Posts Tagged ‘entertainment’

It was widely known that HIV and Condom harboured acrimonious feelings towards each other. Not the best of mates, their meetings were laced with acerbic exchanges. Condom smirked, while HIV fleered, waiting for an opportune moment to sneak in and catch the HIV guard, off-guard.

One fine night, they had an intercourse, during the course of an intercourse, in a narrow dark alley, where the sun didn’t shine. Almost immediately, emotions ran high and they got embroiled in fact-slinging, each trying to trump the other.

The Overstated AIDS ‘problem’

HIV began with a flourish.

His patience wore thin for vested interests deriving livelihoods from propagandizing a sense of doomsday. He felt that too much attention was being heaped on his quiet existence. The AIDS ‘problem’ was a hyperbole. An effective scare-mongering propaganda designed by health professionals to secure their futures, by capitalizing on man’s disinclination to invert, for a true picture of reality. With millions and experts working in tandem to schedule his meeting with the Dodo, HIV had valid reasons for embitterment.

HIV flung numbers. Earthwide death run-rate was 56 million per year. HIV/AIDS made up 1.8 million of this pie, a fat 3%. 35 million were affected across the world with AIDS, a paltry 0.5% of global population. What was his crime rate? 5% (death by AIDS / affected AIDS population).

More people smoked and drowned in tobacco and alcohol every year. Which, in turn, was overshadowed by humans falling prey to heart diseases, stroke and diabetes.

AIDS problem?

HIV was particularly spiteful of the developed world. He alleged that having enjoyed the consequences of unbridled procreation for centuries, the developed world now attempted to dissuade the developing world from following suit (barring a few veterans, many of whom were in early stages of population pollution). His biggest growth markets were imperilled. AIDS combatants were quick to point out that continued investments in prevention was a prerequisite to holding him down.

Plausible (non)sense. He also took a moment to revile Condom, who was fast becoming a thorn in his flesh.

Copulation-Population Condomdrum

Condom didn’t appreciate being condomned. He countered that HIV had nothing to fear from him. As HIV recoiled in surprise at this unforeseen statement, Condom recounted some numbers.

Globally, around 15 billion of his ilk were born annually. The Earth’s population was 7 billion. Assuming a 1:1 gender ratio, men numbered 3.5 billion. A chunk of the 3.5 billion male population would be kids. Condom estimated that ~1 billion would be below the Copulation Limit (65 million new males born every year x 15 years; he assumed procreation probability to increase meaningfully post the age of 15).

That was 6 Condoms per man, per year.

Eager researchers had discovered that a man indulged in rumpy pumpy about 104 times, on average, a year; about twice a week. Condom found that hard to believe but continued anyway. He rounded that down to 100 times a year.

Per man, per year: rumpy pumpy = 100, Condoms = 6. Assuming his success rate at protection was 100% (punnily, a stretch), that left a near 95% chance for (un)happy additions to the Earth’s population bill and for HIV to live peacefully.

Turning to the future-human-bearers: 100 million women around the world used oral contraceptives, 3% of the world’s female population.

He was no threat to HIV’s continued existence.

HIV pretended to be lost in contemplation. Experiencing a change of mood, he assumed a pastorly tone.

With business-like efficiency, socialists/capitalists/altruists/humanitarians in the pro-population control brigade (pharmaceutical companies, condom manufacturers, NGOs, WHO, HELL, WHY…) used the above to highlight the ‘grave problem’ facing the world in their demands for continued funding.

Until medical science played spoil sport, the odds heavily favoured him outliving humans. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing. He had naively thought that deterrents to population pollution would be welcomed. Ironically, humans welcomed photosynthesis-loving trees that swapped CO2 for O2 but abhorred AIDS that promised to ensure an increase in per-capita O2 availability through reduction in headcount!

Condom, meanwhile,  had wriggled out of a sticky situation, successfully.

Disclaimer: This blog is intended for an audience that enjoys a satrical bent to reality. It is not meant to influence opinions or further either pro- or anti-social rhetoric. Sharers bear the risk of misinterpretation when quoting out of context or by mismatching audience and content. Numbers are cited from official sources and not the figment of my imagination. 

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Several centuries of being in a state of war with one another exacted a massive toll on old foes, Democracy, Communism, Anarchism and Monarchy. Strong-headed, each found it impossible to share any podium which involved the other(s). Ravaged by savage battles, they decided that their historical alienation needed a rethink. A secret meeting was arranged in a labyrinthine underground facility at an unknown location.

Monarchy took his place in an exaggerated throne specially designed for him. Anarchism was, unfortunately, seated next to him. This caused him immediate distress.

Democracy sneakily attempted to take credit for initiating the idea. That he had managed to bring thick foes to the coffee table was testimony to his modus operandi. Before airing his views on reconciliation, he pretended to request others to break wind by airing their…views. His eyes would be open but he couldn’t vouch for his hearing mechanisms, and most importantly, his mental faculties. Choosing prudence, he decided against sharing his true thoughts, preferring instead to reflect the view of the consensus.

Anarchism, in a signature display of personality, spilled his coffee on the table, ruining Monarchy’s fine linen apparel.

Communism remonstrated. Uncomfortably jittery at Democracy’s perceived first strike, he wondered what transpired to put him on a coffee table with folks he couldn’t see eye to eye with. He couldn’t entertain the possibility that Democracy was perhaps, as was his wont, overestimating reality. Making a mental note to suitably exterminate the Comrade responsible for this transgression, Communism launched into a splendid account of his many virtues.

The proletariat were the Chosen Ones. They were the all-pervading force that held a civilization together. No government, no ruler was the road to a good life. Anarchism beamed while Monarchy fumed at this reference.

Monarchy suggested that while Communism’s speech was eloquently pleasing, behind his goodwill façade, the cousins Feudalism and Fascism lurked stealthily. Communism interpreted this as a suggestion of hypocrisy and, unsurprisingly, Reddened. He quickly reminded Monarchy that nobody cared about his opinions anyway. Monarchy grumbled and held his chin high, even as no one paid homage.

Democracy, true to his character, had no opinion of his own. Opting to reflect the view of the consensus, he did or said little.

Anarchism broke his coffee mug.

Communism continued. He stood for everything ‘less’ and enlisted stateless, moneyless, faceless and classless as his most endearing accomplishments. Also clueless, soulless and perhaps senseless, thought Democracy. He, of course, didn’t share his true thoughts, choosing instead to express fake smiles of approval. Communism pretended to ignore him but developed Cold feelings nonetheless.

Unhappy with the level of orderliness, Anarchism broke one of his chair’s legs.

Meritocracy made a surprise appearance. Training his guns on Communism, Meritocracy said Communism was like a school teacher. When an exam was held and the kids graded, Communism abhorred the A’s and in a swipe of a pen, equalised everybody. The entire class was graded a C and lo! there was equality, a classless society. It didn’t take many exams for the entire class to be F-ed, quite literally. This is what Communism engendered.

Communism made another mental note to teach Meritocracy a lesson and wondered who had sneaked Meritocracy in. He suspected Capitalism but decided to maintain a poker-face.

In reality, nobody harboured affections for Meritocracy. It was left to Democracy to usher him out. He did so, citing popular will. Meritocracy scowled that Democracy was the spokesperson of the uninformed. At this point, Ignorance, Democracy’s trusted Man Friday, was pressed into service and he duly muscled Meritocracy out of the room, permanently.

Monarchy seemed clueless and sleepy, even though he was high on coffee.

Anarchism broke the table, demanding air time. Noticing that no one listened, he borrowed Monarchy’s sword, against the latter’s wishes, and slew him with an almighty swipe.

Pandemonium broke out at this juncture.

Democracy tried to control the rapidly agitating mob by insisting on a popular vote before killings could commence. Anarchy punched him in the face. Communism belched and conveyed that WMDs were installed around the facility, as a pre-emptive measure.

Democracy’s unused brains went numb. As the spokesperson of the uninformed and the will of the majority, he stayed rooted to his position, hoping that someone would force him into action. When none was forthcoming, he attempted story-telling, threatening Communism that nukes would be met with nukes, should push come to shove. Communism backed off at this threat but stayed Cold. Both stood geared for combat, but preferred manufactured menace to actual warfare.

Anarchism, meanwhile, radioed his trusted lieutenant, Arson. Sensing a great opportunity to leave an indelible mark on the meet, Arson flattened the room before proceeding to kick Democracy’s underbelly. As Democracy crumbled to the floor, Communism was overcome with laughter. Arson turned towards Communism and mistaking the guffaws for personal slander, torched him alive.

As Communism succumbed to the invitations of Death, Democracy was relieved.

The will of the majority had triumphed, or so Democracy thought. As he attempted standing up on his feet, Arson whacked his head with a sledgehammer.

Democracy went limp and his non-functioning brains forsook him, leaving him in a permanent state of uselessness.

Arson was a suicidal fellow, given to self-destruction. Delirium stoked suicidal tendencies and he eventually perished to self-immolation, but not before taking Anarchism with him.

None of the Political Systems survived.

With the passage of time, Man’s lexical arsenal lost much of its potency. New-age WMDs (Words of Mass Destruction) were born.

Wallowing in the characterless netherworld, the WMDs gradually, like parasites, gnawed away at the healthy body of English Words. Impressively camouflaged and true to their characterless character, these Immortals successfully consummated a coup d’etat, toppling the ruling Lexicon.

The takeover complete, conversational vocabulary was reduced to a handful of words; which in turn, were degenerate derivatives of a once-beautiful wor(l)d. Word processors running Word counts in this new-age world seemed to have developed a particularly close relationship with two of these WMDs – Like and Whatever.

Rabidly misused and liberally misplaced, verbally challenged folks discovered in these gladiators a cure-all to their social troubles. Like, how they were loved! Users discovered to their immense relief that Like and Whatever served as great fillers when lines of thought ended abruptly, as they did often. Apart from their filler attributes, they became constant companions in social interactions. Anything that terminated emptiness was extended a warm welcome. On this measure, Like and Whatever enjoyed unrivalled attention.

Like, which was initially used to carry out comparisons, soon gained independence. It was mostly seen in the company of ‘you know’; like, ‘you know like?’ A question, invariably unnecessary, often unleashed to emphasize the obviousness of an idea, with a secondary objective of conveying the speaker’s erudition and a tertiary objective of reminding the listener of their stupidity.

Due to its sheer utility in standing in for incoherent thoughts and as a tool that accentuated one’s social standing, Whatever was particularly favoured. While Like was demography-neutral, Whatever was in vogue among the teenage universe. Cool Quotient and peer acceptance were directly linked to the (over)usage of Whatever. Whatever soon obliterated Period as the universally accepted indicator of terminated sentences. Over time, this virtue found believers in the community of the Seasoned, who, like, quite liked the idea of replacing Like with Whatever. Those that Liked poking fun at this recent development were Whatevered into oblivion.

However, beneath the countenance of peaceful coexistence, faint rumblings were heard by a few. Not all seemed well.

Like, due solely to his longer existence in lexical history, never liked being likened to Whatever. Whatever could be done to trump Whatever had to be done, like, urgently, Like thought. Digging deep into his vast warehouse of parasitic skills, Like concluded that the surest way to gain supremacy lay in fully decimating half-decimated thought processes.

As vices were most easily planted in formative years, Like began his assault on the teenage community. Like was overjoyed when he encountered little resistance in carrying out his intended objective. Initial victories came easily as Like discovered the torch-bearers of tomorrow drowning in an overdose of profoundly meaningless TV. Smartphones lent Like a helping hand, by carrying out an admirable job of eliminating smarts. The assault was so successful that Like found his way into swear-lexicon. ‘Crap! I’m Liked!’, soon replaced the aboriginal F-man. Simultaneously, Like tied up with Facebook and WordPress to trademark a button bearing his name. The move proved to be a stroke of genius.

While this was under-way, Whatever remained in his state of rest, furiously repeating his name, when well-wishers warned him of Like’s assault. Whatever’s well-wishers brought to his notice that his most lucrative Top 3 markets globally – cities in USA – were also cities where Like was most prominent. They encouraged worldwide geographic diversification. Whatever responded with a yawn-y,

Whatever

Like’s assault led to Whatever being marginalised into the Appendix. A highly methodical chap, Like rubbed salt into Whatever’s wounds by presenting a Google Trends chart, tracing their relative progress over time.

Whatever only managed a whimper, ‘Like, Whatever.

Sometime in the latter half of the 21st century, the process of achieving equality came to fruition. Fornicating bipeds gifted with an offspring (intended or otherwise) universally named the newborns, LOL.

LOL had an interesting history. Its exact date of origin unknown, it emerged from obscurity in the late 20th century, first through the medium of Short Message Service, then made famous by Chat and finally immortalised by Social Networking. The world went through some rather drastic changes but LOL managed to retain its identity.

LOL was initially mostly seen among the teenage community, who LOL-ed more than they actually smiled in the real world. The activity gradually caught on with folks of the seasoned age-group who, tired of smiling – often needlessly in social gatherings – found in LOL a trustworthy friend. Rather than attend social outings that called into service the lazy Smile, they chose staying home and LOL-ing. They also discovered that LOL substituted HA HA HAAAA perfectly. It was not only easier to write, it also kept emotions brief and controlled.  

Some were amused at the oddity of the situation. One group – the youngsters – who hadn’t learned how to smile, embraced the convenience offered by LOL; while another group – the seasoneds – who had learned how to smile, also embraced LOL’s company.

Cut to the late 21st century.

LOLs went to school, armed with hi-tech gadgets that automatically started everything with a perfunctory LOL. The teacher, also a LOL, LOL-ed so much that student LOLs came to associate LOL-ing with meaninglessness. Not many managed a LOL when they realised that they LOL-ed all the time too.

Tired of the sameness, a few eager LOLs attempted differentiation. The earliest adopters of the change in nomenclature opted for LMAO. Many noticed that though the LMAOs laughed off a lot, their derriers stayed put in their original positions. Ashamed at losing face on failing to deliver on their claims, a few disgruntled LMAOs changed names to conceal identity.

LMFAO came into being.

Keen to differentiate themselves from the LMAOs and LOLs, the LMFAOs took pride in extreme displays of laughter. They stood for extremities in life, some claimed. Even mundane conversational exchanges were LMFAO-ed, often unnecessarily.

A few in this gang decided to further push the limits of extreme displays of happiness. They would be paragons of delirium. With this in mind, they rechristened themselves LMMFAO. This process accelerated so rapidly that the last recorded group named themselves,  LMFFFMFFFMFFFMFFMMMMMMMMMMFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOO.

Few could keep count of the number of derriers that were f****d and laughed off.

While this was under-way, an alien group made a sudden appearance from nowhere – ROFL. Not taking too kindly to this uninvited intrusion, the L-s huddled and prepared for battle. On an auspicious day and with a LOLmighty battle-cry, the L-brigade swooped down on ROFL. To counter the charge of the LOLs, LMAOs, LMFAOs and other extremist terrors, the ROFLs rolled over laughing at every possible opportunity. The LMFAOs found the ROFLs quite distracting, especially when they tried LMFAO-ing, even when no L was forthcoming. Fortunes swung greatly but a combined and Herculean charge from the planet of the LOLs managed to quell the assault of the ROFLs…

…who quickly found much-needed reinforcements arriving, in the form of the ROTFL and the ROTFFL.

Things got ugly at this stage as the F-ing battle left many wounded, disfigured and dead, some permanently.

After much bloodshed, a reluctant Ceasefire was called for and new ways of synergistic collaborations were explored, including marital associations. The offspring of this new cross-breed were named, ROTFFLMFAO.

A few veterans couldn’t bear to see this sorry state of affairs, and renamed themselves.

FML