonjour Mes amis’. The new refrigerator was very quickly inaugurated.

Moral:¾Curiosity killed the cat and also the salamander and the platypus.

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