I’m trying to write more regularly, so expect some rambling.

We used to watch a lot of Star Trek: TNG back in the day and there was this one episode I’m sure my parents were a little uncomfortable with - ‘Justice’. After around 10 minutes of watching the half-naked inhabitants of Rubicon III indulge in guilt-free sex and other pleasures (and my mother’s glares), we were asked to leave the room  (damn you, understandable but misplaced fears).

I finally watched the episode last night, 16 years later. It was pretty silly but thematically more substantial than I recall. The USS Enterprise makes contact with a planet whose peaceful inhabitants live in fear of their god, an advanced alien being kicking it out in the planet’s orbit. When Wesley Crusher breaks a trivial rule, the Enterprise has to prevent his execution and this isn’t easy considering they’re sworn to the Prime Directive. The reason I prefer TNG over the original series is because of the former’s obvious moral core.

Anyway, Captain Picard saves the day with a speech.

I don’t know how to communicate this, or even if it is possible. But the question of justice has concerned me greatly of late. And I say to any creature who may be listening, there can be no justice so long as laws are absolute. Even life itself is an exercise in exceptions.

Let me digress, but only slightly. The IT law overhaul in India is clearly a bad idea but shouldn’t we be worried that there are people out there making arguments like this?

Right now, the upcoming Watchmen film ought to be the least of my worries; but I’ve seriously considered not watching Zack Snyder’s apparently faithful adaptation of the seminal graphic novel. You see, a comic geek scorned is a force to be reckoned with.

The first comic book I remember falling in love with was an issue of Batman (a Man Bat story arc) sometime around 1993. Frequent trips to India allowed me to source comics from airport stalls. Ever read the now discontinued and forgotten Thunderbolt? I have. And I remember specific frames from the book. Perhaps it was an escape from my relatively drama free childhood or maybe it was a rite of passage every young boy went through; whatever it was, I never got over the medium.

Third year of college. Holed up in that room, Watchmen convinced me that the comic book was far more than just colourful frames with conversation bubbles. The Comic Book had become The Graphic Novel. Characters had become morally ambiguous all of a sudden, heroes had become fallible and lofty ideals seemed suspicious. The Superhero concept had been deconstructed. Alan Moore joined the ranks of Faulkner and Fitzgerald and Dave Gibbons that of Rembrandt and Picasso. (Oh yes, comic book nerds are known to make wild exaggerations.)

I’ve been reading the book again; taking in every frame, digesting every line and assimilating concepts, some of which still strain my primitive frontal lobe. The book is an assault on the senses like no other; a work that perhaps was best left untouched.

However, I am mildly curious to see how Snyder translates something this complicated. 300 wasn’t exactly a brilliant film. If he does pull it off, will audiences be able to sit through 3 hours of an uncaring superman, an impotent vigilante and a masked anti hero who goes by the name Rorschach?

I occasionally have fantasies of Julie Delpy involving sticky summer afternoons, Sartre’s writings, 400 Blows, apple juice and berets. Don’t ask. Face it, the woman is brilliant and beautiful; brilliant enough to be associated with the likes of Kieslowski and Linklater and beautiful enough to make any man weak in the knees. So there – that’s out of the way.

Her directorial venture, 2 Days in Paris is an outstanding film; an achievement in black comedy that I’d go so far as to compare with the best of Woody Allen. Remember that scene in Annie Hall where Allen’s Alvy Singer makes awkward conversation with Annie’s new found friends in showbiz? 2 Days in Paris is a lot like that except the awkward conversation lasts 2 days and includes borderline psychotic parents, mentally unstable siblings and flat out disturbing exes.

Jack, a left wing American (‘A blow job is actually a big political event in the grand scheme of things. After all it was a blow job that destroyed any chance at a healthy democracy.’) who laments the anti-intellectualism rampant in his country accompanies his French girlfriend of two years, Marion to Paris where he meets her parents and a bevy of ex boyfriends, some of whom I feel could very well be just exaggerated caricatures. As people around him converse animatedly in French, he is forced to make up his own meanings from Marion’s body language and revelations of her rather colorful sex life prior to their relationship.

His suspicions slowly give way to hostility and the film ends with a beautifully cathartic moment that never feels too forced. The film is not so much about culture clashes as it is about the false pretense of honesty in relationships; about the little half-truths and ideas that people carry to and from every relationship.

The writing is sharp and crisp and there are some genuine laugh out loud moments especially the one where Jack says he’s more of Val Kilmer fan than a Doors fan while visiting Jim Morrison’s grave. It’s those little pieces of pop culture strewn about, genuine male angst and the presence of the lovely Ms Delpy that made this one of those films I just had to rant about.

Update: We live to die another day.

The LHC gets switched on in a few hours and contrary to what lunatics may want you to believe, the world will not be swallowed by a black hole. What interests me more is as to what *will* actually come out of this 6 billion dollar science experiment. Will they find the Higgs boson? Or will Hawking win that wager?

In Carl Sagan’s Contact, governments cooperate to build this giant dodecahedron (after receiving step by step instructions from a very ambiguous extra-terrestrial intelligence). After spending trillions of dollars on a project that many believed would shape humanity’s future, remember what happened?

Nothing.

You spend enough time with people and you realize that it’s always tempting to reduce them to cultural stereotypes; the proverbial clown car so to speak.  It would have been depressing if it weren’t so much fun.

So yes, I spend happy hours after work with this rather colorful group – a group I’ve grown particularly fond of over the past few months; the Indian couple who after 3 years of marriage still seem to be all over each other, the proselytizing right wing American who cannot stop blathering about the USPs of being ‘born again’, the pretty Chinese girl who for some strange reason finds it imperative that she photograph every waking moment of her life, the computer whiz who downs more energy drinks than anyone else I know and the jolly chain smoking (militant) atheist who would have made a brilliant Santa Claus if he weren’t, well, such an avowed atheist. (Note how I consider myself above all generalizations.)

A couple of nights back, during one of our inebriated sessions, religion comes up. Pretty Chinese girl starts raving about how Buddhism is the one religion/philosophy that in the last 2500 years hasn’t instigated a single conflict. Not to be outdone, Santa Claus reiterates how secularists have done more good for humanity than followers of all religions combined. Mr Yankee, piss drunk and understandably offended starts mouthing verses from the bible much to the consternation of Young Married Couple.

Things take a turn for the worse when insults are exchanged between Santa Claus and Mr Yankee (“Let’s see you turn the other cheek when I…”). Emotions flare and I try my best to break the tension with lame attempts at humor. For a moment they seem to work and Yankee calms down visibly.

“You bastards can say whatever you want but Jesus saves.”

An awkward pause follows and then Computer Whiz, “Well then he should bloody well invest in real estate, shouldn’t he?”

There is only so much bullshit you can take on any given day.

The faculty at St Stephens, Delhi is apparently conducting a boycott (although the brother was still rushing to class when I last checked) in an attempt to protest againts the ludicrous move by the college to enforce a quota for Christians in faculty recruitment.

What is bound to really rile people up is a statement by the  spokesperson for Delhi Catholic Archdiocese, Father Dominic Emmanuel on CNN IBN’s Face the Nation. He goes onto say that academic excellence is not as important when compared to (wait for it) following the ‘call’ of Jesus Christ. Coming form a christian minority institution (that infringed on almost every fundamental right) myself, it irks me to see that one of the premier institutes in the country has to bear the brunt of illogical and neanderthal decisions made by the f*ckwits (thankyou, P Z Myers!) who actually have a say in matters that concern them in no discernable way. Add to that, Stephens is a publicly funded institution; so basically everyone gets to sow but few reap. Go figure.

Source: Minority quota in colleges a huge mistake

Talk about religion and you’re bound to get me all worked up; not that I don’t appreciate a good argument, just that a good argument is non existent when it comes to backing faith or the the existence of an omniscient and benevolent creator who has time to answer your petty prayers but blithely ignores starving children in Africa. 

These days, creationists and right wing retards have a new ace up their sleeve. Piggybacking. Despite the Church’s open disdain for inquiry and exploration (over the last few thousand years), they seem oddly content using art and science to explain God and his mysterious ways. A few years ago, I was told that the God of the Old Testament asked for circumcision not merely as a sacrifice but (also) because of health reasons. Sadly, Mr Yahweh forgot to list out naturally occuring carcinogens and deadly viruses.

Now, the Anglicans are looking to appropriate the Doctor Who mythos to ‘explain’ to young people facts about the Bible that would otherwise seem ‘difficult’ to understand. Brilliant. So then, Jesus was a Time Lord right?

One day you distance yourself from Harry Potter and The Golden Compass because they’re well, satanic and the next day you embrace a character (immensely awesome as he is) who espouses the need for questioning and rejecting dogma. All this is probably a sign of the Curch’s waning influence. But then again, we live in a country where almost 70 percent believe in reincarnation and another sizeable number hope to get it on with 72 virgins in the afterlife. Bah.

While the majority of you have been rotting in normalcy, wallowing in needless human drama and reading pointless blog posts, The Prestidigitator has been out saving whales off the coast of Koh Samui, jumping off planes with strange men, restoring democracy to tiny African nations, rescuing damsel(s) in distress, taking care of corrupt Estonian government officials and covertly tracking down missing nuclear weapons. Life altering epiphanies have not escaped him either; he now knows what a cab driver in Bangkok means by ‘fun sexy timings‘. Some things you find out the hard, uncomfortable, awkward way.

Meanwhile, it has come to his attention that a nice Austrian girl is dying to know what smells and sounds The Prestidigitator is fond of. Disturbing (and oddly nice) as it is, The Prestidigitator will oblige.

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?

Forbidden Kingdom. It was er…different in more ways than one.

2. What book are you reading?

- Atomised by Michel Houellebecq

- Letter to a Christian Nation by Sam Harris

3. Favorite board game?

Scrabble. He isn’t any good at it though.

4. Favorite magazine?

Wired.

5. Favorite smells?

Strong coffee in the mornings, crushed blueberries and a certain fragrance he cannot define.

6. Favorite sounds?

Waves crashing against rocks/boulders with the din of heavy traffic behind is what comes to mind; for no apparent reason.

7. Worst feeling in the world?

Just one? Being bored.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?

‘Fuck. I was asleep for that long?’

9. Favorite fast food place?

DeGraves Espresso, Flinders Lane, Melbourne. Best Coffee in the Milky way.

10. Future child’s name?

Prince Yau Calabi (boy) and Leia Skywalker (girl). Really.

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?

…quit, travel and attempt making a film.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

Um. No.

13. Storms – cool or scary?

Cool. I think.

14. Favorite drink?

Strong black coffee minus sugar.

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?

Straighten it and place speed bumps. Unfortunately, The Doctor says time is wibbly wobbly timey wimey, so yeah.

16. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?

Broccoli has stems?

17. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?

I’d let it be.

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?

Kuwait, Kottayam (Kerala, India), Coimbatore (T Nadu, India), Hyderabad (Andhra Pradesh, India), Bangalore (Karnataka, India), Melbourne (Australia). However, he has spent most of his life in his head.

19. Favorite sports to watch?

Do cat fights count?

20. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?

She may not admit it but she’s madly in love with The Prestidigitator.

21. What’s under your bed?

No bed. Sleeping bag.

22. Would you like to be born as yourself again?

Anything else would be going down a notch.

23. Morning person, or night owl?

Morning.

24. Over easy, or sunny side up?

Sunny side up.

25. Favorite place to relax?

Victoria State Library, Melbourne. Or a nice walk just about anywhere in the world.

26. Favorite pie?

Blueberry.

27. Favorite ice cream flavor?

Chocolat.

Finito.

Paranoid as I am, the first few thoughts that rushed through my head after seeing the cordoned off street opposite to the apartment complex I stay in were terrorists, dirty bombs and Britney Spears.

Flinders St is actually being used as a filming backdrop for the upcoming Steven Spielberg/Tom Hanks produced WW II mini series, The Pacific (a sequel of sorts to Band of Brothers). Needless to say I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was secretly hoping that The Pacific was just a working title for the new Indiana Jones film (Indian Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull), but it turned out that The Pacific was actually just, The Pacific. As if it weren’t enough to block traffic to and from one of the busiest streets in Melbourne for 35 hours, they covered up the entire shooting area with…well…giant black drapes.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of the bearded sensei, I rushed home to get my camera; but nada.

After close to 45 minutes of sighing and dodging pangs of envy, I returned to my dreary existence.

Sigh.

Link: Steven Spielberg movie chaos in city (Herald Sun)

If there’s one breed of vermin that deserves zero respect/sympathy/empathy, it’s the one that comments without abandon on sites like YouTube and Redditt. Going through some of the comments on YouTube (as entertaining as some of them are) is pretty much all the proof we need for dysgenics. For the average internet junkie, sitting in the confines of his/her room is all the empowerment he/she needs to air his/her retarded views onto an unsuspecting world. Most of the time they end up being just plain ridiculous and sometimes marginally offensive.

(Click to view)

There is a comment that shows up beneath an article on Wired,

I want to destroy young generation of India Delhi is the best place to do bomb blast in SouthDelhi mainly in Mohammad Pur, Nehru place buildings, Vasant vihar flats, RK Puram Lodhi Road, Sarojani Nagar are the best place to do the bomb blast and do lot of casualties. Lot of Colleges are are also the best place to do bomb blast if anyone will do bomb blast here then there are maximum casuilties done and ISI will become happy. I want to Tell that if anyone want to carry bomb laptop leather bag is very good for this.
Put the bomb in the leather bag.

Include punctuations where necessary to make sense of what you just read. How exactly do you react to something like this?

Additional Links:

• An interesting read by Andrew Chen
• What You Tube comments really mean