IMAGINE

The First Amphibian

To the ladies. We men cannot understand women, so please do not make it any harder. Be simple and crude in your conversations with your man and there cannot be anything more he wishes for, except for (you know what). There are things that men hate about you. They wish they could tell you but they cannot. Either because they love you too much or because they are afraid of what you might end up doing. I will help my brethren out, I will tell you one of the things that men hate most about women, so the next time one of my friends goes ballistic he can just say "Bijeet". We hate emotions or whatever you call it when we say something and you construe together something completely different in your lovely heads and then react entirely opposite to how we expected you to react. When the first amphibian crawled out of the slosh of its pond and unto an unknown and evidently hostile world, it did not do so to evolve. It was because it was tired of listening to its girlfriend, wife or whoever it was bickering down there underwater; about something that he had in all probability done very innocuously.

He must have gone, "I am tired of this", "Now I am going upstairs, I will grow a pair of lungs and other specialized organs for it or whatever else it takes, but I cannot take your emotions anymore." Men are simple; for men there is "A, B, C, D...."; for women there is "A, B, C, F, Pink, Blue, Clouds, Mountains, Unicorns, Trains, Dreams, Princes....". A man will answer a simple question simply a woman will answer you with a question. Too many emotions I say, way too many.

(P.S. This is not my own creation, I was watching a stand-up show, dunno who the comic was but I liked some of the things he said, pieced them together and added some touches of my own. Do not know if he copied from somewhere. So I am sorry if this infringes any copyrights. Bring on the misogynist accusations.)

Long Hydrocarbon Chains of Grief

I was sitting on the porch behind Chelsea's. It's a good place here in Baton Rouge; to sit down with some friends; have a nice chat; listen to the live band wafting in from the other side of the glass door; through which you can see a collective little crowd of people. And it occurred to me that all our griefs must be hydrocarbon chains; if they had physical existence. And the length of the hydrocarbon chains should be directly proportional to how sad you were. The more the extent of your grief the more complicated the structure of your grieving hydrocarbon. Now there are two reasons behind this apparently fantastical idea striking my head.
Firstly Alcohol, which I had had enough of by that time of the evening; that is if 1 o' clock in the morning qualifies as evening in your book like it does in mine. And we all know what extraordinary results a few glasses of that can bring about. But the second and the more logical reason is Alcohol.
Ah well! if you are lost right now do not fret, you will see my point soon enough. If all of it seems too hard to imagine, go get yourself a peg or two of your favorite ale and tag along with me. My primary question to myself was, why does one feel better when one has had a few pegs? Why does one forget one's griefs, one's pasts and all that is so wrong after a pint? Why no one has ever tried to drown their sorrows in copious amounts of water? The answer my friends must be the fact that our worries and griefs must be long chains of complex hydrocarbons; which are almost always non polar. And water being a polar solvent can according to the laws of nature only dissolve polar molecules in it. Alcohol on the other hand is a much more versatile solvent because it has both polar and non polar groups. It thus dissolves and carries away all our organic sorrows. And you loose them when you visit "the john". Now just because you know this do not go ahead and order a gallon of your favorite industrial solvent, that stuff will kill you. Alcohol on the other hand will not, albeit under moderation given you like me know your limits.