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Does this look like the end ? half of the biggest democracy in the world with no power.

A slow decay into a wretched demise is upon us, not one of nuclear bombs or listening to Metallica, but a collapse of infrastructure and political inaction.

It appears the plug was pulled on Northern India and plunged some 600 million people into darkness and a Vindaloo misery. 

A ghastly grab by the south of the country that used more of their share of electricity - is this how civilizations implode?

That wouldn't complete the conspiracy, for climate change has contributed too, in some areas, weak monsoon forces farmers to use more electricity to irrigate thus adding burden on an already archaic system.

And for the emerging middle classes there is a price to pay for Smartphone’s, computers and air conditioning. What use are these gadgets if the load cannot be sustained?

No power means (without backup generators) standstill, utter chaos and no Facebook or Twitter to narrate the suffering.

It’s wonderful for Apple and Samsung to rent us sexy gizmo's  salacious as they are. But despite less consumption than Canada and the USA combined, India has to have a reliable grid to run these things; Talk about the cart before the horse.

On Tenth and 42^nd many miles away, gleaming stumps in the sky wait for new occupants, the New World has it all worked out, Really ? – and the new power plants are where exactly?

One can look mighty foolish in a fancy apartment with no electricity - Bike lanes can only do so much.

A blackout of the system is a blackout of the spirit, and unless sanity prevails we all could meet a suffocating and sweaty end.

Cheerfully yours … Stuck in the Mud. 

Boris the Bike Engine

A very British Cock up is emerging, this time it pertains to the unfolding drama called ‘Which way to the Olympics?’ Recent reports from the motherland indicate shades of Monty Python at play.

Olympians arriving at Heathrow on route to the Village have been caught up in a marathon like expedition, compromising of four hours worth of detours by bus drivers who clearly don’t have GPS or the ‘Knowledge’. 

The ‘Knowledge’ incidentally is the urban exam every London cab driver has to take in order to drive a cab. Quite unlike anything a New York cabbie has to endure. 

And talking of Cabbies, there seems to be a protest among them to foul up the City because of denied access to the Olympic lanes designed for crap bus drivers and high minded officials to whiz by in their BMW’s. A fine of 130 Pounds Sterling is in the offering for any undesirable who breaks the law.

One would suggest a running prosthetics issued at every terminal for arrivals for a smooth passage into London. 

But Michael Johnson the former US Olympic champion deems them to be unfair.

All this confusion must stem from the bloody genius who designed the games logo – anyone who can decipher that deserves a gold medal. 

Not with content with traffic woes it has now been realized that the security firm G4S (Good 4 Shite) in charge of protecting all and sundry can only produce a handful of chaps to preside over a small nations worth of people. It has been left to the Army to pick up the slack just when they thought returning from Afghanistan and spending quality time with their families was on the cards. 

As a side note Nick Buckles the head of G4S only gets almost a million a year for his talents and swiped two hundred and eighty four million of tax payer’s money to do the job. Evidently he should be in banking and this makes the British government looked efficient!

Ah but wait! Redemption is at hand, in light of fresh shenanigans at Barclays; a glorious proposal has been put forward by chief sycophant ‘Boris the Bike Johnson’. It is rumored that Boris Johnson the Mayor of London sleeps with a Barclays bedspread and matching pajamas, but never mind the imperfections this is his finest hour. Due to the resignation of top executives, Boris has hatched a plan to salvage the fine name of Barclays and render it back into the good graces of the public by the Diamond Refund.

The Diamond Refund by way of ‘giveback’ will use the former CEO bonus to offset British taxpayer’s troubles by giving every Olympian and a spectator a free Barclays bicycle for life with the added incentive to reopen or open a checking account at your local branch.

Just think of the benefits, Olympic lanes with its very own peloton, anticipation for a first GB Tour de France win, good health for the bulging British waistline, seamless  access to events across the city and no exorbitant taxis rides – heavens it will look like Amsterdam or Copenhagen, it’s an effing Gold medal !

Well done Boris you magnificent buffoon.

Wheel of Fortune

A funny thing happened while on route to my pole dancing class today, I found myself in my local bank making a quick cash deposit, a rare occurrence I have to say when I noticed something different.

First of all the noise, along the walls stood rows and rows of EGM’s (electronic gaming machines) and carpeting had replaced the linoleum, although it could not dull the sound, it felt reassuring under my feet.

The Citibank logo had been changed to Casino Bank® with bright flashing lights. A roulette wheel sped by in a whippet frenzy manned by the former security guard. The blackjack tables sat where once the deposit slips stood - local depositors hugged the edges with rapt attention. 

The ATM’s lined up in a cynical row beckoning you to withdraw. Keisha my usual counter Associated had slipped out of her corporate slacks and was bursting out of her ‘barely there’ cocktail dress wearing a wicked smile. 

“We have free drinks for any checking account over 1,000.00 dollars”. I didn’t, but sampled them anyway.

There was the Bank of America cocktail called the Dirty Mortgage Martini laced with vodka, crushed Greek olives, and grenadine.

Not bad, although not a fan of olives, Greek or otherwise. Next was the “Citibank” a concoction of Baileys, gasoline and peach schnapps with a red umbrella. This aptly was called the “Baileys Bailout” and I had three thanks to being a local branch member.

Keisha knows exactly how much money I have in my accounts but continues to let me drink regardless. She handed me a “Captain Morgan Chase” I was mildly surprised by the Dark rum, bitters and self regulatory jalapenos.

By now my head was spinning in tandem with the roulette table but I was on a roll. Next, the Barclay’s Rig, a lovely blend of Bacardi, Blue Curacao and Bollinger, every Trader recommends them I hear.

There were two more left and I was in great peril of missing my class, time was of no importance seeing all clocks on the walls had been removed.

Keisha said this was her favorite the HSBC, Hire Shady Bankers Committee; this was punitively prison worthy, Grappa, Saké, Tequila and lighter fuel. Ghastly, but like most bankers ‘It puts you in the red’.

Lastly and in need of the ‘All you can eat buffet’ I spotted in what used to be the manager’s office the RBS (Royal Bank of Scotland) this fittingly was called the Robber Barons Scotch comprising of Laphroaig, Lagavulin, Talisker and Haggis - Need I comment?

In this ‘Winner - takes - all - World it is heartening to know that whatever money you deposit will be matched with a thriving 0.0100 % interest rate just about the same odds as winning in Las Vegas.

It’s hard to see the difference anymore, the house always wins.

Burpppp!!!  Now’s where’s my pole?

Downward Yob

When did applying for a marriage license become so hot? ; Apparently when Alec Baldwin obtained one. 

The much published engagement to a young hot yoga teacher Hilaria Thomas (Hot in the looks department not in the Bikram style) has sparked off a flash of excitement among the salacious press. 

Our very own hothead Alec ‘Downward Yob’ Baldwin has done it again tackling the media on all fronts, beginning with the ejection from American Airlines for not shutting off his phone, to Tweeting a bile ridden defense of his girlfriend at her yoga studio and the left savage phone message concerning his daughters tardiness in replying to his calls (who could be blame her)

Clearly the calming effect of his future wife vocation is doing wonders, or is it the thought of marriage Ouch! That was hot. Or perhaps his brother (Stephen) loss to Kevin Costner in some court room oil dispute. 

Whatever it is Ms Thomas might wonder what pose to adopt when dealing with the cantankerous future hubby. Perhaps she might have retreated to the summer solstice in Times Square where hundreds of yogis are calming the notorious loud intersection with meditative vibes.

And maybe I can permit myself once more to use the word ‘Hot’ to describe the day’s event.

Got Crate ?

I would like to pause for a moment and consider a much underrated device – the milk crate.

Is device a too fancier word? 

In a world where gadgetry and technology gets lauded attention this sturdy almost indestructible workhorse of design needs to have its worth saluted.

After the I phone, the shipping container is the most ubiquitous object on the planet. It has the dubious task of ferrying our useless crap around the world. But spare a thought for the “mini me milk crate” a versatile square of plastic that never fails in its utilitarian endeavors.

Statistics of milk crates stolen each day are a clear rival to smart phones, so when you hear about another I Phone robbery think milk crate…not far behind.

First of all it carries milk – excellent, cows have never been happier.

But wait there’s more: 

The vinyl record collection you can’t part with.

The bicycle rack that can house a small child and groceries. 

Illicit potted plant storage. 

More lasting than IKEA furniture.

Durable enough for Oprah’s ass.

Build a wall between Mexico and USA

A Birdcage

Chicken coup.

The Freedom Tower.

Stacked $100 bills for Afghanistan.

Sex toy apparatus (not sure about that one) although one could melt the plastic and…oh never mind.

Heavens you could build a tree house…now there’s an idea.

Birth of a Nation

The Technocratic State of AppleLand has made a land grab for Hawaii, all its inhabitants will be relocated to Detroit as a retribution for years of basking in paradise. It is a strategic move to keep an eye on Asia and rub sea salt in the wounds of Sony. AppleLand’s motto will be “My Way or The Hawaii Way” and every visitor to the island will be greeted with a free headset so that they can look trendy walking down the street.

A constitution has been somewhat drawn up with the following preamble: 

We the People of the AppleLand, in Order to form a more perfect domination, establish Justice, International tranquility, insure, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the Technocratic State of AppleLand.

…the rest we’ll make up as more iPads are sold.

There will be no leader; just a secret committee of faceless geeks wearing corduroy, its citizens will be called Apple Lets however they will not receive any dividends. On Independence Day one share will be given to each Apple Lets as way of saying thanks for surrendering your life to a life of gadgetry. 

There will be no religion, just a morning text sent by each Apple Let to our creator “Jobs” to say we‘re logged on.

State stereotypical attire will not comprise of Bowler Hat, Beret or Turbans but a black polo sweater size 6 and ill fitting jeans.

With a State Gross Domestic Product bigger than Poland, Belgium, Sweden, Saudi Arabia, and Taiwan, Appleland GNP well exceeds 100 billion and is in the process of procuring F 15 fighter jets from the USA, Royal Navy frigates from UK and Tangerines from Morocco.

With the birth of a nation, obligations of security and welfare of its Apple Let’s must be considered. Bribery and corruption is the world’s oldest game and Appleland will fend off hostility with discounted refurbished iPods. The jets and ships are just for show, Jobs was a hippy, and the Technocratic ecosystem AppleLand has created will allow market forces to kill its enemy click by click.

The inclusion of AppleLand in the London 2012 Olympics will be a first for the State regardless of slim expectations of medals; however they will drastically improve the Games logo.

AppleLand does for a moment shed a byte for the rest of world in recession - but only a nano bite. 

Black & Tan – The Art of the Apology

Well St Paddy’s day is approaching and the smarts at Nike have caused a ruckus with their new sneaker called Black & Tan. There is Stout outrage from the Irish who claim insensitivity when treading upon a loathsome period in their history.

The Black & Tans were a paramilitary unit employed by the Royal Ulster Constabulary as tempory thugs in the 1920’s to suppress any thoughts of revolution from its indigenous population. They were comprised from British First World War veterans, who were out of work and handy in the art of brutality. A nick name soon followed, Black & Tans due to their uniform of Khaki trousers and blue or green tunics. This was due to the acceleration in its numbers resulting in a deficit of proper attire.

In short, the presence of these hired louts was to keep an eye on the IRA but as a spot of moonlight will afford, civilians were terrorized and dealt with in an unsympathetic manner.

Naturally this grim legacy does not reside well in Irish hearts, but as marketing and drinking goes, there soon became a drink called the Black & Tan which combines Stout and Ale poured in a pint glass.

Not surprisingly in the UK you can order a pint in most pubs without any issue. In America where the Irish American sense of history is as misty as the Cliffs of Moher it can be ordered without the historical baggage aforementioned. If one were in Ireland,’Feck off yer Fecker’ would be more likely a response.

But who really cares to some ancient squabbling over lands rights and clips around the ear in the name of branding? On the surface Nike doesn’t in their recent promotional. It is hard to imagine out of all people they employ (Irish included) that one doesn’t know about the association with the term. Ben and Jerry’s anyone?

Clearly Nike know what they are doing, it is the classic strategy of Aw Shucks! Really? Didn’t know that, but we have an apology all typed up ready to air.

The product is out; controversy works everyone included Sir Harry is talking about it - job done. Fallout? Look at the sales? And no mentioned of child labor!

Time and time again this tacit has worked to some benefit and most recently in the case of Rush Limbaugh calling Susan Fluke a slut. He knew there would be outcry (rightly so) he had a tepid retort all ready to go – what does he care? 15 million morons still listen to him daily and the ratings are up.

The Art of the Apology, that's the way you do it...