IRONy and PANdemonium on the Funny Farm

 

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Many denizens on the FF are in a unique state of mind these days. Thumbs are on autopilot, clicking and forwarding. Brains are in park, idling, taking a break from the daily rat-race. But this post is not about that. Sadly, it is not about the PAN days either, the old campus festivities full of music and other not-to-be-mentioned revelries.  Nor is it about the paan - that uniquely personal signature inscribed on most public buildings, resulting in displays of our collective civic pride, our own version of "Kilroy Was Here". This pan demon is in the cucina, nestling next to the its cousins, the other pots and pans. However, no banging involved, I promise.

Lately, your truly has faced some niggling queries from a certain someone. The lovely and loving spouse's questions like, "Oye, JEE, did you guys learn any useful life skills at that place..." are starting to get too frequent and too close for comfort. In the past, this call for help was usually answered by exiting stage left, hotfooting to some place to do something urgently. A call for help. "Oh, bebé?" these days from that sweet voice is now filling one with trepidation, not anticipation. The previous HoneyDo list is expanding exponentially. Detailed. Multi-colored. Refreshed daily. Prioritized, sorted, tagged and collated. Room by Room. Function by Function. Task by Task. Tsk tsk. No escape.

So I pondered my options deeply and decided to take up the challenge, the bull by the horn. The proverbial tigress by the tail. Nip this in the bud by offering help. On my terms, with the true IITian panache.  Hey, we were once the Crème de la Crème. Successfully crammed overnight, regurgitated the next day.  Marched onward, forward (not that WhatsCrapp forward). Tilted at windmills energetically. Overcame the monstrous mid-sems and evil end-sems. Uncoupled O'Damn coupling. Chuckled at Chebyshev. Strained that stretch membrane.  Lanced L'Hopital. Laughed at Leibnitz. Evenhandedly dealt with both the Left and the Right hand rules! Curled the Grad out of Divs, slayed those operatic operators.  How difficult can those household chores be? I will show you, bebé , I will show you. You did not marry a dumdum, my sweetums. And I did have a life once, those carefree days before you came to... ahem, brighten them, Miss Always Right. Those single days that I fondly remember seem to have passed without any major mishaps, hey?

First on my list was the pressing issue of tackling the iron. Not from that golf bag. Nor the element with atomic number 26. I don't Fear that thing. Pretty simple, I remember my Periodic Table, thanks for nothing, Mendeleev! Nyet, this is the one meant for clothes, Dmitri whispers. Ironic, that other little gizmo, you plug it in, it gets hot? Back and forth, back and forth you go (stop snickering, please). Voilà! The previously wrinkled are now not so wrinkled. Life will be smooth. (Hmm... wonder if this works on faces too?) 

Boldly marched forward and picked the one in our laundry room. Swung it triumphantly and plugged it in, Ta Daa! That's when things started to go a bit sideways. I was confronted by several unfamiliar knobs with tiny writings. Sigh!  Found my reading glasses. Ok, one knob asks for the type of fabric. "No Idea" was not a choice. Nor could I fabricate an answer. I left it alone where it was already set. Another one asked about the phases of Ganymede and Io vis-à-vis Jupiter. Default setting, of course. Easy peasy. Then, a light by the third one started blinking red and fun really started. Something to do with water? Hmm... Found some water, and, poured myself a stiff drink as well. Unplugged the unholy contraption.  Peered at it closely while trying to stay cool, calm and collected - damn, that thing heated up fast.

There seemed to be some kind of cavity with a cap on that doodad.  Poured some of the water in, I think. Moved the cats away and mopped the big puddle and all the other paw-prints on the floor.  Plugged the iron back in. All right! No blinky red light.  Success! Then a weird gurgling sound started... the darn devil device hissed at me menacingly! Goa, Daman & Diu! Super-heated steam spewed out as I cursed trying to repress the rising terror of the vaguely remembered steam-tables. When did such a simple thing as an iron turn into an IED?!

Never the one to show fear to inanimate objects, I managed to swing the iron back and forth for an eternity on top of that wrinkly rag. Unwrinkled all the old wrinkles. Yay! Proudly displayed it to Mrs. Yours Truly who ungraciously pointed out an impressive amount of new wrinkles introduced during my valiant efforts. Sigh! Wondered whatever happened to that smiling, nurturing, encouraging, singing sweetie with bluebirds chirping near her head and bunnies playing at her feet? The one that awarded smiley face stickers and doled our candy to all the neighborhood kids for no reason at all? That is probably a future blog-post.

Next, I decided to offer my help in the kitchen. Heck, I have dealt with many big and complex machines all the time at work - at least, I have fond memories from twenty-five years ago about it, so no big deal. Upon closer inspection in the cucina, I gazed in awe at something that resembled the command deck of Starship Enterprise. Gleaming steel and glass, luminous lights and switches. Dazzling dials and digital displays showing time, temperature, blood pressure, height, etc. Holy Toledo, one even shows my weight and cholesterol as well as the local weather.  Most striking was the flashing sign that said "Noob Alert". Sigh - I had clearly strayed upon sacred grounds and my intrusion was not welcome. The kitchen was now at DEFCON level I. Only one explanation - mi esposa must have clearly planned against such an invasion.

Hastily retreated from the command deck. Regrouped and decided, I CAN help the prep work instead for the spouse and earn some kudos - maybe even my supper - I work for food. Stick with simple tools, I said to myself, humming what a wonderful world. Knives, cutting boards, rolling pins, etc. No knobs, dials or settings to deal with, yes!  

I put on my sous chef hat jauntily and donned the apron. Tested the sharpness of the knives blithely, even tried a bit of juggling. Hastily searched for band-aids without losing much blood. Next, I confronted the enemy veggies head-on - those pesky potatoes, offensive onions and other vague, colorful, aromatic items. Wielded my simple tools with precision and finesse. Only to be rudely reminded that random shapes and sizes veggies resulting from my newly implemented process was not acceptable. I brandished the rolling pin on the dough-balls next but my one of a kind, amoeba-shaped rotis were not appreciated. I sadly discovered that creativity and artistic expression was not encouraged in this space. And mi esposa didn't even let me play with other spouses spices in the pantry before I was unceremoniously banished from the cucina.

So now my faithful cats and I are taking a much needed break contemplating where our next battlefield might be.  That is my story and I am sticking to it.

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

InDiya We Trust

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

 
Bom Dia!  The Funny Farm folks are feeling feisty these days.

These are not just normal days. Folks on every other farm in the world are witnessing the miracle on FF.  The cognoscenti among them are busily making homage videos about the efficacy of FF crisis management. Singing ballads in social media posts, tipping their fedoras. Genuflecting! Shouting "Olé!"  Except for these few malcontents on the FF, those doubting Thomases. The heinous haters, despicable debasers, the odious oddballs. Questioning reported statistics.  Tsk tsk.

These misguided misanthropes in their malaprop-ridden malarkey and mud-slinging fail to understand that FF goes back multitudinous millennia.  Only the true among the FF realize that FF folks are puffing on charminar, the (four-pillar) framework laid out by none other than Cha-Cha-Chanakya! That first ecownomist that the world has ever known.  Some rumors are going around that the McConsultants was started originally by Chanakya. 

You, there, shaking your head - have you ever read the Arthashastra! The very foundation of peace and prosperity of every modern farm? Today, though, let us talk about the other contribution to the FF prosperity from this ancient consultant, guru of crisis-management, the Nitishashtra.

First, there was Saam. Not some. Not the same. Nor your Uncle Sam. Saam. A couple of media blitzes for the good denizens - all denizens on FF.  Clarity of message, delivered like good claret from Bordeaux, for the bored does. For Cows. For Goats. Even the Geese and other geezers. It is all for your own good. Bang those thalis. Light these diyas. But the haters persist and mock our ancient traditions.  They do not understand that vedic medicine has proved superior time and again. Use unconventional means like high-frequency vibration to destroy the Big Bad Bug. Nein, Nein, turn off that lightbulb and blind the BBB into extinction with the diya.  And to those who were talking about system instabilities and singularities, hah!

Then, there was Daam. Hot Damn! Intrepid ecownomist pored through Arthashastra and decided to sprinkle 20 billion lotas full of fertilizer on the FF. But then haters point out that the other Farm has two trillion crocks being spread. You fools! The other farms are about to learn that they are doomed. FF will survive and thrive. Trust me on this niti.  Jugaad über alles.

The most unique aspect of the framework and being admired by all farms is the Danda. And multiple videos of application is Dandaa are floating around, gleefully forwarded by other FF folks. No other farm can claim to have done so much by so few in such a short time. This niti does not need any more elaboration here.

The last puff of this charminar is Bheda. Not Veda - not, the ancient texts. Not vada's.This Bheda is where the war is truly won - the social media texts, videos, etc. For example, there is this sinister cabal led by billionaires, the ungodly heathen leftists and other mad scientist, funded by none other than evil super-genius who has successfully unleashed abominable bloatware on everyone's computers. Watch out! Distractions, abstractions, retractions by the unfaithful and the un-patriotic. 

Hey all, the FF statistics are nothing short of a miracle because, you see, BBB is turning tail and crying uncle when confronted with hot weather. Aided by a blast of hotter-air from billions of smartphones. You need only look at the top part of your left arm - immunity is branded into you since early childhood. Still not convinced? Your skepticism is based on the fact that you are a sorry excuse for FF resident.

Yeh kya kha ke Cheenee ladenge hamse, 
Jab desh ka bachcha bachcha cheenee kha raha hai.

And folks, Tamso Ma Jyoitirgamay.

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

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Gorillas In Our Midst 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Part 5 of 5

An even smaller number of Gorillas with Brass Ones, by cunning intuition or more likely by sheer dumb luck become Silver Backs. They are now the elder statesmen. They realize that they will never achieve the ultimate status - that of The Big Gorilla. But having survived a hailstorm or two, they are convinced of their own invincibility. They are in great position to enjoy their status. They can get the Hairy Gorillas to do most of the feed-the-monkey work (who naturally assign it to the Baboons, Chimps and the Organ grinders) and the monkey gets fed. If the monkey is still hungry (which is the usual), the dung gets smeared on the organization, starting with the lowest monkeys. If the monkey is ever satisfied (which is extremely rare), the Gorilla population is rewarded with a truckload of choicest Cavendish. The legend grows in the corporate lore and (H)BS case studies are launched.  The “trickle-down” theory of rewards breaks down after this. Of course, there never has been a “trickle-up” theory on dung smearing so it stays in the trenches.

The Big Gorilla, of course, is the one perched on the highest branch of the tallest tree and has the most protective executive assistant beating other monkeys off with a stick. He or She is known to do the “Vision Thing” for the corporation with Bored of Distractors. That is about the only thing about their job functions known to the general monkey population. Every once in a while, tabloid TV shows may reveal some of the other lurid details. This Big Gorilla status, of course, is one that “you can’t get there from here” for most of Organ-grinders/Chimps, etc. Some rare Baboons if they are quick with the knife placement in the back of other Baboons may make it to the Big Gorilla status. Typical Chimps have an inherent disadvantage in this respect. Not having the proper B-school purple rope draped around the neck makes it damn near impossible for the Chimps to even be on the same tree as the Big Gorilla.

There are, I realize, some that cannot be classified in any of the groups above. We call them Assorted Primate Excreta (APE). Some of them are calling you right now from the US Social Security Administration or Internal Revenue Service about a warrant out for your arrest or for your car's extended warranty. 

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

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Gorillas In Our Midst 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Part 4 of 5

Some of the Chimps but many of the Baboons mysteriously achieve the status of Hairy Gorillas. The Hairy Gorillas get together and talk about the “needing to fix the system” and “don’t fix if it ain’t broke” in the same sentence. They challenge lower monkeys to make “data based decisions” without “clouding the issues with data”.  Admonish others about “analysis paralysis”. Their brain-storming sessions are now held off the company premises in country clubs where they can work uninterrupted on wonderful new para-diddles over three-martini lunches.

The Gorillas are passionate about making their part of the organization “world class”.  They desperately cling to the belief that their technical skills are still sharp. That they can make the average Organ grinders and the Chimps “work smarter not harder”. Their voice is heeded in the organization, due to fear factor and the unfounded belief that “we need to feed the monkey and it will go away”, a very dangerous myth.

In the entire un-recorded history of the corporate primates, never have any monkeys so fed have ever faded away. Rather, they have promptly assumed gargantuan appetites for all available bananas. Plus all the peanuts currently allocated for the entire company. Think the alien plant Audrey, “Feed me!” from Little Shop of Horrors. The Gorillas hob-nob, they decide, they ponder and pontificate, they restate mission statements after much contemplation of their navels. They pat each other on the back about improving organizational efficiencies through N Blinding Principles (N is computed by highly paid random number generators hired from MONKINSEY). The  Blinding Principles, quite obvious to everyone else but the Gorillas, are then reintroduced to the organization every few years - (The Grand Re)Vision, (The Glaring O)Mission - with much fanfare. The Gorillas wave the magic wand, the Chimps and Organ-grinders scurry around looking busy while the Baboons dream up colored charts and whip out yardsticks to measure increased something or the other. Perfect examples of Brownian Motion.

A particular nasty kind among the Gorillas is the Gorilla with Brass Ones. Most organizations have at least one. They are dangerous for the majority of the organization since they are very good at flinging dung with great force at others and turning the most carefully laid out work-plan into confetti. Having graduated from twisting bicycle tires to truck tires (read “your career”) and hardened from banging against the bars of their cages, they relish such activities. Favorite phrases of Brass Ones include “existential crisis of the company / division / group”. Having attended too many crisis management seminars, they are the non-techie decision makers in technical reviews – asking about “Risk / Reward”, “High / Low”, “Is / Should” charts, based on wrong assumptions and complete lack of insight. When crossed or challenged, they enjoy showing off their brass ones clanging them loudly in public. If any technical organization has more than one, they fight each other until one emerges a clear victor. The rest either subjugate themselves and form part of the inner circle of Hairy Gorillas or are forced to leave the company. Legends in their own minds, the Brass Ones enjoy being nasty to everyone in general (except to the other monkeys higher up in the food chain) - just because they can be. 

(To Be Continued...)

 
© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

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Gorillas In Our Midst

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Part 3 of 5:

A variation of the Bitter Chimps is also known to organizational biologists as the Howler monkeys. Bitter Chimps may be low-key but the Howlers exhibit overt unsocial behavior towards their peers. They reserve their snarks, snarls and sneers for those others now in possession of similar tire-twisting, banana peeling or cartwheeling bag of tricks. These expressions are, of course, displayed even most effectively by the Howlers behind the scenes in the absence of other Chimps. The Howler monkeys are not interested in learning any new tricks themselves (like swinging from a rope, wielding two-by-four) and are very protective of their tire twisting expertise.

Given a choice between changing their minds (on any topic) vs. looking for proof as to why they should not, a Bitter Chimp will start looking for proof immediately. Every time. This is a well-known truth-test to identify a Bitter Chimp. The Bitter Chimps grow more resentful and bitter as the days go by. Management no longer throws them any bananas because everyone has gotten wise to their shenanigans. Some Bitter Chimps eventually quit the company to start their own BitChiCons (Bitter Chimp Consultancies) and accept payments in BitChiMoolah.

Some Chimps, after doing almost no to little soul-searching at this stage, abandon all pretense of becoming future technical leaders. After some two-day / four-week / six-month Blitz / Training / Incarceration, they acquire the coveted Monkey Biz Advanced (MBA) degree from the local B(aboon)-Schools. Armed and dangerous with bullet-points, these Chimps climb a notch in the pecking order to become classified as Baboons. One can watch the early Chimp days of these Baboons-to-be and spot obvious signs of transformation. They do lots of dog’n’pony shows, coordinate and organize, volunteer as company tour guides and hone their skills at curling the upper lip – smile or snarl - at the right time. With the steady work maintaining the bedazzling Baboon dentures, their dentists are a happy bunch. These Baboons-to-be are the ones that own more than one nice suit.

The Baboons spend a lot of time at work reading personal e-mail and forwarding WhatsCrapp or FarceBook posts to other Baboons-to-be – it is called (Baboo)Networking. The earlier they start, the more successful they are in moving away from the skunkworks (where work is allegedly done) to the corporate office (where decisions are allegedly made).

The Baboons can whip up PowerBullet slides before you could say "Jumping Jehosphat!" They list incorrect assumptions, do gap analyses over power lunches keeping the accounting trolls awake. Most are professional meeting attendees and stay trim hopping from one to the other clutching their electronic planners and mumbling vague platitudes.

They do have the prettiest and most colorful chartjunk. The Baboons keep the keep the ink cartridge suppliers in business with the color copiers humming. With deceptive ease and finesse, they can slip phrases like “connect the dots, cross the eyes and dot the tees” into ordinary conversations and talk process-value-eco-system-stream of the agile facile puerile prehensile fractals. Their leisure time is now spent on the golf courses caddying for the Gorillas (see later). The Baboons are the ones in any company who are assigned the most difficult tasks of dreaming up the corporate buzzwords and cooking up the corporate "soup du jour” to be fed to the lower monkey.

Since they no longer are part of technical organization, we’ll dispense with this class of monkeys for now… 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

 
(To Be Continued...)

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Gorillas In Our Midst 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Part 2 of 5:

The next stage, of course, is the Chimps. Probably smartest of the bunch and definitely the most productive. They have developed some cognitive skills by this time and have managed to overcome the handicap of years of schooling. The key to having a successful organization is the Chimp Critical Mass. Having spent their Organ-grinder years absorbing knowledge from the other Chimps, they think they know a thing or two about a thing or two. And they snigger at the Organ-grinders about the “any” key on the keyboard. They can navigate in their part of the organizational campus without getting lost. Have picked up a smattering of the lingo - Five Lies / Six Enigmas / Seven Dreams / Eight Misdeeds or other current favorite tools in their organization. At this stage, most of the Chimps still play nice with each other but one can see some signs of future behavioral issues with regards to sharing knowledge, equipment and resources: much like the proverbial three year olds that look at all the toys yelling, “All MINE!”…

Early training in the Art of B3 (Blah-Blah-Blah) starts around this time. The Chimps are the worker bees that get assigned all the “Action Items” during the endless meetings. The only two important Action Items are, of course, (a) setting up the next endless meeting, and, (b) getting coffee/donuts for the next meeting. Often the Chimps publish meeting “minutes”. Advanced students of “corporate linguistics” will note the usage of euphemism at its best! If one billion Chimps worked on one billion word-processors for about one billion years, contrary to the popular belief, they will not reproduce the collected works of Shakespeare. However, many of the recent TV sitcoms, infomercials, movie screenplays and most lyrics of currently popular music can be attributed to this process. And, of course, meeting minutes.

Like some Organ grinders, many Chimps are destined to stay happy at the Chimp level for the rest of their lives. Unless the Chimps manage to get hitched to life-partners whose daddies are higher-ups at MONKINSEY. Some of these Chimps sense that they might stay as Chimps for the rest of their lives and turn into Bitter Chimps. Signs of Bitter Chimp behavior have been noted by organizational anthropologists in numerous betting sheets. Non-committal grunts. Studious averting of eyes when asked for help. Nit-picking of other Chimps. Random gnashing of the teeth. All are easily recognized symptoms of the onset of typical Bitter Chimp behavior.

These Bitter Chimps point to the other Chimps or poor Organ-grinders if there are any fleas. They also try to hoard all the bananas for the group. Some monkey watchers have attributed part of their sour expressions and general demeanor to their diet of green, unripe bananas.

By this time into their Chimp stage, the Bitter Chimps have convinced themselves that they are the most important bricks in the company wall and indispensable. They do not think anyone else in the company can twist tires (or peel bananas or do cartwheels) with the same care, precision and skill-level that they themselves exhibit. After all, they have ten or more years of experience in learning the fine nuances of the bike tire twisting, banana peeling or doing cartwheels. They demand to be recognized as functional leads, process owners, etc. and harbor the secret angst (at least, secret to them) that if they teach tire twisting, banana peeling, etc. to other primates, they may no longer be the only valuable monkeys in the zoo.

(To Be Continued...)

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Gorillas In Our Midst

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Part 1 of 5
 
All normal disclaimers apply including “your mileage may vary”.

The murky origins of this long piece - I fell asleep while watching the lovely Ms. Sigourney Weaver portraying Ms. Diane Fosse in the movie Gorillas in the Mist some years ago. In the movie Ms. Weaver (and in real life, Ms. Fosse, of course) went to Rwanda and lived among the gorilla population to learn about the primates and perhaps about us humans. I think she could have learned a lot more and a lot faster too had she tried living in any IIT Residence Hall for a week. Tops! And then perhaps a follow-up study of any IIT WhatsCrapp group. But I think she probably wanted reassuring signs of human evolution towards a civilized society, which can be rather difficult to find in your average Residence Hall, especially on weekends. Or in any unsocial media group settings.

Fast forward a couple of years later, another fascinating book of cartoons by Steven Harris surfaced. As I unpacked a box labeled “sh..tuff” that had not been opened through three household moves, I found one of the cartoons showing two scientists walking out of a facility with the usual claptrap of test tube, beakers, dials and gauges and stuff. Sign at the top says “Primate Research Lab”. One scientist is talking to another, “Matthew hungry. Matthew want milk. Matthew want bananas”. And pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.

Have you noticed that at your workplace there is now more and more usage of phrases like “don’t monkey with it”, “monkey wrench into the works”, “feed the monkey”, the “meeting big gorillas downtown”, “monkey see monkey do”, “going ape$hit”, “get the monkey off your back”, etc. etc.?

The following applies to most tech organizations but may be true for other organizations in general.

Most techies start their working careers as what may be called the Organ-grinder monkey stage. These are the average joes who did their time and were let loose from those hallowed halls of learning. Eager to acquire a gas guzzler. Itching for more cool electronics. Ready to change the world, in no particular order. They are the ones without well-padded trust funds. Among the ones that didn’t join their father-in-law’s Mega-consulting Office of Nifty Know-It-all-Non-Sense Enterprises for YourOrg (MONKINSEY) so popular these days with your company’s upper management. Look around, you will instantly recognize many of these Organ-Grinders in your immediate vicinity. Some are probably hovering around the main lobby of your building at the moment bothering the receptionist. Wandering clueless by the coffee machine. Looking for the washroom in obvious distress. Working at a CAD terminal or two trying to decipher the differences between the “return” and the “enter” keys, scared by a sudden recognition of the fact that Da Tech taught them why things should work but not why they don’t.

Some Organ-grinders have been known to hum company songs to scare their offspring to sleep. They wear apparel with company logos to social get-togethers with other Organ-grinders. Talk at such gatherings revolves around imaginary facts and figures, made up on the fly.  Quoted from some vague sources. Liberally sprinkled with newly learned corporate-speak phrases. Many Organ-grinders quickly grow out of this stage. But some actually manage to find happiness and plenty of satisfaction in their role as Organ-grinders. They stay at this stage all their lives while others may decide to go to other companies and start afresh as ... Organ-grinders.

(To be continued...click arrow button)

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

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The Super-Villain of Funny Farm

 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Another day, another astonishing fact comes to light on the Funny Farm. Except that is not just another day - it is April Fools Day! Funny Farm fellows - you know your Marvel or Indrajal comics well and are up on all those Super-Heroes and Super-Villains. You also know the Funny Farm Super-Heroes.  Not from the ranks of the Goats or the Geese, just in case you had any doubts. These malcontents can be mere garden(baagh)-variety goons, not the masterminds, these darlings of the malevolent media spreading the usual malarkey.  

But someone has schemed and plotted cunningly and laid a diabolical trap. Orchestrated human misery of the huddled masses on a grand scale on Funny Farm.  And succeed in dragging the shining aura of the Super-Heroes in mud, dimming their halo with the one master-stroke. Who is this mysterious, sinister man in the shadows, the Super-Villain?

Investigative denizens have delved deep in the abyss.  The whole world has been turned upside down with the buzz that a new Super-Villain is on the rise on the Funny Farm. We just didn't know until now. But some of us suspected.  And now our Funny Farm's secret is being whispered on different farms - all of which remain exceptionally well fertilized.

By one singular act - leaping over that mountain, haanjee, the dreaded, haan JEE, the EyeEyeTee folks established that they were creatures with big, bulging... craniums! Not surprising, all were fooled into believing that those stupendous craniums were being put to good use only. That these EyeEyeTee Super-Heroes emerge daily (from their mini-fortresses and from their automobiles), spring into action, right the wrongs, shuffle stacks of spreasheets, quietly conquer codes, bravely bridge troubled waters, etc. on many farms, forums and firms around the globe. Dedicated to the Service of the Nation, the crème de la crème, yeah!

Think about it - is this real life or is it a fantasy?  Doesn't make sense that EyeEyeTee crowd is a group of good guys only!  After all, the most evil characters known are all extremely smart people. Dr. No from SPECTRE who famously stated "The successful criminal brain is always superior. It has to be."  Dr. Hannibal Lecter, with a preference for fava beans with chianti with assorted human body parts. Several evil professors from EyeEyeTee daze come to mind although time has diminished the imapct of the trauma. But the nightmares still remain... Then there is Professor Moriarty - a professor, a brilliant mathematician, described as the Napoleon of Crime.  Yet, we never heard of a single Super-Villain from this supersmart EyeEyeTee crowd - supposed to be smarter than the cheapest smartphones.  How can that be?

This level of villainy can only come from someone who has planted their flag on top of that BS mountain! Now this Super-Villain emerges - ta-daaa - Mr. KayJeePeeWal. The puppet-master is revealed.  The brilliant mastermind behind the logistics nightmare of the masses and the creator of the PR disaster for the Super-Heroes of the Funny Farm.  I will spare you the details - you know that chapter and verse. Just bow to the sheer brilliance of this evil who is emerging as the uber-Villain.

Folks, he is one of us! To the oldest EyeEyeTee goes the honor and the privilege for facilitating the rise of Aapka first true Super-Villain of the Funny Farm.

 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Manure-smriti on the Funny Farm

 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

FF Friends!  Unique desi solutions are now driving the Big Bad Bug away from the FF - the thali banging parties, those danda-oocha-rahe-hamara cops, astral projections of shani's ascendance into surya's house, etc... There are a couple of other items below curated just for you as the entire world exponentially moves to catch up on the nuances of logarithmic scale.

Numéro un: The lunatics are now running the asylum  Our FF friends have an abundance of time and energy on their hands. They are plugged into many other fertile farms while unplugged from daily dose of reality.  While the Funny Farm always had some "creative content", we seem to be hurtling like a meteor towards becoming the Feckless Fowardistan.  Here is my backward. Sources attributed? Bah! I have a private source, who needs anything else? Data check? Pshaw! You check it if you want to, I am convinced. We can't get any data anyway so this must be correct! Sanity filter? The entire planet - nay, universe is insane, why is this not believable?! Contradictory story? It's all fake news, what makes this more fake than others! Typos and other mistakes? Ignore that and admire the numerous qualities of the cow-pattie being offered! Sniff test? My sh...tuff doesn't stink, dammit, have been told numerous times about my phenomenal sh...tuff. Hoaxes and rumors? All good to go. Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!

Don't question! Chew the cud!  Accept and regurgitate!! Those myriad missives from many self-proclaimed experts? They exist to enrich our gyan, completely selflessly. The Nigerian princes who want to share their wealth, the Unix virus help desk who has detected a problem on your computer, the Far-east bankers with access to millions of dollars in dormant bank accounts. All have more time on their hands to help during these times.  Covid, Quo Vadis? RNA, DNA, INA?  Does it matter, which NA?  

 

Eminent ecownomists of the entire galaxy have discussed recent global wealth redistribution. Conclusively linked it in this forward - this deep rooted, deep-state conspiracies designed and executed cunningly to destabilize, destroy and dominate by certain rogue regimes.  Distinguished dietitians from Disneyland and affiliated with UN Security Council have derided the food habits of distant denizens, chhi chhi! while extolling the antiseptic properties of gaumutra.  Here is the forward. Click on this link, this forward! Veteran Virologists and venerable veterinarians from Venus and other planets have pondered why have we not had such problems before. Here is an exotic video to prove their point that those little green martians are the cause of our misery. You question? Tsk. Explain this forward. You can't, can you?

Numéro deux: Several FF denizens have also wondered about the crock of sh... manure being applied on other farms to stimulate their GDP (Grass Domestic Product). Why is that Anointed Farm dumping 2.2 trillion crock-ful's on their farm while our Funny Farm is only sprinkling a mere 20 billion stinking Lota-ful's?  

It has been carefully explained by some that more manure cannot be just conjured up and made available out of some exalted exit orifice on the Funny Farm, really! It is mentioned minutely in Manure-smriti if anyone actually cared to look. Others have contended that much of the other odoriferous output has indeed been produced that way in the past so what is the problem?! 

Our resident Ecownomist has put on his hip-waders to wade weigh into this topic. Careful research has revealed the various factors that affect the shape, size, sizzle of the... sh output. In the first case, it is hypothesized that those crock-fuls were produced on a porcelain bowl of clean water while admiring the mega-mountains of recently acquired toilet paper.  The yield was impressive, indeed. In the second case, the sulabh hole in the ground was used while ruminating about (diddly)-squat (with the left-hand rule applied for ablutions). Everyone knows that it is superior to the phoren craze of those bilayati murgi's sitting on a desi bowl.

Have no fears for our GDP, Friends, our beloved Funny Farm continues to remain exceptionally well-fertilized.

 

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

 

Info-Demic Infestation

 

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

 
Well, folks, here we are again… The FF is indeed a forum for free exchange of, from and for the fearless fertile brains of the crème de la crème. 

We are smack dab in the midst of the Big Bad Bug infestation. The only thing faster than this BBB is the info-demic infestation in the social media. Indeed, those (forwar)dodo’s are flying faster and soaring higher than the eagles in every forum. 

The FF crème are occupying their time coming up with creative solutions to solve such problems.  They are ready to challenge the normal – working every angle – acute and obtuse – and proposing that their tangents are now the new normal.  There are two novel solutions that​ are being unleashed​​ lately. 

The first solution is getting rid of those ridiculous hand sanitizers, soaps, etc. laden with poisonous chemicals. Indeed, many entrepreneurs are trying to help you with that by clearing the shelves at your local and on-line stores. You call these guys bad names and you ask that we shun them and penalize them?  But they are doing it completely selflessly and for the greater good only, FFS! So that you can accept the real solution that has been staring you in your face all this time - only 1G out of the 5G's from your local gau-shala. The gau-mutra is reputed to be naturally available in abundance on the FF. It is the most potent germicidal known to mankind.  Vouched for by eighty four lakh gods.  The only known cure.  Scoff all you want at such ancient remedies.  All the phoren travelers, their smartphones and social media forums need to be sprinkled with this powerful panacea to eliminate any info-demic spread.  

As a backup, the second solution is Get it On, Bang A Gong, Get it On. We clapped and used Bluetooth speakers to add to the normal cacophony on the FF, applauding the front line caregivers dealing with BBB.  Kudos, Thumbs Up, Folded Hand emoji and High Fives all around! But FF denizens have discovered the hidden and ancient scientific ways that this Bang A Gong could destroy the BBB info-demic infestation. 

There is ample and convincing evidence in video games about the speed and efficiency of Sonic the Hedgehog to annihilate and crush the enemy. Ultrasonic, Supersonic, Infrasonic energy waves - No, Nein, Nada, you say? You feckless, ignorant, un-believer.  Go back and read your scriptures again.  What about naada, you ignoramus?  Our ancient literature is full of scientific facts about an-hada naada, meghnaada and other naada power references. The science handed to us by our ancestors, we discarded it like yesterday's newspaper. We were warned about the destructive power of acoustics by our parents! "Don't listen to that rock’n’roll too loud?"   Lost our hearing, eh?  And our moral bearings along the way, eh? 

With this power, you grab a hold of that BBB by its tail and shake it at its resonant frequency. A total arta-naada from BBB. It will break apart, spilling its guts like a common pick-pocket in front of the havildar. So crank up your sound systems now!

As the bard (not Cacofonix, the other bard) famously said about info-demics:

It is a tale,
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, folks!

 

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

The WhatsCrapp Times 

 (Hands On, Pants Off edition)

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆   

Extra! Extra!!  Why Be Fooled Somewhere else?

Funny Farm is buzzing with the invasion of killer bees from Heck. The Cows, Goats, Geese and the (equal but less equal) other assorted animals are going stir-crazy.  Swirling pantsless while WFH. Cleaning up cobwebs and driving bats out of their belfries.  Re-serving up the same lukewarm (forwar)dishes from their other WhatsCrapp, FarceBook and InstaBabble virtual, half-baked feeds.  Park your brains, fellow FF folks, suspend your beliefs and enjoy!

Amble says Wake-up people! Rejoice! Repent! / Gnash your teeth! / Binge-watch Netflix. Your hair / their pants / the bush / this girl is on FIIIIRE, here is  conclusive proof / wild-a$$ conspiracy / 95% discount flier !!

Bumble says Relax, man, it's troubling sign for the FF natives, yes, and totally due to not following the Manusmriti code of conduct.  The FF has seen this coming, this is the Kali-yuga.  Nothing we can't  fix / destroy / bomb / drown / ignore.  5G's (Panch-gavya) to the rescue!

Crumble says Bumble is full of $h.t. I have personal message delivered by carrier pigeons from my beautician / dietician / statistician friend's uncle's third cousin who is working 24-7 on this. Smoke has indeed been pouring from my ears / the bar-b-q grill  all weekend.  Ergo, Bingo! The FF world should totally be on / we didn't start the fire!!!

Dimwit says Amble, Bumble, Crumble and Egghead are not getting the complete picture / subscription to Amazon Prime / porn channel / required medications / psychiatric help that they need.

Egghead says Heck, NO, stop this, Dmwit.  NOW! Stop misleading the faithful FF Denizens with half-baked nonsense / cookies / ceramic pottery.

Amble trumpets loudly that in response to this impending calamity / catastrophe / caterwauling, the silence from the other side is golden / deafening / signs of abject surrender / Maun (absence of noise or ~10 bB level).

Fumble says Egghead can go f**k himself, Dimwit didn't read the full post / tea-leaves.  All are smoking something funky.  He would call Bumble a son-of-a-bee but bees might be offended. Crumble's argument and snide comments is how the cookie eventually, well, crumbles.

Dimwit says anyone who agrees with Bumble, Egghead and Fumble now, but agreed with Amble, Crumble, and Grumble during the BAD (Before Acche Din) Congress Raj / BJP AD (Acche Din) / ReThuglican Elephant Daze / DemocRat Donkey’s Years is guilty of sheer, unfettered and totally hilarious / heinous / horrific hypocrisy.

Grumble says Hothead is right / wrong and this is what gives our side / their side / love a bad name….but criticizing Bumble is unfair / fair game and if you'd really read the graffiti on the wall / Egyptian hieroglyphics / smoke signals / kama sutra from April 15, 1912 you'd know that!!!

Ignoramus says calm down. Let's sort this out rationally / alphabetically/ categorically / algorithmically.

Joker says we tried calm and rational already and it didn't work. Now please drop your pants so you can pull your head / statistics / broomstick out of your a$$.  It might just save mightily on your chiropractor or proctologist bills!

Kilroy and Loser say they watched all cartoons / talk shows / ESPN / GuruSwami videos.  We've all known about this for ages and all known and UNknown agencies are praising Funny Farm's Buzzing Bee BS Bash.

Mongo and Nanga say on that you can't control / supervise / criticize / euthanize the entire Funny Farm. Not possible.  FF animals are party animals - in more ways than can be counted

Obunda retweets flake news and within five minutes gets re-tweeted 100,000 times.

Pondy says go back and read Bumble, Egghead and Grumble. Because you missed this relevant / irrelevant stuff - fractured factoid / buried dog bone!  This exception / deception / connection / rejection / conniption totally proves / disproves that the originator is a genius / moron / taxidermist.

Quacker says no, don’t read Bumble, Egghead and Grumble because someone just released a NEW BOMBSHELL that will set your skull on fire again.  If you have one left after the first bombshell.  It will totally make hair grow through ears / nostrils / other orifices without Rogaine.

Randy says okay, yeah, the new bombshell is pretty shocking / rocking / meh but what about this dude which is meh / stinky / intoxicating.

Stinky says the number of false assumptions / out-of-context quotes / bad grammatical choices / melted crayons in the new bomb / pistachio / c-shell make it a mess.

Tatta wonders about anyone who feels compelled to rebut / ignore Quacker's propaganda.  As an aside, Randy is anyway a psychopath / sociopath / homeopath / naturopath.

Uncouth and Vicious stumble into the debate discussion late / hung over and have no clue what's going on. Nor interested except trying to cure that buzzing in their head - not sure if it is from the the damn boozing bees or not.

Wagger tries to explain to Uncouth and Vicious what's going on, causing Uncouth to fall asleep while Vicious gets... vicious.

Xman accuses Yokel, in a sidebar, of cherry picking his facts. Yokel accuses Xman of nit / nose / a$$ picking.

Zoomer tunes out completely and leaves the group.

 © 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆