Monday MindBlast

I never write about  political stuff because I laugh so much at the shenanigans of the elected, selected, self-imposed leaders that I mis-type almost every other word while I guffaw. Never heard a truer statement than this one made by a wag  - the problem with political jokes is that  they get elected .

 Imagine how terrible life would be if we were not blessed enough to open the papers each morning and explode with laughter . People walk, meditate or do stretch exercises. Me ? I just start my day with belly aches and stitches on my sides . There is always some jackass who thinks his or her  statement that will shake the world - all it does is shake my belly muscles. So while have my tea my stomach muscles do more rolls than the average belly dancer. With a good costume designer and a make-up artist I may have an alternate occupation. While they spend their five odd years doing whatever it is they do , for I don't see them doing anything useful ( except that they promise if they comeback for the next five they will do it) I am increasing my longevity with laughter therapy. My only fear is they will realise their great service to the general public  and slap a tax on that. They have some time-tested comic one-liners on the usual subjects :  women, economy , drought, power crisis, water shortage , floods , price rise, culture, religion,bomb blasts. All the statements  seem to begin with "profound"and wind  down with "condemnable" It does not matter but now and then someone WILL go original and say stuff like rape is always with consent of women or beef eating has caused sexual depravity , women who use make-up are dishonourable or men who respect women are sissies or bras cause floods ( ok I made that up - they will not mess with the billion dollar lingerie industry) .   

The next lot that make me hold the furniture while I have tears streaming down my cheeks are film stars. Their comical acts  may be over the top in movies . Some border on vulgarity and crassness but in real life they are a scream.  Everyone spouts about how this one movie will make us think deeply or awaken our senses  or change the film industry forever , and then they  dish up the stuff  probably my grandfather or his father saw in the pre- Talkies days The over-the-hill-and-so-far-far-away old men with wigs trying to romp the Styrofoam moulded nubile young things amuses me so much  that I again and again willingly part with my money. The "serious"actors and directors  are even funnier - they take mundane ideas and then pretend they discovered it . Thank god for the ones who are clear that they make movies to make money .

Sports commentators who stutter and mutter   , ad men who make ridiculously stupid ads about toothbrushes , plaque and health drinks  , religious nuts who give crazy explantions for  god's wrath in the form of earthquakes and floods , bigots who dishonour their gods by shoving them down other people's throats , tv anchors who screech and squawk and wave their arms about , minsters who prostrate easily because of lack of a spinal cord ,  government officials who grovel for those above them  and strut and posture to  those below them  - imagine life without all this real life comical elements. What would I do if I cannot open a magazine and see air-brushed and photo-shopped women  peddling some horrendous clothes and jewellery , metro men in ridiculous underwear , silly shoes or turnip-sized watches and be totally amused. 

We need these people for every one of them was created to  keep us joyous and happy  :   the charlatan with fake degrees ,  the  liars who claim they went to Ivy League institutions, the self-righteous spoke persons of the divine who tell us how to live and die. 

There is some sadness though in all this - If do feel sad for those who actually  believe them and take them seriously .
 Hoping my heat-addled brain can work again on Monday .

Monday MindBlast

It is the Special  Day for the cook , the maid , the laundry lady ; for the paramedic , the plumber, the chauffeur, the electrician and the carpenter . It's also the same Day for the counsellor , the tutor and the accountant . It is the day for the Dictator  and the Devil's Advocate.
  It is called Mother's Day !!
Mothers get snapped at , yelled at and blamed ; they also get loved and hugged and thanked in the heart a million times a day. I have felt all these feelings  for my mother and now in a reversal of roles I have learned and earned all the above. The saddest lives are those who have not got Mother's love because their mothers are no longer there  but even more miserable are those who have misread  or rejected this Love.
Upon my mother's death I often wondered whether I had done enough for her. I was confused by thoughts of whether I had shown in small ways how  deeply I loved her , how much she mattered to me each day . I kept thinking of the million ways I could have made her happier while she lived . Then one day,  while I was still blaming myself for my inadequacies , I realised that she never really bothered about it . She loved me with her whole her heart and her whole being. Just loving me was her joy ,her whole purpose and how I returned the love or whether I returned it all , mattered not a whit to her.
 A Mother's love is so deep , so unconditional and totally all- encompassing . The Love  is so strong and  so divine that it reaches out from beyond the grave and protects us  . I was not an ideal daughter nor was my mother without flaws and weaknesses  .It actually made her more lovable for I loved her "warts and all"  . Those moments when she was quick to find fault because she had had a tough over-worked day , when she yelled at me as to what an ungrateful wretch I was when I made her that angry with my actions  . Those words may have dropped from her lips but they never came from her heart . That heart which said each moment : "I  can bear any pain in the world but I cannot bear a single drop of tear fall from your eyes."
Mothers are flawed because they are human but they carry in them that Divine spark that lights up our lives.
So where does that leave the Fathers? Are they to be relegated to the guys who merely  brings home the pay packet . Fathers are actually the silent ones who do everything and seldom take credit. They do not indulge in drama and hyperbole but they have the same love that mothers have. Their drawback is because they have not  physically carried one  in the womb,  we forget they carry us in their heart and in their soul.
All great thinkers and philosophers have placed both Mother  and Father above God for that is where they should be , right  above  The One . He certainly drew up a mighty tough  contract  with them for your care  . When they die ,  they leave behind  so much of them  in us that deny as we might , we do see them in us : in every nuance , in every thought, in every action - through the day !
In loving them we say the highest Prayer.
Back on Monday !

MondayMindBlast

I don't know how many people noted the fact that I missed  consecutive Mondays. Personal inconveniences ( and we all have those niggling bugs that keep us away from productive work) and global tragedies  created a more sombre mood in me .
 I know there are a few friends who read my blog loyally ,they  may not enjoy it week after week but they read it anyway . There are many things we do for a friend because we know it matters to them a great deal even if it seems frivolous to us . We often  go along with an idea , even if personally we are not exactly enthusiastic about it . We prevent them from emotional disasters  , at the risk of them sulking at us for a day , a week or even what seems to later  turn out to be forever. A friend I once  warned about a lascivious jerk did not believe me at first.   So well had he ensnared her , she could not see him dripping lewdness. She was very angry with me  and stopped talking to me . It was only when his mask slipped much later , that she realised it and  we went back to being friends as if the pervert had never existed .  Just picked up where we had left years ago !
 My friend , who is always worried about my wild outspoken ways said to me the other day ;"what if these people you write about ( you know the pompous academics or the la-di-dah social wannabes ) read your stuff and get angry with you"?
 I assured her that such people never read anything , they are too lazy or too busy with self-promotion. "In  any case ," I asked her , "who would want to underline the fact that they are the pompous asses/ brainless dodos I am talking about  hm"?
  This  friend is special for she is  one who has outlasted my crazy adolescence days and my even wilder prepubescent wackiness and rambunctiousness.  It is true isn't it : a Friend can see through you and still enjoy the show !
About shows - I am all  for attending those "to be seen" theatre events . Other than the fantastic actual  show , the side show is great fun. It's the place where to just sit in a seat  in a dark theatre , people dress up as if they are going to be on stage. At theatre festivals I  shamelessly eavesdrop and hear blowing the wind from these gas bags statements like - " when I watched ...... show  in Broadway"  or  "I never miss theatre in London , or at the Opera House in ..... when we went on our usual Euro trip ( nota bene the stress on usual !) . I also ponder did the usher lead them out politely or did the bouncer chuck them out - if their loud comments and artificial guffaws at all the wrong moments are anything to go by. If I am ever to act ( and no one I know will risk that )  my career on stage would come to an abrupt end with the act of my chucking my shoe at the offending creatures . That , however legitimate and laudable the cause may be , is not the actual  reason I won't ever  make it on stage . The truth is that I can play only two roles with aplomb - Deer Frozen in the Headlights or Coma Patient in hospital  bed ;  the second too ,  if I am assured that the scene will last just  a few minutes. Lying still is imposable for me . The only time I go into that that kind of stupor is during a post-lunch power point  presentation. The stomach is happy , the lights are dimmed and my body tells my brain : "hush  little one , breathe gently , relax and I will ensure that you are not caught , by fixing the eyelids into frozen posture".
Freezing always brings me to those ladies who happily inject distilled snake venom converted into serum to freeze the nerves for six months . They end up with these frozen grins that look painted upon them in red , burgundy or fuchsia dependning on their lipstick.  They are meant to  to erase their frown and laugh  lines - yeah those over-the-hill and desperate-to-pass-off-as-thirty  botox aunties. I always assumed the laugh lines were there to show what a zany life you were leading ; the frown to announce to  the world that you survived and even managed to raise a decent kidor two  . The crinkles at the  corner of my eyes, I truly believe,  speaks of the lovely and ugly things that I have seen in life and still managed to retain my sanity and humour.
So really , when the sales girl  at the upmarket cosmetic counter asked  me : " ma'am would you like to try  some of our new  wrinkle cream ",  I really didn't know whether to tell her I am proud of my lines as I have earned them  or to give her a lecture about what a disaster sales person she is for  telling women that they need wrinkle cream !
More MindBlast soon !

Monday MindBlast

I do not  enjoy falling sick. Technically it has all the right ingredients to make one happy - lying in bed, covered with a nice comforter , off from work , someone fussing over you or you wallowing in self pity and  definitely somewhere someone missing you ; even if it is to find the blasted file you tucked under Miscellaneous because you could not figure whether it went under B for Bastard , J for Jerk or S for sonofabitch. The problem is the other factors do not play along -so you are sniffing , burning with fever with every joint twisting itself like it is on Torquemada's  rack of torture . It is called the "flu" and as that is the generic name for any undiagnosed fever, the doctor gives you a "broad spectrum "antibiotic. Notwithstanding how  the virus may  react to it , I react very badly. I walk around with a sandpaper tongue that feels like it has been dragged for a week over a field covered with bitter gourds and thistles. My mother always said - sickness and feasting should not last more than three days . Unfortunately the Salmonella and the Ecoli have not been told this .So they  continue to party in my system for a lot more days than they are supposed to. Then they leave all the mess (typically like teenagers after the party) and I walk around looking like a raccoon with dark circles around my eyes , like a  Slow Loris with a perpetual look of misery. Actually the Slow Loris has a jolly good reason considering there are so many morons whose manhood depends on this creature. They believe it has aphrodisiac qualities  . How stupid can people be :  there is a reason it is called slow , dummy!!

The last time I used the word aphrodisiac in public was when another ace dummy asked me why I was chewing cardamom and I told him because it is a proven  aphrodisiac . Frankly , I would rather use that to freshen my breath than some rubbish that some filmstar chucks into his mouth which comes in a golden sachet and will probably give me mouth cancer. The last I heard was the guy was masticating cardamom by the handfuls. So all you masala chai ladies and biryani making mamas you know why the cost went up - yeah I confess to the crime!
 Sometimes , it is absolute fun to say something outrageous with an innocent face. My  male college mate  and I were in a crowded  lift when in stage whisper I said  : "I missed two periods " and while I saw a few freeze in shock and others arch an eyebrow of disapproval and a lot of lip twisting with - oh-my-god-girls-these-days look I continued : " one in international law and the other in jurisprudence "and jumped off at the next floor. I haven't cackled like that for a long time and my friend went into a black-slapping high-fiving  frenzy .
It was one of those official boring parties that one has to attend . There were crass  plutocrats, self serving bureaucrats , dripping-with saccharine socialites and fuddies and duddies by the dozen. There were also the pompous academics , the type whose necks are stiffened in case the cloud of knowledge that  hangs over their head dissipates if they shake their learned noddle  around. My wicked self could take the dreariness no longer , so I picked on the man who I knew was pretty prurient and with the wonderful stage whisper leaned across and said "oh yes , I totally support polygamy and polyandry".  All the men formed a tight circle around me all evening  to hear the merits which ( I humbly submit) I argued quite well . I wonder why  the women in the room glared at me all evening ! Mr Prurient was so  titillated by the thought that he smacked some one's bottom, I heard  . Luckily for him it was his  long suffering PhD student who had worse things done to him , I am sure.I have seen him sent to collect  Madam's blouses from the tailor,filling  bank challans  and depositing cash in the bank  , picking  up lunch  from the canteen and filling water bottle from the water cooler . Once he was sent on a city jaunt to find an ice cream soda bottle for the Prurient's progeny . A smack on the bottom is the least painful . It is truly the extension of the over- glorified Gurukul system where the disciple did everything for his Master and Guru which may or may not include satisfying the mistress. Not so curious, really,  considering the modern connotation of the word Mistress . Who can blame the lady : a strapping wood cutting six pack youth is a better choice  to a wizened ,filthy ,matted hair, mumbling ,  old and  pompous One  .
The last time we were in a crowded shop when my friend asked me what I would like for my birthday,   I couldn't resist  saying ( yes, in that wicked  stage whisper ) ; "a Coffee Maker please , preferably six foot , blue-eyed blonde , thank you !"
More MindBlast soon !

Monday MindBlast

There I was in a upmarket shoe shop  teetering on some high heels that I was gingerly balancing on   and swivelling my ankles to see how they looked,  when in the mirror I caught a reflection that looked a bit  familiar . It was a  lady  (for she was not  a girl anymore but then neither was I)  yet I knew  she was my class mate from the distant past for those eyes behind the thick glasses were known to me . Equally familiar  was the deep voice that I heard  as she asked the salesman for something.  I squinted  into the mirror , I frowned trying to get her name and then suddenly the penny dropped .
I hurried up to her . "Excuse me, "I said , "you are C... aren't you?"  With my biggest and  warmest smile I continued "Remember me ? I was in school with you ,  I am ......"
She cut me off quickly "Geeta ! Yes I know , "she replied coldly "you called me a bitch one day when we were in school".
You could have knocked me over with a shoe horn. Is that what she remembers about  me - one day(!)  from eleven years in class together ? Phew !!  Before you go thinking that I hated her or something equally vicious , let me enlighten all :  way back then  it was fashionable for rebels like me and the rest of my ragtag clique  ( though our teachers called us lazy blokes and saw us as the you-will-never-proper-in-life ones) to greet each other with a jolly wave and a  "hi , bitch" . It was not an expletive or cuss word, it bordered on endearment and was a bonding  among the defiant ones .  The word was used as a Proper noun, a verb , an adjective , an adverb and even an exclamation of joy - "what a bitch !" was a total compliment.  Sometimes it was philosophical like : Life is a bitch, isn't it  . I certainly don't hear Life complaining about it .Success has also been referred to as the Bitch Goddess  I don't think she minds too much either .  No one seems to like Success  the less for it - everyone is too busy wooing her ; bitch or not !
Back to C : the funny thing is I remember that one day very clearly.  She was sitting on the  school bathroom floor , miserable  and  alone,  during break  and howling with pain because she had stomach cramps and I distinctly recollect  running to fetch the school nurse . I was punished in the next class for coming in late and stood outside the class. Our Principal saw me during her rounds and enquired.When I explained why I was late for the geography class , she took me in herself and whispered the reason to the teacher and I was allowed to sit at my desk again. Memory sure is a  funny thing . She remembers what suits her and I what suits me . But what amazed me is how long she has been holding a grudge . at least now I am totally justified in calling her a capital B with an itch !
Words do change with times. Someone in the eighteenth century walking down the street in London  would have looked up at St Paul's Cathedral and murmured - what an awful church ! We would now call it awesome but we would mean the same thing as that bloke  .  A Sunday afternoon I walked in on my school going teenager and asked what he was watching on tv.  "Pimping" he said , then noting my shocked expression he clarified "it means customising a car !"  So I asked him "you mean like accessorizing?" He looked at me as if i was nuts and muttered  - what is accessorising ?  By the way ,  is that what customizing/ accessorizing  called these days  . Pimping had a certain sex worker  related  connotation when we were young  and we never used the word in polite conversations and certainly not to your mother. Besides, if my mother had heard me use it she would have rapped me . no, not broken out into a rhythmic use of similar sounding/ rhyming words- just given me one across the face !
More next Monday , ciao for now !

Monday Mindblast

I am always amused how easily we find things to which we  attribute our good luck and our misfortunes to . If things work out well it is because of the  extra alphabet  added to the name or some obscenely large and gaudily coloured gemstone  worn next to the skin. I think the only person whom makes maximum money with the  "Fortune " plants  is the Charlie who sells those  bamboo shoots all tied up  with red ribbons  . The ugly pussycat in garish gold known as Goodluck Kitty  is something my mother could have used in my growing year to scare me with . Thank God ,  they were not found on every mantle-piece or corner shelf, like they are now.  There is something very creepy about the the way the Kitty waves a paw as if to  beckons me to some ghoulish  world if I do not down the veggies  .
 If I was still a kid I would  certainly scream with fright and have nightmares after seeing one of those Santas who besiege every mall before Christmas They peep from behind   the hideous   Made-in-China masks. They hardly look jolly and benign , more like trolls and fiends that descend on evil nights to carry one away screaming to the nether world.  But the question still rattles in my brain : why do people attach good luck and bad luck to things? I had a friend in school who insisted that it as the blue panties  that she wore for every Maths exam  that helped her score her  centums . So,  it wasn't the hours she spent practising and solving hundreds of maths problems, it wasn't the dedication of Mrs Britto who taught us so thoroughly and inculcated in us the love for numbers - oh no , not at all! It was this wispy itsy bitsy lace thing that did it . I wonder whether it has survived the onslaught of time and does she still wear it to her Board Meetings ?However, I do owe her much in life for it was she who got me off irrational beliefs of all kinds. How can a lizard who spends his entire life stuck with suction pads to a ceiling be a harbinger of Death if he falls on my head ? Greater possibility  of me screaming and jumping up and down than curling up and dying. I truly believe there is a black cat out there somewhere telling her lovely little kittens to be careful of a white woman crossing their path. A family I know not only believes  thirteen is unlucky but the multiples of thirteen are unlucky too. Luckily for the kids of the family ,  the elders  are not very strong on counting beyond 13x3 .
I take great comfort in the fact that all religions assure me that everything is pre-ordained and I have come into this world like a packaged product with  an expiry date . Sometimes the " Best Before ", or the  "Use By " date also becomes applicable ;  as in the case of job eligibility and marriage proposals . So the  Big Guy ( or Gal , as the case maybe ) is up there in the Heavens with the headphones on , listening to all the whining, groaning, moaning  pleading , cajoling , bribing  etc  from down below ; and humming " I am gonna get you anyway...." This is why when I need to tune into His /Her frequency I rarely do it on my knees . Just a  hale-fellow-well-met kind of conversation works just as well for me - a mild conversation for some gentle tweaking within permissible limits is all one can ask for ( after all it's all pre-ordained , remember?)
This is the wedding season , actually it is always the wedding season if one were to believe the advts and free attachments that come with your regular newspaper. The one thing I thoroughly enjoy at weddings is the element of surprise . The charming pretty girl you knew all along could turn up to be almost anything on her wedding day : Bat Woman with exaggerated winged eyes , the alien from the movie  Predator with long ringlets reaching out beyond  her face and waving around  with a life of their own , a creature from the movie Species glistening and glittering  and with shimmery blue hued eyes. Some look so different that I have almost left the wedding venue sure that I had gate crashed into  the wrong one. Imagine if the groom were to shout: " But that's not her..........." when he gets a glimpse of her heavily-made up totally-changed face How do the  petite lithe girls turn into these muscle women capable of  carrying tonnes of gold around  their slender necks? I can almost hear the thoughts in the groom's head as he blinks into the camera and wonders if  this the frail one for whom he  lugged big shopping bags around the mall? For whom he  carried popcorn cartons into the theater ?   The bride stands for hours on the stage next to him,  carrying on her delicate frame kilos of brocade and silk  artfully wrapped around her  in every conceivable manner and trailing  behind her.
Wedding venues resemble  Trade Fairs more and more : flashing lights , wandering people ,food outlets with different cuisines  et al . I attended a wedding which had a Giant Ferris wheel installed at the entrance, ice cram kiosks and a cotton candy man turning out pink sugary clouds . I wish I had worn something more appropriate for the summer fete. As inappropriate as it may seem to wear a silk saree in the blistering Chennai heat , I wear them anyway sacrificing convenience for a greater cause .  I made the mistake once by attending a distant cousin's wedding in weather - friendly clothes and minimal jewellery. I  was besieged by phone calls  the next day from concerned cousins , busybody aunts and overwrought uncles ; each one of them wanted to know if I had quarrelled with the cousin or had been offended by someone.  All because I had not turned myself into a walking Fort Knox.
Rushing for a wedding and so more MindBlast next Monday !

Moday MindBlast

We all make lists. Every one of us. I do not mean those boring grocery list or the tasks to be done lists   , the ones of which even half the stuff  doesn't get done on time  The list on the white board scrawled in green and red markers that gets carried over week by week . The one you look at , sigh , swear to yourself this weekend you will definitely do some of them or at least ONE of them  and then convince yourself weekends are not for lists and that you will start first thing on Monday. That same list which makes you feel so rotten as it stares at you every time you go into the room until you vanquish it and wipe the sneer off it's silly face.  Such joy when you strike just one item off it - the feeling of somehow taking the elevator all the way up to Mt Everest and now all you have to do is look around and drink in the pure beauty. 

No,  I intend talking about  those other lists , the secret ones I relish  ,  really interesting lists I revel in .I have several of those and now I shall make all privy to a few. I have the Genuinely-I- Want Wish List. This has as many as twenty items which are so mundane and hopeless  I don't  even bother about them  anymore  like " I wish I fit into my  skinny jeans again , I wish my hair grows back in those little patches that I cleverly hide by back combing , I wish my forehead would stop receding so that like male aging film stars I don't need to artfully arrange  bangs to cover them , I wish my mid region would  shrink so that  I don't  have to hold my breath for a photographs  and  it will not  jiggle so much when I am shaking a leg at the New Year  party etc etc . Most have to do with vanity and less with reality. 

It’s my Totally-Impossible-but-Hope-It-Happens Wish List which is really exciting. The first wish is that my unfinished scribblings stashed  in the dusty Adidas shoe box gets discovered a la Gone With The Wind style and then upon publication I become richer than J K Rowling and that I can buy Scottish castles and English Manors and a couple of Indian palaces . Of course ,  I have no idea what the heck I will do with them but let's not get real here. Alternately, I wish a long epic poem full of human misery and foreboding gloom penned by me wins the Nobel Prize. I may not make money but surely all the publicity will ensure that I can endorse some memory hocus-pocus drink or some runaway luggage or at least a pair of nerdy spectacles with tortoise shell plastic frames.

 That is followed by the wish that someone hides in my shopping bag while I am tooling aimlessly in the mall, this little black velvet bag of diamonds worth trillions like it happens in the Hadley Chase books which was made into the highly successful Bollywood movie Victoria No 203. I really don't  think  too much about disposing the diamonds part but it  would really really be  convenient if  the police or the rival gang guys or the cheated and angry Boss shoots the guy dead so no one ever  finds out about it and I am home free. I could just use them as paper weights for a start and sell them off one by one later.

 The next on the list that really sends me in a tizzy is that some rich Sheik sees me and has a déjà vu moment or a last birth revelation, realises I was the sloe-eyed beauty with lissome body and enchanting grace who mesmerised him with the Dance of the Seven Veils and stole his brave Bedouin heart away and then vanished forever. He bequeaths a couple of oil wells to me for old times’ sake. I am not one bit choosy but in the current political situation in those parts I would prefer a fiefdom where there isn’t much bombing going on. Now just in case you start thinking that all my wishes are  all about fame and fortune ( of course none  of us can have enough of that anyway) I also have in the  same list a wish for  becoming God's Chosen  Emissary and bringing joy and peace to all mankind , oh wait !!  That’s also about Fame and plenty of Fortune isn’t it? 

My next list is truly the BEST. It's the Absolute-Pleasure-Giving-Worth -Dying-For Wish List. 

This List starts with a smaller list in parenthesis, which comprises of the names of persons who are the subject matter of the List that I shall now reveal. These so-called persons, who are actually unworthy to be deemed human , are those nasty creatures who bitched about me without reasonable cause. There are , I am sure , many  to  whom I have given reasons  to be horrible and vile  to me and I do not  grudge them their meanness for as  a good sport I am willing to take what I dish out . However, the ones who have messed up a day or even a minute of my life,  oh boy are they going to finally get it and how! So the List which contains their names contains my Deadliest wishes too and the pun is very , very intentional.  

The first on that is after I die I wish that I turn into a vile screechy ghost who carries her head tucked neatly under her arm and runs up and down the corridors scaring the living daylights out of these listed people. All the ladies whom Henry VIII so cheerfully beheaded and are doing that in the Tower of London are my inspiration.  I think this wish should truly be granted as a reward for the few good deeds I have done. It shouldn't be difficult for St Peter for not many people will ask this.  His waiting list for this surely,  cannot be that long. The next exciting item on this list is more present day. It’s also a kind of contingency plan, if I get bitten by a rabid dog these are the. people to be bitten by me. Of course I will not tell them I have taken the injections and am not rabies- carrying anymore, I want them to suffer for the next fourteen days watching me. What is even more pleasurable, these horrible harridans are going to be praying for my survival like they've never prayed for anyone before. The  list goes on and on but I shall not relate  all other wickedly naughty things I wish  but neither shall  I keep the last item , which is not just an item , it's the ultimate fantasy wish. The wish is to have enough money to hire Wembley , invite all the  obnoxious people of the earth across nations and creeds  , the wily greedy grabbing-from-the-people Politicians,  the earth destroying Nature-marauding Business Honchos , the thieving Bankers,  the holier-than and talking-down to us pompous screeching all-knowing  television Anchors Journalists , the mind destroying no-principles-or-values Educationists , the God-calling Divinely self-endorsed  false Propagandists of religions , the Corrupt bureaucrats , those sitting  in exalted seats meting out injustice in the name of Justice and all those who have paid to get positions and are now earning it back every which way; to  invite them all for a mega party and then signal the aliens to take them to the farthest  moon of the most distant Galaxy and keep them there for all eternity . I did warn you it was a totally impossible wish. So off I go now to get cheated as I buy the without-any-preservatives  stuff in a department store ,to be  hoodwinked by some package that claims  it's all organic , to get conned by the advt that promises me soft  shiny hair , spotless younger skin, no-fat- keeping-my-heart-ticking oil and fizzy drinks that assure me  happiness and success  .
More MindBlast next Monday !