Even the bitterest of skeptics and cynics would have to concede that our country runs a full-fledged democracy and that people do have quite a say in what’s going on. Even if we are screwing up the country, at least we will have the satisfaction of doing it in our own royal way. There are a lot of people ranting that we are miserable because we have funny outdated laws and say we should model our laws on more successful countries. It would be fare to say that it may not always work out. For instance, Hong Kong permits a woman to kill an adulterous husband; only if she does so with her bare hands. Switzerland law says that it is illegal to flush a toilet after 10 p.m or recite poetry while skiing down a mountain. And in relevant ironic sense, South Korea has a law which says that a policeman taking a bribe should report it to his higher authorities. This and a lot more has led me to believe that other countries are no angels themselves. Some of them are doing better, but it’s alright, we are not doing too bad ourselves. Which is why, it lead me to wonder how the recent headline grabber Anna Hazare would have fared had he fought for his cause elsewhere.
If it happened in Pakistan, fasting wouldn’t be as melodramatic an anti-establishment gesture, mostly because the establishment itself is fasting in the month of August. In the case of Pakistan, ironically the establishment itself seems to be anti-establishment. It would probably take Anna days to figure out which side he’s on and which side he’s protesting against.
If it happened in the Netherlands, a lot of people would gather in its capital, Amsterdam to voice out against the government. Some time into the protest and every one would realize that the parliament is actually located in Hague. A tour of the city and Anna would figure how hard it is to change the law, especially when it doesn’t exist.
If it happened in America, corporations would be the first to notice that a large mass of people have aggregated upon a common area, and the advertisers would be the first to arrive to convince people to spend money they don't have on stuff that they don't need. McDonald's would have a stall at every corner, even if it was a circular ground. In a matter of time, the fashion people would arrive and have Anna sticking his underwear out his low-waists and twitter would start referring to him as that 'dude who lost 8 kilos in 12 days'. Before you know it, the fasting ground has become a carnival and the papers would have managed to get a snap of a drunk-out-of-his-mind Anna in a Latex suit enjoying a 69 position with a dubious looking woman. Of course in the mean time, America would have waged war against Libya in a bid to eradicate corruption.
If it happened in Libya, American soldiers would carpet bomb over Anna’s rally, as part of their ongoing corruption eradication process.
If it happened in Somalia, the government and the people together would be fasting against the pirates. Well, in their case, it would hold true that if you don’t have food to eat; the smartest thing to do is fast.
If it happened in China, the newspapers would report the following day, that peaceful negotiations had occurred between Anna and the government, and that corruption was eradicated from the face of China. Nobody would notice that the lions in the zoo behind the parliament are expressing discontent because their meal is 74 years stale.
If it happened in France, where people strike because their neighbour’s wife has put on a few kilos, Anna would start a fast, and someone else would start a fast against Anna’s fast. Anna would be forced to fast against this fast, and strike three. He’s out!
If it happened in Italy, it might work well for Anna, because he’s not particularly known to be a good speaker. This works for him because Italians communicate like mutes using hand gestures. In any case, the ‘Prime Meenisthera, is busya having the sexa with the meessthressa’.
If it happened in Zimbabwe, Anna would be promised that black money worth a billion dollars would be brought back. They of course, would mean Zimbabwean dollars.
If it happened in Lebanon, the government would immediately resign and Anna would be declared the of head the country. The people who resigned would then take it up upon them to continue Anna’s protest. Anna would then have to resign.And so on..
If it happens in Russia, the government would wait for winter to set in, and Anna, learning from Germany’s bad history in the region would have to go back home on his own accord.
If it happens in Iraq, Anna’s fast would soon trigger a civil war. But erudite scholars would be the first one to confess that a civil war is an improvement over existing conditions.
We on the other hand, have taken the luxury to convince ourselves that putting the politician behind bars will solve all our problems. It would be well advised to remember that although democracy is a government of the people, by the people and for the people, Oscar Wilde put it well by saying it may also be a bludgeoning of the people, by the people and for the people.
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humour. Show all posts
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
All about Humour
To analyze what is funny about a cat's repeated failed attempts to eat a loveable wily mouse is tantamount to finding out what cyanide tastes like; both end up killing the purpose. That the classic cat and mouse would probably invoke laughs among a 6 year old gunman in Somalia and the 70 year old obese American he holds under the gun alike is a testament to its broad quality of humour. Humour has probably existed across all times, more so during times that were bleak and grim, than when they were hale and hearty. It therefore seems plausible that the torrid times of bubonic plague stemmed an array of the now popular 'doctor' jokes. That contrary to maxims, laughter wasn't the best medicine is a different story. The times of yore have also managed to deliver some solid mass jokes, published widely under names like the Bible, Gita and the Koran.
Come modern times, and nothing yet is funnier than humour. At least, by definition. It certainly is more personal these days, and returning an insult by someone you detest with a kickass comeback will certainly give you greater pleasure than hammering his head multiple times against an unbreakable wall. Comebacks, although spontaneous, actually mask long hours of practice spent in abusing insults at friends in friendly gesture. Witty insults is a skill, and when delivered with a genteel yet caustic disposition will be met with cries of both, "Nice one' and 'You son of a bitch', both of which are to be treated as complements to a comeback well handed out. Unfortunately, comebacks flash to most people only a good forty five minutes after the insult.
Then there’s college humour, a time when one learns to make and take humour more than the course at hand. Humour in college takes its nastiest, most unfettered form, where even pushing an old woman off the stairs would pass off as funny, and would probably be funnier if she lands on the floor biting her tongue. In the outside world, humour becomes heavily discreet; especially at the office and telling your manager 'I can't believe I was late for work tomorrow' will only invite a long face and even longer hours. Puns and jabs are suddenly met with glares and frowns.
To make pun, fun and jest, one just needs to acclimatize and find context and timing. For example, jokes about armpits and transvestite sex invoke the most laughs among Mallus. In case such humour is to be used elsewhere, a simple change in enunciation can do wonders, pronounce the words armbitz and tranzveztite in typical Mallu fashion instead when delivering the joke, thus subverting the disgust away from you onto the Mallu sect.
One more trick to making good humour is keeping your praises in check. Praising a celebrity could cause unforeseeable damage to humour potential. A case in mind, when Dhoni won the world cup, anyone who voiced out euphorically in applause will regret that he has lost some serious potential for humour in current times. An ardent follower of Amy Winehouse will never be able make puns such as 'They don't serve spirits in the afterlife' and will feel having lost out on good humour material.
In most cases, a joke begins to lose its humour with time and relevance. The exceptions to this are very rare, and those ones are pure Gold. For example, if you’re 20 and a heavily intoxicated friend, slips on a banana peel and falls face down into a dustbin, you'd probably be in splits laughing. But gold would be when you turn 60 and watch a video of this happening. Humour probably escalates and transcends if it also makes you reminisce.
A great easy access to a huge repository of humour is a nation's politics. America is probably currently hurting in this regard. The humorists reveled when Bush was in charge. A simple stating of Bush facts was enough to get a decent share of laughs. Then Obama took over, he was smart, himself witty and most hazardously a black. And it became tricky for Americans to jest about the top man in the office, simply because black humour is faux pas. It seems plausible that people across the country, not publically, but in cohorts are having a crack or two on their first Black President.
Death is a tempting mistress to churn humour from but may be fatal to the purpose. Attempting puns is a cheaper, easier way to conjure humour, similar to my attempt in the previous sentence. But when you pun, make sure you never explicitly mention you made a pun, like I did in the previous sentence. To maneuver yourself out of a series of bad jokes, making jokes about your previous sentence is an admittance of surrender. Ok. I raise my white flag.
In case of a conundrum of a desperate need of humour and nothing to work with, fret not and look not too far. If you haven't realized the source of you as a subject of humour, you suffer from a serious lack of sense of humour. Allow yourself all the liberties, downgrade you, the protagonist in all possible angles, and a few laughs are a cake walk. Picture yourself as a short, stocky, bald, unemployed, bisexual, perverted man, and you have the entire world of jokes at your disposal. If you find it hard to laugh at yourself, allow yourself the pleasure of seeing the person you're taking to as fat,sloppy and perverted and make merry mockery.
Charlie Chaplin once said that all he needed to make comedy was a park, a policeman and a pretty girl. Humour exists almost everywhere, good humour does not. A sense of humour is even more tenuously so. I'd like to think that if one learns to find humour in traffic, weight and office, rarely will you have a day without mirth and laughter. A crowning achievement to an illustrious life of humour would probably be if at your funeral, somebody in their eulogy says "I'll miss that funny son of a gun".
Come modern times, and nothing yet is funnier than humour. At least, by definition. It certainly is more personal these days, and returning an insult by someone you detest with a kickass comeback will certainly give you greater pleasure than hammering his head multiple times against an unbreakable wall. Comebacks, although spontaneous, actually mask long hours of practice spent in abusing insults at friends in friendly gesture. Witty insults is a skill, and when delivered with a genteel yet caustic disposition will be met with cries of both, "Nice one' and 'You son of a bitch', both of which are to be treated as complements to a comeback well handed out. Unfortunately, comebacks flash to most people only a good forty five minutes after the insult.
Then there’s college humour, a time when one learns to make and take humour more than the course at hand. Humour in college takes its nastiest, most unfettered form, where even pushing an old woman off the stairs would pass off as funny, and would probably be funnier if she lands on the floor biting her tongue. In the outside world, humour becomes heavily discreet; especially at the office and telling your manager 'I can't believe I was late for work tomorrow' will only invite a long face and even longer hours. Puns and jabs are suddenly met with glares and frowns.
To make pun, fun and jest, one just needs to acclimatize and find context and timing. For example, jokes about armpits and transvestite sex invoke the most laughs among Mallus. In case such humour is to be used elsewhere, a simple change in enunciation can do wonders, pronounce the words armbitz and tranzveztite in typical Mallu fashion instead when delivering the joke, thus subverting the disgust away from you onto the Mallu sect.
One more trick to making good humour is keeping your praises in check. Praising a celebrity could cause unforeseeable damage to humour potential. A case in mind, when Dhoni won the world cup, anyone who voiced out euphorically in applause will regret that he has lost some serious potential for humour in current times. An ardent follower of Amy Winehouse will never be able make puns such as 'They don't serve spirits in the afterlife' and will feel having lost out on good humour material.
In most cases, a joke begins to lose its humour with time and relevance. The exceptions to this are very rare, and those ones are pure Gold. For example, if you’re 20 and a heavily intoxicated friend, slips on a banana peel and falls face down into a dustbin, you'd probably be in splits laughing. But gold would be when you turn 60 and watch a video of this happening. Humour probably escalates and transcends if it also makes you reminisce.
A great easy access to a huge repository of humour is a nation's politics. America is probably currently hurting in this regard. The humorists reveled when Bush was in charge. A simple stating of Bush facts was enough to get a decent share of laughs. Then Obama took over, he was smart, himself witty and most hazardously a black. And it became tricky for Americans to jest about the top man in the office, simply because black humour is faux pas. It seems plausible that people across the country, not publically, but in cohorts are having a crack or two on their first Black President.
Death is a tempting mistress to churn humour from but may be fatal to the purpose. Attempting puns is a cheaper, easier way to conjure humour, similar to my attempt in the previous sentence. But when you pun, make sure you never explicitly mention you made a pun, like I did in the previous sentence. To maneuver yourself out of a series of bad jokes, making jokes about your previous sentence is an admittance of surrender. Ok. I raise my white flag.
In case of a conundrum of a desperate need of humour and nothing to work with, fret not and look not too far. If you haven't realized the source of you as a subject of humour, you suffer from a serious lack of sense of humour. Allow yourself all the liberties, downgrade you, the protagonist in all possible angles, and a few laughs are a cake walk. Picture yourself as a short, stocky, bald, unemployed, bisexual, perverted man, and you have the entire world of jokes at your disposal. If you find it hard to laugh at yourself, allow yourself the pleasure of seeing the person you're taking to as fat,sloppy and perverted and make merry mockery.
Charlie Chaplin once said that all he needed to make comedy was a park, a policeman and a pretty girl. Humour exists almost everywhere, good humour does not. A sense of humour is even more tenuously so. I'd like to think that if one learns to find humour in traffic, weight and office, rarely will you have a day without mirth and laughter. A crowning achievement to an illustrious life of humour would probably be if at your funeral, somebody in their eulogy says "I'll miss that funny son of a gun".
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