“I assure you, sir, I am open minded”
(Selected-Mad Goes to Pieces)
“I assure you, sir, I am open minded”
(Selected-Mad Goes to Pieces)
Mr.Know –it- all one of the party at a feast told Mulla Nasruddin,’This pilaf is made from the finest rice and clarified butter.’
Mulla held his hand up as he went on and on, ’No use telling my ear,’
Nasruddin said after wiping his mouth,’while my tongue is at work.’
Daddy Oddlegs went to Africa by biplane. In order to save money I had to stand between the two wings as a strut. I got my hair dried but grandpa got speared by bush men who mistook the plane for a bird.
When one speaks of cutting corners I remember how the natives shrunk Daddy Oddlegs. In my house I have a strict policy: no service no money, no cure no fees. No cheap bargain offers for me. It will cost some one down the line dearly.
Ever since the incident at kalahari Daddy calls himself Daddy Long-legs. Oddly enough hyphenated name takes long to pronounce but you have the man by one look.
Crossing the river across the back of a crocodile was a shortcut but grandpa had it long coming. Crocs seem to get a kick out of those who jump the queue to reach the opposite side first.
There was a king who had a strange habit. He would dine in full view of his courtiers. But when dessert was served it was served covered and the hall was cleared of all, including his queen. He partook his dessert alone. One day his servant who was new to the job took the dish and on the way being curious took to his room and peeked. It was a dictionary! He replaced it with Rubik cube. The king looked at it and thought he found something fantastic. Never more he required dessert but twiddled his thumb with the cube that made him shed his extra pounds and gave him something to focus.
Hans the servant meanwhile took the dictionary and learnt the whole book to memory. When he was caught with his pants down he entertained the soldiers by naming the parts that didn’t go well with them. They clapped him in irons and took him to the king who said he would be spared if he could find a white snake that he saw in his dream. “Does it have a head, sire?’ The poor Hans asked, The King while struggling with the cube said, “The letter A.” Poor Hans hazarded ,”Does it have a tail?” The King said hardly taking his eyes from his toy, “Z”. Hans assured he would prove his innocence. He produced the dictionary and said, “The white snake in your dream hides in this magic book.”. He gave the book to his master.
As Hans proved it the king let him go. Poor Hans hardly reached the border soldiers came with an urgent message from the Queen who wanted to see his great skill in naming the parts.. Stepping on the other side of the border he said,” Please ask the Queen to borrow the magic book from the king and name the parts herself” . He ended by saying,” It is simple really as the cube. Any one can do it.”He rode off.
(Adapted from the Brothers Grimm story, “The White Snake.”)
Good night,good night! farting is such sweet relief
And my love is stone deaf beyond all belief. (Romeo and Juliet)
I wish I could remember the first kiss
First dime, first moment I broke the casino;
If bright or dim the dollar,- it trebles
Come Summer or winter I can add
My worth in hard currency,Oh boy!
What on earth is this first kiss-
Damn well I know what is in a kiss
But without the face to go by I rather
fall back on what I can count and add up.
(The first day-Christina Rossetti)
Mail me your best offer
You will never find
A better deal than I append
In such doublespeak
As attachment, it shall blow your mind.
Profits you seek, profits
I have laid shovelsful
Like a sack of spuds,
You shall take my offer
And the bait is in what you miss, in fine print.
Now for the original
Ode to A Skylark, (…It can’t Tweet)
Note: the byline is mine. b.
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O’er which clouds are bright’ning,
Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
God must have had many things
In mind- this I can only guess:
His divine will
He left for Man to figure out:
He did it without much success.
So what good Lord do, but a woman
to share Man’s work side by side.
He worked his head off
While she twerked her butt off.
‘Alice O Alice,
Can I take your heart on lease
Will that do for love?
Alice, Oh Alice!
Say yes please!’
Yes that’s a thought I most relish
O Tom I shall make you mine for sure
And e’en walk the aisle with you on a leash.
Have you heard of a Tantric Yogi who drowned in the Ganges in the city of Varnasi? He died and he was reincarnated as a wooden oar. Every time the ferryman slaps water he will say,’Take this, you damn villain. Didn’t you kill our Yogi?
One day the Yogi said, ‘Oh brother you are doing fine, It is nice to see for once I can make another sweat from exertion! Keep moving.’
What it is to be an Indian? One has to find out for oneself.
It was the month of October. But at the Desperate Wayfarer’s Club it was sizzling hot. There was I for months on the move trying to beat the heat. Global warming it was whispered at first and none would believe it then. From look of it no one seemed to believe it either. It was killing time and the travelers were all there. They were asking the bar tender for ice to make their hooch sound high class. None was getting any. You see the proof was right there. It melted even before it could be served. Yet drinking the undrinkable they were craving for ice! The bar tender whinnied,’This heat is killing me and ice is melting dear sirs, Between the two I ain’t sure if I will see end of the day.’ The travelers snorted and it was hooch, with no ice.
I was seated among well heeled travelers. It was obvious.They were all sitting on thie lounge chairs with their part of feet missing. Heat made the asphalt like it was a trial run on the halls of Lucipher. How people everywhere bought branded items. Some even tried cucumber! Cool as cumber was one expression that was left as useless! while sale of Gucci, and Adidas fell nothing made their feet protected. Those who were on the run to escape the city lost their standing. The crooks who beat the system did not carry their loot no more than their poor feet could. But no they were all holed up at the club somewhat in a dither unable to down their constitutional. I gulped mine down and said,’ I can find my feet again.’
Obviously fellow travelers didn’t take kindly to the expression.. They looked not at their feet but at the empty glass. One asked,’My dear sir, You drink and say finding your feet.’ You have even got shoes on.’
I looked at my feet and smiled. ‘Ah it is story time. I know my moleskin shoes are wonder shoes. I saved the wonder of..’
“Shoes?” asked one.
Seating next to him I said,’my story. It has to do with moles and I had a capital idea of going into business of making shoes.
I would have launched into it capital outlay and production cost and the whole rigmarole of setting up a factory and so on. But as one who loved to tell stories I knew these were of no use at the moment.
I knew it was the story of moles what brought me there and not what I do with their skin.’
One traveler immediately thrust a bumper of hooch onto my hand and said,’Here this is one me. Only make the story smooth and as silky as taste.
I thanked him and said,’I am Dr. Fixi-It and I have just come after saving the world. In order to do that let me briefly touch upon my job. I fix whatever problems there may be. This story hangs on a little hiccup called Nuclear Waste. And it is what I intend to tell you right now. You heard of spent fuel rods?
‘Oh yes, something nuclear I believe.’ one said brightly. I explained as quickly as possible the difficulty in getting rid of the high-level waste. In a flash I moved on to its disposal. ‘Bury them under the ocean floor, storing it underground, and shooting it into space. Then I set my assistants to search high and low for a solution. But I found a mole right in front of the lab. A mole was messing up a flower bed for a week. I hit upon the idea of using moles to solve it for us.’ The travelers must have noticed the strange cunning smile and said,’Oh Dr. Fix-It drink up your whiskey. You look like one in need.’. How could I refuse them and said,’Oh yes. I set up a mole farm where I fed them with nuclear waste little by little.. The moles were soon hooked on to the stuff. It was better than “deep geological disposal!”. (to be continued)