A Brief History of OCSL and ROFL

A lot of folks on twitter have confronted me with the question "When are you going to quit twitter, for good?". Of course, my rather poor jokes and even worse observations have played no small part in contributing to this situation. I have been able to shrug of this question with the reply "I shall quit twitter, once I get my invite to Quitter". Har. Har.
Recently though, I am being flooded by the question "What the Hell/F*ck is OCSL?". In a world of 140 characters, people tend to notice an additional 4 characters being pushed into their twitter time lines.
To introduce you to OCSL, I would like to take you back to the time when I used to tweet all day and drink coffee analyze functional modules of code at work. I was having a light hearted conversation with Anjana, about how people are never actually ROFL (That is Rolling on The Floor Laughing, for those from the stone age) or LMAO even though they claim to be. Seriously though, just think of it. You are engrossed in your work when a hilarious tweet pops up on your time line. You double over laughing out loud, managing to slip from your chair and finally landing with a dull thud on the carpeted ground. The boss, shocked at the sound of loud hysterical laughter, comes running over to your cubicle to see you on the floor, separated from your posterior, which somehow managed to detach itself from the rest of your torso. Highly unlikely, Isn't it? Especially when you have a boss whose idea of fun is working over the weekend, trying to propose improvements to that patched up piece of junk code that you are struggling to maintain.
Who are we kidding? Its a well known fact that we react to those jokes with a smile on our face, a hand over our face the only thing preventing us from looking moronic to our colleagues.
This is the phenomenon that Anjana and myself christened as On Chair Stifling Laughter. In the greatest traditions of the internet, it got a four lettered abbreviation: OCSL.
Quite naturally, the next step was to make this christening official. I tried submitting OCSL to that great registrar of arcane abbreviations on the internet, Urban Dictionary. They turned down my entry stating that my geek credentials weren't good enough.
I had a dream, one where OCSL rubbed shoulders with ROFL, LMAO and LOL, and it seemed that Urban Dictionary was hell bent on ensuring that it never materialized into reality. Driven to the bottle out of despair thanks to the weekend, I was ready to sell my soul in exchange of my dream being a reality. Which was when Kristopher rings me up and informs me that his OCSL entry to Urban dictionary was accepted.
Being an honest interpretation of facts, our friends on twitter began to popularize the word in their tweets. Of course, initially Anjana and myself had to indulge in a lot of shameless plugs to set the ball rolling. Pretty soon, it was also covered in the mainstream media.
And that, my friends, is the story of how OCSL came into being, punched its way into Urban Dictionary and gave ROFL, LMAO and other such abbreviations a run for its money. As for Anjana and myself, we got the sadistic satisfaction comparable to the kings of yore, who must have gotten their kicks by adding a couple of pages to our thick history text books every time they waged a war or constructed a mausoleum.

Who is your (sugar) Daddy?

Caveat Emptor: I drafted this post circa June,2009. Thanks to the hassles (or joy, depending on how you look at it) of putting in my resignation letter, I never got around to posting it, until now that is. Pliss be to excuse if the incident has gone from sweet to sour.

SCENE I: A shopping mall

Last weekend, my roomies and myself went over to purchase some clothes from the Big Bazaar in Mysore. As you may be aware, guys visit Malls to shop for clothes only when something catastrophic happens, such as a wardrobe burning down. Most other times, we make do with wearing clothes inside out or if the situation is out of hand, *Shudder* getting our Laundry done.

We were almost done with our purchases, when we heard an announcement informing us that for every 1000 bucks worth of stuff bought, they were giving away 5Kgs of sugar. Since sugar is the staple diet of Indians, we decided to up our purchases to 2000 bucks, thereby netting us a cool 10Kgs of sugar. Once the bills were settled, we went up and claimed our 10Kgs of sugar. Which was when we realized how much 10Kgs of sugar really is. It may not sound like a lot, but believe me, it weighs a lot, probably even more than 15Kgs of sugar. Considering that we had already gotten it for free, we lugged the 10Kgs of sugar back home and made up this elaborate story on the way :
We enter shopping Mall. See 'buy one get one free' offer applicable to 5Kg sugar packs. Brains get boggled at the Potential Savings. Purchase a 5Kg sugar pack. Gloat at how recession-wise we are.

SCENE II: Our House in Mysore.

Like the spoils won from a fierce battle, we cradled the sugar in our arms. On opening the door, my roomie is surprised to see a huge packet of sugar paying him a visit. Lesser mortals would have gotten spooked, but not my roomie. No sir, he caught onto the fact that we were hiding behind the packet and offered to help with the heavy load. In one swift move, he took the bill out of the shopping bag without disturbing the sugar packet in my arms. We were depressed that our game was up, since the sugar, being free, would have never been billed.
Hearing my roomie go seething mad, slightly changed that opinion. He was absolutely horrified by the 10 Kgs of sugar printed on the bill, even more shocking was his discovery that apparently, we had paid for it. Although we were a little taken aback by this fact, we decided to play along. Needless to say, on explaining our recession beating idea to him, our roomie went ballistic. He began giving us a lecture on how much sugar an average Indian Family would use, how the average production of sugar in some states is less than 10 Kgs, yada yada yada. Needless to say, we burst out laughing on hearing this, which only added fuel to his flaming rage!
Much madness ensued, until our ears were sore from listening to all the choicest epithets, some, in languages that we were unfamiliar with. (What the hell is a *@%#*!@ anyway?)
Finally, good reason prevailed and we explained how we got it free. Now the problem changed from one of Cost Accounting to one of Inventory management. Apparently, we had no storage space for 10 Kgs of sugar. Which was when we hit upon the next bright idea of the day: Give away 5 Kgs of sugar to the Landlord. Although we didn't get the drastic reduction in our rent that we expected, we had saved the day and probably the whole district from an ant invasion. To this day, I can think of the Landlord paying his milkman, cable guy and other assorted folks in sugar. As for the 5 Kgs that we had with us? 2 packets of Gulab Jamun mix and we were almost half way through. Now excuse me while I get myself tested for Diabetes.

The Secret Identity of Zoozoos

Once the dust from the money making binge sporting event called IPL2 settles down, people are going to be left talking about one thing: How the KKR royally screwed up. Wait-a-minute, that is the current topic of discussion, although the insane laughs provoked by them, could very well be from the neighborhood Laughter Club. I must resist the temptation to joust with this rather harmless group of knights and get back to my conspiracy theory for the day.

Which involves the Zoozoos. Like 'em or Hate 'em, you cannot ignore 'em. People are going to be talking of them long after the IPL is done with. I thought I would get ahead of the pack by disclosing their (secret) identities. They are *Hold your breath* Mallu*. Allow me to disclose my findings, shocking as they may be:

1) Physical Appearance: Any beer/toddy guzzling, meat eating Mallu worth his salt will have, diplomatically speaking, a chubby figure. Take a close look at the Zoozoos: The beer belly, the cherubic face, the short stature and the smooth, fair complexion(Ok, maybe not that last one) all display startling similarities to our physical appearance.
2) Cuisine: The 'International Roaming' ad portrays a male Zoozoo following, what is hopefully, a female Zoozoo begging for "Poottum Kadalayum" and "Kappayum meenum". These are probably the only two things that would make us Mallu guys chase the lady of our dreams around the world(most other times we just find another lady-of-our-dreams closer to home). You wouldn't believe the number of romantic Malayalam movies with plot lines cooked around these venerable dishes.
3) Behavior: Did you see the 'Group SMS' Zoozoo Ad? If so, you would have noticed how quickly(and effectively) the Zoozoos gang up on people, a trait inspired by us. Any Industrialist in Kerala, which I hear is a mythological creature similar to the hobbits, would let you know how quickly we can gang up, float a left leaning party and lock down any signs of Industrial Progress.
4) Romantic Conquests: Our romantic conquest are such tragic defeats that volumes have been written on it. I haven't helped the cause by revealing key plot elements of Mallu romantic flicks. Which brings us to the 'Dating tips' ad and how it might have been inspired from real life. It is quite possible that one of our very own Casanova would have gifted a Jack-In-the-box to his loved one. You have to understand that ever since the recession hit us, things have been bad: a spring and a stuffed boxing glove are all that we can afford nowadays.
5) Nada/Zilch: This last point has been put up to convey the impression that this is a well thought out post, which is a rather silly thing to expect on this blog. If you have any further thoughts on my theory, do voice it out in the comments!

Mandatory Disclosure: This post has been written by a true blue Mallu, the kind that does not hesitate to take a dig at my own community. Although most of this post is exaggerated satire, I am expecting (quite) a few will not get the joke and be offended by it. I have a few words for them: "Mathaikku ithu verum pulla".

The Twitterist Manifesto

When I decided to reboot my blog, I had derived a formula for the frequency of posts. If you are the kind of uber-geek who has to see formulas to believe in their existence, here you go:

Please do not ask me what the letters stand for*. All I am aware of is that the formula tells me that the optimal number of posts per week is 1. If I stick to that frequency, it tells me that I stand a good chance at being nominated for a blogging award, getting a gazillion subscribers and probably landing a 6 digit book deal. These, like the hot neighbor next door, are the things that everyone secretly lusts for and publicly loathe. To be honest, I did not start blogging for any of these perks, which may be why I initially kept up the magic frequency of 1 posts per week.

Lately though, I haven't been able to keep up with that frequency. This has been mainly because I jumped onto twitter and the rest, as they say, was (the recent past) history. There has been a lot of information regarding twitter in the media and in the online space, a whole lot of which tells you what you should do to gain new followers. As you may be aware, A lot of folks consider gaining new followers to be the holy grail of twitter. I, for one, have lost count of my 722 followers. However, there are a lot of folks on twitter who are block-worthy. While hopping through twitter profiles(Yes, I really ought to get a life), these are the folks whom I hit the block button, even if they aren't following me! For your convenience, I thought I will classify and explain the various categories of such tweeple (twitter+ peeple = tweeple). Behold, the Twitterist Manifesto:

1) Twiarrhea - This is a twitter syndrome that is very similar to a much loved medical condition. Its symptoms are: Tweets are short, Tweets are furious,Tweets are most often crap. People with this condition most often think that twitter is about chopping up a blog post into chunks of 140 characters.
2) Sir Follows a lot - This lot follows people by the truck loads. It is their sincere desire to replicate the twitter public timeline in their stream. It can be safely assumed that your insightful tweets(ahem) will get steamrolled by the aforementioned truck load of followers.
3) H4CK3R5/SMSWRTR - This category of people believe that its rather fun to keep their followers guessing what language their last tweet was in. They carefully type out their tweets in English and then attack the vowels with a chainsaw. It is rumored that a couple of their tweets have even stumped Robert Langdon and his cipher cracking friends.
4) Abraham Link-en - People with this twitter syndrome do nothing rather than post links all day long on twitter. This can be pretty informative, until it starts to look suspiciously like an RSS feed from Google News. They frequently urge you to retweet their useful links although it makes no sense to you.
5) Nekkid Chick - Following the webpage listed on their profile inevitably takes you to a sleazy webpage. More often than not, it will have an offer to meet hot and sexy girls somewhere close to your house. Strangely these girls follow me around when I travel across the country, an unwarranted side effect of my magnetism, I suppose.
6) All follow and no tweet- This category of people can easily be identified by the stats: 10,000 following; 1000 followers; O Updates. Apparently, these people are followed because of the 'You kiss my ass, I kiss yours' phenomenon. You can also classify them as 'All fart and no shit'.
7) Celebrity\Female Stalker: This lot of people wants to know what the ladies on twitter are upto. Especially if the ladies in question are celebrities. Their tweets consists solely of @ mentions directed at their target segment. Lets not question their motives though, some of them left orkut and signed up on twitter only 'to make the fraandsheep'.
8) Concern for your follower count: This is the most genuine group to grace this list. They are so concerned for your follower count that they would repeatedly bombard you with tips and tricks to increase it. Their concern for your heavy wallet also shows when you are redirected to a shady looking site asking for your credit card number.
9) Rediff transplant: This group of people have quit flaming the red-iff message boards and have moved onto greener pastures, namely twitter. Their 'holier-than-thou' attitude, their lack of respect for a contrary viewpoint and their complete disregard for the Queen's language go a long way in identifying them.
10) Mallika Sherwani(or something like that) : No comments. Avoid like the bubonic plague.

Phew. There you have it: The 10 most irritating behavior on twitter (in my opinion). The lack of these traits wont make you follow worthy, rather it will just prevent people from scrambling for the block button.
Do you feel that I have left out any other irritating twitter traits? Do let me know in the comments section!

*- Do you still refuse to believe that I derived the equation? Persistence wins. Read about it here. Perhaps you could try explaining it to me, in English. Sigh.

Procrastinate? Never ever!

A month ago, during a routine dental checkup, my dentist had warned me that there was a cavity waiting to implode and that it had to be filled up. Being the procrastinator that I was, I booked an appointment with him, and promptly failed to keep the appointment. Now before everyone starts commenting on my dental hygiene (or lack of it), let me state that in my defense, i was willing to get it done that very day.After all, if you could sit through a dental checkup, what is the harm in going all the way and getting a filling done?
I have always felt that by the time the dentist is done excavating your teeth and passing snide comments at the pathetic state of it, all in the disguise of a routine dental checkup, you would have crossed the point of no return with regards to pain. Experts(read as me) say that once you reach this zen-like state, nothing can be done to further your pain. I have heard that UFC participants, have a routine dental checkup as part of their pre-match warm-up. Anything that happens to them in the ring after that, is laughable. I think these reasons are sufficient to explain why I wanted to get the filling done along with my checkup. However, the doctor deemed it rather silly and laughed it off, informing me that he had a horde of patients waiting to throw me of that chair. Strange as it may sound, the dentist's chair is the only electric chair where people would fight and maim to boot out the incumbent. As far as I am concerned, both of the chairs should be banned under the Geneva conventions for Human rights violation.
With a heavy heart, I left the dentist's, knowing that I would not keep the appointment. What I did not know then was how a neglected filling was going to come back and haunt me.
Haunt it did, and how! Yesterday as I was finishing my lunch, I get this pulsating feeling in my teeth. Not knowing any better, i had ignored it and was soon engrossed in reading blogs work. Like an ignored child craving for attention, the nice homely pulsating feeling decides to take it to the next level and goes ballistic on my teeth. In the meantime, it also decides to pass a resolution concentrating all its effort on one tooth. By evening, I had decided that concrete action had to be taken to defeat this enemy. I also decide not to humanize 'the pain' by referring to it in the third person.
Reluctantly, I book an appointment with the dentist and soon find myself in the electric chair. The dentist conducts a preliminary inspection. For this, he uses a hammer on my teeth, which I believe, was to beat the pain into submission. To be doubly sure that he is not attacking an innocent tooth, he tries out his new shiny pointy instruments on the tooth and gets a writhing, mumbling, contorted me for confirmation. With the flourish of the CBI cracking open a complicated case, he informs me that his probing investigation has discovered the root cause of all my worries.
Yes, the root. No, really, it was the root of my tooth that was the trouble maker. The dentist informs me that I will have to undergo a Root Canal Treatment to get rid of the pain. I agree. With Glee writ on his face, he brings out his arsenal of Torture equipment.
This next section is not for the faint hearted. Those of you, who have been through this once before and have latent sadistic tendencies, will eagerly look forward to this section. Remember how the Suez Canal was made? The people involved took dynamite and blew their way across the Red sea, thereby opening new shipping channels. Root Canal Treatment is similar, if you replace the dynamite with tiny needles. From what I have heard, I gather that dynamite does not work very well on teeth, hence the need for tiny needles and drills. These dentists use their needles to get to the root of your teeth and to extract the offending root. They simultaneously satisfy their wannabe Harsha Bhogle ambitions by giving you a Live and exclusive running commentary of their actions. "Houston, we have reached the tooth", "I hope this works" and my personal favorite "There is a lot of blood and pus coming out". Once the needles are firmly stuck in your teeth, they negotiate the price of the treatment.
Dentist: This treatment is going to cost you Rs. XXXXXX. Do you agree to go ahead with this treatment?
Me: Illloovugh (Translation to no-needle-in-mouth-English: Its too much!)
Dentist: Oh, that is good. You have agreed on the cost of the treatment. Would you like a local anesthetic to go along with it?
Me: Illgoowagonwe (Translation: I hope that its free)
Dentist: No its not free, you will have to pay Rs. XXXX for that.
Me: Llavaay (Translation: No way)
Dentist: That is good! Nurse, he would like the local anesthetic too, can you please get one bottle?
Me(thinking): I hope my health insurance takes care of this
On hearing the cost, with or without the anesthetic, you are sufficiently numb. The pain does not bother you anymore. Thoughts of selling your rented house and your roommate's two wheeler comes to your mind. With a jolt, the dentist informs me that he is done with. On hearing this, my heart leaps for joy and I swear that I will never ever Procrastinate. Well... at least in matters of getting a filling for my tooth. Before I make a mad dash for freedom, the dentist calls out to me.
Dentist: Oh by the way, there is a tooth there that has to be filled.
Me: Can't we get it done today?
Dentist: No, I have a lot of patient patients waiting. Will you be free for an appointment next Sunday?
Me: I don't think so, but i will get it done sometime soon.Sometime this century.
And the circle of pain keeps on rolling.....

(un)Happy Valentine's Day

Its that dreaded day of the year, once again. When you have to file in your tax forms and with a heavy heart, figure out that your take-home salary for the next few months will be, well, taken home by the tax man.
No wait, its not that far along this year as yet. Oh right, its the other dreaded day of the year. At about the same time as we honor St. Valentine, many workplaces come up with a cruel way of outing your romantic/marital status.
Here is how it works: The evil HR department crafts drafts an email that asks you to celebrate Valentines day, by dressing up in a color, which they say corresponds to your marital/romantic status. A neat spread sheet is attached to describe what color you ought to be wearing for a given romantic state. Next, the email (spreadsheet and all) is promptly cc'd to everyone from the directors to your dead dog. For your benefit, I have selected the most important and thought provoking colors and what they imply about your romantic life. Additionally, I have also added some comments that came to my mind, in italics, like so. Here goes:
White: I am happily married. How come no one is dressed in white?
Black: I am unhappily married. Oh, that is why. I thought there was a funeral at work.
Grey: My marriage has its ups and downs.
Green: I am committed.
Blue: I have met someone who may or may not be the subject of my dreams. Weatherman special.
Yellow: I am open to proposals. A very unassuming way to say: SOMEONE,PLEASE PROPOSE ME.
Peach: I intend to flirt today. For the ones who wear peach, its always flirty day!
Orange: I am free. Read as: I am desperate to get hitched with someone.
Violet: My proposal went down the drain, I am on the prowl now. Strangely, no one was dressed in this category.
Indigo: My proposal just got accepted. Once again, what was green for?
Lilac: I am going to propose. In the company of these people, be scared, very scared.
Razzmatazz: I have the best romantic relationship in the whole world. Is there even such a color?
Pink Chaddi - I will try to disrupt Valentine's day celebrations, as they are against Indian values. I also lack a significant life, social or otherwise, to boast of.
Now those of you belonging to the HR fraternity, would justify this scheme as a really fun way to improve bonding and cohesion within the team. In your heart of hearts, you also hope that more people find their life partners from within the organization, after all, having two birds in hand is easier than having a bird in the bush. Easier to retain them. Easier to manage them. Easier to fire them.
No, I don't intend to go HR bashing today, but nevertheless, there are some tough questions that has to be answered by them.
What should those who are uninterested in this whole fiasco, wear?
Before pink inner ware is flung at me, let me clarify that I am not referring to fanatic-right-wing "uninterested people", but to regular guys like me, who are uninterested due to a long history of spectacular romantic failures.
The observant minority, would be sympathetic, as they would have noticed that, for someone who is just not interested, there are hardly any options to go with. There is Razzmatazz on the list, for heavens sake. In case, you also belong to the subcategory of people who swear by procrastination, (as a result of which your formal dressing involves choosing between the curry stained white shirt and the smelly black T-shirt) may St. Valentine help you. To top it all off, you wear the curry stained white shirt to work, only to be questioned by your colleagues as to what the curry stain signifies in your "happily married" white shirt!
Thus, a day that should have been about fun and romance, becomes the reincarnation of the Bubonic plague. As you all may be aware of, in the 14th century, the Bubonic plague had a grand total of 0 friends on facebook and 0 followers on twitter.
Which indirectly implies how dreaded this day is.
Which is why I am wishing everyone an (un)Happy Valentine's Day.

I can't see, I can't go, therefore i can't conquer

Aloha Readers*!

In between the threat of a nuclear war in the Indian subcontinent and companies that exist only on paper, we are facing a new evil. By we, I am referring to the whole Indian population, one nation under the hot sun and all that. The evil collectively refers to movies made by foreign directors, that negatively depict our glorious nation . As in the way slum dwellers are shown in "Slumdog Millionaire". As in the way prostitution is depicted in "Born into Brothel". Unfortunately, these are highly exaggerated accounts of the ground realities. I can state this truthfully as I have not witnessed any of these. Which must imply that it does not exist. For good measure I also have a lot of authoritative sources backing up my logic. Certain heavy weight bloggers have already informed us that they are not one bit happy with the makers of "Slumdog Millionaire" for showing India in a dark light. Our scissor happy censor board initially did not allow "Born into Brothel" to be released in India, for reasons only known to them. If you still are not convinced by my arguments, prepare to be fumbled by my twisty questions:
Why should we promote forms of art that show us in bad light? Why should we heed viewpoints that we don't subscribe to?
Which brings us to the other pressing question: Since there is nothing wrong with us, doesn't it imply that there is no scope for us to improve?
Which is probably why we are in this sorry state.

*-Although my blog has only 1 person following/reading my blog, I make it a point to use the third person plural: it soothes the ego!

Death of a pyramid scheme

The past few months have shown us that there is more than one way to kill the Financial System. A great number of humongous corporations are putting their best men to work towards this end (whatay pun!). I know for a fact that the readers of this blog do not take anything at face value, and will choose to disagree with me, due to which i will use clear cut examples, carefully gleaned over the centuries, to illustrate my points.
But first, let me give you a rundown of the story till now:
The organized financial system started when a snake gave away an apple to a lady named Eve, promising her that it will give her knowledge, compounded annually at 25% interest with absolutely no risk. A short period later, the first financial con was discovered. Seems that the fine print stated that the cost of the apple included giving up their prime piece of real estate and their eastern European lifestyle (no offense meant to my eastern European readers).
Much time has passed since the incident, but the basic premise of the financial con remains the same. Promise eye-popping returns (in the future obviously) in exchange for the meager little you have today.
Today we will concentrate on one such promise, the Pyramid Scheme AKA Ponzi scheme.
The name "pyramid scheme" comes from the fact that the Pyramids of Gaza were financed by poor souls who put their life savings into it. Once they could not pay the premiums, they were thrown into slavery and forced to work on the pyramids. This scheme has been improved by con artists over the decades. On going through the news over the past few days, I read about a guy who perfected this scheme to such an extent that he duped stock brokers, investment bankers, share traders, car loan salesman and even a couple of banks. This at a time when most of these astute investors where on the verge of limiting their daily bonuses to just 200% of their annual salary! Needless to say once the con was discovered, there were many broken dreams, including the new BMW roadster and the new A 380 for general sightseeing. This only goes to show us that there is no escape from these schemes. Like Air, it is omnipresent. It also shows us that since we are not in the bracket of the ultra rich, we can gloat at the ultra rich for the big money that they lost!
In this blog, I have only skimmed the surface of financial cons. Now that you are armed with knowledge you can defend yourselves in the big bad world of financial cons. Now I will be off to dream about the Hummer H3 and the Yamaha RX1, which I will shortly be buying as soon as I add 12435228 more suckers investors linked to me in SilverSearch!

Wishing each and everyone a prosperous and happy new year!

Last warning:Reach Barbados or dont come back from Trinidad

The placard held by a seemingly disgrnutled(the question here is why.....) fan of the Indian cricket team said it all.This inspite of the fact that he was witnessing a record breaking game(well atleast it was a world cup record....).Never mind that we were giving a good spanking to the world beating team from Bermuda (note from here onwards i am using we to refer to the Indian cricket team,to show the constant (!*&!) and unwavering(!&*&$)support to them from ourside) .Bermuda you might be aware has been nicknamed the sharks of the cricketing ground.In fact one ad playing in their hometown shows the cricket team from Bermuda,when kept from having their favoured brand of fizzy drinks getting transformed into SHARKS(come on how silly can these guys be...).The metaphor 'like a fish out of water' could hav been coined after observing the hapless reaction of the Bermuda(n??) cricket team being belted out of the cricket ground by the graceful(#%#*#@) blade of Sehwag. Keep in mind that we were always the underdogs in this tournament...After having failed to realize success(doesnt it sound fancier this way???) against the Bangladeshi cricketers, we really gave it back to them darned cricketers from Bermuda...

Yeah trust me when i say underdogs do have a say in this tournament...not just the established Bermudan cricketers who thanks to the huge salaries given out to them by their cricketing boards have had an element of complacency in the way they go about playing their game.Yes my friends,the past few exploits of the bermudans at the world stage (both in the long form and the short form of the game) had given them a sense of (fake)superiority that nothing in the cricketing world can derail their worldcup campaign.AHA!!but we showed it to them(and to a few doubting Indian cricket fans,who dared to defile the image of our valiant boys).Well probably if the Bermudan Cricket fans had weaned their oversized cricketing babies (with their upsized ego and their supersized salaries) from their fizzy drinks and unleashed the sharks(y does the image of a TIGER-shark come to my mind???) within, probably this wouldnt have been the case, Hell Bermuda could have even gone on to win the tournament.....or better still the BCCB(Board for Cricket Control in Bermuda) should have stopped training their senior players to be better actors (so dat they can make more cash from silly advertisements like the aforementioned fizzy adv) and should have selected younger players who actually perform at the domestic(/any) level and still find time to practice at the nets...........

..............but then if they did that.....UnderDogs(i meant the ones with a big heart) such as us might as well have stayed out of the tournament rather than just being comic fillers in between the serious contenders for the world cup.........


which brings me to the big question.....Why was the cricket fan with the placard so pissed at the Indian cricket team??