The Silicon Implant of Psychonomic Virtues

"No we can't use MAST...MAST is not to be used for our project.
MAST is a song from Mohra"

A masochist loves pain
A sadist loves to see a person in pain
therefore a sadist can never commit sadism to a masochist

Reason:
Though a sadist inflicts pain on the masochist
The masochist won't be in pain
He would be in pleasure
Therefore, a sadist cannot perform sadistic activities on the masochist,
The masochist will never know pain
He will only know pleasure
The sadist will know nothing but to inflict
But pleasure will inflict him
He should shy away from all doubt about pleasure
He should kill the masochist with pain
The masochist should lose all confidence of the pleasure
He should reek in the doubt and be in pain

*I am as boned as a chuth and stoned as a biblical whore*

Wired Questionnaire

Jugular Bean asked me questions. I gave answers. And ever since then historical events have taken place.

1. Who was the donor of the very first boner?

• Dick Prances from 20th Century Cocks

2. If you were locked in a room with a monkey and three jumping beans, and no way to get out, how would you spend your time?

• Teach the monkey to jugular bean

3. Cunnilingus or Anal? Explain (Good reasons only!).

• Cunnilingus (miaoww)- I hate working like a dog.

4. Given that only 3 movies can exist at any given point of time, which three?

• Blast from the Past, Clear and Present Danger, Future Cop

5. John and Paul leave home at the same time, travelling at 30mph and 60 mph respectively. What would you change your name to given the circumstances?

• Lord Archibald Cromwell the IIIrd - Duke of Pussy Willow - Sovereign Keeper of Vagina Folds

Wanna play? These are the rules:

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying “interview me.”

2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person’s will be different.

3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Schizophrenic Monkey on a Caffeine High

There is a mathematical explanation to attain extra ice-cream in your Cafe Frappe' at the subsidised 'Cafe Coffee Day' outlet at Infosys.
I'm sure of it.
I can vouch for this, considering that I have traversed through months of angst at the coffee bar outside office.
Each time I go to the counter at exactly 4:00 PM, there is atleast one assembly of chatter-union who are constantly laughing and yakety-yak-yakking away while there exists one proactive individual who walks around receiving and consolidating orders for the group for generation of beverages and chomps.
Now the interesting thing to notice here is that, in a group of approximately 10 people there are bound to exist atleast 2.7 people who favour cafe frappe as an invigorating drink and one that strips the birthday\promoted\confirmed etc. employee off a sizable amount of liquidity.

Here goes the algorithm:
1. Leave my cube at anytime between 4:00 PM and 4:20 PM and head for Coffee Day
2. Look around for the blabber-bunch and wait till they submit their order.

Ideally I would be lucky to have more than 3 people ordering the same thing. The heuristic rule explaining the ratio of frappe ordering individuals to others is beyond the scope of this formula.

3. Push in my order for a cafe frappe and make sure I say "...with extra ice-cream...please" (with a phenomenal smile).

4. Make sure I stand first in line at the service counter to receive the first glass of frappe.

Now what happens here is that since the fellow making the frappe is not aware of the ratio in which the ice cream should be distributed among so many customers (this by the way is the result of cognitive reasoning - it may be further challenged by freudian and jung cultists) he fills up the blender to the brim with scoops of ice cream thus exponentially increasing the volume of dairy with each scoop. He then proceeds to add the coffee flavor to the mix.

After the blender does its whisking on the large consignment of ice-cream, the human dynamo will thus transfuse the delicious concoction into a plastic vessel. Now the reason for being first in line is because after the churning of ice-cream a large part of the cream resides at the top of the mixture, while the more fluid mixture lies at the bottom. As he pours, the liquid at the bottom pushes the froth at the top in great gobs into the glass and in turn allows a lot of runny ice cream to pour itself into the glass and flow through the pores of the froth to reside at the bottom of the glass, therefore creating more content of ice-cream and a more happier coffee experience.

Voila!

Spindle of Reminiscence

She wasn't one with an enthralling visage or a callipygian rondure.
She remained sportive when it came to performing some loony kooked up act of imbecility. I knew her well, for she was a present day manifestation of my juvenile self in yester-years. She touched a psyche that remains queer and freaky even now. What was it that made her singularly exotic?
I can't say...
Maybe if I hadn't hung onto the presumption that she would forever be lurking around to advocate our crude but hilarious wit. Maybe if she was not so good.
She could have been a recluse who refused to fraternise with the crowd, but she was there...irrespective of her constant cognitive torture. She was there to be the subject of a never-ending comedy central.
I felt her presence like a child's, who would remain like a bad habit for time immortal.
Her proposal instructed a pallid refusal. Why was I not consenting? That's another story.
But now she leaves, leaving behind an even bigger void that would probably never be absolute.
She leaves now, to soar higher than distinguished eminents. She goes to attain that, what she never would acheive while out here.

She reaches out for solace...for it is her only guardian

Apology to an Anglophile

Sorry for not taking out the time to update my blog. As Hannibal Lector so deftly puts it, "I was in a state of hibernation".

But...worry not. I shall return very soon with more dim-witted, comically saturated artifacts of redaction.

I actually thought of publishing "A whiff of camel pussy..." but it got strong critique, was condemned by Zikurat leaders and invited threats of 'beating my balls with a wooden paddle until it gets swollen and becomes the size of a tomato and then they would tie up the penis with string and feed me beer till my intestines almost pop and wait till I feel like peeing real bad and then yank the string and let the excrement burst open my sac and see my gonads fall out...one after the other".

Ouch...I say!