Conversations with a Jihadi

Me: How are you doing! Thanks for talking to me.

J: Infidel! Come to the point. I have rockets to fire and IED’s to place. Me and my Jihadi brothers are under attack everywhere.

M: But why do you want to do such things?

J: Infidels need to be stopped. They are killing our brothers in Somalia, Syria and Disneyland.

M: I am very sad to hear that. I am also very sad about what happened in Paris. Should a Cartoonist be killed for a cartoon?

J: Well, you know how French are, killing and raping our brothers.

M: That does not sound right. No matter how weird French are but raping brothers might be a stretch. Why do people fear your radical ideology so much?

J: I have no idea why anyone will fear us. Just because we carry rocket launchers, blow ourselves up when mood strikes and are trying to run over all of Middle East! But you know how they are! Killing our brothers in Madagascar.

M: Who are “they”?

J: You know Americans, Chinese, Russians, British, French, Christians, Hindus, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs, gays, lesbians, transgenders, Arabs, Turks, whites, blacks, browns, yellows, colorless ones and those blue ones who live on another planet. You know how they are!

M: Why do you expect people to support you when you are committing inhuman crimes?

J: We feel everyone is supporting us. Do you want to give me name and exact address of someone who is not supporting us?

M: But don’t you think that the world order you want to establish is medieval and frankly cruel. It treats women as secondary citizens and has inhuman punishments.

J: I agree they are not citizens of any class and should serve men only. Do you want to use a rocket launcher? Trust me, it is crazy fun.

M: Thanks again but I am good. What about cutting hands for theft?

J: I agree it is wrong. Their heads should be cut.

M: Why should a woman need to have 4 witnesses to prove rape?

J:I agree it is unfair. They should need 10. Do you want to blow a bridge?

M: What drives you?

J: Toyota pick ups mostly though sometimes we get Hummers. Is that an iphone6? Can I see it?

M: I mean..

J: Do you want to exchange this phone for a rocket launcher?

M: No, I have no use for a rocket launcher. Why would anyone shoot Malala?

J: She is an American agent, works for Mossad and still unmarried at 13. You know how they are! You sure you don’t want a rocket launcher!

M: Do you realize that 99.9% of the world including people from faith you claim to represent don’t support you.

J: Infidel, I must warn you that you are entering serious blasphemy territory. I will declare a fatwa so fast you won’t even know what hit you.

M: I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.

J: But, you did!  You uncircumcised, non rocket- firing, non-bridge blowing bastard! Leave now.

Empowerment videos/ BS and then some

Recently there was a video made by Vogue in partnership with Bollywood star, Deepika apparently about women empowerment. I am a strong supporter of equal rights for all. The video though is over the top, confused and frankly re-emphasize female stereotype. As a man, I am trying to go sentence by sentence and put my spin on it.

Vid: My Body! My mind! My choice! To wear the clothes I like as my spirit roams naked.

Me: I tried the same exact thing. But neighbors complained and yada yada yada, now I have to keep clothes on.

Vid: My choice! To be a size zero or 15. They don’t have a size for my spirit and never will.

Me: Is that why Clooney, Damon, DiCaprio, Depp and Pitt always land those sexiest man alive pseudo-awards? Must be because of their size 15! Double!

VID: To use cotton and silk to trap my soul is to believe you can hold expansion of universe or capture sunlight in the palm of your hand.

Me: That sentence is so BS that I won’t even bother to respond. If I stand at a street corner and say things like that, I will be in a Psych facility in no time.

Vid: Your mind is caged, let it free. My body is not, let it be.

Me: You seem to be talking about either LSD, Mushrooms or Pot. Just don’t break any law!

Vid: My choice to marry or not to marry. To have sex before marriage, outside marriage or not to have sex.

Me: Some of my brethren men also expressed themselves in the same manner, by having sex outside marriage. Now their wives and attorneys have cleaned them out, they are homeless and living in a Motel6. So please extend same courtesy to my peeps.

Vid: My choice to lust temporarily or to love forever.

Me: You can always fake lust as love. Win Win!

Vid: My choice to love a man, a woman or both.

Me: As men, most of our fantasies involve women with other woman. So please go ahead and spare us no details.

Vid: Remember you are my choice; I am not your privilege.

Me: Remember it was your choice to sleep with that clown, Ranbir Singh. Don’t blame all men for your own bad choices.

Vid: Bindi on my forehead, ring on my finger and adding your surname to my name. They are ornaments. It can be replaced, my love for you cannot be. So treasure that.

Me: I totally agree. That’s why I don’t do a bindi, ring or the surname thing.

Vid: My choice. To come home at 4 am and don’t be fooled if I come home at 6pm.

Vid: So then don’t bitch if we come home at 4 am and go out again after coming home at 6 pm.

Vid: My choice to have your baby or not.

Me: My choice to impregnate you or not! No pressures.

Vid: To pick you from 7 billion choices or not.

Me: Are we freaking including children, al-Qaeda, Putin and people in coma as well.

Vid: So don’t get cocky. My pleasure may be your pain. My songs your noise. My order your anarchy. Your sins, my virtues.

Me: Did you really have to pay someone to write this crap? This is as nonsensical as; my sugar may be your salt. My apple your orange. My head your feet. Your body odor my fragrance.

Vid: My choices are like my fingerprints. They make me unique.

Me: My fingerprints are not even my choices. So what the heck does that make me?

Vogue, just because you shot the video in black and white and added some classical Indian music at the start does not make it “classy”.

Weight loss-Bicycling for fitness

cyclingAs my physical trainer refused to train me till I get the clearance from my doctor, I am stuck. I never realized that getting an appointment with doctor for a full physical is this challenging. I do have a regular primary care doctor. I haven’t seen him for years. His office used to call me, send e-mails and letters but they eventually gave up.

In the meantime, I saw a flyer for anyone with “reasonable” fitness to join a bicycling group. I consider myself reasonably fit despite what physical trainer thinks. I called them and they told me to meet them for a “quick ride” next day.

I might have rushed into this a little too quickly. I don’t even have a bicycle. Luckily there is a full service bike shop around where I live. I went there and told them that I am planning to join a group (there is something good about saying that you are joining a group. I bet that’s why terrorists, racists and religious extremists form them). It turns out that there is a whole world to cycling. The kid working there asked me so many questions; I was feeling like a war criminal.

Why do you want to bike?

It’s a long story. But if you must know my physical trainer will not train me till my doc sees me. My doc can’t see me for days and my life coach is a drug dealer.

Do you plan to bike every day?

No, that would be crazy.

What is your biking philosophy and style?

It is simple; to not fall down.

Do you plan to use it as an exercise or as a lifestyle?

What does that even mean?

Will you do road, off-road, dirt or mountain? Drop-bar or flat bar?

I am just trying to be fit, I am not suicidal.

Will I be doing cross-country or uphill?

Hopefully only downhill!

Would you be riding to work?

Again I am not suicidal.

Then we started to look at bikes. Some of these were as expensive as used cars. Would I prefer 16 gears with .75 tires, carbon fiber frame or am I more in Italian bikes? Do I have shoes? Do I have proper gear? Do you have a bike carrier on your car? This thing is insane. I have been here for 45 minutes and I am no closer to finding anything. I told the kid to do what he thinks is best for me. Just make sure I have everything.

We took some bikes out to try. These things are very uncomfortable. By the time I positioned myself, my butt was almost at the same level as my head. There is something inherently wrong with any activity where your butt is at the same level as your head. Kid has finally decided what bike is good for me. This is a 16 gear, 1.25 inch, aluminum frame with carbon fiber chassis or something like that. He gets so excited talking about these bikes I wonder if he is sleeping with them at night.

Now he wants to fit me with bicycling gear. I will need a helmet, shirt, bicycling shorts, clip on shoes, a water bottle carrier and god knows what else. He also wants to put rear view mirrors on bike so that I can see if a competitor is gaining on me. It looks like he has way more faith in my abilities than myself.

cycling1 I tell you this bicycling gear is fun. They have these shirts with all kind of logos. I always thought some of these snobs who are riding have some kind of sponsorship and they are professionals. Apparently anyone can buy these shirts. The shorts are real tight and have some thick cushioning which ..brings out lot of bulges. In fact I am impressed with myself. Now I know why these jerks are always stopping at Starbucks. Because you are never going to look so “big” in any other type of shorts.  To be continued….

John Doe (Part 9): A Medical Orgy

doctorsToday is a busy day. The cancer doctor is in. He informs me that if I am found to have prostate cancer with metastasis to lungs, he will use a chemotherapy regimen called CAT (Cisplutonium+ Atronucleum+Tarcilium). If I am found to have lung cancer with mets to prostate, he will use BRAT (Bullonium+Robushium+Assonium+Tarcilium). If they can’t figure out what is what, then he might use BRATCAT altogether. He pleasantly informs me that though this powerful combination of medications will cause nausea, poor appetite, infections, ulcers and nerve damage but my “survival” will improve to 27% from 23.75% over 5 years.

But off course he first needs Urologist to biopsy my prostate and the lung doctor to see me. He also needs heart doctor and kidney doctor to give clearance for chemotherapy. It looks like every doctor is waiting for 3 other doctors to do their part before they can do anything.

Suddenly angry surgeon is back with her full team. She wants to know why they are talking about chemotherapy when gall bladder is still sitting in there, waiting to explode like a rotten kiwi. And if he is going to go for a prostate biopsy, why can’t she and Urologist “double tag” me and do both these things at the same time. She orders her assistant types to call Urologist assistant types. The Oncologist tells his assistant types to call kidney doctor’s assistant types.

Nurse informs them that I have been declared suicidal again by Psychiatrist. Angry Surgeon is real angry now, “these shrinks are out of control.” She asks another assistant to call shrink. Oncologist asks his assistant to call heart doctor so they can find out if my heart is strong enough to undergo gall bladder surgery, prostate biopsy and chemotherapy with CAT or BRAT or BRATCAT.

Kidney doctor comes in with his team. Surgeon asks him, “are his kidneys gone”? He informs her that he can’t say anything till 24 hour urine is collected and all kind of tests are run. The cancer doc wants to know if patient can at least tolerate chemotherapy. He feels I definitely need chemotherapy even if they have to put me on dialysis. The heart doctor’s assistant calls back. His boss is at some charity golf tournament and can’t be disturbed. Angry surgeon had a husband who used to play charity golf. She kicked him out and now he is on charity himself.

The Shrink is back. He is clearly intimidated by angry surgeon. She tells him that he needs to fix me whatever “mumbo jumbo” he needs to do. Otherwise there is no one to give consent for the surgery. The urologist comes in with his team. He has some long tubes in his hands. “Does he still have the obstruction? I can pass a catheter.” I can only imagine where this thing is supposed to go.

They talk some more about me. They decide to page Radiologist to further discuss those thousand CT scans that they have done on me so far. He doesn’t call back. They call him this time. The Radiologist is not happy. He is not used to being disturbed after 4 pm. He is “out” already and cannot look at CAT scans. He tells them that this “32 hours work week” is taking a toll on his life. He might not be able to do it much longer if he has to work 32 hours a week, 40 weeks a year. He loves medicine and taking care of patients but he can’t kill himself for them. Angry surgeon tells him that he does not take care of any patients, he just read films. He tells them to call “Nighthawk”. This is apparently some Radiologist thousands of miles away in foreign lands.

Now I truly have become an international case. I have 5 specialists and an army of trainees right at bedside and yet they need another one from another country. Thankfully they have decided to postpone this discussion for next day.

My Physical Trainer

PTFinally I have a trainer. After my disastrous entry in world of Yoga, I have realized Gym might be better. I must say now I firmly believe that matches are either made in heaven or in gym. I have seen this dude working out with people and he looks like a fairly relaxed guy. So I felt that my motivation levels might match his levels.

I approached him. But this time I did not want to make same mistake as I did with last trainer. I made sure that I should not leave any doubt that I am a very motivated and disciplined type person. I had read somewhere that if you keep on repeating same word again and again, you are more likely to be believed.

PT: You want to work out with me?

Me: I am very motivated.

PT: That’s great! How many times a week do you want to work out?

Me: I am so motivated that I might want to work out all 7 days a week. But since I have to work and you probably have things to do, maybe we can do once a week.

PT: I will suggest at least three times a week.

Me: Absolutely, 3 is better than 1.

PT: What kind of diet do you want to follow?

Me: I am so motivated that I might not eat/drink anything except protein bars and shakes. Is that ok with you.

So far he seems to believe every word that I say. I can always make excuses to cut it down to once a week once he accepts me. He asked me to follow him. We walked to rear end of the gym. He asked me to take my clothes off. I told him that I am flattered but I am not into these kinds of things. He gave me a hurt look (could have been a puzzled look). “How am I going to measure you then”? This is getting awkward real fast.

Me: Oh..I am so sorry. I hope you did not think…..

PT: No! No! It is not my role to judge.

Me: No! Oh my God! No..I thought you were….

PT: Jesus! No..I have many friends who are…oh god…I will never judge anyone..

Me: Me too. I will die or go on a diet before judging…(in a panic and thinking how can I revive the situation) It is nothing new for me. People ask me to take my clothes all the time. (shut up now. you can only make it worse). I am sure you also take your clothes off all the time. Ha-ha (SHUT UP NOW).

PT: No, in fact nobody does. Remember, I am a Physical trainer not an exotic dancer.

Now this whole thing has a very strange feel to it. Did he think I think he is…Did he think? He tells me he respects all his clients regardless. I told him I hardly respect anyone (why did you have to say that). I mean I respect physical trainers regardless (please shut up now).

I think everything is going well. He then drops a bomb. “When did you see your regular doc last time”? Where is this son of a gun going with this one? I told him that I frankly don’t believe in going to doctors. My Grandfather lived till 94 and the only reason he lived so long was that he never went to a doctor. “I will need a clearance from your doctor. It looks like you have been living a very sedentary life.” I told him that I walk up one flight of stairs every morning, all 9 stairs. He does not want to hear anything.

So, now this is a big cluster fu**. I need to see a doctor to be able to work out with second physical trainer after being rejected by first. I am clearly not cut out for Yoga and my life coach is a drug dealer. I am living the freaking dream.   To be continued…


Weight Loss- My Experiments with Yoga

yogaAfter my misadventures with gym, physical trainer and life coach I have decided to cast a bigger net. I saw a flyer in mail for a yoga place. I carefully studied it. This is something that I feel is made for me. It offered “our mindful meditation classes are 30-45 min sessions and includes a light yoga , a mindful reading with then 20 mins of quiet”. I did not understand the whole thing but it looks like a lot of lying down doing nothing. This is my kind of thing. I immediately signed up.

I arrived at Yoga center. It was filled with Yoga types with yoga pants, workout mats, water bottles etc. I off course arrived completely unprepared. Yoga types are kind people though. They gave me a mat and some towels. I asked them where do I have to sleep so we can have this thing done super-fast. The yoga types just smiled.

Within 5 minutes I realized that there is something wrong. This is not definitely anything they described. I might have signed up for “advanced Vinyasa Flow” which seems like hard-core stuff. They have also increased room temperature to 80. Rather than “light yoga stretch, a mindful reading with then 20 mins of quiet” that I was expecting this was “torture you to death in artificially heated hell”. I asked them to lower the temperature. This got me a stare from everybody. Apparently this temperature is intentional. Is anybody sane in here?

I must say these Yoga types are insane. They were doing kind of things that I would not wish upon my worst enemy. I was also out of sync with pretty much everyone else. Even pregnant women seem to be doing better than me. My only solace was another dude (class was 85% females) who seemed to have been dragged here by his pregnant wife. He was in absolute bad shape. Unfortunately he was right in front of me. This means every time we bent or something I was looking straight at his butt crack. This was adding more to overall nausea inducing environment. But at least I have someone to look down upon and judge. The whole class kept on giving us this look “why are you here”?

I must apologize to all those, in whom I bumped into while doing some of these poses, especially to the elderly lady who fell down. She was very gracious though. She only cursed me couple of times. To be honest, half the time I was close to passing out. My ego won’t let me quit either. I was also fairly paranoid. I feel these Yoga types had intentionally changed my classes to torture me. Who knew that these yoga types could be so malicious?

At times they ask you to hold a pose and think about something pleasant. This must be a joke. I am almost passing out, looking at a butt crack and trying to hang on to last ounces of my dignity. All I can think about is how to make through next 60 seconds. I am also daydreaming about some kind of a twisted world in which I am the instructor and these people have to do what I ask them to do.

John Doe’s Psychoanalysis

Credit to

I still have a sitter who is monitoring me 1:1 in case I run away and start humping Petunias again. At this time I am not sure which of my organs are alive, dead, partially working, hibernating or ready for donation. I have been here for 24 hours and I am not sure if I need to donate organs or need organs.

There is another gentleman who has just entered my room now. He comes in, looks around, walks out and then comes in again. He repeats this whole cycle again. He seems to be in some kind of agony (only later did I realize that he always looks same). He has somewhat of a strange disposition. He is balding in front, has long hairs in the back, has earrings, purple shirt and a flowery tie. Either he was a hippy or trying to be one in reverse. His glasses and pants both seem to be falling down at the same time. He tries to balance them alternately. He is also carrying some hundreds of loose papers.

He told me he was here to help me. He would be my Psychiatrist. I told him I would be his Neurosurgeon. He got very puzzled. He showed me his I.D. He really was a Psychiatrist. After this he pulled out one sheet from hundreds of loose papers.

P: Can you tell me about your childhood? What are your memories? How was your relationship with your parents? How was your relationship with your siblings? Were you married? Are you married? Are you single? Are you divorced? Are you in a relationship now?

P: Are you sexually active?

Me: I feel lucky if I can find the damn things to pee on cold days.

P: Have you been attracted to men?

Me: No, just to my TV.

P: Do you have any fetishes? Why were you being intimate with Petunias?

Me: Because I could not find any Lilacs. Are you married doc?

P: Yes, I am! In fact I just got met someone last year and married her. I have 4 children.

Me: How is that possible?

P: They are all her children. She was a patient of mine. Two of her children were patients of mine as well.

Me: But isn’t that unethical?

P: It would be if she continued to be my patient. But she fired me. Her children also fired me. We met 6 months later in “run for kleptomania” and got married. We both even did not remember that we were doctor and patient.

Me: That’s strangest story I have ever heard.

P: I know it’s kind of romantic. She’s also 18 years older than me. In fact her oldest son and me are exactly same age. Is that not a coincidence?

Me: What do I have? What is your plan for me?

P: Well you have early dementia with depression, deviant sexual behavior with impulse control issues and possible anti-social personality disorder. Off course there could be an organic or metabolic underlying condition as we are not done with all testing.

Me: How do you plan to treat me?

P: Just like everyone else. We will start with one anti-depressant, one sedating anti-depressant and one anti-anxiety medication. As these will make you sleepy, I will start you on a stimulant. As stimulant can increase your BP, I will ask Cardiologist to start you on anti BP medication. If you go into a maniac phase with anti-depressant, I will start you on Lithium. If Lithium cannot control it, I will start Olanzapine. If Olanzapine make you too depressed, I will add another anti-depressant. If that makes you more sleepy, I will add another stimulant.

Me: Are you serious? That’s like at least 3 more pills on top of 6 that Cardiologist has me on.

P: These medications are not just for acute improvement. They cut down your suicide risk from 13.6% to 9.8% over next 10 years.

Me: Oh God! I just don’t want to live in this crazy world anymore.

P: (loudly) He is suicidal! Restrain him! Bring the sitter back!