Politics Made Easy: A Textbook

(I couldn't help posting it; sounds familiar, doesn't it?)

Son: "Daddy, I have to write a special report for school, but I don't know what Politics is."

Father: "Well, let's take our home as an example. I am the bread-winner, so let's call me Capitalism. Your Mum is the administrator of money, so we'll call her Government. We take care of your need, so let's call you The People. We'll call the maid the Working Class and your brother we can call The Future. Do you understand son?"

Son: "I'm not really sure, Dad. I'll have to think about it."

That night awakened by his brother's crying, the boy went to see what was wrong. Discovering that the baby had seriously soiled his diaper, the boy went to his parents' room and found his mother sound asleep. He went to the maid's room, where, peeking through the keyhole, he saw his father in bed with the maid. The boy's knocking went totally unheeded by his father and the maid, so the boy returned to his room and went back to sleep.

The next morning he reported to his father.

Son: "Dad, now I think I understand what Politics is."

Father: "Good son! Can you explain it to me in your own words?"

Son: "Well Dad, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, Government is sound asleep, the People are being completely ignored and the Future is full of Shit."

Good Riddance

A Dose of Blogging Is Good for Your Health!

...: What?
Me: What what?
...: You look ... erm lost!
Me: 'Disoriented' you mean?
...: If it means 'lost', yeah. Is it a disease?
Me: Even worse; it's kind of constant dizziness.
...: Do you feel sick often then?
Me: So often....

Civilization!

Just some pictures of the atrocities in Lebanon. You can find more pictures here.

Catwalk

I am confident that the whole tradition of 'catwalk show' has been first inspired by this scene. I am two-minded, though, to decide which one is doing the job better. However, we should give more credit to the cat, I think, who is doing it so naturally, without taking his/her clothes off, and yet s/he has mesmerised so many! Even his/her arrogance is more genuine! Poor dogs!

And then this happened:

Sky in the Desert

When there is a desert, there isn't much cloud. If you haven't been to a desert in a calm night you can hardly imagine what you have missed. And when I say desert, I simply mean some really dry weather not necassirily a Sahara.

With no stretch of truth, it is immensely difficult not to be charmed by the bright and awesome desert sky. All you need to do is to lie back and let yourself be lost in the all too close festivity of REAL shining stars. In an instant you find yourself among literally gazillions of stars tantalizingly inviting you to join the party. Don't miss the chance of treating your soul with a heavenly peace and light. The Western Sky in the Europe can never provide you with such a glory. (All the picture are taken about 20 Miles south of Tehran.)

Iranian Rice: Polo

Iranian Rice is not as famous as Persian Rug or Persian Cat or even Iranian pistachio but I think it deserves a ranking of such recognition somehow. The thing is since its production only suffices Iranian consumers inside Iran, who love it to bits, it is not exported in large scale. What separates Iranian rice from other kinds, like let's say the famous Indian Tilda, is its smell.

For us Iranians who are brought up with its lovely smell it smells not only of a very yummy meal awaiting grumbling tummies, it also smells of 'home', of 'mum', of 'a hot family meal', of 'old good days'. I never forget overeating myself till I had a tummy ache and yet I did not like to leave it at that. I liked and llike raisin in my Rice a lot: 'Keshmesh Polo' it is called. In farsi, cooked rice is called 'Polo' and 'polo' always means a tasty meal for us. My other favourite is Zereshk Polo: which means Polo topped by gazillions of SWEETENED Zereshk. Then, I don't bother if there is any chicken or not. It usually comes with Chicken though. It is good to mention that Saffron is almost an indispensable companion to Iranian Polo.

God's C.V.

The state of things as they are would leave God with no chance to apply for another Godship position. I, for one, would not give him a positive reference. All aspects considered, He must be either a funmonger who enjoys all the strife, struggle, and imbalance everywhere or He must be inefficient as he cannot fix the mess he has created. I am more inclined to think that he is the former rather than the latter: just like a disinterested child at a computer game bought second hand (which comes with faulty joysticks, faulty cards, missing cables, blurred screen, etc.) I wonder from where he gets his stuff! Is there a brand-new world somewhere?

Hateful Species

Either I take things too seriously, or I am a coward, or I am paranoid or all or I don't know what! I just watched Species on BBC1. I hated it. I usually don't take to horror movies. I don't even want to try them.

I think some 20 minutes had passed when I turned the channel to watch it. I did not know it is a horror film and the title was not suggestive of such at all. Then I was curious to know what was going on. When I knew it was a horror film wrongly presented as Sci-Fi with a lot of manipulated love in it I just forced myself to watch on to see what will happen at end. It was the same American horror nonsense.

Yes, I am scared. Yes, I hate the whole idea of having monsters around. I especially hate all the femmes fatales in the world. I hate them when they are too actively predatory. I feel bad. I am already fed up with a world full of human-faced monsters, please let the horrifying monsters stay in their own den.

Hi Fellow Calculators! (No Offence meant!)

I just feel like pouring out from time to time; thus if I keep posting, which I don't suspect would happen too often, don't be surprised.

I dislike all pretend. I hate all the calculations made to make life go smoother. Not that I don't like a smooth life, I cannot do without one, yet I think honesty should replace all the cunning and tactful ways. I am not a tactless person, well possibly I am; I just don't like it to be the common code practiced day and night. Humans are now more like calculators who wouldn't say 'Hi' to you unless they have measured every ups and downs of doing so. And when they do it or choose not to do it, it does not come from the heart it comes from the calculator.

(Of course I don't mean we should act rashly and just do as we whim at the moment and discard any consideration about the consequences of what we do or we don't.)

A tale told by an idiot!

Of course life is not all sex; it is not all money either; nor is it all faith conflicts; you name it and life is not that. Life is just a waste of life-long time to decide what it is about. Not that you don't enjoy it; definitely you do, however occasionally. But then there are times you wonder why you enjoyed as you did! And that's the killer feeling! Or why you were so sad for such a trifle as that! Yet another killer feeling!

This is how Shakespeare puts it (Macbeth, Act V, Scene V)
Macbeth: ...
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

World Cup Match Between Germany and Greece

In the heat of the World Cup have a look at this match too: Here

A Martian Reports Home about the Earth

Basically there are two kinds of creatures in this planet: those with willies and those with holes. Some of these creatures called humans spend most of their daylight playing a 'pretend game' called 'life'. (They are even paid for the game!) In this game they act like they have forgotten about 'the-willy-hole thing'. Those who are not good actors and want to stay real all the time are put out of the game in a place called 'jail'. Those who are really good actors are called 'Stars' and respected by all. What they do best is that while they appear all forgetful about 'the-willy-hole thing' they are actually secretly busy doing it. That's why all respect them, I think.

P.S. I see that some of you don't even comment. Oh well, don't bother; you too should have a 'life', don't you? The Martian is not wrong after all!

Eyes Don't See!

We are mostly visually conditioned. When we see somebody living with a disabled partner, we admire the non-disabled partner's devotion, sacrifice, loyalty etc. But we rarely appreciate a partner who is living with a psychologically disabled person. For instance, chances are that one who lives with an extremely unambitious partner is worse off than one who lives with an armless and legless spouse. Yet, this is rarely acknowledged either legally (as they don't carry a badge) or socially.
Truth is, psychologically disabled people are more in number but they are visually unrecognisable. So much of the injustice in the world is due to what we don't see and never know about it either.

Quote me if you want!

"James Blunt's 'You're Beautiful' will become a classic." Me

Can any body send Bonnie Tyler's 'Holding Out for a Hero' to my email box, please?

Bespeak Thou Your Mind!

As occasion befits and there is no fog
The Nantional Anthem of Britain I blog.
In London was it first composed and song
But also played in Malta and in Hong Kong.
Two centuries and half it is old
Yet, it liveth unimpaired and bold! (1)
"You may think it silly but you are wrong,"
A Brit told me, busy singing along.
So I thought I'd share it here with you
To see what you think, without much ado.

(1) In some manuscripts it was recorded as 'bald'.

British National Anthem

God save our gracious Queen!
Long live our noble Queen!
God save the Queen!
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the Queen.

Players or Prayers?

It's a long and sad story: we look at sports as a national therapeutic miracle. Invariably it does not work. The problem is that we lack team sense and defy discipline. We still rely more on prayers than players. I can't even talk about it. There are times that I take no pride in our being so obstinately patronizing vainly single-minded or delusioned, otherwise known as being Irani.

Damavand Peak

Damavand is the highest peak in Iran (5774 metre). In a clean day you can see it from Tehran. The area around the mountain is so lovely, and cold of course. Once I spent one night in the area and I almost froze.

Wondering if ...

I love kissing and I like bay windows too! Do they have anything in common, I keep wondering.

Smiles on TV

Carol Kirkwood's smile and laugh is really infectious. It enlivens the mornings albeit the usually bad weather she can't help forecasting. She is charming and everything when her smiley figure fills one side of the screen. Her smile is a matter of talk whenever Breakfast presenters hand over to her to begin her weather report.

I felt like this for a long time until I saw her on BBC South presenting South weather forecast. I could not believe my eyes. Well, it is obvious that BBC South is not broadcast nationwide but it was less than obvious why all the smile has gone. This wasn't the same Carol Kirkwood! It was a very solemn and blank-faced Carol who was neither enjoying her job nor the weather, however lovely the weather was! And then it wasn't a rare incident of her like this either; I found the same unexciting Carol time and again on BBC South.

Now her smile has lost its charm and though I might sometimes absent-mindedly catch myself smiling while she is there all bubbly and happy I have grown suspicious about all the smiles on TV.

Google On You!

Googlism.com will find out what Google.com thinks of you, your friends or anything! Search for your name here.
This is what I got for Behrooz! Here

Stacie Orrico

I have not been into music so much but I love it if I give it a go from time to time. I have recently discovered Stacie Orrico. She has such a hot voice; and when I say hot I really mean hot and not hot sexy. I love its blurry corners; its mature tone and its wild romanticism. Besides, I also love the sincerity of the lyrics. I like "Stuck", "Strong Enough", "I Could Be the One", "Security" and "Hesitation" but it is difficult to decide which is the best. Especially the variety of performance is something you cannot help admiring and being entertained by.

These lines from "Stuck" are so captivating:
I ain't trippin, I'm just missin you
I hate you, but I love you; I cannot stop thinking of you;

Extras: To me she is not really beautiful but to gain such success at the age of 17 is something to envy!

Here listen to her and find the lyrics. And this is a video of Stuck which I don't like much.

More of What?

...: If you open up you GET more.
me: Get what more?

Is It Just Me? (2)!

You see a dickhead somewhere and you have to tell him/her how irritating/irresponsible/inconsiderate his/her behaviour is. S/he answers back just to prove what a complete arsehole s/he is. Then you say something and leave, still more irritated. Just seconds later or sometimes minutes or even hours later you come up with an answer which could really shame him/her but ... So all you are left with is to kick yourself why you didn't come with the idea at the right time, you arsehole!

God

If God has really made 'all this', then it's the best reason I've ever got to hate him.

Are You Goodlucking?!

Often it has been admitted that a fair and objective judgment usually happens when the person himself/herself is anonymous. Well, if you are goodlooking it is certain that you have an advantage over those who are not and you may not dislike your being preferred. If you wear sexy outfits and win over the interviewer's view then you still feel all right about your ways and looks. If you have a mesmerizing voice, it is just so easy to get bargains and appointments on the phone. BUT if you are rejected because somebody has beaten you in charms and not in merits then you may halt to revise your past pleasures!

In the past months, I just fancied to leave anonymous comments for some fellow blogger friends and guess what. I have been praised and welcomed so warmly that I prefer to be Anonymous than 'me'. Then there is this great setback: how can I tell them that it is 'me' and not Anonymous!

P.S. Don't be naughty now. I don't mean ...

I found this on the web: "if you are goodlooking enough, no one will mind if you stalk them." See!

P.S. 2: TV seance claims to have reached John Lennon.

Understanding? (2)

When you sit by a stranger in a train station or in an airport it is likely that you wonder if s/he has the same destination as yours. You may even brave to ask him/her about it.

Of my two pet theories one is projection. By projection I mean when one extranalises his emotions, thoughts, etc and sees them in others too. (Pathetic fallacy, in which inanimate nature seems to have the same traits and feelings that the poet has, is one known example.) More and more I am convinced that human beings with a varying degree relate to the world around them through projection. It is only when they put their thoughts into words or discuss their perceptions that the discrepancy between their understanding and the outer world is revealed, sometimes tragically.

The Undo Button

You keep learning; you do whatever it takes to educate yourself, emotionally, intellectually, socially, etc. And it is so difficult too. Yet, it is even more difficult to UNLEARN. It is even far more difficult to get ignorant again. Ignorant as you wouldn't know all the shit around. Ignorant as you might be left alone. Ignorant as you didn't need any news to make you feel you are updated. Is it possible to un-update? Where is the 'undo button'?

Desperate Blogging

You best blog, when you think you'll die if you don't. There is something inside you which can't wait: either too excited not to share the joy of it, too inspired not to claim the patent for the insight, too disappointed or confused to stay alone, or even too angry to cope with the pressure. Well, the list can go on but the simple fact stands out: YOU ARE DESPERATE TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE. That's the best blogging ever. This same thing is what I was desperate to publish! Isn't blogging sometimes wonderful?

Two silly things: one: blogger's spell checker doesn't recognise the words 'blog' and 'blogging' as English! Two: if you image-google 'desperate' the only result you get is pictures of 'Desperate Housewives'. Aarrgghh!

I quite misunderstand you!

It is a relatively long time that I am convinced that people relate to each other through a 'Misunderstanding' called 'Understanding'. Well, it may look a bit scary, bluffy and too bad but I am afraid to say that it is true. And the funny thing is that the very means which is allegedly responsible for human communication and understating, i.e. language, is the same and main source of this misunderstanding.

Well, let me first clarify what I mean by 'misunderstanding'. By 'misunderstanding' I am actually referring to more subjective aspects of human communication. In other words, if two people are pointing towards a bicycle and describe its physical features, it is more likely that their misunderstanding of what the bicycle is made of, or its colour etc. is minimum. But the moment they begin talking about how cycling feels, their mutual understanding is more a matter of convenience rather than a matter of reality.

Why? Because individual background of each person is so unique to him/her that there is zero possibility of complete understanding. The tricky bit is that no one never knows how much s/he is understood. Understanding is a delusion upon which life has long established itself. There is also a possibility that by some chance two persons may get too close to a reliable understanding of each other, but again they usually don't know about this either. (This is the beginning of a series of posts on this issue-I hope.)

Which comes first?

Well, it is an old question now: which is prior to the other: language or thought. That is, you think without any need to have a word or a group of words to do it, or you are unable to think if you don't know how to articulate it with language? It is a tricky question and has tantalized lots of scholars to find a convincing answer for it. But what I am personally interested in is the feeling of it. Have you ever been conscious about it? How do you feel about it? Some of you may be bilingual and may have a psychological bond with one of the languages you are fluent in. You might have been asked to say in what language you think. Or in what language you dream. Then does it mean that 'language' comes frist? Or even if you just talk one language, have you ever been thinking outside the boundaries and possibilities of that language? Is it possible to do so?

Is it a male thing, me or what?

I had this Mico freeview box (to watch digital tv) from Asda. No sooner did I install it than I found out that to enjoy its high quality image you should first have high shooting skills to use the remote control: 30 degree angle, level with the box etc. If it happened that you were relaxing yourself on the sofa not facing your top-set in 30' angle then you were brutally reminded of your nonstandard non-hightech watching style. Anyway, I had it for over a month (I suffer from 'return-phobia') and then it began to act weirdly: switching itself off and on and failing signals. I could finally talk myself over to return it on the grounds that 'it is faulty and I am not a compulsive returner' etc. (And no points to me there; Asda is the best ever for returning; the guy did not even open the box).
So I go to Tesco and buy a Bush one. And voila: Bush is not so crap after all! And I can finally relax and watch digital channels. Isn't it a luxury!? You cannot believe how relieved I am now that I have a fully functional remote control. All this past month or two there was always something gnawing at me.
It is always like that with me. If my gadgets fail me, it goes right into my blood. Am I yet to grow up? Is it a male thing? Eccentric? Or ...

Themla and Louise: A Wrong Answer

I just watched Thelma and Louise. No doubt the film has a serious agenda: feminism. Though I have huge problem with the way the question is raised, I think the answer to it is responsible for even more problems. Violence to condemn violence. And the film ends so sadly that the viewer is left with no option but to sympathise with the characters and even uplift them to a position of unavoidable martyrdom. It is an implausible film too.

Another Planet's Hell

These days there is only one inspiration left for me to blog: quotations. Well, I just bumped into this one by Aldous Huxley: "Maybe this world is another planet's hell." When it comes to me, I don't take it as a joke at all. Huxley must have taken it seriously too, or he wouldn't bother to create his Brave New World. I loved reading it.

Gathering Data

In an interview in late 70s, Saul Below once said seven days of the week we keep busy stuffing ourselves with data. No sooner do we begin to use the data to our good that the new week begins and we again make it our business to gather new data. He made his diagnosis three decades ago yet we don't seem to have ever tried to do something about it. I wonder if it was his diagnosis in a pre-internet era what he has to say for now.

This combat footage is about Iraq war.

Unasked for Help

Today a friend offered me some unasked-for sympathy and possibly help. It made the offer far more beautiful and invaluable. Thank you friend. I offer the beauty of the following memory to you.

Sweating all over, I was walking along the pathway in the campus. It was an exceptionally big campus, so it could take me some 30 minutes to reach the main enterance where I could take a taxi. As is not a rare thing to happen in Iran, a car stopped and asked me to pop-in. I did. I thanked him lavishly. He took it very lightly and asked me to see it as his duty. He then insisted that he really meant what he said. "As a human being whatever I can do for others is my duty," was his cool unforgettable reasoning in that hot summer day.

whispering

behrooz asked me to "contribute", so here i contribute! and soon he'll ask me not to or i'll find him borin' and will go. right, we've been mates for sometime now, but we are mates cuz we know how to disagree in a mately way. we are galaxies away and then somehow glue together by some unseen gravity beating physic laws. what the hell we may see in each other thus goes beyond my grey cells. for the record: i contribute, donc i am.

Blogging Is Cruel!

Some are private and some are public; I am private. Blogging for my kind is one of hardest things to do. You practically attack your private self; it is self-destructive. You feel exposed to those whom you don't know. You leave yourself at the mercy of their judgment, whatever that may be. You subject your 'self' to a challenge which may more destabilize you than otherwise. Masochistic? .... yet you blog; don't you?

Such a Dear Living Dead!

'How can piles of dead cells be the cause of such great liveliness and love?' It's now some time that I have been charmed by the question. More than the question, like all others of course, I have longer been captivated by the unquestionable beauty it brings to life.
Sometimes it is prestigious when it is short; then you see a long flirting one and you wonder: 'what of the other one?' Next, it is black which shines out and intensifies beauty with contrast and challenge. Yet, before long you are left astounded with golden glimmer and glow of an irresistible blonde. Only to go ecstatic with the exotic composite of the brunette and still more exotic blends of beige, black and what not. All the same, you can never imagine what next would take your breath away. And the story repeats itself with the number of diverse forms, colours, blends, fashions, cuts, etc. of hair you see on somebody's humble head.
Funny enough, even the lack of those dead threads of hair can also be charming because they have a story of their own why they are not where they are supposed to be.
Throughout centuries hair has so affected aesthetics that many aesthetical recognitions are primarily flagged by some features of hair. If it is not its colour (blonde, black, ...), it's the feel of it (soft, silky, ...). While some fantasize their imagination with the length of their beloved's tress, others get lost in the frivolous ringlets of the the shifty mistress. As smoothness and willowing flow of it does so little to fully bewitch reluctant brags, curly loops may do even less to trap fool heads. And some even may choose to write a mock epic on "The Rape of the Lock" (Alexander Pope).

Whatever your story of hair, I have yet a long tale left with me to braid....

Englishness (1)

There are things I don't like in the English and I am sure I will find enough occasions to grumble about it. For now, though, I really feel it 'right' to say what I like in English people. They are not pushy. There is genuine self-control in the majority of them. True, this may sometimes look like being cold, yet the bright side of it is that they let you live your own life. I like this a lot.