Desicritics Category: Culture: Humor and Satire

Budget 2006: A TamBram's Dilemma

Aparna Ray — Fri, 3 Mar 2006 09:09:31 EST

"Pretty confusing, this cut in excise,"
Said a TamBram (between mouthfuls of rice)
"Now for my 'nashta',
Should I have idli or pasta?
Must ask the FM for his word of advice!"

-----------------------------------------------

Budget 2006 - Processed items like condensed milk, ice-cream, preparation of meat, fish and poultry, pectins, pasta and yeast have been fully exempted from excise duties. Excise duty on ready-to-eat packaged foods and instant food mixes, like dosa and idli mixes, will be reduced from 16 per cent to 8 per cent.

Sheep Leading Sheep: Blind Faith In Democracy

Krishna — Fri, 3 Mar 2006 09:02:57 EST

You just bought a car. You are lazy and want to employ a driver. How do you find one?

You will talk to some friends and initiate inquiries. If necessary, you will also put an ad or two in local news papers. When someone shows up you will want to ascertain if he can drive well, if he has a license, and if he is responsible.

Driving is no rocket science. Still, you look for some personal qualifications and skills.

Now think of governing a country. As most people think of governance, it is rocket science.

Just think what your job consists of:

You need to make people safe. You need to make them healthy. You need to make them learned. You need to make them busy. You need to make them happy. You need to make them good. You need to solve yesterday's problems. You need to solve today's problems. You need to solve tomorrow's problems. And so on.

In short, you need to work miracles.

And what personal qualifications do we require of these miracle workers? None.

What personal skills do we demand of them? None.

Two things stand out on contemplation.

It is meaningless to fault our politicians. The process which put them there is simply not designed to ensure desirable results. If any occasional good does come out, it is only by chance.
It is irresponsible to demand much from these miracle workers. In other words, they should not be asked, or indeed allowed, to work miracles.

Lyrical Limerical

bharath — Fri, 3 Mar 2006 00:24:04 EST

friends gods send

walk with your hand in mine
this way brotherhood will gain
in a future so bright
country can take pride
this journey will not be in vain

air eclair

i don't remember jack abramoff
hey journalist, you back off!
I tell you, in honest!
once there 'was' a forest!
no clean air, childrens cough

havana marijuana

marijuana keeps your pain at bay
medical of course, didn't I say?
no side effects, no no
not until well, you know
an elegy comes to me from far away

kicks of limericks

hey you, this are all just limericks
write some and get some kicks
out of it. you care?
have time to spare?
write yours on glossy lipsticks

Foolproof Plan to Bed Bollywood Starlets

Desi Train — Thu, 2 Mar 2006 13:43:32 EST

Its high time we stop doing whatever we do to earn a living. Punching keys on the board, scribbling numbers, beating your head on the huge drawing board, taking to bed your nerve wrecking plans, trying to reach the sales target before your last breath...all these and many more are pointless. Waste. Stupid.

What is the use of all these things when every time you watch a Bollywood actress oomph and aah, launch a jhatka or shoot a matka - it ends up sending your mini-me to full army attention. Can you do something about it? Nothing I assume, except plaster the face of that Bollywood hottie on your wife, girlfriend or your pillow, in a last ditch attempt to reach the open arms of an ever awaiting orgasm. The waiting could be twenty seconds to twenty days depending up who is reading this post and the tools he is using to reach it.

Is living like a dog everyday of your life worth it? What are you gonna tell God Yama when he knocks on your door. "Wait I have wood (a hard-on) after having watched a Bollywood flick. I need to use my computer and print out this new Bollywood new hottie and do something about my mini-me before you take me away"

What a pathetic way to leave mother Earth. You deserve better. Much better and oz has the solution to see that each night has a Bollywood hottie jumping in your bed, before you can say "Mini Me". The cost for knowing this secret is high.

But you, my most ardent fans, will get it for free on a promise that you will not tell this to anyone (no need for a standing ovation, please stay put on your seat).... Of course I will expect that you in return for this HUGE favor, agree to finance 0.1% of the movie which oz shall make with a few of the Bollywood hotties. I have already begun work on the screen play. It's gonna be hot and exciting a movie that shall be forever etched in the golden books of Movie History. Just wait till the movie is released. "BOLLYgotWOOD" will be the biggest hit of the century.

Please read the following steps veryyyyy care-phully.

1. Go to your boss, slap your resignation and leave. (Optional: Kick his ass before you leave)

2. Fly to Mumbai, India.

3. Watch Madhur Bhandarkar's Page 3, which is the only available manual on how to sneak into high profile parties without an invitation.

4. Make sure you project yourself as a PHOREN returned desi. Sneak up close to politicians, power brokers, bureaucrats, arms dealers and such other people for whom the Reserve Bank of India (The Treasury) very courteously prints green paper (which in other pathetic parts of the world is called "money") and forwards all of it to all of them, each year, every year, without fail.

5. Make your intentions very clear. You would like to be one of them. You will be given a few options. Pick one. Say your choice is politician/minister.

6. The rest will all be taken care for you. Within two years max you will be the chief minister of a state or a minister for women's welfare (we know you wanted that bad) or Minister for Phoren Affairs (all your licenses/liaisons with blonde hotties the world over will be handled by this department).

7. Show up at two to three Bollywood award functions out of 36,987 held each year.

8. Prominently exhibit your power and fame and the poor Z grade security cover of Black Cat Commandos to the Bollywood hotties you meet at the function.

9. Casually drop a hint that you are visiting Switzerland and can make it easy for them to open a Swiss Bank Account. As a friendly gesture you will also help them in making a small initial deposit of One Millions U.S. dollars.

10. Now sit back and see how the Bollywood hotties go weak in their knees.

11. Ensure your wife, your girlfriend, your second girlfriend, you booty call and your neighbours' wife don't get a slightest hint when you secretly meet these hotties at your Pervate secret bungalow at Madh Island in Mumbai.

12. Enjoy!

Don't believe this shit! I say open your mind. For proof that my plan WORKS, here's a recent Indiafm article I read at Yahoo which I have produced down below (pun unintended). Read it, go ahead and change your life for good. When you reach Mumbai (Point 2 above), offer my heartfelt sympathy for good guy John Abraham.

What am I talking about? Well the stuff I'm talking about is included in the proof that my plan works. Read on...

The last couple of months have seen many 'sting operations' make headlines. And just a few days ago, some CDs which allegedly contained conversations between Samajwadi Party's Amar Singh and various famous personalities were received by several media houses.
CNN- IBN received an envelope containing a CD titled Amar Singh Ki Amar Kahani. The CD is said to contain conversations between Amar Singh and Mulayam Singh Yadav and other personalities. The latest reports are that there are also conversations between Singh and Bollywood actress, Bipasha Basu.

Basu who is currently shooting for Vishal Bharadwaj's Omkara in Wai, vehemently denied ever having a telephonic conversation with Amar Singh. She said that these reports were malicious. She said that she would take legal action, but not immediately. The actress justified her stand by stating that she was a simple professional, leading a simple life and had never been a part of such a controversy.

CNN-IBN, on its part has sent the CDs to the Registrar General of Supreme Court and the Home Ministry. The CDs will not be broadcast until and unless their authenticity is established.

Although it has not been confirmed whether the conversation is authentic, the following is the complete transcript of the conversation between Amar Singh and Bipasha Basu.

Amar: Hello.

Bipasha: : (Sing song voice)...Haallloooo...

Amar: : Hello...

Bipasha: : (Sing song voice) Hi...how are you...?

Amar: : (Happy sing song voice) I am fine.

Bipasha: : How've you been? We are talking after a long time right?

Amar: : Yes...

Bipasha: : You've been busy or something?

Amar: : Kaun...bip...

Bipasha: : Bipasha...Bipasha...ya...I saw you twice at that award function...ha ha ha

Amar: : Really?

Bipasha: : So tell me...when are you meeting me?

Amar: : Where do you want to meet baby? I have been very busy.

Bipasha: : You busy?

Amar: : It is very tough.

Bipasha: : It is very tough...ha ha ha...OK.

Amar: : But I will make some time.

Bipasha: : OK sweetie...

Amar: : Very nice of you to have remembered me.

Bipasha: : (Laughs) I toh always remember you.

Amar: : An old man like me.

Bipasha: : Sorry...

Amar: : An old fossil like me...

Bipasha: : Old fossil like you...

Amar: : ya ya...

Bipasha: : I don't think age really matters... Does it?

Amar: : It matters between the legs na?

Bipasha: : (Bursts out laughing) Oh God...ha ha ha ha...all right then...you try removing time now... it's been almost a month now I've not met...

Amar: : Ya we will meet.

Bipasha: : OK... Right, keep in touch. Bye...

oz is at Desi Train

Ek Nanha Daanth (Translation of A Little Tooth by Thomas Lux)

Vivek Sharma — Wed, 1 Mar 2006 08:53:44 EST

Ek nanha daanth

Tumhaari bitiya ugaati hai ikk daanth, fir doe
aur chaar, aur paanch, fir chahaati hai kuchh maans
seedhay haddi se. Ab sab

khatam: woh seekhaygi chand shabd, woh ludak-aegi
pyaar mein kisi nalayak, niray murakh ke, koi mridubhaashi
kaaravaas ke pathh par. Aur tum

tumhaari patni, honge burray, be-izzatt, aur nahin
koi pachchtaava. Tumne kiya, tumne chaahaa, tumhaare pairr
sooj gaye hain. Saanjh hai. Barri ho gayee tumhari beti.

Translator: Vivek

A little tooth
by Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone. It's all

over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail. And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing. You did, you loved, your feet
are sore. It's dusk. Your daughter's tall.

***
From New and Selected Poems, 1975-1995, published by Houghton Mifflin, 1997.

****

Critiques welcome

Whistle Blowing In The Software Industry

vercingetorix_is_dead — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 12:54:40 EST

There is something really wrong with the IT industry. I'm not only talking about the global or the economic perspective, but every angle of it. I am talking about the bosses, the managers, the HRs, the developers, the testers, even the office boy and the watchmen.

What is wrong with it, you may ask? It all looks so good, there is so much work being outsourced to India that every developer in the US is scared about losing his job to some Indian, "living in the wild".

The benches (For those who don't know, if you are not assigned any work at all, you are said to be on the bench), Yeah the benches in software companies are overflowing. Yet they keep recruiting more and more people every year. You would like to imagine that in each of those companies, there are hundreds of engineers, slogging day and night, trying to catch up with thier deadlines.

Now you would like to ask, who am I to be telling you all this. There are a lot of reasons actually, firstly, I am surrounded by software engineers all the time. Everyone I have known in the last two years is a software engineer. So I am fairly well-versed with them. Secondly, I joined a software firm with high hopes, since I had been an exceptional Electronics engineer. For the first two days, I really wanted to learn. (Though on the third day I was enlightened and haven't done anything constructive since).

Since I believe I have been wronged, I have decided to come out with this. Thirdly, I have spent sometime abroad (Yes, on company expenses) and I have come across many incompetent people across the globe, and can actually understand the differences in the methodology of work-evading tactics. Finally, and most importantly, I had once spent ten minutes thinking about how you can really work if you wanted to.

To collect more convincing data, that I am not the only one making a killing here, I call up all my classmates (who as I said are all software engineers), during office hours, and ask them what are they doing. So after I make the early morning call to my PM and tell him everything is in control, I start calling the subjects. This is what I find out.

* Dhil is playing minesweeper, and he has created a new company record in Expert mode.
* Prav is having free coffee which sucks, and he plans to shift jobs because he doesn't like the coffee.
* Gop has gone back home to take his afternoon nap.
* Dub is busy talking to his girlfriend and doesn't pick up his cell.
* Ank is standing on the roof and waving because Mots told him he can see him waving on Google Earth.
* Riks is reading Of Human Bondage, because she has read every other e-book she could lay her hands upon.
* Mots is asking his HR out for dinner. He plans to quit the company soon, since it's been over three months since he joined.
* Shobs went to Bangalore to get some training but since the person who was to train her has quit and taken the code with him she is developing the code again and so is quite busy.

In case you didn't notice, NOBODY IS WORKING (except poor Shobs of course).

Initially, when I started thinking about it, I though CEO's tend to keep the best staff on thier payroll on a salary higher that the company next door, just so that they can brag about it at the next CEO's get together, because I failed to see where was the potential really used.

In due course of time, however, I imagined that there was no hidden agenda, they keep them on payroll just because they can. They have money and they need to show off.

But as time progressed, and my wits became sharper, it dawned on me, that the only way to explain the huge inflow of money without work, into the industry, was the underworld. Yes, you heard me right. The UNDERWORLD. Black money from everywhere is being dumped into dummy companies, where they have employed engineers and give them salaries, and they pay taxes. It is one of the biggest conspiracies ever dreamt of. Everybody is involved, the media is right in the middle of it. They were the ones who made up the big hype about IT which has been created. The builders are in the nexus, they keep on building more and more IT parks everywhere across the country, and sell them at outrageous prices. The banks are ready to finance it. It is becoming the most lucrative business to convert black money into hard earned white money.

It's just bad that I am stuck here in the middle of it all. On one side is my conscience and on the other, my vanity. So I put it up here on my blog, because nobody would read it and I can say to myself that I tried my best, and since nobody would find out about it, I would get to keep my job too.

I am a Middle-Class Indian and I Can't Help Freaking Out!

Kush Tandon — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 03:21:15 EST

Sometime ago, I had written some flash fiction for Sepia Mutiny. These are 55 word-flash fiction - a small story that carries its essence in exactly 55 words.

I am bundling three of them together as a collection of 55s under the title "I am a middle-class Indian and my obsession is - I just can't help freaking out". Enjoy. Help.

Number 1 55 Flash Fiction: First, can we stop loving India ever?
Amsterdam to Delhi flight, 2001
Gurdeep: "Can I please sit next to you? Those bhai sahibs over there would not let me drink."
Me: "Where from? How often to India?"
Gurdeep: "A Canadian through political asylum. Every six months."
Me: "Shouldn't you shun India?"
Gurdeep: "Were no jobs in Punjab. Had to."
We both laughed.

Number 2 55 Flash Fiction: But only in English.
Overheard at Delhi National Airport, while waiting for a flight.
Mrs. Mehta, a top executive at McKinsey telling her daughter over the mobile phone, "Now Pinky darling listen, tell Ayah Ma (nanny), if she speaks in her Hindi again to you, we will deduct 10 rupees each time from her salary. Our house, always English."

Number 3 55 Flash Fiction: So long as I go to my own restroom (toilet) rather than one in Chandni Chowk.
June in Delhi. Sweltering heat in Chandni Chowk.
"Bhai Saheb, is there a public lavatory nearby?"
"This way, Sir. Twenty steps next to the paan shop."
"Shukriya ji."
Half running, half walking. What the hell is this? Why didn't I think when I left home?
"Scooter Rickshaw, Janpath Road, please."
"No meter. 200 Rupees."
"Yes."

Do you guys see the big picture? Nobody Home.

Movie Review: Taxi 9211: Humpty, Dumpty, Grumpy

Desi Train — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 14:29:31 EST

Clappity Clappity Slap. Nobody points fingers at Humpty. Make this mistake and your cheek goes in for a bake. Armed with a slap faster than lightening and a tongue sharper than Chappan Chooree, Mr. Humpty while driving his taxi sulks at every moving thing on Mother Earth. Life will be better in my Next birth.

Dumpty-jee on the other hand has his life slipping at bullet speed from crore-pati to sadak-pati. Courtesy dead Baap, who transfers all wealth to best friend Grumpy-jee. Reason. Son never gave Baap a puppee. Dead Baap. Dumpty cries what is my paap?

Dumpty-jee in his last chance to win back "jaeeedaad" hops into Humpty-jee's cab. Humpty can't stand Dumpty. Dumpty-jee can't stand Mr. Humpty. Slash Clash, both dash. Dumpty-jee forgets key to Riches in Humpty's taxi. Humpty lands in jail courtesy Dumpty. Both now at logger heads in Mumbai aamchi (ours). Things getting jumpy jumpy. Dumpty and girlfriend Ms. Plumpy make umpteen attempts to get the key from Humpty. But Mr. Chappan Chooree in no mood to give it back. Me so grumpy. Humpty and Dumpty -key- nahee jumtee (bad vibes).

Five Accidents, Four car chases, three visits to Police-thana, four crying scenes of Humpty-jee's wife, three fight scenes and after sixteen attempts at comedy, Humpty-Dumpty, apun dono buddy buddy. Humpty Dumpty drink scotch, get jaeeedaad, get Humpty-jee's wife back and kick out Dumpty jee's Ms. Fake Plumpy and friends who go clunky clunky.

Even though it feels like Taxi 9211 enters the forgettable street called Changing Lanes, this is Milan Luthria's best product so far. Moving at warp speed with no brakes on, Luthria seems to have atlast grasped the mode of story telling. But the taxi ride is grumpy, jumpy and bumpy. You in your seat go slumpy. Luthria ends up making a no great shakes - timepass product with Humpty and Dumpty.

Sameera Reddy is in a thankless role and gives a thankless performance. Sonali Kulkarni is earnest, while John Abraham is passable. The key to this Taxi's success lies in the pockets of the king performer, Nana Patekar. Still playing it safe in the comfortable zone of "The Eccentric Guy", we are dying to see Patekar extend himself much beyond such characters - which this powerhouse of talent is so capable of. Inspite of having played such characters many times in the past, Patekar drills into the role of Raghu Shastri and his genius is so visible in more than a dozen scenes.

Here's another actor after Kamal Hassan who can make you cry without having to say anything. Juggling comedy, tragedy and any other emotion jee with an ease that is truly a trait of a born actor, Patekar gives us another effortless performance. It is a gift which Patekar has, that turns into a disease each time he ends up playing the same character again and again. One wonders if his recurring elongated breaks from movies are because Bollywood doesn't have anything challenging to offer to him. If true, it is such a tragic waste of this genius of an actor.

B Minus. This is a timepass ride. Nothing more, nothing less.

oz is at Desi Train

Looking For Enlightenment: A Coyote Story

gypsyman — Sun, 26 Feb 2006 08:11:01 EST

At first, it had only been colours, veering in and out of unformed shapes behind his closed eyelids. More like the formless blobs left behind when your eyes have been momentarily blinded by a camera's flash attachment than anything else, he thought. But those were just the opening salvos to the main event.

He had climbed up to this cave in the hills two days ago, and started the fast yesterday morning. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen, all he knew was that he was hoping to find some sort of enlightenment; a revelation that could help him make a new beginning.

Over twenty-four hours without food and water had left him dry mouthed and light headed. Perhaps he shouldn't have had MacDonald's as his last meal before going on a spiritual quest, but this had been a spur of the moment decision which had found him pointing his car our of the city towards the wilderness on the day his world fell apart.

He had gone to work as usual in the morning, only to find padlocks on the front doors of his employer's building. It turned out all their assets had been seized during the night pending an investigation into their bookkeeping practices. After a few phone calls on his cell phone assured him that the situation was completely unredeemable, he decided to head for home.

He probably would have found out soon enough, one way or another, but walking in on her with someone else between her legs wasn't the best way to find out she wasn't happy with their situation anymore. Not wanting to disturb them, he left the apartment without doing more than ensuring the windows were sealed, the gas stove was on, and a candle was burning in the kitchen.

He was rewarded by hearing a very satisfyingly loud boom from two blocks away as he drove off in her Hummer. She couldn't complain about him not making the earth move for her anymore, now, could she?

All in all, though, things hadn't boded well for the future at that moment. He was out of work, single, and homeless all in less then half a day's time. If things didn't change soon, this downward spiral could continue and who knows where he'd end up.

He needed to make some changes in his life, that much was obvious. The first thing to do was to change his perspective of his situation. That's what the self - help guru they had gone to see a few months back had said: "Look on every loss as a new beginning, and it becomes a positive instead of a negative." In fact he'd used a scenario similar to Steven's own that very night.

Steven allowed himself a slight smirk at the thought of wondering what Mr. Self-Help would make of starting over from a couple of pounds of ground round. It had only taken a moment to recognise whose jacket had been tossed carelessly on the floor of what had been their bedroom. Look on that as a new beginning asshole.

But the fresh start thing was good thinking. The thing was how to go about it. You could always go out and get a new job and a new woman; they were all a dime a dozen these days. But that didn't sound like it would be enough this time.

This was the not the first time his embezzling had caused problems for his employers, or that he'd lost a woman to another man. However, the situations were getting out of hand in the ways in which they were resolved this time. He needed more of a solution than just moving on to a variation of the same old thing.

There had been this book she had been trying to get him to read, just after they had been to see the self-help-himself-to-my-woman guy. It was all about shaman and dusty old guys like that who had gone into different states of consciousness to help them gain insight into themselves and understanding.

He had picked up the book, if only to keep her happy, and skimmed it quickly. It was all about how most of humanity's religions and belief systems were born out of people entering trance like states either through drugs or fasting. Some shit about obtaining a higher state of awareness allowing them to travel to different spiritual planes of existence and making discoveries.

Well, he knew some guys who had obtained higher states of "awareness" some years back, and they weren't about to see the outside of the psych ward for the rest of their lives. Anyways, he had said, there are enough religions in the world now screwing things up, as it is, why would we want anymore of them.

She had given him a look, like he was being an especially large asshole or something, and said that wasn't the point. The point was that people weren't willing to look inside themselves anymore and discover their own personal truths. The ones that could free them from the ruts they were in and allow them to discover what they were meant to be doing.

Well there was no denying he was in a rut right now. Seeing as the only copy of the book he knew of was probably in no condition to be read again, and he wasn't quite sure what was recommended to help induce a trance-like state except fasting and drugs (stupid book hadn't even mentioned anything some tea you could only get in Brazil of all places), he figured he shouldn't take any chances.

He stopped by a local spot he had been able to score at before, and picked up a bag of weed, a gram of coke, some M.D.A., and a couple of grams of magic mushrooms. After smoking a fat one with the dealer, he got incurable munchies. Hence, the stop at Macdonald's on the way out of town.

He figured he'd hold off on the coke until he needed the extra spurt of energy to get back into town after the fasting, keep the M.D.A. in reserve (he had no idea how clean it was after all) and just focus on chewing up some mushrooms after a day of fasting. He had remembered the cave from a previous trip to the mountains when he had been younger and he and a couple of buddies had sheltered there from a nasty rainstorm that had surprised them.

It had actually been kind of cool sitting there in the cave mouth, watching the lighting, and listening to the muffled sound of thunder from inside the mountain. It had been pitch black in the cave, and the dim light of the storm hadn't offered much illumination. He could still see how odd their faces had looked when lit by the occasional flashes of lightning. Disembodied pale balloons floating in darkness was how he had thought of them at the time.

So now here he was, sitting in pretty much the same space, and bored out of his mind. He had taken the mushrooms over an hour ago and all he was still getting were the colours. Damn if things didn't pick up soon he'd snort half the coke, which should be enough to get him back to a hotel where he could order room service and sleep this off.

"What were you expecting, visions or something," said a voice in his head. "You've only been out here a day that doesn't count for anything in these matters. You've usually got to give it three, maybe four days before anything happens, and then it's usually so obscure that it won't make any sense for years anyway."

Steven snapped his eyes wide open and looked around the cave. His pupils were dilated enough that even in the dim light he was able to make out shapes that he hadn't on his last trip here, but that didn't help him locate the source of the voice. He shook his head and was about to close his eyes again when the voice said:

"Oh I'm for real alright shithead, but I don't feel like letting you see me just yet. I've been watching you for the last day, and wondering what you've been doing in my cave. Most people only stop in for a few hours at most, a quick shag, or for shelter from rain, and that's about it."

"But you've been here more than a day already and so naturally my curiosity is sparked. What you doing in my cave asshole? If you're meeting someone you can probably assume they've stood you up by now." There was a slight pause in which Steven had the distinct impression the voice was taking a closer look at him.

"Holy crap, what are you on? Look at the size of your eyeballs; they're like black boulders. You look like someone who's never seen the light of day." There was another pause. "Oh crap, you really are here on some sort of quest for eternal meaning, or some such shit aren't you?"

The voice sounded really pissed off now, as if that compounded some crime that Steven was unaware of even committing in the first place. For some reason Steven felt a little embarrassed, it could have been the scepticism that underlay the anger, but that didn't stop him form admitting that's what he was doing.

"Well I hope you don't think you're going to come up with some new religion or something stupid like that. Everybody seems to think that wandering around in the desert or climbing a mountain to sit in a cave gives them the right to be a spiritual leader of some sort or another."

"I've got a cousin in the Middle East and he said a few years back, oh a couple a thousand or so, you couldn't go for a walk in the desert without running into some fool idiot wandering around babbling to himself. Heat crazed and dehydrated. After a while he got so sick of them he began to mess with them."

"There was this one guy, it makes me laugh every time I think about it, really emaciated, must have been out there for close to thirty days, judging by how skinny and flat out bug-eyed crazy he was. Anyway, this guy was muttering about some Satan dude under his breath. Was getting himself into quite a state over how he was the root of all evil and had to be resisted at all costs."

"Now, my cousin had never heard of any Satan character before, but decided it would be a hoot to pretend he was him. So keeping himself invisible he sidles up to this guy and says howdy. Did he jump, must have been almost ten feet straight up in the air."

"The next thing you know he's flailing all about him with this staff he's carrying, damned near brained my cousin with it, and frothing at the mouth. Than he's standing there, rocking back and forth, praying is what my cousin figured he was doing, with his eyes closed. Every so often he open his eyes a crack and peaks around to see if anybody's there, and he'll shout out things like 'Get thee behind me Satan' or some such shit."

"Now my cousin is genuinely worried about the guy, thinks he might be going off the deep end from no water and lack of food. So he figures the least he can do is offer him something cold to drink, and maybe a bite to eat; make up for the fright he gave him and all. But he figures the guy must have been really toasted by the sun, because he kept screaming out about temptation and evil, flailing about with that damned staff of his all over the place. Invisibility doesn't prevent you from getting your skull split open by a deranged loony if he manages to connect."

"Then there was also another guy who thought he was talking to his god because of a brush fire that my niece caused one day on a mountaintop. She always was a little careless with fire, bit of a pyromaniac if you ask me, but she's my sister's daughter, so what are you going to do? She ended up covering by telling the guy to chill, made up some nice things for him to believe in, and he went away happy."

"So I've got to wonder about anybody who parks themselves out in the middle of nowhere. Are they in it for fame, fortune and fanaticism, or are they just plain nuts? That of course brings us back to you again, and the question of why you are here. If I remember correctly, the answer was "enlightenment". Is that right?"

Steven could only nod his head yes in agreement. He wasn't sure if an invisible voice could see nods, but he was also pretty sure he couldn't talk right now even if he wanted to. He hadn't really known what to expect, but he was sure this sort of experience wasn't what everybody had in mind when they talked about finding a new level of personal awareness. All he had wanted was a few hints about how to get his life back on track and to figure out a way of things not always ending up having to start over.

"Well you could start by not being such a self-centred, selfish prick. Ditch the paranoia as well; if you didn't think everybody is out to get you than maybe you wouldn't be out to get them first. I'd also not get addicted to bumping off people you have personal issues with. It ends up getting messy, and you might get caught. You'll probably get away with it this time, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"Oh what are you acting so surprised about? If I'm a hallucination of some sort or another then I'm coming from your brain and subconscience, and deep down you know what a piece of shit you are, even if you're not willing to admit it out loud. If I'm really the voice of some otherworldly presence than I'm going to be able to read your thoughts anyway. So, actually, it's immaterial whether I'm real or not, because either way it's all true."

"Quite frankly if I were you I'd just take a running jump out of this cave and hope to splatter myself all over the mountain side, but since I'm not, that decision is up to you. In fact, here's my big piece of advice for you, asshole; you might want to write this down. It's important. No? All right then."

"Everything is your decision and you always have a choice no matter what the circumstances. Take responsibility for your choices and you will live a good and happy life. Blame everybody else for your problems and you become the messed up dipstick that you are today."

Steven had been staring open-mouthed into space the whole time the voice was speaking. When it got to the point of jumping off the cliff, he started to get himself ready to leave. He'd snort some lines off the dashboard of the Hummer, and find that hotel room. Than he'd hunt down the jerk that sold him the mushrooms, and give him shit for this bum trip they had caused.

He was so busy thinking about that, he barely noticed the voice was done. He had completely missed the last few words said to him, but he figured they made as little sense as everything else that had happened since he got here. Saying goodbye loudly to the voice, he bolted for the cave entrance where he tripped over a bump in the floor he hadn't noticed before.

His balance was off from not eating and drugs and that probably explained why he couldn't regain his footing before he tumbled over the side of the cliff that the cave faced out onto. The lump in the floor stood up on its four legs and padded to the cave entrance and to the edge. A familiar voice, at least to Steven's ears if he were still listening, came out of the very canine shaped muzzle.

"Stupid humans never listen, haven't in thousands of years, and aren't about to start now I guess. Oh well! Not my problem!"
(Anthropologists now believe that most major human belief systems came about when people have been in a trance-like state, most likely induced by the hallucinogenic psilocybin.)