Every so often, I get mad at the way things are in this world. Very mad. For not turning green when I approach, for starting off the Konkani songs segment at the exact instant I enter my car. For cutting… the point I want to make is that when I am angry, I am even less coherent than I am usually. I rave, I rant, I scream, I yell (Shut Up! I know yell and scream mean the same thing.) and make full use of my considerable vocabulary of homemade eight letter portmanteaus. I stay away from the computer in such moods, for this is clearly not something you want to read on a blog. Unless you are into that sort of thing, in which case I suggest you cut me off when I am driving to work tomorrow.
But some people, they thrive on anger. Like DoZ here, starting off with an innocent sounding sentence that normal angry human beings might use,
We’re a society under siege, at the mercy of tykes & teens. Every where you turn, you’re confronted by yet another instance of someone bending over backwards to cater to children.
and then proceeding to wax poetic on Lembas Bread, Capote, and (hold your breath) UN statistics. Damn. Also some mention about a character called James Bond that was in the recent Halle Berry flick, Die Another Day … wait a minute, that was another post. Not the same amount of anger, but just as cool.
Gayathri meanwhile points us to people that make money for ranting in this neat review. Shashi Tharoor, who has declined considerably since The Great Indian Novel apparently collected his choicest rants and published them in a book called Bookless in Baghdad. And Gayathri paid money (I presume) to read this. Interesting. I think I have a fair idea of who’ll cut me off tomorrow.