I have mentioned some place before that the last post is played at the end of the day when a homage is paid to colleagues who have dies in battle or long back when battles were fought during the day time, it signaled the end of the business for the day.
Therefore, this is the last post for the day and the year, 2008. Is it a homage for those who died?
Well none died this year for a pleasant change or is it the end of business for the year...well, yes but there is not much of a choice in there, is there.
So, this is a last post and it requires a suitable somber theme.
I asked my wife regarding some suitable themes and she charactersitically came up with the following:
1. lack of tharak
2. oedipus complex
3. woolen socks
4. being called a nikamma
5. eating burnt rotis
6. pressure cooker whistles
7. madagascar
As we used to answer in the final MD papers, we will now discuss these points in some detail. That is because they are topical and relevant, and are quite somber (lack of tharak has to be somber, right!!)
1. lack of tharak:
Tharak or roughly translated as libido is the nature of one human being to be aroused in ways that are hopefully sexual though not necessarily procreative towards another member of the animal, plant or inanimate kingdom. It helps if the libidinal object is of the same species and of opposite sex but this is not always the case. By corollary, lack of tharak comes about where there is an absence of such a feeling because of variety of reasons that can range from overdosage of pro-getstaional hormones to simply a kick on the butt. Mostly, lack of tharak (LOT) is associated with significant psycho-social distress but at times and in certain people such as serial sex offenders, this may be an adaptive and life-preserving advantage. Why my wife talked about LOT, I really dont know, I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
2. Oedipus Complex:
It is a fancy name for the neighbouring kid trying to hang out with his mama more than his daddy does. It really means that there was this king somewhere in Greece who got killed by his son in a case of mistaken identity or was it something else, anyway, there was incest involved which makes it hugely interesting. Google and thou shall find....I always say, or was that an old jungle saying from the Phantom comics?
Why did my wife talk about it...no ideas again. I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
3. Woolen Socks:
Now this one easy, its bloody cold and I feel a frost bite coming on. So I need some woolen socks, but why does my wife talk about it? Holey moley......maybe she actually cares for me or does she intend to put that ultra-poisonous scorpion she got to some good use??
If I survive, i will let you know some more details.
4. Being called a nikamma and eating burnt rotis
We will discuss both of these together because they are so 'intimately' related' (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Anyways, I am called a nikamma because that is what i am, a nikamma. Now nikamma is a fine word, made up of ni+kamm+a. Ni stands for no, kamm means for sex..oops no work (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Kam means work, fine I got that work. And the a makes it kind of easy on the tongue (dirty thoughts again, maybe I need high-dose flouxetine), so you can like a good punjabi say Nikamma...and feel good about it. Since my wife is not Punjabi, she is finding it hard to get her tongue around it (sorry already) the right way (again, again), so she kind of writes it often just to parctice. eating burnt rotis is fine because that is what nikammas eat. Since there is a lack of moral fiber in such people, burnt rotis provide that fiber so that they are not chronically constipated. And I am not, haha.
5. pressure cooker whistles:
I once made a wolf whistle and got beaten, thereafter I decided that pressure cooker whistles would have to do. It is quite alright because I need to carry a gas cylinder with me all the time, and when I see some nice girl, by the time I can light a fire and get the cooker to have enough steam, that lady is already away. SO i am saved. I need one because the FBI tells me that one has been stolen by Palo Aunty, the maid.
6. Madagascar:
Hmmmm, I really dont know.......Well, I have probably written enough to get some passing marks. So Madagascacar....Isnt that a car made by a mad man, runs on gas produced by fermentation of intestinal roughage. That should do well in Punjab.
As we used to answer in the final MD papers, we will now discuss these points in some detail. That is because they are topical and relevant, and are quite somber (lack of tharak has to be somber, right!!)
1. lack of tharak:
Tharak or roughly translated as libido is the nature of one human being to be aroused in ways that are hopefully sexual though not necessarily procreative towards another member of the animal, plant or inanimate kingdom. It helps if the libidinal object is of the same species and of opposite sex but this is not always the case. By corollary, lack of tharak comes about where there is an absence of such a feeling because of variety of reasons that can range from overdosage of pro-getstaional hormones to simply a kick on the butt. Mostly, lack of tharak (LOT) is associated with significant psycho-social distress but at times and in certain people such as serial sex offenders, this may be an adaptive and life-preserving advantage. Why my wife talked about LOT, I really dont know, I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
2. Oedipus Complex:
It is a fancy name for the neighbouring kid trying to hang out with his mama more than his daddy does. It really means that there was this king somewhere in Greece who got killed by his son in a case of mistaken identity or was it something else, anyway, there was incest involved which makes it hugely interesting. Google and thou shall find....I always say, or was that an old jungle saying from the Phantom comics?
Why did my wife talk about it...no ideas again. I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
3. Woolen Socks:
Now this one easy, its bloody cold and I feel a frost bite coming on. So I need some woolen socks, but why does my wife talk about it? Holey moley......maybe she actually cares for me or does she intend to put that ultra-poisonous scorpion she got to some good use??
If I survive, i will let you know some more details.
4. Being called a nikamma and eating burnt rotis
We will discuss both of these together because they are so 'intimately' related' (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Anyways, I am called a nikamma because that is what i am, a nikamma. Now nikamma is a fine word, made up of ni+kamm+a. Ni stands for no, kamm means for sex..oops no work (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Kam means work, fine I got that work. And the a makes it kind of easy on the tongue (dirty thoughts again, maybe I need high-dose flouxetine), so you can like a good punjabi say Nikamma...and feel good about it. Since my wife is not Punjabi, she is finding it hard to get her tongue around it (sorry already) the right way (again, again), so she kind of writes it often just to parctice. eating burnt rotis is fine because that is what nikammas eat. Since there is a lack of moral fiber in such people, burnt rotis provide that fiber so that they are not chronically constipated. And I am not, haha.
5. pressure cooker whistles:
I once made a wolf whistle and got beaten, thereafter I decided that pressure cooker whistles would have to do. It is quite alright because I need to carry a gas cylinder with me all the time, and when I see some nice girl, by the time I can light a fire and get the cooker to have enough steam, that lady is already away. SO i am saved. I need one because the FBI tells me that one has been stolen by Palo Aunty, the maid.
6. Madagascar:
Hmmmm, I really dont know.......Well, I have probably written enough to get some passing marks. So Madagascacar....Isnt that a car made by a mad man, runs on gas produced by fermentation of intestinal roughage. That should do well in Punjab.
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