May 25: The year is not yet halfway done, and already it's proving to be an unmitigated dirge.

Started off with the Tsunami deaths escalating into the thousands; continued with deaths in families of close friends; now today, we hear Sunil Dutt is dead in India, and Ismail Merchant in London.

God save their souls -- and ours.

May 23: Mitch Albom, sportswriter with the Detroit Free Press, is the latest journalist to trip over his own somewhat loose ethical standards.

Albom, apparently, wrote a column about an event -- before the event had in fact happened; he filled with his column with detailing of the event, as he expected it to occur.

Turned out that his column was off the mark and the events he 'prewrote' did not in fact happen, and now Albom is in the doghouse (read, suspended). And he can't pull a Mark Twain, either...

You know the story, right? Mark Twain, during his days as a journalist, frequently found himself covering the doings of high society -- and quickly got bored with chronicling the vapid doings of the same faces, week in, week out.

So once, when he was sent to cover a society bash, he opted to get drunk instead at his favorite tavern, and then he wrote up a piece on the 'party', filled with stuff on who came and who didn't.

Catch was, the party didn't happen -- the hostess was coming down the staircase in her gown, to receive guests, when she tripped and broke her neck.

Next day, Twain's piece appeared in the paper, to universal mirth and editorial wrath. 'Do not, EVER, write anything that you do not KNOW is a fact!', the editor thundered.

That same evening, Twain was sent to cover a dinner at the Mayor's home. His account started with the words: 'A lady purporting to be the wife of the Mayor received guests at...'

The report appeared; so did a furious Mayor, at the editor's office. Twain was hauled up again, and asked to explain. 'But,' Twain reportedly said, all innocence, 'you told me not to write anything unless I know it is a fact. I know a lady received guests at the entrance and she did say she was the mayor's wife -- but I wasn't there at the wedding, so how would I know if that is true?'

May 20: Here, to end the week on a somber note (what the hell, you'll prolly party your head off anyways), is this news item out of Florida:

Lawmakers have passed a law (what else would a lawmaker pass? No, no, don't tell me!) that authorizes Joe Citizen to use deadly force in public places, if (s)he feels threatened.

What qualifies as 'feeling threatened'? If I look at you askance, can you whip your gun out and kill me dead?

Donno yet -- will wait for the first test case, to see what this new law will mean. But hey, in Tokyo, around the same time, a bloke waiting at a taxi stand spun around and stabbed the chappie behind him because "he felt threatened".

Bloke one -- the stabber -- said bloke two, the stabee, gave him, bloke one, a dirty look, so he, bloke one, attacked him, bloke two, 'pre-emptively'.

Geez, now I'm beginning to worry -- I have one of those naturally frowny faces; who knows which guy with a hair trigger temper might decide to off me, just coz...?

You guys have a great weekend... see you around Monday...

May 19: A staffer at the Center for American Women and Politics, at Rutgers University, has seemingly stumbled on a whole new way for women to get ahead in political life.

Mommy to toddler: 'Debbie darling, what do you want to do when you grow up?'

'Mommy, I'll marry an old politician, wait for him to die, and then inherit his seat in Congress/Senate.'

Oy, don't laugh -- since 1923, 44 women have won seats in the House or Senate following the death of their husbands in office. 'There's a huge advantage to being a widow,' says Debbie Walsh of Rutgers.

May 17: Today's update is in the form of a wish: Stay safe and smiling, all.

Be back on here May 19... till then, adios...

May 16: Hoo boy! Knew we were running out of space but didn't realize it was quite so bad. And then comes the story of a new cemetery in Australia, that buries people feet first.

Apparently they drill a straight 15-foot-hole, zip the deceased up in a biodegradable bag, and stick him in said hole -- rather like driving a nail into a hole in the wall.

'There are no ongoing maintenance costs', the cemetery chairman is reported as saying.

Come to think of it, that is not all you save -- you save on the coffin; you don't have to build tombs any more, so you save on all that marble and the rest of the pizzaz.

Just drill the body into the earth, and 'X marks the spot'.

In passing, they do something similar in Bombay, pack you in vertically, by the 100s into the tightest space imaginable. Ever travelled in a local train lately?

May 13: From my collection of totally useful advertisements, this: At the tail end of a TV commercial, this legend: "This video is available at Borders, and wherever they are sold".

Gee, you hadn't told me, I never would have known, would I?

And from my collection of odd laws, this: In Ventura County, California, cats and dogs are not allowed to have sex without a permit.

You guys have a great weekend... see you Monday.

May 12: Lemme see, two hours ahead of flight time, in Mumbai airport. Then 18 hours on board the flight. Plus an hour more to complete immigration, collect baggage, and get out of JFK and into fresh air -- that's the heck of a long time to want a cig and not be able to light up.

Sometimes, I wonder if this anti-smoking thing is being taken a touch too far. Bars here in NYC no longer need signs, neon or otherwise. Just walk down a street, and if you see a congregation of men and women outside a doorway frantically puffing away, you've found a bar -- and the more people there are outside, the more popular the bar is.

Is kind of daft, really -- you go in, you order a drink, you take a swig, you come running back out for a smoke, you go back in for a swig... takes the fun right out of being in a bar, you ask me.

And talking of taking this too far, case in point is Timnath, a small town in Colorado (to call it 'town' is to stretch the definition somewhat -- the rated population of Timnath is supposedly 223 people, men, women, children all combined).

So the other day, the people voted to enforce a no-smoking rule in its bars and restaurants. What's wrong with that? Simply this -- Timnath does not have any bars, or restaurants.

No problem, say the residents -- the rule will go into force the moment the first bar, and/or restaurant, opens up here.

Um. Surely, 'me-too-ism' being pushed to an extreme, here?

May 11: It's the grandest feeling, when you see someone rethink their life, and try to add sense, and a sense of purpose, to it.

Vide my favorite heiress, Paris Hilton -- whose frenetic partying provided much grist for this space in earlier times. News is, the 24-year-old has decided to turn over -- into? -- a new leaf. A very sober, upright, serious, focussed leaf, she sez.

First stop on the transformation route -- no more parties. 'I'm glad I got it out of my system and can now focus on my career', she says, presumably wearing a becoming air of gravitas (and, hopefully, a tad more clothing),

So what's she going to do? What is this new career to be? From what I can gather -- partying.

She will attend parties, she says, but has to be paid (presumably by the host) to do so -- the going rate is between $150,000-$200,000 for a 20 minute appearance.

Inspired by the example, I've decided to clean up my act, too. No more wildness, no more hedonistic pursuits, no more alchohol -- unless someone pays me to drink and dance and flirt and stuff.

Duh!

May 10: Alright, break out the band, bring on the champagne.

Phrased differently, I am back in NY -- or at least, parts of me are. The other parts are still back in Bombay. And bridging the two parts is a splitting headache -- the technical term, I am told, is 'jet lag'; a kind friend advised me to have a raw egg, spiced with some Worcestershire sauce.

Said kind friend doesn't seem to know the difference between jet lag and an alchohol-induced hangover -- and I am too kind to tell him so.

Off to bed... regular updates will resume, when I manage to get the various parts of me all put together again. Till then...

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