Ramblings of a Nerd With Too Much Spare Time

I came across a very interesting story in my English textbook, that got me thinking some about some serious stuff.  The basic premise of the tale was that judging people based on physical appearance is wrong, and that people we judge to be "good" must be of great mental strength, and have a "good" personality.  But why? These adjectives that we are supposed to attribute to "good people" (like honesty, character, etc.) are, at the base of it, completely arbitrary. (The truth of the matter is that most of us would prefer style over substance, but that's not what I am interested in, now) I am asking a more basic and fundamental question, "Why are these qualities called desirable, and others undesirable?" I mean, why do we think of Lincoln and Gandhi as good, and Hitler and Napoleon as bad?  The obvious answer of course, is "because of what they did." In other words, their actions.  But what makes these actions good an...

Doctors can be cruel people. They can screw around with your head, in ways that none can. To illustrate: (This happened to me last year, I fell down and hurt my arm, and had spent an hour and a half in the doctor's waiting room) Doctor: Sorry about the wait. This is one of the healthiest X-Rays I have ever seen. But when we compare that with yours ...  That's not right. As it is I was really scared. This next incident was told to me by a doctor friend of my dad's. But a little info first.  Going into anaesthesia is one of my favourite memories. They made me breathe this gas smelling like strawberries and you feel light headed for two minutes, then you have the best sleep of your life.  Coming out, however, is not so great. You are alert, awake, and scared out of your mind. Anything startles you.  My friend told me about this poor patient who went in for tonsil removal.   Surgeon (To my friend recovering from anaesthesia) Ah, it's good ...

I've not been feeling like myself, lately, and have been a tad depressed. Now, I'm not looking for pity, I have a saying: "If your looking for sympathy, you'll find it in the dictionary halfway between shit and syphilis" Anyway, I read somewhere that talking to your friends about your problems can be helpful, and would help you lose your inhibitions. So I gave it a go. I talked to my friends for two hours about my problems.  I'm glad to say that I lost my inhibitions.  I also lost my friends.  Now, I talk to auto drivers about my problems.  Two distinct advantages here- 1) It stops him talking about his problems 2) It's amazing how much bloody quicker you reach your destination. 

(Note: I wrote this when I had to appear busy, doing some kind of meaningful work. So this is going to even more crappy than usual. In fact, I added what you are reading now later, to try to pad out the post.) Sometimes, I worry about the future of science. I mean, it's just not progressing like it should. I don't mean to be overly dramatic, or anything, but there seems to be more useful work being done in the pseudo-sciences than in actual ones. By pseudo-sciences, I mean astrology, humanities, and general bull shit. To elucidate, recent studies show that: 1. Buttered bread is 32% more likely to fall buttered-side down, when dropped from heights ranging from 0.5 to 1.5 metres.  2. The average British citizen is has a 80% chance to letting biscuits get perfectly saturated in tea, without the biscuit breaking off.  3. Men who consume more than 80 grams of sugar per day are 97 times more likely to sleep on their left sides.  4. Left handed people, on average,...

As you may have come to know, I am not really the type to travel a lot, with the major part of my commuting being done between the kitchen, toilet, and the musty old room where I store my mridangam. So you will be just as surprised as I was, when I found myself shoving through crowds at Chennai's iconic Central Station. This was my first time in this station, with all my previous railway adventures having taken place via Egmore (Rockfort Express to Trichy and back over ten times).  I got aboard the Kaveri Express that would take me through the 500 Km (approx) to Mysore in the mind-numbingly quick time of 9 hours.  (Do the math. You get around 55 Kph. I have seen Ambassador Cars clock quicker pace.) I fought my way to my seat, and having occupied it, (with a triumphant smirk) I proceeded to put my bag deep under my seat. While immersed in this task, I felt a mammoth force on my rear, as I tumbled forward, Newton's Second Law proving that the path of a heavy suitcase ...

I must confess, I have this terrible habit, when I put stuff in my ear in an attempt to remove wax. My favourite excavatory tool is an old paintbrush that is ideally suited for the specialised task of de-waxification of the outer auditory canal.  Anyway, after one night of particularly vicious violation of my ear, I woke up today, not being able to hear out of my left ear. This was a serious situation, not just because of the various physical manifestations of partial deafness (inclusive of this pounding headache), but because my parents constantly warn me against my disgusting personal habit, lest something like this should happen. It seemed like a dangerous precedent to let them know that they could be right. So I quickly ran to the local hospital, where the ENT Doctor was my father's friend. When I got there, he was seeing a patient, and attempting to remove what seemed later to be a channa bean (fat lentil) from the nose of a five year old. I couldn't be bothered...