Premature ejaculation...

... is what my previous blog entry was.

We ain't back. Shortly after I posted that, blogspot dropped off my network again and the only way I can get to it now is via a proxy.

This sucks.

At least China has better roads even if they don't have an uncensored Net. What's our claim to fame?

We're back!

Yippee and zippee and doodle and all that. Blogspot is back. Democracy wins. Or whatever.

One more thing, Franz

Oh, I forgot - the reason I can continue to write my blog, is because the idiots have blocked blogspot.com which is where the blog resides, but not blogger.com which is where the authoring of the blog takes place.

I am tempted to break my own rule and display expletives on my blog.

Kafka, we need you...

This has to be the strangest blog entry I've ever done. Not that I've done many, but still.

It's strange because while I'm allowed to make this entry, I'm not allowed to read it myself.

In its infinite wisdom, the Government of India has decided to block certain blogs from public consumption in India. Fine, they want to do that, they probably have the right to.

But in their ham-handed fashion (I didn't say "typical" but you read it, right?) they've blocked the entire blogspot.com URL. So, all blogs hosted here are inaccessible in India.

Bloody daft!

I'm writing this in the hope that one day I'll be able to read it online without having to go through an anonymizer.

Oh yes, you CAN still access all these sites by going via an anonymizer site - and you can find one in about 0.28 seconds via a Google search. It works - I just saw my own blog though with the styles a bit off, but it's there. I have no doubt that there are other ways to get around this stupid block, but it irks me that I need to.

Forget about my individual rights. Whatever happened to plain commonsense?

The inevitable...

Well, this is the inevitable, nay, obligatory, entry post the latest round of Mumbai blasts. In this I'm probably joining thousands of bloggers who've undoubtedly all expressed their solidarity, horror, regret, pride, and so on.

It's strange how in times like this the usual platitudes and cliches are the only words that actually make sense. "Show must go on." "Pride in Mumbaikar's spirit." "Common man's courage." "Bloody but unbowed." "Business as usual." Even a cynical old sod such as yours truly is moved by the way this city bounces back and keeps on keeping on. Not that there really is such an entity as "this city" - it's you and me that does all the bouncing. And the being bounced, unfortunately.

It's close to two decades since I last regularly commuted by train, but it's an experience that is never forgotten. In fact, you don't even need to be a regular to savor that never-to-be-forgotten experience. Just one ride on Mumbai's trains and you have something to boast about. It's kind of like white-water rafting or bungee jumping: you need to do it just once during rush hour to understand the special skills and daring it requires. After that you can strut around with your chest thrown out with pride - and your spine probably mangled beyond repair, but that's another story.

In my callow youth I wooed in quick succession two Bandra girls and since I was (and still am) an avowed townie, I needed to commute on the suburban trains if I wanted to spend time with my beloved. I still have very fond memories of being crushed against the object of my desire on the journey to her house and then spending the return journey in a dreamy haze in the first class compartment actually sitting down. Ah, call me a roamantic.

Apart from the platitudes and cliches that such events (not the romantic journeys, the other events) throw up, there is also the phenomenon of the fatuous comment. This is usually delivered by a politician or bureaucrat, often with an axe to grind, but they don't have a monopoly on it. Some gems from 7/11:

Mumbai Commissioner: "This appears to be a planned event." You don't say! And here we were thinking what a horrible coincidence it was that seven trains blew up in quick succession, a few kilometers away from each other and a few minutes apart. By the way, the TV networks never made it clear which enlightened Commissioner this was.

Politician: "We need to learn from Gujarat. See how tough they are there and they don't suffer any terrorism while Mumbai is always a target." Ahem! Could that be because Mumbai is the financial capital, has over 17 million inhabitants, provides over 50% of the country's tax revenues, is a great symbol of Indian capitalism and the economy, has loads of public places with gazillions of people in them? Could you name even half a target in Gujarat that is even a quarter as attractive from a terrorist's point of view?

Misguided public advertisement (last page of today's Mumbai Mirror): "Appeal to all Terrorists! Please do not kill absolutely innocent people." Hello? It may be just me, but I always thought terrorism was all about killing innocent people. After all, if you only targeted "guilty" people such as (presumably) the armed forces and the police, where's the terror in that? And who are "absolutely" innocent people? Are there some who are not so innocent, and therefore acceptable targets? And, of course, terrorists are going to be swayed by advertising. Well, if we can be gulled by advertising into buying crap we don't need, hope could be said to spring eternal.

I guess crises do bring out the irrational side of humanity.

Random post-WC thoughts

And so the month of quadrennial football frenzy has drawn to a close. Perhaps now I can get back to sleeping nights. There were moments of brilliance, of tedium, of glory, of infamy, of skill, of ineptitude, of victory, of defeat. And that was just the Brazilian team. Multiply that by 32 and you get an inkling of why this is the most watched event on the planet.

My dear friend and prolific Chiffonesque blogger, Mugsy has heaped praise on my unworthy head. I think she meant to shame me into getting back to my blog. In which case, she has succeeded, at least for now. She has bemoaned her own inability to stick to the point while writing, but that's exactly what I love about her style: an ability to let her stream of consciousness take over while still remaining coherent and in complete command of the language. And her self-deprecatory, laconic humour, strangely reminiscent of Raymond Chandler, though minus the bourbon and blondes. (There's a reason why she continues at the top of my Other Blogger Friends list.)

The New York Times informs me that there is a gender divide in many US colleges today and that therefore, "Colleges eager to attract men to increasingly female campuses have found that football teams can be a lure." I always knew American males were blockheads but it's nice to have it confirmed. You have a campus which is "increasingly female" and you need football as a lure? C'mon guys, no wonder you have a falling birth rate. Get with the program and focus on using those other round objects.

Which reminds me of that classic Yes, Minister crack. Nigel, who considers a proposal that lands up on his table to be absolute bollocks, returns it with the notation, "Round objects!" To which Humphrey responds starchily, "Who is Round and to what does he object?"

Crossword clews

Provide sustenance, support and grub (11)

Mater mater (7)

Proof that some of the best clues are the briefest.