Posts
PWC are the auditors of Satyam, the "Truth" software company that falsified accounts and earnings for "several years".
Price Waterhouse Coopers.
Perhaps We Couldn't
Pricey Watered-down Certifiers
Purblind Weak Consorts
Pusillanimous Wasted Cretins
Am I too harsh?
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Shelfari
Interesting book library management online software. Good links to book info, covers and recommendations. Cool interface. Free.
www.shelfari.com
Beats most desktop solutions on aesthetic grounds, but the one to beat on features is Book Collector from collectorz.com
www.shelfari.com
Beats most desktop solutions on aesthetic grounds, but the one to beat on features is Book Collector from collectorz.com
Sliderocket
Phenomenal!
Great online presentation software. Snappy effects, superb interface. Free account (more goodies with paid accounts). Rivals Powerpoint and Keynote. Create presentations to embed in your site.
www.sliderocket.com
Great online presentation software. Snappy effects, superb interface. Free account (more goodies with paid accounts). Rivals Powerpoint and Keynote. Create presentations to embed in your site.
www.sliderocket.com
Satyam. Not really.
Satyam means Truth in Sanskrit. Ironic.
If generations survive, they will look back at the closing years of the opening decade of the 21st century and mark a cusp, a tide in the affairs of men. And women.
If generations survive, they will look back at the closing years of the opening decade of the 21st century and mark a cusp, a tide in the affairs of men. And women.
In the interest of completeness, not that anyone gives a...
I shall upload the test posts I made to posterous earlier today.
Apropos this blogging thing
And it does! Typos and all!
A sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. (Arthur C. Clarke approximately)
A sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. (Arthur C. Clarke approximately)
Apropos this blogging thing
Prodded on by my posterous experiments, I re-checked my old blog and discovered, to my amazement, that has been two years since I last blogged. 2006 was the last one.
Except for the prolific Chiffonesque, it has been similarly long since the other bloggers I was following have blogged.
Which begs the question, what happened in 2007 to turn all of us off blogging?
Will 2009 revive the blog?
Will this auto-post from posterous to blogger work?
Except for the prolific Chiffonesque, it has been similarly long since the other bloggers I was following have blogged.
Which begs the question, what happened in 2007 to turn all of us off blogging?
Will 2009 revive the blog?
Will this auto-post from posterous to blogger work?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
What's pest-ering me
There's this huge hoo-hah about MNC demons Coke and Pepsi busily poisoning us with excessive levels of pesticide in their drinks. Some states have banned sales of their products, other have even banned their manufacture.
The companies themselves have issued the usual half-page advertisements protesting their innocence and adherence to worldwide standards.
What nobody's explained to me is where this alleged pesticide is coming from. Surely no one is suggesting that the Colas add in DDT to make up the volume and cut costs. And I doubt that they are that paranoid about pest control as to over-fumigate their factory premises so that pesticides get into the bottles. And I doubt that pesticide constitutes one of the famous secret ingredients.
That leaves only one place: the water.
Yep, the pesticides have probably leached from the over-dosed soil into the ground water and most of our wells and lakes are probably chock-full of the salubrious stuff.
So if the pesticides are in the water to start with, we are drinking the damn things anyway. How come nobody's bothered to test the tap water?
No convenient scapegoat around, is that it?
Who can I sue?
And why do mosquitoes continue to feed off me?
The companies themselves have issued the usual half-page advertisements protesting their innocence and adherence to worldwide standards.
What nobody's explained to me is where this alleged pesticide is coming from. Surely no one is suggesting that the Colas add in DDT to make up the volume and cut costs. And I doubt that they are that paranoid about pest control as to over-fumigate their factory premises so that pesticides get into the bottles. And I doubt that pesticide constitutes one of the famous secret ingredients.
That leaves only one place: the water.
Yep, the pesticides have probably leached from the over-dosed soil into the ground water and most of our wells and lakes are probably chock-full of the salubrious stuff.
So if the pesticides are in the water to start with, we are drinking the damn things anyway. How come nobody's bothered to test the tap water?
No convenient scapegoat around, is that it?
Who can I sue?
And why do mosquitoes continue to feed off me?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Tech wizards, forsooth!
Now I know our vaunted technological prowess is just a bunch of crumbly stale bread.
My blog is still blocked via one ISP (Tata - you listening, Ratan dikra?) but is accessible via another, Sify.
I'd suspected this because friends in other cities could access blogspot while I couldn't.
Today, in office I switched my router from one ISP to the other and voila!
This means:
- Tata is technically incompetent because they've blocked blogspot when they shouldn't
- Sify is technically incompetent because they haven't blocked blogspot when they should
- Neither gives a rodent's sexual congress for the customer
- All of the above
My blog is still blocked via one ISP (Tata - you listening, Ratan dikra?) but is accessible via another, Sify.
I'd suspected this because friends in other cities could access blogspot while I couldn't.
Today, in office I switched my router from one ISP to the other and voila!
This means:
- Tata is technically incompetent because they've blocked blogspot when they shouldn't
- Sify is technically incompetent because they haven't blocked blogspot when they should
- Neither gives a rodent's sexual congress for the customer
- All of the above
Monday, July 31, 2006
Premature ejaculation...
... is what my previous blog entry was.
We ain't back. Shortly after I posted that, blogspot dropped off my network again and the only way I can get to it now is via a proxy.
This sucks.
At least China has better roads even if they don't have an uncensored Net. What's our claim to fame?
We ain't back. Shortly after I posted that, blogspot dropped off my network again and the only way I can get to it now is via a proxy.
This sucks.
At least China has better roads even if they don't have an uncensored Net. What's our claim to fame?
Thursday, July 20, 2006
We're back!
Yippee and zippee and doodle and all that. Blogspot is back. Democracy wins. Or whatever.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
One more thing, Franz
Oh, I forgot - the reason I can continue to write my blog, is because the idiots have blocked blogspot.com which is where the blog resides, but not blogger.com which is where the authoring of the blog takes place.
I am tempted to break my own rule and display expletives on my blog.
I am tempted to break my own rule and display expletives on my blog.
Kafka, we need you...
This has to be the strangest blog entry I've ever done. Not that I've done many, but still.
It's strange because while I'm allowed to make this entry, I'm not allowed to read it myself.
In its infinite wisdom, the Government of India has decided to block certain blogs from public consumption in India. Fine, they want to do that, they probably have the right to.
But in their ham-handed fashion (I didn't say "typical" but you read it, right?) they've blocked the entire blogspot.com URL. So, all blogs hosted here are inaccessible in India.
Bloody daft!
I'm writing this in the hope that one day I'll be able to read it online without having to go through an anonymizer.
Oh yes, you CAN still access all these sites by going via an anonymizer site - and you can find one in about 0.28 seconds via a Google search. It works - I just saw my own blog though with the styles a bit off, but it's there. I have no doubt that there are other ways to get around this stupid block, but it irks me that I need to.
Forget about my individual rights. Whatever happened to plain commonsense?
It's strange because while I'm allowed to make this entry, I'm not allowed to read it myself.
In its infinite wisdom, the Government of India has decided to block certain blogs from public consumption in India. Fine, they want to do that, they probably have the right to.
But in their ham-handed fashion (I didn't say "typical" but you read it, right?) they've blocked the entire blogspot.com URL. So, all blogs hosted here are inaccessible in India.
Bloody daft!
I'm writing this in the hope that one day I'll be able to read it online without having to go through an anonymizer.
Oh yes, you CAN still access all these sites by going via an anonymizer site - and you can find one in about 0.28 seconds via a Google search. It works - I just saw my own blog though with the styles a bit off, but it's there. I have no doubt that there are other ways to get around this stupid block, but it irks me that I need to.
Forget about my individual rights. Whatever happened to plain commonsense?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The inevitable...
Well, this is the inevitable, nay, obligatory, entry post the latest round of Mumbai blasts. In this I'm probably joining thousands of bloggers who've undoubtedly all expressed their solidarity, horror, regret, pride, and so on.
It's strange how in times like this the usual platitudes and cliches are the only words that actually make sense. "Show must go on." "Pride in Mumbaikar's spirit." "Common man's courage." "Bloody but unbowed." "Business as usual." Even a cynical old sod such as yours truly is moved by the way this city bounces back and keeps on keeping on. Not that there really is such an entity as "this city" - it's you and me that does all the bouncing. And the being bounced, unfortunately.
It's close to two decades since I last regularly commuted by train, but it's an experience that is never forgotten. In fact, you don't even need to be a regular to savor that never-to-be-forgotten experience. Just one ride on Mumbai's trains and you have something to boast about. It's kind of like white-water rafting or bungee jumping: you need to do it just once during rush hour to understand the special skills and daring it requires. After that you can strut around with your chest thrown out with pride - and your spine probably mangled beyond repair, but that's another story.
In my callow youth I wooed in quick succession two Bandra girls and since I was (and still am) an avowed townie, I needed to commute on the suburban trains if I wanted to spend time with my beloved. I still have very fond memories of being crushed against the object of my desire on the journey to her house and then spending the return journey in a dreamy haze in the first class compartment actually sitting down. Ah, call me a roamantic.
Apart from the platitudes and cliches that such events (not the romantic journeys, the other events) throw up, there is also the phenomenon of the fatuous comment. This is usually delivered by a politician or bureaucrat, often with an axe to grind, but they don't have a monopoly on it. Some gems from 7/11:
Mumbai Commissioner: "This appears to be a planned event." You don't say! And here we were thinking what a horrible coincidence it was that seven trains blew up in quick succession, a few kilometers away from each other and a few minutes apart. By the way, the TV networks never made it clear which enlightened Commissioner this was.
Politician: "We need to learn from Gujarat. See how tough they are there and they don't suffer any terrorism while Mumbai is always a target." Ahem! Could that be because Mumbai is the financial capital, has over 17 million inhabitants, provides over 50% of the country's tax revenues, is a great symbol of Indian capitalism and the economy, has loads of public places with gazillions of people in them? Could you name even half a target in Gujarat that is even a quarter as attractive from a terrorist's point of view?
Misguided public advertisement (last page of today's Mumbai Mirror): "Appeal to all Terrorists! Please do not kill absolutely innocent people." Hello? It may be just me, but I always thought terrorism was all about killing innocent people. After all, if you only targeted "guilty" people such as (presumably) the armed forces and the police, where's the terror in that? And who are "absolutely" innocent people? Are there some who are not so innocent, and therefore acceptable targets? And, of course, terrorists are going to be swayed by advertising. Well, if we can be gulled by advertising into buying crap we don't need, hope could be said to spring eternal.
I guess crises do bring out the irrational side of humanity.
It's strange how in times like this the usual platitudes and cliches are the only words that actually make sense. "Show must go on." "Pride in Mumbaikar's spirit." "Common man's courage." "Bloody but unbowed." "Business as usual." Even a cynical old sod such as yours truly is moved by the way this city bounces back and keeps on keeping on. Not that there really is such an entity as "this city" - it's you and me that does all the bouncing. And the being bounced, unfortunately.
It's close to two decades since I last regularly commuted by train, but it's an experience that is never forgotten. In fact, you don't even need to be a regular to savor that never-to-be-forgotten experience. Just one ride on Mumbai's trains and you have something to boast about. It's kind of like white-water rafting or bungee jumping: you need to do it just once during rush hour to understand the special skills and daring it requires. After that you can strut around with your chest thrown out with pride - and your spine probably mangled beyond repair, but that's another story.
In my callow youth I wooed in quick succession two Bandra girls and since I was (and still am) an avowed townie, I needed to commute on the suburban trains if I wanted to spend time with my beloved. I still have very fond memories of being crushed against the object of my desire on the journey to her house and then spending the return journey in a dreamy haze in the first class compartment actually sitting down. Ah, call me a roamantic.
Apart from the platitudes and cliches that such events (not the romantic journeys, the other events) throw up, there is also the phenomenon of the fatuous comment. This is usually delivered by a politician or bureaucrat, often with an axe to grind, but they don't have a monopoly on it. Some gems from 7/11:
Mumbai Commissioner: "This appears to be a planned event." You don't say! And here we were thinking what a horrible coincidence it was that seven trains blew up in quick succession, a few kilometers away from each other and a few minutes apart. By the way, the TV networks never made it clear which enlightened Commissioner this was.
Politician: "We need to learn from Gujarat. See how tough they are there and they don't suffer any terrorism while Mumbai is always a target." Ahem! Could that be because Mumbai is the financial capital, has over 17 million inhabitants, provides over 50% of the country's tax revenues, is a great symbol of Indian capitalism and the economy, has loads of public places with gazillions of people in them? Could you name even half a target in Gujarat that is even a quarter as attractive from a terrorist's point of view?
Misguided public advertisement (last page of today's Mumbai Mirror): "Appeal to all Terrorists! Please do not kill absolutely innocent people." Hello? It may be just me, but I always thought terrorism was all about killing innocent people. After all, if you only targeted "guilty" people such as (presumably) the armed forces and the police, where's the terror in that? And who are "absolutely" innocent people? Are there some who are not so innocent, and therefore acceptable targets? And, of course, terrorists are going to be swayed by advertising. Well, if we can be gulled by advertising into buying crap we don't need, hope could be said to spring eternal.
I guess crises do bring out the irrational side of humanity.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Random post-WC thoughts
And so the month of quadrennial football frenzy has drawn to a close. Perhaps now I can get back to sleeping nights. There were moments of brilliance, of tedium, of glory, of infamy, of skill, of ineptitude, of victory, of defeat. And that was just the Brazilian team. Multiply that by 32 and you get an inkling of why this is the most watched event on the planet.
My dear friend and prolific Chiffonesque blogger, Mugsy has heaped praise on my unworthy head. I think she meant to shame me into getting back to my blog. In which case, she has succeeded, at least for now. She has bemoaned her own inability to stick to the point while writing, but that's exactly what I love about her style: an ability to let her stream of consciousness take over while still remaining coherent and in complete command of the language. And her self-deprecatory, laconic humour, strangely reminiscent of Raymond Chandler, though minus the bourbon and blondes. (There's a reason why she continues at the top of my Other Blogger Friends list.)
The New York Times informs me that there is a gender divide in many US colleges today and that therefore, "Colleges eager to attract men to increasingly female campuses have found that football teams can be a lure." I always knew American males were blockheads but it's nice to have it confirmed. You have a campus which is "increasingly female" and you need football as a lure? C'mon guys, no wonder you have a falling birth rate. Get with the program and focus on using those other round objects.
Which reminds me of that classic Yes, Minister crack. Nigel, who considers a proposal that lands up on his table to be absolute bollocks, returns it with the notation, "Round objects!" To which Humphrey responds starchily, "Who is Round and to what does he object?"
My dear friend and prolific Chiffonesque blogger, Mugsy has heaped praise on my unworthy head. I think she meant to shame me into getting back to my blog. In which case, she has succeeded, at least for now. She has bemoaned her own inability to stick to the point while writing, but that's exactly what I love about her style: an ability to let her stream of consciousness take over while still remaining coherent and in complete command of the language. And her self-deprecatory, laconic humour, strangely reminiscent of Raymond Chandler, though minus the bourbon and blondes. (There's a reason why she continues at the top of my Other Blogger Friends list.)
The New York Times informs me that there is a gender divide in many US colleges today and that therefore, "Colleges eager to attract men to increasingly female campuses have found that football teams can be a lure." I always knew American males were blockheads but it's nice to have it confirmed. You have a campus which is "increasingly female" and you need football as a lure? C'mon guys, no wonder you have a falling birth rate. Get with the program and focus on using those other round objects.
Which reminds me of that classic Yes, Minister crack. Nigel, who considers a proposal that lands up on his table to be absolute bollocks, returns it with the notation, "Round objects!" To which Humphrey responds starchily, "Who is Round and to what does he object?"
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Crossword clews
Provide sustenance, support and grub (11)
Mater mater (7)
Proof that some of the best clues are the briefest.
Mater mater (7)
Proof that some of the best clues are the briefest.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Oops, I skipped church...
I just discovered courtesy the Times Sunday Cryptic crossword that Britney Spears is an anagram of Presbyterians.
That has to be one of the supreme ironies of Christianity.
That has to be one of the supreme ironies of Christianity.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Rude? That's news?
My beloved city has just been voted the rudest city in the world. Worthy citizens have sprung to its defense claiming that Bombay/Mumbai has a heart of gold.
Well, that's as may be, but it certainly has a tongue of nettles and the patience of a viper.
Anyone who has experienced the cacophonous impatience of our roads, or the heedless viciousness of the train-boarding stampede, or the deliberate disdain for others manifested in the bhajan-singing or card-playing commuter groups, or the middle-finger-in-your-face attitude of the hawker who displaces the pedestrian and the pedestrian who encroaches on the motorist's road and the motorist who weaves into another's lane, or any of the million babus sitting in their Kafka-esque labyrinths awaiting the unsuspecting mortal who dares to enter their domain...
Heck, you know what I'm talking about. We are the rudest city in the world. And probably proud of it to boot.
That ain't news.
Well, that's as may be, but it certainly has a tongue of nettles and the patience of a viper.
Anyone who has experienced the cacophonous impatience of our roads, or the heedless viciousness of the train-boarding stampede, or the deliberate disdain for others manifested in the bhajan-singing or card-playing commuter groups, or the middle-finger-in-your-face attitude of the hawker who displaces the pedestrian and the pedestrian who encroaches on the motorist's road and the motorist who weaves into another's lane, or any of the million babus sitting in their Kafka-esque labyrinths awaiting the unsuspecting mortal who dares to enter their domain...
Heck, you know what I'm talking about. We are the rudest city in the world. And probably proud of it to boot.
That ain't news.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Colour complex
As I get older I find myself striving to simplify my life. The less mundane decisions one needs to take, the more one can focus on the things that matter. (Like food.)
I thought I had one such decision licked.
White shirts are a wonderful solution to the matutinal problem of what to wear to work. They go with anything, they suit any occasion, they can look smart or scruffy as the situation demands.
However, they are unequal to the task of coping with the rigours of the wash and iron cycle. On returning from a recent vacation I took an inventory of my white shirts and discovered that all save one of them have acquired the ugliest of spots in the unlikeliest of places. I could understand this if I made a habit of feeding my shirts while feeding myself. But the blemishes appear at the collar-tips, the cuffs, the back and other places normally inaccessible.
So, with great sadness, I have given up one simple solution in my life and have reverted to coloured shirts. And my mornings are sartorially confused.
I thought I had one such decision licked.
White shirts are a wonderful solution to the matutinal problem of what to wear to work. They go with anything, they suit any occasion, they can look smart or scruffy as the situation demands.
However, they are unequal to the task of coping with the rigours of the wash and iron cycle. On returning from a recent vacation I took an inventory of my white shirts and discovered that all save one of them have acquired the ugliest of spots in the unlikeliest of places. I could understand this if I made a habit of feeding my shirts while feeding myself. But the blemishes appear at the collar-tips, the cuffs, the back and other places normally inaccessible.
So, with great sadness, I have given up one simple solution in my life and have reverted to coloured shirts. And my mornings are sartorially confused.
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