Rogaine

This is exactly why I have avoided hair growth products...the results can be frightening.

iLike

Definately like the look of this new gadget. Definately was looking for a tablet pc before settling on my HP notebook. This is neither a tablet (where's the keyboard?) nor a kindle-type reader. To write up longer documents a touch keyboard would not work...even longer e-mails. Nevertheless, iLike. Oh, Bill, enough with the "i" in front of everything. iStop already!

Weekend, My A**!

The two days of rest signalled by the ever-gloried Friday afternoon never really occurs at my home. A case in point: this weekend.

Went to my mother's home at 9 p.m. Friday night after having dinner at home and blowing out the candles with Seth (the birthday boy). Slept overnight at mom's so I could be present to received the carpet installer. In my dad's absence, we are re-decorating his one room office.

After squaring up with the installer, came home to shower and take some goodies to LaserQuest (LQ), where we are holding Seth's 9th birthday party. On the way to LQ will pick up one of Seth's friends and then set up at LQ. My wife, in the meantime, has taken Tarah to ballet class, gone to pick up the cake and assorted goodies. Tarah and mom will arrive at LQ after the first game and then, "Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday to you..." then another game, goodbyes and back home to clean up.

In the evening, I will be taking at least one of the kiddies back to my mom's to check out the new carpet, install a shower head and fix the kitchen faucet. Also, will need to measure room for new shelving and possibly a new desk. Then back home.

Sunday: Go to Ikea in the morning, possibly bring items found at Ikea back to my mother's place and then? Seth has a birthday party to attend! What! What?

Oh yeah, the bathroom needs cleaning and need to vacuum the house. Kitchen floor to sweep and mop.

Ah, I love weekends....what was your weekend like?

What Am I Reading?

Spy (Thriller)
By Ted Bell

Ted Bell is a former advertising exec. turned writer. Spy pits Islamo-terrorism coming out of South America against the wits of a few "good Americans." A good read...but he's no John Le Carre.


The Frozen Leopard (Travelogue)
by Aaron Latham

Aaron Latham, journalist, ventures to Africa (Kenya and Rwanda) and tries to work his way out of his depression/writer's block. The chapters in the book are a little too episodic, but a nice easy read.


Schizophrenia: A Very Short Introduction
By Christopher Frith and Eve Johnstone

Frith is a Professor in Neuropsychology. Johnstone is Professor and Head of the Division of Psychiatry at the University of Edinburgh. (Yikes!) This a fabulous primer on the subject. By a stroke of luck, while prowling the bookshelves at the library, I came across this book which is one in a series of books on subjects like cosmology, psychology, Islam, Communism, etc. etc. Just picked up Galaxies: A Very Short Introduction...the book is much smaller than you would expect.

In reply to my previous post, Anwar Sumar asks:
"Can you describe that whole flesh wound thing...how it happened"

I don't normally indulge obvious attempts to mock me but....An Indian woman (looked to be in her early 20's) and her boyfriend/husband/whatever happened to have sat next to us at the pool that afternoon. They were, in my opinion, trying very hard not to look our way and smile or say, 'hello.' It was quite obvious that the woman in question was, how should I say without seeming arrogant, taken by me.

In order to attract my attention this girl...really, she was a girl...hardly a woman! Ordered a tall coconut drink complete with an umbrella. At least that's the way I remember it. I found this a little embarassing to be quite honest. Such unashamed attempts to gain my attention went on for a good part of the afternoon.

My buddy and pal -- Anwar; normally a schmoozer himself, decided to ignore the pool-side goings-on. He even hinted that this little girl's affections for me were a figment of my fecund imagination. And if there is one thing about me you should know...I do not take lightly people calling me fecund. No sir!

Anyways, to get to the moment of the wounding of my flesh and yes, even my heart...I was coming out of the pool where I had just gone in to void my bladder. I looked up to see my admirer doing exactly that. No. Not voiding her bladder but admiring me. True, the water was dripping off my man-boobs, my taut, muscled legs carried me ever closer to my seat and lo and behold what do I see? The girl in question was sitting in the middle of an inflatable ring complete with pictures of Disney characters. How cute I though to myself. I faltered and blurted out, "That's very nice."

She mis-judged my comment as being sarcastic and made a face which could only mean that our little romance had come to an end. I was Jack Tripper caught in a comedy of errors. Mr. Furley mistook me for something I was not and what ensued was that I ended up walking into my beach chair, scrapping a whole heap of skin (two inches of it) from top to bottom off my glistening shin.

And that, as they say, was that. I hope this satisfies your need to mock me Sumar! You may want to take a gander at Anwar's encounter with a Man-Maid at the Sheraton in New Delhi here. Who's laughing now, laughing boy?

Open Letter to the Park Hyatt in Goa

Dear Park Hyatt,

I know it has been quite some time since I was with you. My apologies for not writing sooner. Between getting back to Toronto, starting into work and family commitments, I simply haven't found any time to write.

I recently posted some more pics of you that Anwar had taken. You may remember him from our visit in late September of last year. Anyways, the pictures have brought you back to mind: Memories of having showers in your rooms...was it 348...how soon I've forgotten. Forgive me.

Your lush grounds which were meticulously kept by the battalion of grounds-people; chestnut brown meandering boardwalks leading to a white-sand beach which literally went on for miles and miles. Your multiple pools: so clean, curvacious and inviting. The fountains on the pathways leading to our room. The palm trees, the Masaai-red earth which nurtured such luxuriant growth, the birds and yes, even the lizards have me singing your praises.

I apologize. For not writing sooner, but also, for not squeezing more enjoyment out of our time together. For taking you for granted and caring overly much for my own comfort. Besides your memories all I have left are questions. Why didn't I take more pictures of you, explore your alleyways and touch the stone work I walked on or use the hot tub at night? Why is it not possible for my mind to be as still as a photograph and for long enough to lull me to sleep with you in mind.

There's a rock in the pool which is closest to the ocean. My friend and I spent a whole afternoon lazing next to this pool. There is a rock that forms the edge of one side of that pool; a seat has been carved into that rock. You know the one I mean? Where one can come out of the pool sit on the half submerged rock and admire the view of the grounds leading to the beach, and further on, the ocean. That was a great place to take a break from the swimming. I did recognize it at the time for what it was -- a sublime spot for a repose.

I hate to sound overly sentimental, but it is this way, especially when I think of you. What can one say in closing except, thank you.

p.s. I inadvertently scrapped two inches of skin off my right shin while walking around that pool. The bleeding wouldn't stop. My friend suggested calling someone to bandage my leg. At the time, it was painful and I was too busy dealing with the pain to give the flap of skin much thought. I tore it off and let it fall. Now, I think, wistfully, that perhaps you knew I would soon depart and this was your way of keeping a little of me with you.

I will return one day. I promise.

Article of Note: The War on Drugs

"Reading the stories of so many lives derailed by drugs and hobbled by poverty, one can’t help but ask: are we winning the war on drugs? It’s been exactly forty years since Richard Nixon declared drug abuse “a serious national threat” and coined the phrase “War on Drugs.”

Kailash Kher - Chaandan Mein (aaoji)

Indian Security

While packing for my recent trip to India I purposely by-passed one of my favourite T-shirts. It's a shirt with the words, "Old Navy" on it, but more importantly, it has a flag of the United States front and centre. I left it behind because, after all the attacks on the sub-continent by Islamic militants, I thought it would be prudent not to tempt fate.

In this same vein of thinking, I imagined that security at the airports and hotels and other public areas would be strict and it seemed, initially anyways, that this was indeed the case. On landing at the Delhi airport, police with long guns and hand guns were present everywhere. In our need to find our hotel's shuttle we walked into apparently secure areas and were re-directed several times away from the customs' areas towards the exit from the terminal by armed policemen.

When we arrived at the Sheraton late at night we were impressed by a contingent of three security guards who insisted that our cab driver open the hood and the trunk of his car. They employed mirrors on wheels to search the underside of the cab and then waved us through to the reception area. The entrance to the hotel had a metal detector, we were wanded by a guard and all bags had to go through an x-ray machine.

While I fell for this show of security initially, it quickly became apparent after the first day that the security measures in place were nothing more than just a show -- a masquerade, in fact, a sham. The inspection at the gate was never more than a perfunctory examination of the contents in the trunk and under the hood of our car. Our suitcases and various bags and other items were never once picked up or looked at. The back seat of our car and the glove compartment of our car were never ever inspected. Before entering the hotel, our bags were put through an x-ray machine by listless hotel employees who were more concerned with ingratiating themselves with guests than with making a true inspection of the many bags and packages we brought in through the front doors of the hotel.

Similarly, two incidents at two different airports go to illustrate the point recently made by Jyoti Thottam at time.com in an article entitled, "India still a soft terror target a year after Mumbai:" In the article, Thottam quotes Ajai Sahni, Executive Director at the Institute for Conflict Management -- "We remain as vulnerable today as we were on 26/11," says Ajai Sahni, using the shorthand for the Nov. 26, 2008, attacks. "Corruption undermines and negates everything."

Exhibit A: Our departure from Goa was uneventful except for the fact that after checking through the first two layers of security consisting of first, a check of our documents and secondly, a check of the same documents again, we had a few hours to pass before our departure. At some point soon after checking through these two security points, I returned to the soldier who had waved us through to see if I could step out for a few minutes and have a cigarette. This junior soldier, suggested I check with his superior stationed at the initial check point. His superior flatly refused my request to step out of the terminal to smoke. I returned disappointed and the junior soldier asked me what had happened? I told him forlornly that there was no way I would be allowed out. Taking pity on me, the junior soldier quietly pointed out a hallway which led to the arrivals hall. Once I got to the arrivals hall, I simply walked out of the terminal, because that's what arrivals do, had my cigarette and simply re-entered through the arrivals level back through the hallway leading to the departures and to my benefactor, the junior soldier. I thanked him for letting me step out to smoke and he waved me back into the departures area. Security breached.

Exhibit B: An even more egregious example of the type of soft target which Sahni refers to is my experience at the international departures terminal at the Mumbai airport. My reason for breaking security was again the evil weed. Our flight was to depart at 1 a.m. We went through four security stations at 7 p.m. Once inside the terminal I quickly realized, after repeatedly asking various people if there was a smokers lounge somewhere, that I was trapped in a smoke free facility with hours and hours to kill. That and the and the portent of the 22 hour flight ahead of us propelled me to try one last time to grab a cigarette before departing.

Before trying to find a quiet corner of the terminal in which to risk some unknown consequence for smoking in a non-smoking area, I decided to visit the nearest washroom outside our departures lounge. There was an attendant present in the bathroom, a rectangular room with ten stalls on either side. I asked the attendant if there was anywhere I could smoke? The attendant looked to his left and right and rubbed thumb and index finger together -- The universal sign of money.

I said, "Okay, where?" The attendant led me to the farthest stall on the left side of the room, unlocked the unoccupied stall and held the door open for me. At first I thought that he was offering me the stall as a place for satiating my addiction. Once inside the stall, however, I realized that a second door led from the stall into a small closet which measured a square metre at the most.

There was no lighting in the closet, or chair, or window. The attendant left the door slightly ajar and said, "smoke." Desperate for my cigarette, I stepped in, lit up and found a bit of a ledge which ran all around the room to sit on. After a few puffs, I began to look around the room. I began to wonder if all the smoke was streaming into the main area of the bathroom. And then, as my eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings, I noticed some light streaming in from the ceiling. A hole the size of a football had been cut into the ceiling thereby allowing any smoke to vent out into the open air.

I could easily hear the noise of cars passing by outside, the ubiquitous honking of car horns and then it occurred to me that it would be quite easy for anyone to lower a small package into this little anteroom, thereby allowing me to by-pass four layers of security at what must be one of the largest and busiest airports in India. The entire cost of this surprising breach of security was a sweet 100 rupees...about $2.50.

To quote Ajai Sahni again, "Corruption (in India) undermines and negates everything." Despite all appearances since 26/11, India continues, at least in my experience, to remain as porous as ever.

Yes, Please!

Mumbai Attacks Overview

November 26, 2008: Gunmen lay siege on the city identified as the financial and movie-making epicenter of India. Numerous locations are targetted by terrorists claiming to speak on behalf of the world's Muslims and, of course, Allah.

If you are anything like me, you read the news or watched the drama unfold on TV. The Virginia Quarterly Review has a gripping report by Jason Motlagh, a journalist who covers conflicts in South Asia. Motlagh is a regular cotributor to Time, The Economist, Frontline/world, The Washington Times, among others.

Here's an excerpt of this wonderfully written piece of research:

Indian television crews were carrying everything live, and Imran’s handlers in Pakistan were watching, reporting what they could see.

Handler: Fifteen men have climbed down on your rooftop right now.

Imran: They are standing in front of the windows as well.

Handler: What are you saying? Can you see anything there?

Imran: They are firing in the front.

For several heated minutes, the gunman and the handler debated a strategy to protect their position. Another man abruptly took the phone.

Handler 2: You do this. Go towards the roof, throw a grenade at them; and fire at them before they can fire at you. Do this now, in the name of Allah.

Imran: Okay, we will go, remembering the name of Allah.

Handler 2: Bismillah-e-Rehman-e-Rahim.

"Among those killed were twelve police officers, two NSG commandos, and four more security personnel, women and children, and forty-six Muslims."

Tee Hee

I got your back!

So, this guy, let's call him Steven Pinker, writing for New York Times online (who is a professor of psychology at Harvard University) says that Malcolm Gladwell (a uber de-bunker) is, in several cases, out to lunch. What! Malcolm, out to lunch? Gone fishing?

It would seem so: "cherry-picked anecdotes, post-hoc sophistry and false dichotomies, had me gnawing on my Kindle," writes the professor.

Also, Gladwell "...provides misleading definitions of “homology,” “sagittal plane” and “power law” and quotes an expert speaking about an “igon value” (that’s eigenvalue, a basic concept in linear algebra)."

Who would have thunk! The de-bunker has been de-bunked!

In the AtlanticWire, (John Hudson, who the hell is he?), has brought together a collection of pieces written about Gladwell's writing under one convenient roof. You will find in this article that, for example, Tony Ortega writing for the The Village Voice, thinks Malcolm "is full of shit."

Bastards! What do they know! Don't they ever have a bad hair day? Well, Malcolm has a bad hair day everyday! So lay off, ya bastards!! I got your back, Mal.

Happiness

"The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."

John Milton (1608 - 74)

One Word: Quagmire

Karzai has been declared the winner of the Presidential elections in Afghanistan!

A truly crazy state of affairs: Afterall, one million of the ballots cast in Karzai's favour were thrown out in the first round of elections. Karzai is said to be associated with drug lords and known for governmental ineptness and forwarding the personal interests of his friends and family over Afghanistan's national interests.

Says who?: Well, Ahmed Rashid for one in this article published on October 21, 2009.

And...Peter Galbraith of The Guardian writes, "Afghanistan's presidential election is over, and it was a fiasco."

Reuters has an article on the question, "what next?" with too much of a focus on how this effects the U.S.

And the Atlantic has a round up from their archive of past articles on Afghanistan.