Monday, February 26, 2007


... Schmoscar. If you didn't spend the early hours of Monday morning fawning over Martin Scorsese and all, take a look at the Guardian's Oscar Commentary. Hilarious.

Forest Whitaker, the frontrunner for this year's best actor Oscar, is singled out for particular blather. "We think you're great," Kiss-Up informs him. "Everyone says such wonderful things about you."

After a while it all gets a bit too much. I can't help wishing that Kiss-Up, Gush and Flirt would start expanding their repertoire. Maybe they could just inexplicably snub one of the nominees, just for the fun of it. "Nah, not now, Winslet. Move along."

Or perhaps ask something totally off-kilter and inappropriate. "Halle Berry, you're looking utterly fabulous this evening. Now tell me: that time you crashed your car and fled the scene. How drunk must you have been?"

But no. Instead Kiss-Up rushes to welcome Kate Winslet with open arms, informs her that he is a "big fan of your friend Ricky Jarvis [sic]" and reminds her that "we are live on E!". Understandably, Kate beats a hasty retreat.

Classic Guardian.

I for one would have given an Oscar to Little Miss Sunshine for Best Picture. Scorsese doesn't need your friggin' Oscar. He didn't get it for Taxi Driver, or for Raging Bull. Why now? It's like giving Dylan a Grammy for Time Out of Mind. Oh well.


Friday, February 23, 2007

Dear Doc...

... Happy Birthday.

A birthday dedication to the doc, who's slaving away in Delhi.


Wednesday, February 14, 2007


...horses rock.

The other day, I was reminiscing about the clotheshorse at my grandmother's place. It's a delightful antique wooden thing, which is just super for people like me who can't be bothered to fold their clothes (or iron them incessantly and place in cupboard) all the time. It's quick choice-and-access thing.

Subsequently, I had to dodge one of those police barricade thingies somewhere on Cubbon Road.

Couldn't help thinking what a groovy clotheshorse, one of those would make. Something like this...


Monday, February 05, 2007


... fine quizzing win happened this weekend at the Unmaad Open.

Caution: Gloating ensues.

The Fauji Doctor, Kwonchie, the Mad Commie and I teamed up. We called ourselves 'Swami has married a Gult Girl', (instead of the usual Scientific Progress Has Gone Boink), in reference to one Swamy's on-going wedding and related festivities in Chennai. We were wondering if he would slime his own wedding and turn up. He didn't though there were numerous references during the quiz, IIMB quiz that is was.

The quiz was, entertaining, keeping up with finest IIMB tradition. I suspect Mukka's questions were slightly last minute, though. Monkey and Udups had some good ones in there. I'm guessing, they'll be posted somewhere shortly, like the KQA blog, maybe.

It was a gloat-worthy win, after a slow start where we scored next to nothing in the first round, but caught up and turned the tables on MQ by the last round by cracking the stage2 in good time. MQ, for their part, missed YET ANOTHER Sgt Pepper's connection question, making that 4 instances since the NLS Open in late last year. I fear Arul's backlash, in whatever next quiz he sets.

The warm feeling ended when we (minus Doc, plus Mihir) didn't make the finals even at the Mulky Open. Random connections of the Doc being a WingCo too come to mind. Oh, nevermind.


Thursday, February 01, 2007

Don't you...

...just love Warren Ellis?

Yes, Warren 'Transmetropolitan' Ellis, losers. Who has his new book out.

Newsarama did an interview.

NRAMA: In the variety of comics work you've done, both creator-owned and company-owned, the characters and stories present a style and tone that's unmistakably you. In your creator-owned work it's seem the most potent, and this novel even more so - harkening back to your Transmetropolitan days and stepping even past that. What were your intentions behind writing Crooked Little Vein?

WE: Mostly just getting the damn thing done. This all started when I inherited a literary agent upon signing with the Writers And Artists agency in LA for film and tv work, years ago. Unbeknownst to me, W&A had a lit agency in New York, and one day Lydia Wills phoned me up to tell me that, now I was with W&A, she was my lit agent, and when was I going to write her a novel to sell? This went on for months. I nearly had her legs broken twice. Until, one day, I thought to myself, let's just shut her up. And I sat down and wrote the first ten thousand words of an utterly unsaleable novel. I figured I could recycle the material into comics later. So I handed her this horror of a thing, complete with Godzilla Bukkake scene, and said, take this and leave me alone.

Thinking, obviously, that she'd decide I was insane and never bug me again.

Two weeks later, she phoned to tell me she'd sold it to Harper Collins in New York.

It's one of the more epic backfires of my career, Chris.

As ever, it sparkles with vintage Ellisian wit.