Can I haz Home Delivery?

Recession? What Recession? Our Mobile Phone Salesmen travel in garishly painted Rollers.

The color palette might be distasteful, but Branson's choice of motor is spot on!

I guess all the money he saved on picking up F1's leading team for cheap has to go somewhere ... but dude .. keep it BLACK! It won't be much of a Phantom in two tone red and white, will it?


Failblog has a recursive application!

This thread is a EPIC WIN, that's what it is... !!



They let Brawn get away ... Todt ran off with a Bond girl and became CEO ... the Iceman cometh and doeth nothing ... its all gone very wrong.

Atleast Sutil had the good grace to crash out. Its not lonely at the bottom.


All that glitters ...

We sometimes have a funny way with metaphors. What exactly do they mean?
Most days I have been accused of having a heart of stone. Some people have been known to have a heart of gold. One is supposed to be bad and the other is a very good thing. Why so?
Both are hard (relatively), cold to the touch and a hundred percent inorganic. Sure, gold is malleable and stone isn't (maybe sometimes brittle), but that's not enough to put them on opposite ends of the scale.
The only thing that justifies the extremes of perception is the rarity and assigned monetary value. But who said that everything that is rare is necessarily good ... or vice versa.

I may be like everyone else .. but I ain't so bad, you know.


Look Down!

How supremely irritating is it when you use a new keyboard and the 'Delete', 'Home' and 'End' keys have all been shuffled around?



The funny thing is that life offers no undo buttons. And it holds true in the virtual world too. A couple of posts which I was asked to delete are still present in my RSS feed for whoever is bothered to read them.

You can change the whole look of your webpage but the google cache won't forget. Not for a long time.

It just doesn't matter.



Its quite some time past midnight, close to 3am, which is what I feel the phrase 'middle of the night' should mean.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the blinking of the status LEDs of modems, routers and other assorted gadgets being a poor substitute for the twinkling stars that one can no longer see. The still air, heavy and foreboding, doesn't whisper the same lullaby that a softly flowing breeze sings without a second thought.
Alone, in the darkness, all my thoughts have been robbed of colour by the same all-pervasive gloom. I wait for sleep to come, to pull me along into the world of dreams. Not that its all rainbows and unicorns over there, but atleast its better than this.
I wait, the ticking of the clock - amplified a hundred fold - provides a metronomic rhythm which my slowly beating heart tries hard to match. I glance in its direction and observe the damn thing, stuck in a circle for all eternity, traveling many miles each day but not going anywhere. The second hand ticks past its brethren, but the stillness of the night seems to have taken its toll everywhere. I can feel the reluctance with which it advances - as compared to the day - ponderously taking the next step, an eternity between this moment and the next.
Somewhere in the distance, the high pitched squeak of a bat makes itself heard. I close my eyes. And see You. Like a pendulum, my imagination always swings back to the center, inevitably. Where ever I stretch it, however far. Its not a dream - I'm wide awake. I will my eyes open once again and wait for the dawn.
Meanwhile, there are some cracks on the ceiling that demand my undivided attention. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling ....


Espousing the inExplicable

People familiar with Applied Mechanics or App Mech as its known, will doubtlessly remember the brutal manner in which the subject mowed down students with the sadistic, cruel efficiency of the Grim Reaper during a cholera epidemic.

But its not just the subject that is totally incomprehensible and baffling. It starts in this case, with the first page.

What a masterpiece of seemingly senseless alliteration. An enduring edifice encompassing embarrassingly ersatz expedient eulogies, if I may say so myself.


Is it just me or .....

... is the whistle of a supercharger utterly fascinating?
... can everything be made better by subtle blue LED lighting?
... is it possible to be close friends with a person solely through correspondence?
... does the sight of the setting sun's rays bursting from behind a cloud never get old?

... Its probably just me...