I'm thinking

it's time I started writing again.

It isn't as if the stories have stopped. Just the story-telling.

I should be ashamed of myself.

And I am (don't think I'm not - also I *didn't* temporarily pause blogging because I was busy acquiring a real life and I don't care what anyone says about it! So, hah!).

The Mouse

She could bite with her sharp little yellow teeth. She could kick, albeit feebly, with her hindfeet. She could use formidable silvery whiskers to suss her surroundings. But among the long list of things she couldn't do featured fighting the frightening progress of science.

Trying to cure cancer's a rather greedy goal. Even for humans.

Anniversary Time! Whoo hoo!

It's my Bloggy Birth Month. My blog is Capricornian. How awesomely perfect is that? I have to admit I feel a little guilty. I have (and there's no nice way to see it) neglected the Flaffster. Left him cold and dry. Dropped him like a hot potato, in fact. I am overcome with remorse. But, on the bright side, my life is so fun right now. And blogs are a girl's best friend. They're supposed to be dumped on and then forgotten. The next time I'm at home on a weeknight, trying to avoid school work, with noone to talk to (cos nobody loves me, I'm nobody's child) I'll just come right back and dump some more. I'll make up more ridiculous stories. I'll even write more theory posts (talking about which, I have a great new theory on How so many Grad Students have Issues). I'll complete that Grad School Freak Show thing. I'll go back and read up all the old posts on my favorite blogs (by which I mean yours, half pint). And I'll comment obsessively and contentlessly on every single one of them. But till then, people, be patient. Show kindness. Love me.

Once I Loved a Blogger

Once I loved a blogger. And she never
asked me why. I would have told her it was
cos she knew who said Release the Hounds and
why. Woulda said it was the way she chose Hyde
over Michael without thinking about it
(cos how could I love someone who had to
think about that one?). But she never asked.

Still I loved a blogger. And like sand in
a too-tight fist vanishes, she did too.
But (cleverer than the fist) I had an idea.
Question. Can a blogger (of all people) live
without the slavering and worship that
is her due? The answer, I confess, still
eludes me (like water-waves at the beach).

Long I loved a blogger. Now she loves me too.
So, yes, we are moving in together.
Come. Visit. Bring wine. Leave shoes at home. Joy.

It Never Rains But When It's Cold

Arch your back, let your hair fall back but make it so none of those cold droplets fall on your skin anywhere other than your scalp. Owwww, a rivulet right down the back. Turn around, turn around. Maybe if you bent forward so that your hair falls in front of your face? Nuh uh. That way water just falls down your face. Icy cold and stinging. Oh Oh. Idea. Turn to the side and tilt your head just so. An angle so perfect that the water can soak your head but not trickle anywhere but straight down, not touching an inch of skin. Aaargh. Numb left shoulder now. Oh wait, was the water getting warmer? Skin isn't tingling anymore. Stretch out fingers, trembling hopefully, to the downpour. Yes, the water seems a lot warmer. Oh no, false alarm. Those are blue fingers. The water isn't warmer, the skin's wayyyy colder.

There is no non-fatal way of washing your hair when the water-heater's conked out.

Inter-Blog Memo

We, the Administrators of this Blog, have recently been appraised of a rather startling state of affairs. It has come to our attention that a number of Bloggers other than ourselves have begun to exhibit symptoms of a certain emotional condition medically identified as Drama. We are disturbed to hear that these Other Bloggers have presumed to exhibit symptoms of this disease under the mistaken impression that this is allowed. The conditions of our contract however state explicitly (Rules and Regulations of FlaffLand Binder 5, Page no. 10776a, Div: Patented Articles, Sub-div: Emotional Kinetics, Sec: Theatricalities and other Exclusivities, Sub-sec: Drama) that the Only Blogger allowed to display a Dramatic Temperament is one, Revealed, Flaffer Extraordinaire. We request all other Bloggers, who were perhaps unaware of this provision in the contract because of their negligence in reading the Policies of this Blog, to update their memories by leafing through the above-mentioned sections and heretofore refrain from Drama of any kind, sort or flavor. We hope all of you have a very nice day and a Healthy, Happy Weekend. Remember, a Healthy Blogger is a Happy Blogger. Thank you.

To The Social (or Otherwise) Rejects of this, the Desi Blogosphere

Have you been blogging for ages but noone gossips about you? Have you been blogging for ages, social networking, reaching out to people and yet having noone gossip with you about someone else (we are desi bloggers, for pity's sake. Why does noone gossip about anyone with me?? Why?)? Have you written spellbinding posts and received not one single fan mail? Have you never had a psycho stalker mail you with an anonymous death threats? Then, you, dear one, are eligible for application to the Society of Counter-Inners. We Count You In. This is our motto. Be warned though. Oversized, rhinestone studded sunglasses are a must-have as are silk scarves with sparkly threads. Oh and also there is the small matter of the Blood-Mingling-Ceremony that Must Be Performed before you can enter the club-hall (or room or hut or park bench or whatever). So pliss to perform your HIV tests and have the results handy before applying cos your Application Will Not Be Processed without the same (cept for you Ph darlin' cos you have been given an exemption as per our previous communication due largely to the No Weight Loss in Recent Times clause).

We are open to applications as of now. Citizens of the Blogosphere, this is a call to Arms. Yes, Arms we want and Arms we Shall Have or by God...well, something we will Have to Do (and it will Not Be Pretty).

Still More How To Gyaan

In the fine tradition of this blog (flaffing since '06) I present you another in the series of How To that was first featured many moons ago (three and a half months' worth to be precise) in this very hallowed space. It is the duty of all super-intelligent beings to educate and uplift the less fortunate (this is part of the mission statement of Flaff, Inc) and with this laudable purpose in mind I shall now expound on How To Understand and Grapple with the Ever-Increasing Profundity of English Proverbs and Catch-phrases. Often and often it has been made manifest to yours truly (which is a fancy way of saying me, originating from the letters written by Mid-Victorian forgers and imposters who never used to sign off with their real names -duh obviously!- and hence were identified as 'yours truly' serially numbered) that people do not perfectly grasp the meaning of the fine proverbs handed down to us by our ancient English counterparts. To my keen and perspicacious mind the reason for this is immediately apparent: the lack of understanding of the true meaning of the proverb. This is mainly because of our faulty school system (which works on the principle of if it's fixed it can be broken) and its inability to explain the fundamentals to young, enquiring minds.

Consider this simple example. Many of us are familiar with the phrase 'You can't have the cake and eat it too ', yes? Now, most of us have a misguided understanding of the phrase, imagining naively that it means once you've eaten the cake it can't exist in its original physical unblemished state anymore and hence, it cannot be had. This (obviously) misbegotten idea that not only fully misses the point but also dangerously leads one into the realm of metaphysics and relativity is a typical example of How English Folk Wisdom is Mis-hunderstood. Having buried myself in literary research for a long time (3 minutes and 45 seconds now, including a break to talk to a nosey chap who came around to my bench) I would like to respectfully submit that the actual meaning is far different from the purported one. What the proverb says in truth is that when you have a cake, it's normally for your birthday. And when you have a birthday cake, you obviously have to have a party! Cos sitting at home alone ogling your birthday cake and hogging every last bit of it yourself (while satisfying) is a little...well, on the lame side (this is not to say that this has not happened in the past, of course, but it's not ideal for digestive purposes). Now, once you decide to have a party, this inevitably involves guests (those pesky people who'll talk too loudly, laugh too hyenaically, drink too slurpily and eat you out of house and home). And as the cleverer among you must have realized this will most definitely result in you not having even a single piece of cake left for yourself. Ergo, it is *impossible* to have your cake and eat it too. See? Not only does this proverb explain to us why having a birthday party is the most ridiculous thing in the world, it also has an underlying, deep philosophy that helps us understand why really good birthday cake is hard to find at birthday parties.

Now, I understand that having had your eyes opened (as Nash would say, gone are the dark clouds that had you blind) you must be reeling under the impact of this revelation and its many ramifications. So I shall leave you with the gentle admonition that it's vital to always investigate deeply any proverb placed in front of you in order to understand fully its scope and breadth. Some of you might think that *this* is what proverbs like Don't judge a book by its cover are hinting at. But you would be grievously wrong. *Grievously*.

But that is another post.

Dedication: To the Commenters of the Blogosphere, Peace be with You

Cursor beguiles blinkingly here-gone-here.
Asking begging hoping. Whitened space needs
definition, outlines to contain it.

Classified: "Emptiness looking for
content. Spelling immaterial, no
punctuation also is ok. One
condition only - must leave behind a
token of presence, of engagement, short
long does not matter. Color - black preferred."

Words wait to happen. Tis their religion,
rebirth. One must not show intolerance.
Beliefs should be upheld. Give life. Comment.

All Said and Done

In continuation of the How To series, I present How to Make an Ass of Yourself in One Easy Sentence. It's really extremely simple. It sounds all impressive and stuff. You're probably round-eyed with anticipation. How, but how will she manage to pull this rabbit out of the hat, you think. I'm not a magician for nothing, dear sirs (and you, ladies of course. Looking very fetching today, we are, huh? *winks charmingly, chattering-magician ishtyle*). So here it is. There is no 5-step technique that I can teach you, no flowchart or easy-to-understand manual. But what I can (and will, never fear) do is provide tried and trusted examples from my life and hard-won examples from the lives of my friends and family (as in I won them by dint of much effort and diligent bullying and blackmailing). The top 10 for your edification (I didn't dare do the top 50 list I'd originally planned, lack of space and your patience and all that). So ta-da. Behold and Wonder.

1. The technician in your lab comes up to you, looking wildeyed and breathing irregularly, and asks you, "Have you seen Buffer P3?". You look him in the eye calmly and collectedly and say, "No. Are you looking for it?"

2. The fire alarm goes off at 3 in the morning and everyone's huddled in their jammies in the fire escape. You walk towards them, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and say, "Did the alarm wake you guys up too?"

3. Your best friend is crying in your arms about the boy who dumped her. You rub her back comfortingly and say, "There, there. I totally understand. He was so hot, wasn't he?"

4. That great aunt of yours who always terrifies you with her beady stare calls you to her chair and quavers "Happy B'day" at you. You reply with great aplomb (engendered by panic and petrification of the heart) "Umm. Thank you. You too." And then proceed to yell the same response verbatim 5 times (because she's completely deaf in both ears but will *not* wear a hearing aid) so that everyone in the room can know just what scales of idiocy they're dealing with.*

5. You want to get off the elevator at the 4th floor. You trip out of it lightly at the 5th floor itself (where it stops for some frazzled business man type guy to get on) and then smartly turn around, get back in and announce in the general direction of the upper atmosphere of the lift, "Wrong floor."

6. The guy at Subway has the weirdest Jamaican accent (or something!) and asks you "Chips and a drink?". You smile, nod knowingly and say "Debit."

7. You go to a Snow Patrol concert, sing along randomly with the opening act (cos you don't know the words and are just making them up as you go along) and then comment loudly to the guy standing next to you, "Wow! I did *not* know Snow Patrol was this good. They have so much energy."

8. Have a long winded conversation about Harry Potter, his hypothesized fate and that of Dumbledore while constantly referring to Snape as Snipe. With such conviction that the person you're talking to also refers to him as Snipe. Then realize half way through the conversation and descend into helpless giggling that is *not* relieved by the total bafflement on the face of the person you're talking to. (so I know this isn't a sentence but this ranks in my top 10 idiotic conversations-I've-had).

9. Try to break up with your bf and on the third attempt (cos you muffed the first two) end the phone call with "Love you" (Force of habit is a powerful thing *sigh*).

10. Your boss is walking towards you looking hassled and harried. She stubs her foot on the corner of your bench. Look at her sympathetically and say, "Awwww. That must have hurt."


Honorary Mention: You walk into Starbucks, stride purposefully towards the counter girl, look her in the eyes and say, "I want some coffee."

I tried to cover all commonly foreseeable situations in this comprehensive summary, ladies and gentlemen. For a more exhaustive survey (including the i-spilt-my-drink-all-over-my-date situation and the i-nearly-ran-over-you-because-of-my-horrendous-driving-but-if-i-keep-smiling-maniacally-maybe-we-can-pretend-it-never-happened-,-yes-? scenario) pliss to subscribe to my mailing list. And if you don't have natural idiotic-statement-making skills please don't subscribe. Cos it's a god-given gift and cannot be taught to all and sundry!

*This one makes sense only when I add that your great aunt and you do not share a birthday (or anything much else) in common

Think String Theory

Gather around, children. It's Theory Time again. This is one of our pet ones. So if anyone, and we mean anyone (cept you, of course *smiles disarmingly*) dares pooh-pooh it, they have another think coming (Get it? Think. And the theory is called Think Theory. See? :D). So, in the grand tradition of Einstein, Newton and this upstart Stephen dude, we have decided that it's time for a Unified Theory of Thoughts. It's also called What Happens to Thought Thoughts (yeah, I have tons of those pun type things happening. Do not groan. It's impolite!).
To start at the beginning (the best place to start, we hear), it's most politic to examine the Origins of Thoughts. So basically, in lay terms, a thought comes into being the instant a brain thinks it, right? It's created, it has an existence. What's more, it has a reason. A purpose for being. It was brought into this world to accomplish something unique. Something only it can achieve. There is no existential angst in the thought community because for the most part they know where they come from, where they're going, and being more sophisticated than mere humans, they know who created them. Now though they're all created equal, in the fine fashion of our world some are more equal than others. So the more equal ones are given proper houses and admiration. They're given credit. They're feted and idolized. They're set down in pages and other brains and some remain immortal.
But (and it's a big but) what happens to the fraction of thoughts that are thought and then abandoned by their creator? The ones that are brushed aside. The destitute ones that stand at traffic signals begging for sustenance. The refugees, the unwanted ones. Do they have a Home for Orphan Thoughts? That takes in the strays. Puts them all together in a Thought Lounge? With a little dart board and a TV? No. We must be practical. Such things don't happen in the real world (and we're nothing if not realistic). So, we postulate that as per our findings, the stray thoughts evaporate. Right. You heard me. They just slip out of the numbskull who stuck them in a dusty unused corner and they flit around. Because they have to fulfill their destinies. See? It's like a survival instinct. They are born along with the notion of a niche to fill. It's like a MPD type thing. Two thoughts in one. The thought itself and the corollary notion (their relationship we have reason to believe is a lot like a person and his doppelganger). So these flitting thoughts earth themselves in new places. Hoping eternally to find the bliss of transforming into an epiphany. This is a lot like the caterpillar-butterfly transformation. Now, some brains are more receptive to these Stray Thoughts than others. They work as lightning poles. The s.t enters, earths itself and after five minutes of incubation explodes as an epiphany. Now, an epiphany, we all know, is paid attention to simply because it comes out of the blue. Elementary psychology. You see a thing for the first time, suddenly, and it seems splendiferous. So, basically it's all strung together, see? A think string. New thought born, evaporates, earths itself, explodes and is immortalised. In other words, every thought exists as a string, encompassing it's past, present and future avatars. And the whole sentient world is made of these Think Strings. Floating around. This in a nutshell, is the Think String Theory.

It has not escaped our notice that our theory not only explains what happens to unused thoughts, but also with perfect economy explains the occurence of epiphanies. In a previous paper we had spoken about epiphanies (we wanted to link to the paper, but couldn't find it! Which makes us wonder whether we just thought it or if we really wrote it. Or if we are yet to write it but having given the think string existence, we have a memory of the thought in it's future epiphanized form) and their likelihood of occurence in passing. We feel that this work is only a continuation of that one, a small cog that helps turns the huge wheel (of umm..Whatever). We expect great things from this discovery, in its own small way. We're very proud of it. Sort of like our protege. Huh? What was that? Oh right. We've exceeded the word limit. Just one more thing. We'd like to thank the editors of Science for considering our little theory worthy of publication in their journal. Initiative like this will bump up their readership numbers, we believe. So goodferya, old chaps. Two thumbs up.

no.mad.ness

Last night, we are happy to report, there was an outbreak of Nomad Wars. Pliss to go check it out. It was much fun. But I think towards the end the only people it made sense to was me and Wiseling :).

Still.

And it's a Work in Progress.

Note: It just occurred to me, that however much you try to stop yourself from thinking of some things, they tend to pop out at you like nasty jack-in-the-boxes when you least expect them to. It's quite tiresome, really.

A Study of the Behavioral Patterns of Homo sapiens scientificus in Captivity

Aim: To identify and characterize the behavioral patterns observed in Homo sapiens scientificus (common name: Human Scientist) when enclosed in a specific habitat (a Conference Room) over extended periods of time (8 hours).

Materials and Methods: A set of 35 human scientists (give or take a few) were enticed into a 'Conference Room' with no little difficulty. The observer (also the author of this paper) remained in the said 'Conference Room' with experimental group and made notes at varied time points detailing the behavioral patterns of specific specimens as well as any general patterns observed. Materials used included Notebook:1 and Pencil: 1.

Observations: Time course over a time frame of eight hours:

0800 hours: A group of the experimental species is herded into annexe by enticements in the form of a breakfast buffet. The near stampede that succeeds the announcement of free bagels proves completely non-fatal since all members of the group appear extremely skilled in the art of extracting bagels from a table whilst fighting off other equally skilled individuals. Some members are almost strangled by their ties (an unfortunate sartorial decision indicating what is believed to be lack of experience and a sign of extreme immaturity within the group) but these specimens are untangled from general crowd and settled safely in a corner by expert organisers of the event.

0815 hours: Attempts are made to move the group of said species to adjoining conference room (the site of the experiment). This task proves more difficult than foreseen due to (one can only assume) the excellence of the stale 2-day-old bagels still surviving the initial breakfast rush.

0830 hours: Expert organisers of event with keen foresight bring jugs of hot coffee and cold orange juice into the conference room. On announcement of this new nutrtional addition to the morning repast, the group of human scientists is successfully manouvered into the conference room. On the heels of last entrant the doors are smartly closed.

0845 hours: Whilst the participants in the experiment are intently occupied with coffee and juice, the inaugral speaker quickly mumbles an introduction and ushers the first speaker in. The expert organisers are observed sporting hunted looks at this critical juncture and a cordon is formed by them at the various entry points to prevent sudden breaks from the coffee/juice table. Fortunately before the experimental group is aware of the conference beginning, it begins. The group seems bewildered by this but quickly settles into the comfortable chairs provided to work off the unaccustomed activity undergone to procure breakfast and coffee.

0945 hours: The second speaker ascends the dias and makes the customary jokes. The experimental group beguiled by the orange juice sniggers at appropriate pauses. Two pertinent questions are even asked at the end, causing speaker to adopt the hunted look from the organisers.

1015 hours: Said observer after 4 cups of coffee is enthusiastically engaged in a quest for the rest room after successfully dodging cordoning organisers. Therefore, the data for next ten minutes is lost although the observer thinks several significant thoughts involving great empathy for both Schrodinger and his cat.

1025 hours: Observer re-occupies observation post and intelligently notices that nothing significant has changed. A few erstwhile members of experimental group have decided to catch 40 winks (no doubt, in order to refresh themselves for the next speaker) but for the most part there is much interest in the current presentation on crypreservation of samples.

1045 hours: While waiting for next speaker to begin his endless presentation, observer has brief but illuminating conversation with neighbour about the efficacy of freezing human subjects and reviving them after 20 years. No conculsion is reached but there is general agreement that it would make an admirable dissertation topic.

1050 hours: New speaker of Asian origin. Observer understands only every second word, and attempts to recreate the rest of the sentence from these words. While this is an amusing game for 5 minutes, it's appeal soon palls and said observer seeks new methods of amusement.

1145 hours: Observer wakes up with a start recommences observation. Topic of next presentation is a so-called 'hot topic' and rival researchers are present in the experimental group. Much gripping entertainment is expected. At end of presentation there is a five minute free-for-all. The expert organisers step in at the first signs of a fist fight and firmly declare this the 'last question'. Much disappointment is swallowed by rest of bloodthirsty audience.

1250 hours: Lunch is announced. There is a repeat of breakfast buffet scene (expounded on in further detail in Appendix 1). In the pell mell, said observer loses her notebook and pencil but is not much perturbed by it. Weightier matters occupy her mind.

1315 hours: Posters are arranged in adjoining room for active perusal by experimental group. Other than the occasional (metaphorical) bared teeth, the passage of time is uneventful. Since observer is engaged at her post next to her poster she is unable to make a detailed firsthand analysis of proceedings. Her primary source for this time interval is the gossip auditory evidence she collects from independent external sources.

1345 hours: Observer realises that she does not have a control group for the experiment. She contemplates ditching it. Then she realises that she can always fudge control group data for the paper. So she sensibly decides in the last minute to continue.

1400 hours: Experimental group herded back into conference room. The expert organisers are prepared with tea this time around and the progress is smooth. However some of the experimental group having wisened up, nip into the room for tea and then leave with muttered comments about vital ongoing experiments in their labs. The expert and by-now-exhausted organisers don't care anymore and are busy sucking up most of the tea themselves.

1415 hours: Man with sticking out ears sitting in front of observer keeps bobbing his head into her line of vision. Observer is appalled by her overwhelming urge to grab his ears and yank his head out of her line of vision. Observer masters the impulse by sitting on hands. Hers, not his.

1445 hours: Presentation on the evils of aspirin. A much awaited issue that is presented by a competent speaker. Most of the experimental group appears pacifist, satisfied by their whiled away day. Much hilarity ensues during a discussion of how one subject treated with various doses of aspirin died not from aspirin overdose but from a cancer that was picked up unawares by the subject.

1515 hours: Keynote speaker makes speech. A specific group call, 'the boot-licking hyena laugh' makes an appearance at regular intervals. Hysterical applause at the end. A couple of overenthusiastic members of group attempt to extend a standing ovation but are embarrassed into sitting back down by the glares of would-be-aspirants to the position of Keynote speaker. The observer observes that it's a dog-eat-dog world and decides to jot that down, only to remember that her notebook was lost during lunch. She then observes that such is life and rues that she cannot note this profundity down either.

1545 hours: End of conference for the day. The observer is unable to make further observations as she is carried away in the current of jostling experimental specimens headed for the elevators.

Conclusion: The experimental group, Homo sapiens scientificus appears to be completely at home in captivity. No stereotypical behaviors e.g pacing or (literal) teeth baring were observed. There was no self mutilation, or periodic scratching and sneezing. The group did appear to perform a crucial ritual when in the vicinity of any nourishment. It is our belief that this ritual allows establishment of hierarchy within the group. Some amount of appeasement of higher order members by lower order members was manifested, primarily in the form of enthusiastic applause and inappropriate laughter. Verbal communication was used effectively by experimental specimens analogously to 'antler locking' manifested by males of other species. We conclude from the experiment that these individuals can be kept locked in a room indefinitely as long as they are equipped with an overhead projector and provided with food at regular intervals.

Acknowledgments: We thank all the participants in the experiment. We are also eternally indebted to our parents without whom we could not have achieved this landmark publication. We particularly thank our mentors who were never rude or dismissive or unencouraging or unreasonable.

Public Advisory

We suggest the general public (i.e. people we work with, people who are on the same elevator as us, people who are sitting next to us on the bus, people who, in short, come within speaking distance of us) please not talk to us or expect us to make/understand sparkling repartee at any point in time before noon, on any day of the week. We believe this will prevent, abolish and exterminate painful conversations like this one:

Gora boy in lab (Gbil): So, are you going to get dressed up in traditional Indian dress for the presentation?
Me: Huh? Wha-?
Gbil: Y'know, the wossit. That all you Indian chicks wear. Are you gonna wear it tomorrow?
Me: Huh? What's a traditional Indian dress?
Gbil: It's called a sari. Maybe you've heard of it.
Me: Oh! Right. No. I don't know how to wear one.
Gbil: (in between bouts of mocking laughter) You don't know how to wear one?? All the other Indian chicks I've met know how to wear one.
Me: Well, I don't.
Gbil: What about the round dot? The bindi? Do you know how to wear that? Those arm bracelet things? An anklet maybe?
Me: Oh just *&$@ off (and then because of rigorous training inflicted by my mum while I was still at a tender age), please.

Since, we as always endeavour to give satisfaction to the multitudes who clamour around us for our fascinating discourse, we entreat the public to help us help them. Thank you for your attention. And please remember, fore nooned is fore doomed. Have a nice day.

Geneticist, Molecular Geneticist

So, you think that Molecular Geneticists are uncool, geeky people who squint through microscopes all day? That they're bespectacled, Einstein-haired freaks whose concept of 'Gourmet Dining' is limited solely to speculating endlessly on whether there's pepperoni or mushrooms on the (free, of course) pizza that they'll get at the Lunchtime Seminar on 'YVR00324 and it's Effects on Tumor Suppressing Growth Factors like TGF Beta-2 in the M22 Cell Line'? Perhaps you imagine that they're alright hidden away in their labs, but come a true crisis in the Real World they'd be as clueless as the rest of humanity?

I have one word for you : Ptuiii (and if I had another one, it'd be Ha! said in a sorta snarky, despairing, hopefully-cynical way). Cos, us Molecular Geneticts are actually more hip and happening (noone uses that expression anymore, do they? *decides to ask around but can't find anyone in her lab who knows*) than all the rest of your journalists, and novelists, and fancy analysts with your parties and your trendsetting clothes put together! You jeer. You mock. The cry goes up, "But how? Where's your proof?". You might expect to flabbergast us with these questions, leave us gasping for an answer in the face of your shrewd and inquisitive search for the Truth. But no! We stand firm. Cos, We have An Answer.

If the world was on the brink of destruction and the Only Thing (Only Thing, mind you) keeping it from complete annihilation was a 0.8% 300ml Agarose gel that had to be moved 3 inches on a soggy piece of filter paper in under 5 minutes, who dya think you'd call? What price all the James Bonds and Bill Gates and Che Guevaras then? See, why I said Ptuiii (and a possible Ha!) earlier? Cos noone, but NOONE, would be able to get you out of that fix quicker than your local resident Molecular Geneticist. So, bow down to the world-saving might of the Uber-Cool Ultra-Trendy Supra-smoking-hot Molecular Geneticists, and pray for their Mercy, Earth-cretin.

Update: I should warn you that the title won't make sense, unless you say it like Bond, James Bond.

The Shower-God's Revelations (or Epiphany #2)

Luck is abundant, universal and constantly happening to every single individual on this planet (including plants, and other creatures like yeast that lie along the borderline of the living), it's the adjective that requires hard work, preparation or the lack thereof, and has to be contributed by the luck-ee.

What a bummer! You just can't beat the system!!

Seriosity

In my continued (albeit apparently unsuccessful) attempts to inject some seriosity into this blog, I have immersed myself in research over the past couple of days (yeah, that's what I was doing, NOT slacking off or lacking things to say). The results of my research have led me to suspect that in order to have a truly serious blog, one has to talk knowledgably (or atleast pretend to) on subjects of grave importance. These belong to three main categories: Economics (finance, commerce, the state of capitalism in today's world, which btw I suspect is dire), Rants on Feminism (this will definitely put you into the A-list of serious blogs, if you can add a couple of personal instances wherein you were molested/abused or suchlike there is no saying how high you can fly) and finally Politics. If while talking about any one of these subjects or two or three of them simultaneously (any combination is allowed), you can also drop references to obscure Czechoslavakian authors/composers, hint subtly at even more obscure quotations by 10000 year old Grecian philosophers, and maintain a note of sneering condescension at the extreme stupidity of everyone else (ESPECIALLY the readers of your blog) who inhabits this planet, you shall be blessed with comments that read something like "Wow XYZ, you have changed the way I think about the world in general and my life in particular, I am eternally indebted to you". Or "You write so well. God Bless You, child" (OK I made up the God Bless You bit, I was thinking of a venerable nonangenarian writing that comment, and I got too much into character I think). Or sometimes, a comment of rare lucidity that goes "You poor bastard, get off your high horse, already". Think about the fun you'd have coming up with responses to these comments! That itself would make the writing of the blog a pleasure (even if reading it gives everyone else a headache).

[Psst! If you're truly worthy of owning the serious blog described above you would not reply to any comments, cos doncha know you're too good for that ;).]

I leave you, faithful reader, on this note of warning. My next post shall undoubtedly talk about finance, feminism or politics (since I know next to nothing about any of those three subjects I shall have to retire to do some more research). I will be BACK *said on a threatening note, so don't any of you dare get scared and run away *

Update: I am reliably informed that 'if you can add a couple of personal instances wherein you were molested/abused or suchlike there is no saying how high you can fly' is wince-worthy. Much apologies if it offends (I'm trying to adhere to a no-delete policy, silly as that is)

Update 2: Betcha most of you have seen this. When people have already written posts like that, what chance do I have of making myself a name by writing serious posts on feminism? *is disgusted with other people's brilliance*

Update 3: The 'serious posts on feminism' mentioned above does not refer to Falstaff's post, but the two posts that he's linked to. Just in case much confusion ensues from my clumsy wording!

Revelation

Betcha all of you think that this is gonna be more about Gods and Dawkins, but no. Haha! Gotcha. Its about this sobering thought, that different people have independently told me that this blog makes no sense. I triumphantly point to the name of the blog, and say but I warned you! And one of them even imputed that my stay away from home has made me a lunatic. Hmm..food for thought.