The Knee Count Issue

Thus, you can have a knee-count issue, or a knee problem! And because the hands in such places are usually, either involved in matters like, hand-to-mouth living, or hands that are always busy lifting the balls bouncing in the court of those who have the powers & the positions to decide the heads’ .... I mean, the knees’ professional destiny.

And why did this post-Cold-War-capitalism (and/or designer capitalism), have to switch the dreadful term, "down-sizing" to "right-sizing?" Even though, and doesn’t it simply mean, downing the size of a company’s work-force; or simply, kicking-out (exactly the right numbers) of employees .... especially, those seen a bit on the left, so, there is less cost involved & (thus) more profits?

The most agitating thing for a salaried middle-class person (in these days of oh, so, awful economics) ... a person, who remains to be a solid, good worker, but is on the left sides (or is it, left-sized?), .... if he/she is on the left side of the hands who are good at lifting balls in the court of the bosses, and hands which think from their knees, is one way or the other, one day or the next, bound to be forced to jump on the bandwagon with razor-sharp-tyers, or simply put: the bandwagon used todown/right-size "costs" (no matter how good they are, but not good enough to use their knees & hands!)....
What’s so right about right-sizing?! And for how long can balls be lifted & knees used (instead of brains/heads), & profits made, & whatever the flying chocolate fudge!

A good worker .... no matter how "weird" or "eccentric" ... is a good worker, and (naturally), shall always remain on the left sides of all this neo-capitalist-s**t!

And most (if not all), knee-jerking ball lifters and/or the ball-boys/girls of the bosses’ profit-making tennis matches, know this quite well .... because if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been the knee-jerking ball-boys/girls.
However, the interesting thing is, they, eventually, (both speaking in terms of the laws of micro economics as well as moralism), don’t get down or right sized. They eventually get cut-to-size!

And (thus), they should beware of the fact that, no knee-jerking, ball-lifting and profit-making can then save them from becoming wheat on the first (sharp) day of the harvest season, dig?
B*****ds!


Exist Stage Left


“Why are we here? Or rather why were the Vital Signs and Abrar-ul-Haq here? What possible reason could there be for the existence of these hairy-chest, cola-laced Pakistanis?

You don’t know? Moron! God sent them. Yes, god. Makes you think twice, hah?
They were the abomination before Congo Fever.

John, the late canteenwallah at St. Patrick’s Govt. Collage, once in a deep state of meditation and while listening to late John Denver sing about the birds and the bees, said, “bullshit!” Which sort of answered the question about Vital Signs and Abrar.

But what about you? Why were you put on this planet? Are you just another Vital Sign or are you a fruit about to get Congo Fever?

Maybe a cabbage is how you describe yourself. To tell you the truth, I really don’t give a damn. I don’t care why we are here. But I do care why I’m here and Madhuri Dixit there!

However, my favorite all-time eternal question remains, “why me?” No one has ever been able to beat this one. Imagine Zia-ul-Haq falling from the sky like a burning mass of tyranny and asking this question. Imagine Saddam Hussain and Mulla Omar ducking American missiles and asking this question. Imagine Atiqa Odho looking hearing herself laugh and asking this question. Imagine one of George W. Bush’s dogs looking at his owner choking on a pretzel and asking this question. Makes you think, huh? Does it? Really? Don’t fall over with all that blood rushing to your head. Consider art. Consider politics.

Our neuroses are defined by the questions we ask. The paranoid, the depressed, the totally fucked-up, they can all be classified by the questions they are always asking of themselves and others.

No sir. I never ask myself, “why me?” I look around and ask, “why you?”