Camera, slightly going on the blink. office mates with fetish for using the remains of drinking sessions as water bottles for daily consumption. Probably takes away the dreariness of work; every time you sip you're briefly taken back to drunken nights of excess and glory and all that. Or there is also the possibility that people were just looking for a water bottle and heard that plastic bottles were unhealthy..
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Boozing water
Camera, slightly going on the blink. office mates with fetish for using the remains of drinking sessions as water bottles for daily consumption. Probably takes away the dreariness of work; every time you sip you're briefly taken back to drunken nights of excess and glory and all that. Or there is also the possibility that people were just looking for a water bottle and heard that plastic bottles were unhealthy..
Monday, June 29, 2009
Watchmen
We went to watch a movie yesterday. At least i thought it was a movie. If i wasn't constricted to the norms of reality i would call it something between a lullaby and a sleeping pill. Except for the occasional violent bits consisting of child molestation, falling off of buildings, vetically excecuted cleaving-knife chops to skulls, rape and Jerry trying to descreetly grope people it was pretty uneventful.
There was a huge blue chap. body like Adonis. Thoroughly naked but with a blurry bit where his pelvis should have been. I mean, if you're gonna get electricuted or get caught in the middle of a fusion reactor and get superpowers and all that junk, the least that could be asked for is to have all your organs intact, to take advantage of the perks of the job, so to speak.
But he didnt seem to be totally deprived. There was this latex clad bombshell whom he used to satisfy while also looking at the advanced schematics of a nutron bomb diffuser at the same time, a fact which she didnt seem to appreciate, not that i think it felt any different; she just resented the fact that he could actually think of saving the world from nuclear holocaust when he was 'supposed' to focus his complete attention on her (This type of behavior comes standard with the package when it comes to women, even in movies).
Disaster was averted when she dumped him for a geek with a Batman fetish, who flies around in a crazy contraption that looks like a bulemic bee. He ends up crying like a baby in the end, when his boyfriend dies.
There were snaps of political rhetoric that were obviously meant to be some sort of subtle and darkly witty neo-Marxist critique of the existing social order. There was, to end with, a noble 'message' where the bad guy walks free and the good guy (the blue guy) takes the fall and goes back to Mars to build merrygorounds so that people can live in peace and achieve the much dreamed of status of a 'global hippie community'* for the rest of survival.
*Meaning they would start smoking marijuana and living in the open and permanently give up on baths because they are a call back to 'civilization' which is symbolized by 'industrialization' which harks back to 'competition' which reminds them of 'competing for resources' which obviously means war and if there is one thing a hippie hates it is war.
So they shunned technology and took to idyllic foresty villages and gave up on space exploration (because 'technology' is 'civilization' and so on and so forth) and they all died a few millennia later when the sun went nova. And the Blue guy banged his head repeatedly against Sirius because it was all his fault they turned into hippies and missed out on the chance of colonizing the Milky Way and saving themselves.
That last bit will probably show up on the sequel. Oh wait, crappy movies don't get sequels; that last bit will probably be buried in some unread script in the dusty corridoors of Universal Studios 'til some 'creative type' picks it up fifty years down the line and my grandson later writes a post about it on his blog which would be similar to this one if he had any taste to speak of in entertainment.
There was a huge blue chap. body like Adonis. Thoroughly naked but with a blurry bit where his pelvis should have been. I mean, if you're gonna get electricuted or get caught in the middle of a fusion reactor and get superpowers and all that junk, the least that could be asked for is to have all your organs intact, to take advantage of the perks of the job, so to speak.
But he didnt seem to be totally deprived. There was this latex clad bombshell whom he used to satisfy while also looking at the advanced schematics of a nutron bomb diffuser at the same time, a fact which she didnt seem to appreciate, not that i think it felt any different; she just resented the fact that he could actually think of saving the world from nuclear holocaust when he was 'supposed' to focus his complete attention on her (This type of behavior comes standard with the package when it comes to women, even in movies).
Disaster was averted when she dumped him for a geek with a Batman fetish, who flies around in a crazy contraption that looks like a bulemic bee. He ends up crying like a baby in the end, when his boyfriend dies.
There were snaps of political rhetoric that were obviously meant to be some sort of subtle and darkly witty neo-Marxist critique of the existing social order. There was, to end with, a noble 'message' where the bad guy walks free and the good guy (the blue guy) takes the fall and goes back to Mars to build merrygorounds so that people can live in peace and achieve the much dreamed of status of a 'global hippie community'* for the rest of survival.
*Meaning they would start smoking marijuana and living in the open and permanently give up on baths because they are a call back to 'civilization' which is symbolized by 'industrialization' which harks back to 'competition' which reminds them of 'competing for resources' which obviously means war and if there is one thing a hippie hates it is war.
So they shunned technology and took to idyllic foresty villages and gave up on space exploration (because 'technology' is 'civilization' and so on and so forth) and they all died a few millennia later when the sun went nova. And the Blue guy banged his head repeatedly against Sirius because it was all his fault they turned into hippies and missed out on the chance of colonizing the Milky Way and saving themselves.
That last bit will probably show up on the sequel. Oh wait, crappy movies don't get sequels; that last bit will probably be buried in some unread script in the dusty corridoors of Universal Studios 'til some 'creative type' picks it up fifty years down the line and my grandson later writes a post about it on his blog which would be similar to this one if he had any taste to speak of in entertainment.
Labels
deranged nonsense,
philosophy,
politics,
reviews
When reality bites on Mondays
Mondays are a symptom of corporate dominance; they are the wiliest instrument of fate they are obvious days; where your desperate ways are revealed to you in the harsh morning light.
The relief however brief felt on a sunday night gives away to a weary sort of fright as the alarm peals out in a death knell of doom your peace vanishes as your mind is consumed with realities that are normally concealed.
The feelings so free; on a friday, one night of glee fade away and dark thoughts of the fates of human beings in the grey dawn arise
thoughts, unwelcome, thoughts; chase away greed; thoughts of fate, death and the purpose of life assail you as you go about your daily routine, anything to escape
from this monstrous landscape.
So as the morning gives away to sunlight, and the demons of everyday dreariness and worldly delights take over; you are once again externally focussed and once again a short termist;
in the short term of life.
The relief however brief felt on a sunday night gives away to a weary sort of fright as the alarm peals out in a death knell of doom your peace vanishes as your mind is consumed with realities that are normally concealed.
The feelings so free; on a friday, one night of glee fade away and dark thoughts of the fates of human beings in the grey dawn arise
thoughts, unwelcome, thoughts; chase away greed; thoughts of fate, death and the purpose of life assail you as you go about your daily routine, anything to escape
from this monstrous landscape.
So as the morning gives away to sunlight, and the demons of everyday dreariness and worldly delights take over; you are once again externally focussed and once again a short termist;
in the short term of life.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
FrankenMarketing
Management. Man if there was ever a science that dealt with pure common sense it would be management. I mean you go for years of classes and slave through exams only to come up with what a five year old would say is the the most obviously logical solution to a problem and three years down the line you don't really feel like you've learned anything. You just feel like a coconut. Husk removed, oil extracted, and distributed across several locations ranging from five star hotels to slums to the Everest of garbage that is sitting in Maligawatte; the same coconut, but 'diversified'.
Ok that analogy looks and sounds a bit off doesnt it? No matter. The blunders that big firms make is what actually brought me to write this random one. The story of McDonalds entering India with a beefburgher is probably a folk tale by now to any person who sat through a marketing or management course at any point in their lives over the last fifteen years. I mean here you have a global firm, very experienced, entering a massive market famed for their reverence of cows and how do they go about making their entry? by making a big hullaballoo about how great their beefburgher is. im sick of it.
Im sick of hearing about this chicken entrepreneur who translated their slogan 'it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken' into spanish and ended up with 'it takes a virile man to make a chicken affectionate' or something along those lines. im sick of hearing of this airline who went into Hong Kong and decided to be all innovative and give out free flowers to first time passengers. Great idea right? Wrong. They chose carnations and guess what, Hong Kongese or however you may call them associate carnations with death; the big D word, the one that everyone tries to ignore. How would you feel if someone handed you a miniature coffin or a free voucher to a funeral parlour when you board a plane? Dumbasses.
So what management students and lecturers all over the world do is, they look at these chaps who made these blunders and they snigger at them in a superior manner. They laugh over them during drinks. They use them as examples to describe common everyday events, leaving those not in the loop contemplating dialing the sanatorium. it makes these chaps feel good to think that even global corporate giants can make stupid mistakes like these. it helps counter the constant sense of inferiority that drives them to take up jobs in the world of corporate bum slavery. for evey guy who climbs the corporate ladder, there is another one fumbling and falling down to the endless depths of no return, or simply retiring.
And then we have countries like China that are driving the rest of them up the wall. How can you beat a place where there is enough labor to fill several factories that costs you only about 2 dollars a month to maintain? and that is per-factory. Salaries all over the world are being cut because of the inexhaustible rate at which people seem to be crawling out to work out of the nooks and crannies of China. I think they've got some kinda people producing plant hidden in there somewhere. Either that or they've been planning this for centuries. And perfecting their own brand of top secret Kama Sutra, with modifications designed to focus on the end result and not the actual process of the thing. So if Bill Gates starts driving a Toyota and that hotshot fast rising executive at your Rotaract club pulls into the next meeting on a BMX, you know who to blame. Or thank.
And its all about money. Oh no, don't be fooled by the altruistic overtones. Even CSR is simply alturism furnished with a pair of binoculars (to modify a Helvetius quote). Its all about driving profit. I was initially disillusioned with the whole concept of marketing because i simply saw it as a way of bullshitting, tricking, manipulating and convincing some poor chap to forego six months of his mortgage payments to buy a pair of Pradas to finally feel like a man. Now i know that if that chap was stupid enough to actually gobble it up, he deserves the cardboard box he is living in and he deserved to be tricked and bullshitted and brainwashed. You're just dealing out justice. 'No worries mate, it's all good down under' says the eskimo who just bought the latest LG 'ice machine' three door 'super door cooling' Made in Australia freezer cum kitchenette, and who sold his father's only whaling boat to afford it; plunging his family into a doomed state of polar bear fodder.
It teaches you dog eat dog ness. It teaches you to kill or be killed. If the corporate world is the jungle, then management is the art of survival. Quick on your feet, running before you even leap out of bed, running in your sleep. Stalking your prey day and night. You call him a customer and claim he's always right. But when it comes to the most important things in life, he's only right if he agrees with you. You can hear the thunder before the storm but you can't hear the marketer as he stalks you while you innocently watch Prison Break, or foolishly read hit-ad while sitting on an empty wallet and a soon to be declined credit card.
Its sick, its disgusting, yet i am almost triple qualified in it. Im a disgrace. But im out to get your money, I won't warn you again. Or i will if you buy these Pradas, go on treat yourself, you're a man that needs them. Your family deserves them. Your career depends on them. Your daughter's marriage prospects depend on them. Buy them! You're feeling sleepy, when i snap my fingers you will wake up and pay me and go home and ignore the repossessors and love the cardboard box that you end up in because you're a loser and im the king and the world is a moneymaking jungle. I'm too classy for an evil laugh.
Ok that analogy looks and sounds a bit off doesnt it? No matter. The blunders that big firms make is what actually brought me to write this random one. The story of McDonalds entering India with a beefburgher is probably a folk tale by now to any person who sat through a marketing or management course at any point in their lives over the last fifteen years. I mean here you have a global firm, very experienced, entering a massive market famed for their reverence of cows and how do they go about making their entry? by making a big hullaballoo about how great their beefburgher is. im sick of it.
Im sick of hearing about this chicken entrepreneur who translated their slogan 'it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken' into spanish and ended up with 'it takes a virile man to make a chicken affectionate' or something along those lines. im sick of hearing of this airline who went into Hong Kong and decided to be all innovative and give out free flowers to first time passengers. Great idea right? Wrong. They chose carnations and guess what, Hong Kongese or however you may call them associate carnations with death; the big D word, the one that everyone tries to ignore. How would you feel if someone handed you a miniature coffin or a free voucher to a funeral parlour when you board a plane? Dumbasses.
So what management students and lecturers all over the world do is, they look at these chaps who made these blunders and they snigger at them in a superior manner. They laugh over them during drinks. They use them as examples to describe common everyday events, leaving those not in the loop contemplating dialing the sanatorium. it makes these chaps feel good to think that even global corporate giants can make stupid mistakes like these. it helps counter the constant sense of inferiority that drives them to take up jobs in the world of corporate bum slavery. for evey guy who climbs the corporate ladder, there is another one fumbling and falling down to the endless depths of no return, or simply retiring.
And then we have countries like China that are driving the rest of them up the wall. How can you beat a place where there is enough labor to fill several factories that costs you only about 2 dollars a month to maintain? and that is per-factory. Salaries all over the world are being cut because of the inexhaustible rate at which people seem to be crawling out to work out of the nooks and crannies of China. I think they've got some kinda people producing plant hidden in there somewhere. Either that or they've been planning this for centuries. And perfecting their own brand of top secret Kama Sutra, with modifications designed to focus on the end result and not the actual process of the thing. So if Bill Gates starts driving a Toyota and that hotshot fast rising executive at your Rotaract club pulls into the next meeting on a BMX, you know who to blame. Or thank.
And its all about money. Oh no, don't be fooled by the altruistic overtones. Even CSR is simply alturism furnished with a pair of binoculars (to modify a Helvetius quote). Its all about driving profit. I was initially disillusioned with the whole concept of marketing because i simply saw it as a way of bullshitting, tricking, manipulating and convincing some poor chap to forego six months of his mortgage payments to buy a pair of Pradas to finally feel like a man. Now i know that if that chap was stupid enough to actually gobble it up, he deserves the cardboard box he is living in and he deserved to be tricked and bullshitted and brainwashed. You're just dealing out justice. 'No worries mate, it's all good down under' says the eskimo who just bought the latest LG 'ice machine' three door 'super door cooling' Made in Australia freezer cum kitchenette, and who sold his father's only whaling boat to afford it; plunging his family into a doomed state of polar bear fodder.
It teaches you dog eat dog ness. It teaches you to kill or be killed. If the corporate world is the jungle, then management is the art of survival. Quick on your feet, running before you even leap out of bed, running in your sleep. Stalking your prey day and night. You call him a customer and claim he's always right. But when it comes to the most important things in life, he's only right if he agrees with you. You can hear the thunder before the storm but you can't hear the marketer as he stalks you while you innocently watch Prison Break, or foolishly read hit-ad while sitting on an empty wallet and a soon to be declined credit card.
Its sick, its disgusting, yet i am almost triple qualified in it. Im a disgrace. But im out to get your money, I won't warn you again. Or i will if you buy these Pradas, go on treat yourself, you're a man that needs them. Your family deserves them. Your career depends on them. Your daughter's marriage prospects depend on them. Buy them! You're feeling sleepy, when i snap my fingers you will wake up and pay me and go home and ignore the repossessors and love the cardboard box that you end up in because you're a loser and im the king and the world is a moneymaking jungle. I'm too classy for an evil laugh.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pseudo-Anonymous
How many of us who blog these days are actually anonymous? If I had any anonymity, it was reduced to a state of pseudo-anonymity after open mike. Not that i regret it. It felt kind of good to come out into the open and then realize that you don't really feel like deleting all those posts with possibly embarrassing details of your life embedded in them, contrary to what you thought.
So now I’m just pseudo-anonymous. I simply say pseudo because TheWhacksteR is now simply a pseudonym. If you want to know my real name just click on the link to my twitter account that’s on this blog somewhere.
I have no idea why i chose the name TheWhacksteR. Its definitely a painful ask to type. It all started as a prank. I somehow convinced someone i was SMSing that i was the offspring of the Armenian ambassador and that my name was Wackinnaborgeouseworsoski ('my friends call me Whacko'). Revealing this to a couple of friends who actually knew the person in question brought about a hilarious reaction and the joke went on for quite some time. The name kind of stuck afterwards and 'Whacko' seemed to have kind of a ring with the state of my mentality so when i started blogging i guess i improvised on it to come up with TW.
On an unrelated note to blogging, but on a related note to Armenians, I once went on this ITN TV show (Fan Club i think) pretending to be this Armenian (Serge Mihailovitch) working for an NGO specifically involved in eradicating cholera in the North and West. The lady handling the show was kind of miffed that a 'Russian' was calling her and commented on how alike my accent was to Indians. At which point i objected to being called Russian and stressed on the ethnic characteristics of Armenians. I also pointed out the fact that i was heavily loaded with work these days due to many of my co-workers being unfortunately afflicted with the deadly disease they were supposed to be combating.
I also made a suggestion that the host should move around a little bit more and look a bit more alive, which didn’t go down too well with her i think. At the end though, the promised Metallica video did not materialize and some worn out 10 year old MC Hammer type love song was going to be played in its stead. I raised my objections which turned into a bit of an argument at the end of which i enjoyed telling her that in fact, i was Sri Lankan and thank you very much for the entertainment, at which point i was cut off.
I was heavily into System of a Down those days which may explain the Armenian connection, yeah i know.
So yes, anonymous blogging, what made you guys pick your own names? I’m sure there’s got to be a good story or two lurking around somewhere...?
So now I’m just pseudo-anonymous. I simply say pseudo because TheWhacksteR is now simply a pseudonym. If you want to know my real name just click on the link to my twitter account that’s on this blog somewhere.
I have no idea why i chose the name TheWhacksteR. Its definitely a painful ask to type. It all started as a prank. I somehow convinced someone i was SMSing that i was the offspring of the Armenian ambassador and that my name was Wackinnaborgeouseworsoski ('my friends call me Whacko'). Revealing this to a couple of friends who actually knew the person in question brought about a hilarious reaction and the joke went on for quite some time. The name kind of stuck afterwards and 'Whacko' seemed to have kind of a ring with the state of my mentality so when i started blogging i guess i improvised on it to come up with TW.
On an unrelated note to blogging, but on a related note to Armenians, I once went on this ITN TV show (Fan Club i think) pretending to be this Armenian (Serge Mihailovitch) working for an NGO specifically involved in eradicating cholera in the North and West. The lady handling the show was kind of miffed that a 'Russian' was calling her and commented on how alike my accent was to Indians. At which point i objected to being called Russian and stressed on the ethnic characteristics of Armenians. I also pointed out the fact that i was heavily loaded with work these days due to many of my co-workers being unfortunately afflicted with the deadly disease they were supposed to be combating.
I also made a suggestion that the host should move around a little bit more and look a bit more alive, which didn’t go down too well with her i think. At the end though, the promised Metallica video did not materialize and some worn out 10 year old MC Hammer type love song was going to be played in its stead. I raised my objections which turned into a bit of an argument at the end of which i enjoyed telling her that in fact, i was Sri Lankan and thank you very much for the entertainment, at which point i was cut off.
I was heavily into System of a Down those days which may explain the Armenian connection, yeah i know.
So yes, anonymous blogging, what made you guys pick your own names? I’m sure there’s got to be a good story or two lurking around somewhere...?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Crude Awakening
Neophytes in black
threatening murder for treason
we always knew you'd be back
claiming for the sides of reason
Now, this may be the wrong season
but desire still dictates
and in the deeper reaches of my soul
a slow monster awakes
He wants to get you out of his head
he wants to lustily tear you apart
but he also wants, he also needs
to love you with all his heart
He wants to bathe you in tenderness,
while inside he's aflush
he wants to live the life of an ease:
a lust in which, he wants to trust
But he must not be freed!
for he may do harm with this, indeed;
He may feed upon himself
before he plants this seed.
threatening murder for treason
we always knew you'd be back
claiming for the sides of reason
Now, this may be the wrong season
but desire still dictates
and in the deeper reaches of my soul
a slow monster awakes
He wants to get you out of his head
he wants to lustily tear you apart
but he also wants, he also needs
to love you with all his heart
He wants to bathe you in tenderness,
while inside he's aflush
he wants to live the life of an ease:
a lust in which, he wants to trust
But he must not be freed!
for he may do harm with this, indeed;
He may feed upon himself
before he plants this seed.
Monday, June 8, 2009
(...)
renephobe
whats that word mean?
i don't know
but then again
what does anything?
xenophobe
ah now that word means something
but then again
why should you fear me?
confusionoscope
thats what my eyes are
the word presents itself
like that kaleidoscope
that broke
i spoke
there, i said what was on my mind
now forgive me my bated breath
as i try to figure out
if the truths i spoke
were sufficiently described as artistic lies
tricks of the mind
i play and im played blind
until stumbling, a blind man
i turned back to the same door
from where i came in
there is a way back in (i think)
if i try hard again
if i was to be a different man
if i were to
re-wire my brain
but the room im trying to get into
is a bit untidyt
im not proud of it
but a lot of effort
if i want to live in it
or take my chances
in the dark
hearing geckos fart
and listening to shadows creak
as stumbling, another door
i seek.
whats that word mean?
i don't know
but then again
what does anything?
xenophobe
ah now that word means something
but then again
why should you fear me?
confusionoscope
thats what my eyes are
the word presents itself
like that kaleidoscope
that broke
i spoke
there, i said what was on my mind
now forgive me my bated breath
as i try to figure out
if the truths i spoke
were sufficiently described as artistic lies
tricks of the mind
i play and im played blind
until stumbling, a blind man
i turned back to the same door
from where i came in
there is a way back in (i think)
if i try hard again
if i was to be a different man
if i were to
re-wire my brain
but the room im trying to get into
is a bit untidyt
im not proud of it
but a lot of effort
if i want to live in it
or take my chances
in the dark
hearing geckos fart
and listening to shadows creak
as stumbling, another door
i seek.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
if i were a troll
I also want to troll. but i don't think i have the random sense of hate towards the rest of society right now to fuel me. Which is a pity though, cos i think i'd have made one hell of a troll.
But lets spare a thought for them cos it takes a lot of effort to read through the whole of the blogodrome and nitpick through various posts to come up with a detailed analysis of things that can be used to poke fun at people with. Its probably a full time job even.
And if you're having a bad day with humor generation. There is always the option of inserting various profane words to spice it up a bit. Always covers up a lack of anything funny to say, a dirty word here and there.
Also, fresh material for posts is all around you. Other people think of topics to write about and all you have to do is take their posts apart and make fun of them.. Which, if you are sufficiently alienated from the rest of society, should'nt be too hard.
Your inverted sense of inadequacy will transform into a false sense of superiority that will completely misinterpret your actions as 'constrcutive' and your criticisms 'positive'. Being a troll is not as easy as it may seem though, any good troll probably needs to keep the anger alive to keep going. Probably Padashow, possibly listens to a lot of Slipknot and flips the bird to himself everytime he/she/they see a reflective surface.
Thats conditioning man, we all need to keep our shit locked down yeah.
Also, it seems the people you make fun of will actually comment on your posts with glad tidings of joy that they have been worthy of your attention. And they will also sadly, mostly be the only commenters on these posts. Unless you are a bit more commercial. But no matter, that shows you hit your mark yes. And any good critic needs attention.
But lets spare a thought for them cos it takes a lot of effort to read through the whole of the blogodrome and nitpick through various posts to come up with a detailed analysis of things that can be used to poke fun at people with. Its probably a full time job even.
And if you're having a bad day with humor generation. There is always the option of inserting various profane words to spice it up a bit. Always covers up a lack of anything funny to say, a dirty word here and there.
Also, fresh material for posts is all around you. Other people think of topics to write about and all you have to do is take their posts apart and make fun of them.. Which, if you are sufficiently alienated from the rest of society, should'nt be too hard.
Your inverted sense of inadequacy will transform into a false sense of superiority that will completely misinterpret your actions as 'constrcutive' and your criticisms 'positive'. Being a troll is not as easy as it may seem though, any good troll probably needs to keep the anger alive to keep going. Probably Padashow, possibly listens to a lot of Slipknot and flips the bird to himself everytime he/she/they see a reflective surface.
Thats conditioning man, we all need to keep our shit locked down yeah.
Also, it seems the people you make fun of will actually comment on your posts with glad tidings of joy that they have been worthy of your attention. And they will also sadly, mostly be the only commenters on these posts. Unless you are a bit more commercial. But no matter, that shows you hit your mark yes. And any good critic needs attention.
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