Woohoo!!!!!

So im finally taking a vacation after about 8 years, and as expected, was super excited, kinda syked and ridiculously scared. Scared for reasons i dont wanna discuss here, but being excited bout anything is definitely worth a bit of ranting.

Now i was travelling from dubai to cochin as every mal man or woman is expected to do so atleast once a year. The holy pilgrimage. Personally, I detest the idea, and all that it entails, but a mals gotta do what a mals gotta do. Again, this post is not is not bout my resentment to a land that im not in the slightest bit attached to.

This post is bout travel. Its bout the miracle of flight, and the pain between the butt cheeks that is associated with the fastest mode of transportation known to common man.

Lets be honest. The idea of getting onto an airplane, as many times as you may have done so before, still excites you. How can it not? You're gonna be dangling in mid air without a harness, held up only by the miracle of technology and magic strings from the sky. God's way of playing puppet master.

Course you can always count on someone to fuck it up.

Insert into frame, me mum.

Now, I love my mom with all my heart and then some, and as much as i would protest, lie on the ground waving my hands and legs, curse, say no, nein, naw, nahin or even use cliche phrases like 'not even if hell freezes over', she always gets her way.

In this particular instance, she automatically presumes that of the 38kgs i am allowed to carry, bout 30 belongs to her. Yes. Belongs.
'Ur single. What do u possibly need to carry???'
'Clothes, Tech gizmos, Stuff.. Err.. Underwear..'
'Did u know ur dad wanted to get u aborted?'
(Ok, she didnt ever say that, but im being overly dramatic here. Deal with it.)
Long story short.. Playstation out, fairy liquid in.

Moving on...

Pretty much every ticket explains to you that u may carry this object with you whilst you may not carry that. This is for obvious reasons. Mallus. Coz there will always be that one retard who thinks its ok to pack two barrels of petrol from the middle east to india. Actually keepin in mind the gas prices, who can blame me right?

Off topic.

So heres what they dont tell u on the friggin ticket. Be prepared to lose every last bit of your dignity, multiple times over.

Two words... Airport Security.

Do not wear anything with metal on it. Do not wear loose trousers, that could slip without a belt. Do not wear steeltoe shoes. Do not carry coins. You may carry cigarettes, but dont you dare carry a zippo. Do not carry a swiss army knife. Also, for your safety, please be prepared to be groped all over, by an ugly stranger, in uniform.

Of course this comes no where close to the part when u enter the craft.

Now we've all seen airline ads. The palace of luxury midair, cute chicks waiting to serve on you, the guy relaxing on his laptop, talking on the phone, checking his emails, FB, whatever.. And in the end when he is asleep someone turns off the lights and throws a blanket on.

This is the point where all those dreams are shattered.

As you enter the aircraft, the following is your thought process..
First class.. 'Hmm.. I could get used to this..'
Business class.. 'Not bad.. Decent seats n all.. Cool stuff..'
Economy... 'Cattle barn! Fuck!'

And if that wernt enough, the 'cute chick' air hostess.. Male!

Kids!!! There must be a ban to getting kids to travel on airplanes unless they're drugged or they got one of them suck-me-thingys in their mouth. Them brats actually cry louder in aircrafts, and whats worse, the sound has got no place to go. Its stuck with you, right there, in your ear. And the reslilience that these tit suckers got, admirable. Like the friggin energizer bunny. Goes on n on n on n on...

Solution. Emirates, Etihad, Indian Airlines, Kingfisher.. Pay attention... Sound proofed kid cabins... Let them cry themselves to the worlds end in there, with company of other loud rascals. Fuckin set up a competition for all i care, as long as it doesnt bother me.

Plane up. Plane down. Safe. Whew!!!

Immigration.

Retina scan, passport scan, fingerprint scan, heat signature scan, full body xray scan, some other god-alone-knows-what-the-fuck scan. Amazing level of security. Approved. Fuck up? All these involve lines, and lines in an airport, ladies and gents, means waiting FOREVER!!! Not to mention the creepy fella in immigration who strips u naked with his eyes, and asks u personal questions. Like why would he care that ur in town on vacation or business or to go streaking in the middle of a football match? I mean, when was the last time anyone actually said, 'Im here to smuggle drugs into the country'. Facepalm!

They could make a decent airport. They could make them miraculous string controlled flight machines land and take off safely. They could even install central AC. Yes, its a big deal in mal land. Somehow, they all fell asleep through the lesson on how to get ur luggage back to you before u grow old n die. Maybe in a few more decades. Fingers crossed.

And if this entire ordeal wasnt bad enough, there comes the part when u actually step out and are greeted by a clustophobia inducing number of people including, but not limited to, those who still think its absolutely necessary that every relative u know, or dont, should come to the airport to pick u up, refuse to give u breathing space, and stuff themselves into one car, an ambassador. Not to forget the million cabbies, the coolies, the auto guys, the beggars, the cops, the money exchange guy, the mobile guy, the pick pocket guy, the welcome band guy, and the congregation of random faces and voices breathing down your neck. Simultaneously.

Breathe.

Now, for those who have survived reading this post till this point and thinking, 'No fuckin way could this end happy'. You're wrong. Like every mallu wood movie ever released, this one has a happy ending as well.

In the words of Mastercard..
Purchasing air tickets, expensive..
Airport Security, scary..
Flight, painful..
Getting back home and eating mom's chicken biriyani for dinner, priceless..
There are some things money can buy, for everything else theres the magic word, 'Fuck!'.

The Story of the Hardworking Ant (A Children's Tale)

Every day, a small ant arrives at work very early and starts work immediately.

She produces a lot and she was happy.

The Chief, a lion, was surprised to see that the ant was working without supervision.

He thought if the ant can produce so much without supervision, wouldn’t she produce even more if she had a supervisor!

So he recruited a cockroach who had extensive experience as supervisor and who was famous for writing excellent reports.

The cockroach’s first decision was to set up a clocking in attendance system.

He also needed a secretary to help him write and type his reports and he recruited a spider, who managed the archives and monitored all phone calls.

The lion was delighted with the cockroach's reports and asked him to produce graphs to describe production rates and to analyse trends, so that he could use them for presentations at Board‘s meetings.

So the cockroach had to buy a new computer and a laser printer and recruited a fly to manage the IT department.

The ant, who had once been so productive and relaxed, hated this new plethora of paperwork and meetings which used up most of her time…!

The lion came to the conclusion that it was high time to nominate a person in charge of the department where the ant worked.

The position was given to the cicada, whose first decision was to buy a carpet and an ergonomic chair for his office.

The new person in charge, the cicada, also needed a computer and a personal assistant , who he brought from his previous department, to help him prepare a Work and Budget Control Strategic Optimization Plan.

The Department where the ant works is now a sad place, where nobody laughs anymore and everybody has become upset.

It was at that time that the cicada convinced the boss , the lion, of the absolute necessity to start a climatic study of the environment .

Having reviewed the charges for running the ant’s department , the lion found out that the production was much less than before.

So he recruited the owl , a prestigious and renowned consultant to carry out an audit and suggest solutions.

The owl spent three months in the department and came up with an enormous report , in several volumes, that concluded : “ The department is overstaffed ...”

Guess who the lion fires first?

The ant, of course, because she “showed lack of motivation and had a negative attitude".

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This is one of those forwards that go around, and should make most of us feel like Pawns on a chessboard or Dimwitted Nincompoops for participating in this bizarre circle of bureaucratic prodigality.

Of Course, the characters in this fable are fictitious, and are definitely not in the slightest inspired by our real life bosses. Any resemblances borne to real people within real companies, though highly likely, is purely coincidental.

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The Reel Life

Little did Lumière know in 1896, when for the first time in human history, as he was screening his 50-second silent film of a train getting into a train station, that he would be changing history forever.

The story goes that when the film was first shown, the audience was so overwhelmed by the moving image of a life-sized train coming directly at them that they screamed and ran.

And that, ladies and gents, was the first time an audience left a film halfway through.

Little more than a century later, we can safely say that not much has changed.

This article is dedicated to the all the Mango Peoples of India, who are forced to endure so much pain and torture in the name of entertainment.

Of course, When talking about bad movies and similar type of things, the first thing that comes into mind is Bollywood.

Specifically Ram Gopal Varma.

Think about it. Who else has the talent, vision and dedication to take a movie the likes of Sholay, throw in a star cast that would make any producer bankrupt, give any director a hard on, and yet fuck it up in so many ways, that our poor hands-free Thakur is out for revenge, again.

I mean, What the hell was he smokin, right?

But then again, he's not particularly special in that regard, now is he?

*Flashback*

Ra.One.

*End of flashback*

Comedy.

A man tripping on a banana peel is funny. Rather, it used to be until i was 6.

Fusion the scene with 'modern' wire technology. Throw in some bad graphics.

Man trips on banana peel, goes so high up in the air that he lands on another guys shoulder, who somehow trips on the same peel and both of them fall on the three mock villains that are running towards them in sequence. All of them fall down. Heroes emerge the victor.

Still not funny. Ok, Maybe a little. Bah!

Romance.

Shah Rukh Khan, Aamir Khan, Salman Khan.. What do they all have in common?

Last names. Superstar Status. Hero Image. Youth Icons. Pepsi???

Well.. All of the above, I guess.

Oh and yeah, teeny weeny detail, they are all, for lack of a better term, old farts. 

Seriously, how difficult is it for India, my favorite country with a population of a billion n change, to come up with a few new young actors, who can actually, well.. act.

And no, flaunting a six pack doesn't mean ur young enough to play ur son's age. Grow up guys.

P.S. Don't even consider bringing Mammootty and Mohanlal into this category. That is beyond the comprehension of my already disturbed mind.

College.

I'm not gonna talk bout 3 idiots. It was a decent movie. I shall try and ignore the fact that a 44 year old man played the role of a 19 year old kid.

Deep breath.

When it comes to college movies, the only name that comes to mind is Karan Johar.

When is someone, anyone going to explain to the guy that not all the students in a college can have washboard abs, that most of them cant be bothered to wear designer clothes, pretty much none of the girls look like supermodels, there usually is more than one dorky kid, and for fuck's sake there are subjects other than 'love' and 'romance' they teach.

Also, as far as romances go, fyi, the biggest problem that most couples face in college, is running out of mobile credit, and the solution to all break ups is alcohol. True Story.

Special Effects / Action

Ra.One.

(Please maintain a moment of silence)

In the interest of complete disclosure, the idea or inspiration for this article / post / write up / ranting of a disaster, did not come from Bollywood. The bar I have set in that regard is, by default, low, and expectations, even lower. Thus, on most occasions, after several recommendations, when i do watch a Bollywood movie, I am pleasantly surprised.

This article was actually inspired by a Hollywood flick that goes by the name 'Premium Rush'.

The movie itself stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Inception), Michael Shannon (Boardwalk Empire), and is directed by David Koepp who was involved in classics such as Jurassic Park, Mission Impossible, etc.

That is one helluva team.

Right. The movie itself... There were stunts. Chase sequences. Cliche lines. A hot chick. A good guy. A bad cop. Exhilarating.

And the story.. In Manhattan, a bike messenger picks up an envelope that attracts the interest of a dirty cop, who pursues the cyclist throughout the city.

Then it struck me...

What The Fuck Were They Thinking!!!

That's not a story. That's a line. Literally. One line.

What on Earth has happened to the movies of today?

There was a time when watching movies meant slipping into a land of fairy tale and fantasy, where everything was nice, where good fared over evil, in spite of whatever may entail. There was a time when a war movie was all it took to inspire a young man to fight for his country. There was a time when watching a movie meant falling in love all over again. There was a time when sharing grief, and shedding a tear could not be helped over a movie.

Heck. There was a time when 12 men in a room, deliberating over the fate of another man's life, was compelling enough to hold off someone from taking a piss for over an hour.

There was a time when movies made sense.

Welcome to Today.

Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that most of the successful movies of this year, or at least the ones worthy of being talked about, were based on Comic book characters.

Comic Book Characters!!!

There is no Batman. There is no Green Monster. There is no Demi-God from another universe who can control lightning. There is no billionaire in an Iron Suit that can fly. There is no scientist with spider DNA who can shoot webs, walk on buildings, and deliver pizza. And there certainly isn't any alien with x-ray vision who looks human with skin that HAS to be plastic.

Also, no one walks around wearing a cape, or spandex. EVER. Unless, of course, you were either psychologically disturbed, or lived in Paris.

But Hollywood isn't Hollywood until they find a way to make a sad situation worse.

Allow me to introduce the same shit, now in 3D.

Sir, with all due respect, bull shit served on a golden spoon is still bull shit. Please don't try and make me pay extra for it. I just plainly refuse to do so.

That's it. I'm tired. I'm beat. I quit.

On a parting note, all I have left after this traumatic experience, is a humble request to the movie makers of today.

Try and make something that'll bring back the magic, and take us mango peoples back through time, to an age when watching movies entailed amazement. An age in which every frame was looked at with great awe, and every movie goer went home in bliss.

Please.