Sunday, August 27, 2006

Multiple Loginoema

Disclaimer: The author of this blog does not attest to any of the findings reported here, which has come out of his normal musings and faithfully pledges to complete insanity and sobriety.

Currently, National Destitute of Health (NDH), during a press conference, were inundated with questions, regarding their recent findings in the “Journal of Degenerative Diseases” . The authors of the paper, along with the grad student from the University of Mailissippii, revealed that the findings were based on their real-time studies, hence precludes any margin of errors that might undermine their research and career.

Their findings reveal a new kind of disorder, which they call it, Multiple “Login”oema (ML). People with ML are diagnosed to have a wide variety of symptoms: boredom, restlessness, insecurity, anxiety, hallucinations of world thinking about them, which creates an insane urge in them to check their emails. Once every 1 hour, by current standards of Login Counter, which works on the principle of Geiger Muller Counter, are termed normal, but when the situation deteriorates, where the login rate is once every 300 heart beats, which is detected using an electromailogram (EMG), then the patients develop, what the medical fraternity call it hyper loginoema -a chronic situation.

Though pharmaceuticals like, Walkbaxy, Pmiser, Cow Pharma, Lovertis, Richkid in U.S. are striving to counteract this disorder, their pill remains to be elusive, as their results are based on Computer simulated studies. U.K., which has lifted the ban on testing on our predecessor, might have come up with a solution, if not for the computer illiterate monkeys. So training these monkeys have been outsourced to India and China, and companies like Monkeysys and MCS (Monkey Consulting Services) have benefited a lot, evident from their second quarter results. Until the scientists find a cure, the doctors only reply to the kins of the hyper loginoema patients is TIG (Trust in God).

Saturday, August 26, 2006

F -

Cobwebs in my blog – Words failed me.

Actor Surya getting married – Jyothika failed me.

Snail pace of my research – Science failed me.

Lack of inspiration – Nature failed me.

Depleting imagination – Creativity failed me.

My Running nose – Immune system failed me.

Landed spat on facing ground – Grass failed me.

Living like an island – Orkut failed me.

Reminiscing my past – Present failed me.

So bad that have I have allowed so many things to fail me, for which I am responsible for, hence I fail myself.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Of cornflakes and bread

On January 1st 1892, the Ellis Island, topologically positioned on the mouth of the Hudson River, was swarmed with immigrants from Europe. Never would have Annie Moore, the first immigrant through the Ellis Island, realized that her ribbon-cutting would set the pace for millions to come to the Land of opportunities, decades later. Come August, the holy month of Indian Independence, scores of raw talent leave the shores of the Indian soil, on an 8000-mile sojourn, with great hopes of metamorphosing their dreams from a slithering caterpillar to a soaring butterfly.

Done with the check-in, as we turn around with a hanging pouch and clinging cabin bag, to mentally photograph the waving and blessing parents and friends, we have set the clock of longing to tick. Walking through the maze to get to our seats, the moment of anticipation ends with the old couple as our co-passengers. Obligingly, we take the window seat, only to realize how big a mistake it was, when we dash our away into the restroom of the transit airport and spend 1 hour, only to be stalled by the megaphone auctioning our name for the last time to our final destination.

After another grueling 10 hours of being cornered in a 3x3 feet space, bored of watching the rerun movies, munching fruits and leaves like cows, as we touch the tarmac of the land of opportunities, a dint of our homeland and our people flash by in a flicker. Our emotional rollercoaster is subdued by our sudden adrenaline surge of not being able to locate our pickups. Sensing our new sneakers, crumpled new jeans and flashy T-shirt, with a disappointment writ all over the face, for misinterpreting our name for a girl, a casual hand picks up our luggage and says “Dude, let’s go.” Right there, we have taken our first step to our dreams, on the paths of Issac Asimov and Albert Einstein.

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