Dearest Santa

Dear Santa,

It’s been almost 365 days since I wrote to you and I want to begin by telling you that the gift you brought me last Christmas just didn’t cut it. I don’t know where you picked
up that lousy sun shades. I guess it was silly of me to expect someone like you to know anything about sun in the first place.

Before I give you my wish list for this Christmas, I’m sure you want to know whether I’ve been naughty or nice. I’ve been extremely nice, Santa. I’m on your side, Santa, that’s what I want to say. I don’t agree with the U.S. Surgeon General, who believes you’re fat and unhealthy and a poor role model for kids. You’ve always been a good role model for me, Santa. At dinner time, when I’m trying to decide whether to have another slice of pizza, I always ask myself, “What would Santa do?” And then I eat five more.

 

ASTRONAUTS FACE MANY CHALLENGES

By the time she returns to Earth, astronaut Sunita Williams will have spent more than six months inside the international space station. It takes endurance to be an astronaut and Williams is proving to be tougher than most. If you don’t think she’s tough, just picture yourself spending half a year in an enclosed space with two men who never take baths. jeeeeeeeeeeezWilliams isn’t taking baths either, but that’s okay, because she’s a woman and women naturally smell better than men, as my wife often says to me, while gliding, ever so naturally, toward the perfume bottle.I’m not sure what would happen if you tried to take a bath or shower in the gravity-free space station. Perhaps the water would shoot straight up. Perhaps the soap would float. And perhaps if you’re middle-aged or older, you’d have reason to celebrate, realizing that no part of your body is pointing downward.

 

AIRPORT SECURITY

DON’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY

<Courtesy: MelvinDurai.com>
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Thank you for flying British Airways Flight 324 nonstop from London to New York. We are still awaiting our
security clearance from U.S. authorities, but it’s safe to assume that we’ll land in New York sometime in the next month or so

If you look to your left, you will see a landmark that attracts more than one million tourists every year. It’s called Heathrow Airport. Yes, we haven’t yet taken off, as a
few astute passengers have noticed. Needless to say, we would rather wait on the ground than in the air — it’s so much easier to get a refill. You won’t believe how fast we go through our liquor cart.

The weather in New York is cold and breezy, with a 30 percent chance of snow. But why am I telling you that? By the time we get there, it might be summer.

 

Christmas Lights

Some folks down the street have already put up their Christmas lights. But I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Christmas is only four months away. It’ll be here before we know it, that glorious occasion when millions of people around the world are filled with joy, thankful that they got out of the mall alive.

Already brimming with the Christmas spirit, I decided to compliment my neighbors on the nice set of icicle lights on their eaves. “They’re beautiful,” I said to the middle-aged couple. “How did you get the energy to put them up so soon?”

The man seemed slightly annoyed. “Eh … I never took them down.”

I should have known. They looked like a religious couple, the type of folks who believe that Christmas should be celebrated every day of the year. I didn’t ask any more questions, but said to my wife later, “I really admire that couple. Celebrating Christmas is so important to them, they’re probably giving more money to the electric company than to charity. They’re going straight to heaven, I tell you, straight to heaven.”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Did you ever think that the man is too lazy to take down the lights and the woman is too busy?”

“No,” I said. “I never thought of that.” I had thought that perhaps the man was too busy and the woman was too lazy. But I didn’t get into that with my wife. She wouldn’t understand.

 

Soccer 2006

“Memo 2 Staff: Pls get some work done”

To: All staff
From: Company president
Subject: Low productivity

It has come to my attention that productivity has dropped drastically since Friday, June 9th. I’m not sure what’s going on, but please be assured that I’m monitoring the
situation closely and will suspend or terminate employees who aren’t pulling their own weight. For the company to be successful, it’s important for all of us to work hard. We
need to learn from the examples set by the following managers, whom I’m pleased to recognize.

John Tembo, Human Resources Manager: I was walking past John’s office and heard him and several employees shouting “Goal! Goal! Goal!” When I knocked on the door, John told me they were watching a training video to help them achieve company goals. I have nominated each of them for our Employee of the Month Award. It’s important for all of us to focus on goals. As John said, “Without goals, our team will lose.”

 

BABY’S APPRECIATION FOR MOTHER

Mothers — we just don't appreciate them enough. And that's
partly because our memories are so short. We don't remember
what Mom did for us when we were tiny and helpless, when we
drank nothing but milk, when we possessed only one talent:
changing the color of our diapers.

Thankfully, the Japanese have developed a solution — a
machine that uses electro-magna-sonic waves to detect,
interpret and record a baby's thoughts, creating a diary
that helps preserve memories. I began using the Sony
Thinkman during the later stages of my wife's pregnancy,
pointing the antenna at her stomach. Here's what I recorded:

Jan. 13, 2006: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Jan. 27: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It's so
blah in here. Nothing interesting at all. And it's rather
dark, too. Is this a cave? Am I a bat in a cave? Is that why
I'm upside down?

Feb. 14: I can feel something touching the wall next to me.
Hello! Is anyone there? Can someone turn on the lights? I
think the switch is on the outside. Who designed this place
anyway?

March 3: Whoa! I think I'm attached to a creature that keeps
moving around. I'm feeding off it. Am I some sort of
parasite? I hope not. I'd hate to spend my entire life in
here. There's no TV or anything. Not even an iPod. How am I
supposed to pass time?

March 18: I can hear sounds from outside. I think the
creature is a female. I heard her complaining about some
kind of mess. I think she just used a bad word. It sounded
like "Men!"

April 7: The creature just tried to talk to me. I heard her
say, "Hello in there! This is your mother." I don't know how
to respond. I can't talk and there's no e-mail. Maybe if I
kick, I can send a message in Morse code: Hello out there!
I'm so glad you found me. When is the rescue team coming?
Please tell them to hurry. I'm dying of boredom.

April 28, 9 a.m.: Something is happening. My mother is
screaming. She's either in lots of pain or just won the
lottery. I hope it's the latter. I have a feeling she's
going to be spending a fortune on me.

April 28, 9:30 a.m.: Someone keeps saying, "Push, push,
push!" and my mother is saying, "I'm pushing! I'm pushing!"
What is she pushing? I hope our car didn't break down.

April 28, 10:04 a.m.: She's pushing so hard, I can feel
myself moving. Ay, caramba! Who turned the lights on? Who
are all those creatures? Why are they cutting that tube? Oh
no, it's my feeding tube! They're trying to kill me! Help!
Help! Someone call the police!

April 28, 10:15 a.m.: Is that my father? What a cool guy!
He looks so calm and confident. And handsome too. I really
like his white jacket. Wait a minute, why is he leaving? Why
did he say, "I'll see you in two weeks at the clinic."

April 28, 10:30 a.m.: Another creature just introduced
himself as my father. He looks like a big dork. I think
there's been a mix-up somewhere. Maybe he came to the wrong
room. Someone call the police!

April 28, 3 p.m.: Why do they keep saying "Rahul" to me?
What does that mean? Maybe they want me to pee. I'll try to
pee every time they say "Rahul."

April 28, 8 p.m.: My mother is giving me so much attention.
She feeds me, holds me, changes my diaper. I think she loves
me. She said to me, "Rahul, you are my precious little boy."
I wish I could talk. I'd say: Thank you, mother. I love you,
not just for feeding me and changing my diaper, but also for
calling the rescue team.

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Web Column

(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. All Rights Reserved.

 

ANYTHING GOES ON CHENNAI ROADS

Poor ignorant me. I used to think New York City was the
ultimate test of a driver’s skills, that once you had
labored down one of those snarled streets, you could handle
traffic anywhere. But I’ve just experienced traffic in
Chennai, one of India’s biggest cities, and let me tell you
this: New York City is child’s play. Take a Chennai taxi
driver to the Big Apple and he’d glide through traffic
during rush hour, blindfolded with one arm tied behind his
back and the gear stuck in reverse.

“How did it go, Ramaswamy?” you’d ask him.

“What, sir,” he’d say with a perplexed expression, “is today
a holiday or something?”

“No, Ramaswamy, it’s the busiest day of the year. The city
is hosting a championship parade for its baseball team, not
to mention the annual convention of the Larry King Ex-Wives
Association.  So what are your impressions?”

“New York drivers are so nice, sir. Kind and nice. Such
polite people. I am also impressed with all the pavements
here. Very smooth to drive on. So much space. And no one is
sleeping on them.”

“Any other thoughts, Ramaswamy?”

“I like all the one-way streets, sir, because I have to
worry only about oncoming traffic. No one is trying to get
past me. And the pedestrians, they are so few here. I had to
swerve around only six or seven.”

“But what about the rules, Ramaswamy? Don’t you follow
 them?”

“Rules? Hahaha! In Chennai, we have only one rule: Don’t
give the police more than you have to.”

Anything goes on Chennai roads, not just cars, trucks and
buses. I’ve seen such an array of vehicles - bicycles,
scooters, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, vans, carts - that I
would barely raise an eyebrow if I spotted an airplane
weaving through traffic. “It costs too much to park it at
the airport,” the pilot would say. “So I’ve decided to drive
it from home. Those are my relatives sitting on the wings.”

Now and then, you may also see a stray cow in the middle of
the road. But most animals, thankfully, are smart enough to
stay away from the madness. Humans, on the other hand, aren’t
just trying to travel down the road - many are actually
trying to walk across it. This requires good reflexes and
agility, for you never know where a vehicle will appear
from. Indeed, Indians would be guaranteed a gold medal if
“traffic dodging” ever becomes an Olympic event.

At the busiest times, it’s hard to find space between
vehicles. What Americans call “tailgating,” Indians call
“good driving.” If you leave the slightest gap between your
car and the next, someone will try to squeeze into it. And
you’d better put your foot on the brake, otherwise you may
run over the encroaching party, perhaps a cyclist
transporting bags of groceries or a motorcyclist carrying
his family of 12.

If brakes are overworked in Chennai, so are horns, warning
everyone of a vehicle’s approach. The incessant beeping is
the chief contributor to noise pollution, other than local
politicians. Some drivers, worried about straining their
fingers, have programmed their horns to blare every three
seconds. That’s why, if you ask a hotel clerk for a wake up
call, he’ll smile and say, “Don’t worry. You’ll be up at
dawn. It’s a great benefit of the city.”

What amazes me most about Chennai traffic is the apparent
lack of concern for personal safety. Few motorcyclists wear
helmets, few drivers wear seat belts. But many motorists do
have pictures of gods in their vehicles, so there’s at least
some much-needed praying going on.
 

Copyrights - Melvin Durai Web Column

 

MEN NEED SOME EXCUSES TOO

There are thousands of male scientists in the world, most of
whom do their jobs quite well. But they’ve failed to fulfill
their duty to fellow men. They haven’t come up with
scientific reasons for certain types of male behavior. They
haven’t given us adequate excuses for habits like leaving
the toilet seat up, refusing to ask for directions and
getting too intimate with the remote control.

Women, it seems, have a monopoly on the excuses. An example
of this occurred some years ago in Brookfield, Wisconsin. As
reported by the Associated Press, Jaclyn Netzel, 19, was
trying to turn her car right when a male driver behind
honked and finally drove around her. Netzel and the man
exchanged obscene gestures. When they met again at a nearby
gas station, Netzel called the man a vulgar name and then
slapped him after they argued. Police cited her for
disorderly conduct. Netzel pleaded that she was pregnant.
Her pregnancy had evidently caused her body to produce a
surplus of a hormone called SMH (Slap Men Hormone).

Netzel told a police officer that “when a female is
pregnant, they are more emotional than normal.” This is why
it’s always a good idea to wear body armor when visiting the
maternity ward. You could get attacked from all directions.
Pregnant women are eager to slap men, because men never have
to go through labor. This resentment probably goes back to
the Garden of Eden: Adam was too busy inventing rules for
football to attend the meeting where God handed out
childbirth duties. Even the feminists haven’t figured out a
way to share this burden with men.

But women have turned pregnancy into an advantage of sorts.
A pregnant women can get away with just about anything:
turning her husband into an errand boy, consuming pizza for
breakfast and ice cream for lunch, eating as if she’s giving
birth to a whale.

Women who aren’t pregnant can also get away with pretty much
anything, as long as the timing is right. Picture this
courtroom exchange:

Judge: “Miss. Fisher, the jury has found you guilty of
hijacking 10 planes, bombing five federal buildings and
destroying three Hollywood marriages, all in one day. Do you
have anything to say?”

Defendant: “Your Honor, it was that time of the month.”

Judge: “Case dismissed!”

If the insanity defense works, it won’t be long before women
invoke the PMS defense. There’s nothing that can’t be
explained by PMS, which stands for either Perilous Mood
Swings or Potential Male Slap. PMS usually lasts just a few
days, but like a football game, can go into overtime. Of
course, there’s a lot of scientific evidence to confirm the
effects of PMS. Men can’t understand it all, but as with
religion, we just have to believe.

If male scientists would get their act together, maybe
they’d discover a few afflictions for men. This would help
us get some much-needed sympathy and ease all that guilt we
feel.

Men who hate to ask for directions probably suffer from
something like GCM (Going in Circles Mania). When pestered
by his wife to stop at a gas station, a man could say,
“Sorry honey, that darned GCM is acting up again.”

Men who forget to lower the toilet seat suffer from TED
(Toilet Etiquette Deficiency). “Sorry honey, the doctor says
it’s incurable.”

Men who skip church to watch football suffer from PDS
(Priority Disorder Syndrome). “You wouldn’t understand it,
honey. It’s a guy thing.”

Men who scratch themselves in public suffer from PMI
(Primitive Male Itch). “Sorry honey, I can’t help it. It’s
genetic.”

Men who caress the remote more than their wives suffer from
BPO (Button Pushing Obsession). “Sorry honey, I don’t know
which buttons to push with you. Do you have one for ‘mute’?”

Come on scientists, we need this a lot more than we need
cloned sheep.

 

Copyrights - Melvin Durai Web Column

 

HAPPINESS REQUIRES THE RIGHT PERSPECTIVE

At times I wonder why so many people seem unhappy with their lives. Don’t they appreciate what they have? Are they
comparing themselves to others? Do they have a slow Internet connection?

I think a lot of it has to do with perspective — or the lack of it. Having proper perspective means that you don’t
worry about small things and you don’t take your blessings for granted. A woman with perspective isn’t concerned that
her boyfriend is short, because she knows he can easily kiss her feet. A man with perspective isn’t concerned that his
girlfriend is overweight, because he knows there’ll be more of her to love.

However bleak our lives may seem, there’s always someone in the world who’d be thrilled to be in our shoes. We often
worry about so many insignificant things: the score of the football game, the number of dresses we own, the complexion
of our skin, the prestige of our jobs, the size of our bald spots. And we take for granted so many important things:
health, family, friendships, food, shelter, fresh air, clean water, freedom. I  love freedom — the freedom to pursue a
dream, the freedom to eat lots of ice cream.

But imagine a guy who’s been unemployed for years. As he scans the employment ads, he prays, “God, if you just give
me a good job, I’ll be happy for the rest of my life.” His prayer is answered and soon he’s earning a high salary,
praying, “God, if you just give me a good wife, I’ll be happy for the rest of my life.” His prayer is answered and
soon he’s going shopping with his new wife, praying, ” God, if you just give me a second job …”

Think of the poor farmer in an African village who grows just enough corn to feed his family. He’s happy with his
life, though he lives in a tiny hut, wears tattered clothing and has never even heard of the Internet. When he feels like
chatting with someone, he doesn’t go online or push buttons on a cell phone. He does something really strange — he
chats with his family. Imagine that.

Then there’s the dot.com tycoon in California who can’t find enough ways to spend her money. She’s unhappy with her life,
though she owns a pet lion, drives a Jaguar and plays golf with a Tiger. She has her own private plane, which takes her
all over the country and allows her to visit her family, she’s proud to say, at least once a year.

Just in case you’re having trouble with perspective, here are a few questions to ponder:
 
You just landed an executive position at a top company. Do you:

(a) complain that you don’t make as much money as Bill Gates.
(b) rejoice that you make 100 times more money than the Pope.
(c) grumble that you still can’t afford to go on a date with Paris Hilton.
(d) celebrate that you make enough money to feed 20 million people in China or the entire defensive line of the Dallas
Cowboys.

You have a kind, generous husband who loves you dearly. Do you:

(a) complain that he doesn’t look like Tom Cruise.
(b) rejoice that he doesn’t look like Tom Arnold.
(c) grumble that he doesn’t make as much money as Bill Gates.
(d) celebrate that his heart is bigger than his bank account and that an investment in love beats money any day. You
can’t buy a fancy car with love, but then again, no Mercedes will ever kiss you back.
Copyrights - Melvin Durai Web Column

 

THE BIG ACHIEVEMENT THAT MAKES US PROUD

 Life is full of achievements and it’s about time we started
recognizing more of them. Not all of us can run a marathon,
climb Mount Everest or date Angelina Jolie, but our
achievements are still worthy of recognition. My wife and I,
for example, have been eager to congratulate our 3-year-old
daughter, Lekha, on her wonderful achievement. We are filled
with pride whenever she screams from the bathroom, “Mommy,
Daddy! I pooped! Come and see!”

I’m sure the neighbors are proud, too, for Lekha screams
loud enough for them to hear. Such phenomenal success, she
figures, must be shared with the world.

And I tend to agree — that’s why I’m mentioning it here.
For years to come, people will stumble upon this column and
applaud the little girl who cast aside her diapers and
learned to use a toilet, saving her parents millions of
dollars. Lekha’s achievement, I can confidently say, is one
of the greatest of the past year, right up there with Lance
Armstrong winning a seventh Tour de France and Ricky
Williams passing a drug test.

Armstrong had conquered the Tour six times before and knew
what to expect. His biggest worry — losing his balance and
falling off his bike — was nothing compared to little
Lekha’s biggest worry: losing her balance, falling into the
big hole and getting flushed away.

That’s why, whenever she’s done climbing Mount Lavatory, she
runs to me and shouts, “Daddy, I pooped!” or “Daddy, I
peed.” And I say, “Good job, Lekha! You’re a big girl now!”

Having readily shared her success with everyone, Lekha is
always eager to find out about other people’s success. As
soon as I walk out of the bathroom, she questions me about
what I accomplished in there, making me feel like a star
athlete at a post-game interview:

“Daddy, which one did you do — poop or pee?”

“Uh … well … the first one, sweetie.”

“Good job, Daddy!”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Let me go tell Mommy. … Mommy! Mommy! Daddy pooped in the
potty! He’s a big boy now!”

“Yes, he is, cutie.”

“Let me go tell the neighbors …”

It’s been many years since anyone congratulated me for using
the toilet, so needless to say, I appreciate Lekha’s
thoughtfulness. Given her creativeness, I won’t be surprised
if she soon sends me a greeting card, using her crayons to
draw a stick figure of me perched atop the porcelain bowl,
with a congratulatory message below:  ”Way to go, big boy!”

Perhaps Lekha can create an entire line of greeting cards to
recognize various achievements that adults take for granted.

The eating card: “Congratulations, big boy! You ate all the
food on your plate, including all that green stuff. You
deserve the Nobel Peas Prize.”

The toothpaste card: “Good job, big girl! You brushed your
teeth all by yourself. That’s a big achievement, never mind
that you missed the opportunity to paint your shirt with
toothpaste.”

The shoe card: “Well done, big girl! You tied your shoelaces
without any help from your mommy. And you managed to put
your left shoe on your left foot. You must be good at
guessing!”

The bathroom card: “Nice going, big guy! You used the
restroom and remembered to not only flush the toilet, but
also wash your hands. You deserve the Presidential Medal of
Honor. By the way, big guy, which one did you do — poop or
pee?”

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 (c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.

 

THOU SHALT NOT JUDGE BEAUTY CONTESTS

 Imagine you’re flipping channels one night and come across
the Miss. Universe contest. What do you do? Well, if you’re
like me, you tell yourself that it’s demeaning to women and
objectifies them unfairly and that you shouldn’t watch a
minute of it, not a single minute, beyond the swimsuit
round. I mean, principles are principles.

Well, imagine also that the judges are being introduced and
you recognize one of them: the priest of your church.
(Depending on your religion, this could be your minister,
rabbi, swami, mullah, etc.) Just last week he preached about
the importance of avoiding worldly pleasures, speaking so
forcefully that he almost caused you to look up from your
cell phone.

And here he is now, sweeping his eyes over a bevy of
beauties, smiling so broadly that you’re fairly certain what
the next sermon will be about: the importance of
appreciating God’s creations.

If this seems farfetched, that’s probably because you don’t
live in Norway, where a Lutheran vicar named Einar Gelius
had recently agreed to serve as a judge for a national
beauty pageant, with the winner representing Norway at the
Miss. Universe contest. He apparently believed he could do
whatever he wanted in his spare time, even judge women in
bikinis. But you can forgive him: He’s a Gelius, not a
genius.

As reported by Reuters, the Church of Norway promptly asked
Gelius to resign from the panel of judges, saying that as a
representative of the church he should not be judging
others, bikinis or no bikinis. “The Church should preach
that we are all equal and this competition’s view of women
is particularly disturbing,” Arne Groeningsaeter, head of
the Oslo diocese council, told Reuters. Indeed, I’m always
disturbed when I watch the Miss. Universe contest, because I
realize that the women are not just equally beautiful, but
also equally likely to end up dating Donald Trump. I know he
owns the contest, but does he have to own the contestants
too?

If Gelius had quit immediately, perhaps this wouldn’t have
made any headlines. But despite objections from church
members, he didn’t resign for an entire week, not until he
heard from the Bishop of Oslo, also known as the big honcho.

Bishop: “What’s this I hear, Einar? You’re going to be
judging a beauty contest?”

Gelius: “Oh, it’s nothing, Bishop. Just something I’m doing
in my free time. It’s a good way to reach out to young
women — and also do some scoring.”

Bishop: “Are you going to reach out with God’s message or
just with your eyes?”

Gelius: “My eyes, mostly. But they won’t be judgmental eyes.
They’ll be loving eyes, watching the women with
sensitivity, empathy and a pair of binoculars.”

Bishop: “Isn’t there something else you could do in your
free time? Why not take up beekeeping, like some other
clergymen?”

Gelius: “Well, they’re interested in honey, Bishop. I’m
interested in honeys.”

Bishop: “Your words disturb me, Einar. All women are equal
in the eyes of God. He made them all.”

Gelius: “Yes, Bishop, I know they’re equal. That’s why,
while serving as judge, I plan to gaze at them equally. I
will give them equal attention and, of course, equal
love.”

Bishop: “No, Einar, I can’t permit you to do this. You are a
representative of the church and …”

Gelius: “I will represent the church well, Bishop. I will
maintain honor and dignity and, of course, a broad smile.”
———————————————————-
(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.
MelvinDurai.com

 

MR. MICROSOFT PUTS HIS DOUGH TO WORK

 It’s easy to poke fun at Bill Gates, the richest man on the
planet. The Microsoft billionaire has been the butt of
thousands of jokes and one-liners. As an old girlfriend
said, “I used to call him Mr. Microsoft, but it made him
rather self-conscious, especially in the bedroom.”

When Gates was in high school, none of the girls wanted to
date him. Not because he looked like a nerd, but because he
was president and founder of the Nerd Club. He tried to ask
one girl out, but she didn’t understand what he meant when
he said, “Let’s interface tonight.” It didn’t help matters
when he tried to entice her: “If you come home, I’ll show
you my floppy.”

Gates may not have been smooth with the ladies, but he knew
how to connect with computers, and before long he had
created some software, founded a company and was well on his
way to world domination. The computer world, if not the real
world, was soon bowing to him. If Microsoft wasn’t quite a
monopoly, then Gates at least owned every hotel on Boardwalk
and Park Place. He was often accused of unfair business
practices, which is like accusing George Foreman of having
an appetite.

How rich is Bill Gates? He’s so rich, he can buy every
member of Congress. With enough money left over to give
Martha Stewart a lifetime supply of Oil of Olay.

He’s so rich, he can afford his own island. And change its
name to Great Bill-tain.

He’s so rich, he can put a large Microsoft logo on Venus.
And an even bigger logo on Serena.

His house in Washington state is worth more than $100
million. It makes the White House look like a hut in
Botswana. (With a grinning Bush man in charge.) A 21st
century high-tech house, it’s full of modern amenities, such
as a 17-by-60-foot swimming pool that plays music
underwater, a reception hall that seats 150 people and an
underground shelter that allows the maids and babysitters to
hide from immigration.

Yes, it’s easy to poke fun at Bill Gates. What he’s doing is
much harder: Giving his dough away. Well, a big lump of it
anyway, enough to make the world’s biggest pizza — or as
George Foreman would say, “A nice snack.”

Through the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, he and his
wife have pledged more than $7 billion for various causes
and put a sharp focus on fighting diseases in poor
countries. They recently tripled their funding for
tuberculosis eradication to $900 million over the next
decade, hoping to save as many as 14 million lives. That’s a
lot of people, folks, almost an entire neighborhood in
China.

When the world’s richest man gives money away, there are
bound to be skeptics, people who question his motives. Is he
just giving himself more tax deductions? Is he trying to
create goodwill to offset Microsoft’s poor image? Is he
tired of receiving “Dear Uncle Bill” letters from those
long-lost nephews in Nigeria?

Whatever his motives, he’s doing the right thing: trying to
help the underprivileged.

How rich is he? He’s so rich, he can do what many countries
can’t: provide hope for their citizens. And to them, there’s
no one bigger than Mr. Microsoft.
———————————————————-
(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.
MelvinDurai.com

 

BORROWING EGGS FROM THE EGGHEADS NEXT DOOR

 The other day, I joined my daughters in watching an episode
of their favorite cartoon “Caillou” and was soon transported
to the wonderful world of make-believe. Caillou, a
four-year-old boy, wanted his mom to make pancakes for
breakfast, but she was out of eggs. So what did she do? She
went to the neighbor’s house and borrowed an egg. She even
knew the neighbor’s name: Mr. Hinkle.

How nice, I thought, getting an egg from the neighbor. I’d
love to have a neighbor who could occasionally supply me
with food. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hinkle,” I’d say, “but
we seem to have run out of meat. Got a steak you can spare?
Just one will do.”

We’re always running out of stuff in our kitchen, especially
milk (we need to get ourselves a cow), eggs (we need to get
ourselves a hen) and ice cream (we need to get ourselves a
diet). But if I went to the neighbors, they’d open their
door cautiously, then give me a look that says, “I hope
you’re not here to rob us. That would not be a wise thing to
do, because we know where you live.”

The conversation would be rather awkward.

Me: “Sorry to bother you. We’ve run out of eggs. Do you
think I could borrow one?”

Male neighbor: “Sure, but you do know there’s a grocery
store down the road? Not that we mind lending you an egg. I
mean, it’s only one egg, right?”

Female voice from inside: “Who is it, honey?”

Male: “It’s the neighbor, honey. He wants to borrow an egg.”

Female: “An egg? Did you tell him there’s a grocery store
right down the road?”

Male: “Yes, I did, honey. But he seems to want one of OUR
eggs.”

Female: “There’s also a farm in the other direction. I think
they have eggplants.”

Male neighbor: “It’s okay, honey. I’ll lend him one of OURS.
Do you think you could draw up a loan contract?”

It wasn’t too long ago that everyone knew their neighbors
and borrowing food and other items was common practice. But
these days, most people don’t get anything from the
neighbors, other than a little fertilizer for the lawn. And
that’s only because of the generosity of the neighbors’ dog.

When you ask some folks about their neighbors, they speak as
if they’re operating competing stores at the mall: “I’ve got
a pretty good neighbor. He minds his own business and I mind
mine.”

That’s not exactly how I’d define a good neighbor. I’ve got
other criteria:

Good neighbor: Keeps an eye on your house. Bad neighbor:
Keeps an eye on your wife.

Good neighbor: Eager to give you a piece of her apple pie.
Bad neighbor: Eager to give you a piece of her mind.

Good neighbor: Asks if you can turn your music up. Bad
neighbor: Asks if you can burn your music up.

Good neighbor: Offers to help you scrape your driveway when
it freezes over. Bad neighbor: Offers to help you scrape
your driveway when hell freezes over.

I’d love to have a good neighbor, one who’s willing to give
me the shirt off his back. That would be wonderful,
especially when the laundry starts to pile up. “Sorry to
bother you, Mr. Hinkle, but we seem to have run out of
clothes. Got a shirt you can spare? The one on your back
looks rather nice.”

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(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.
MelvinDurai.com

 

THE STEEP PRICE OF DEFEATING TERROR

President Bush has asked Congress for $72.4 billion to fund
the “Global War on Terror” through fiscal year 2006. About
$65 billion will go toward the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan,
bringing total spending for the two wars to nearly $400
billion. That’s a lot of money, folks, almost $1,000 for
every man, woman, child, dog, cat and goldfish in America.

I can’t fathom spending $400 billion on two wars. I mean,
wouldn’t it be cheaper to just send Dick Cheney over there?
The vice president is surely embarrassed about shooting his
friend while quail hunting and eager for a chance to redeem
himself. Drop him in the war zone, I say. You might be
surprised what a man with motivation can do.

General: “Mr. Vice President, how did you do today?”

Cheney: “Pretty good. I’m all out of ammunition.”

General: “Great! What did you shoot?”

Cheney: “Forty-five targets, including 23 barns, 15 sheds
and seven trees.”

General: “Good. I’ll add them to the enemy casualty list.
But what about the insurgents? Did you get any of them?”

Cheney: “No, as soon as they saw me, the insurgents turned
into outsurgents. They started running in all directions,
yelling something like, ‘It’s the crazy guy who shot his
friend. Imagine what he’ll do to us.’ I tried firing at
them, but those darn barns kept getting in the way. The
sheds and trees, too.”

General: “Well, you’ll do better tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Cheney: “I hope so. If I keep hitting worthless objects,
how’s my firm going to get another rebuilding contract?”

Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to send Cheney
to Iraq. He can be far more useful in America, especially if
he helps explain where all the money is going. According to
a White House press release, “The President is committed to
giving our troops and commanders in the field the resources
they need to fight and win the War on Terror.” I don’t know
about you, but I’m looking forward to the day when President
Bush can declare victory over terror. I’m going to be so
elated when I see the New York Times headline that says,
“Terror surrenders, war over.” But I can’t help thinking
that America can terrorize terror into submission without
spending so much money. Here are just a few suggestions:

—Put democracy to work. Bush needs to get on the phone
with King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia and others: “We’re
bringing democracy to Iraq and if you don’t start helping us
with the costs, we’ll bring it to you too.” I mean, what
good is democracy if you can’t threaten people with it?

—Create a real coalition. America sent 130,000 soldiers to
Iraq, while Kazakhstan sent a dozen nightclub bouncers.
Bush allowed Mexico to get away with sending not a single
soldier, though he could have easily rounded up a platoon on
a street corner in L.A.

—Check the math. When you spend $400 billion, you can
afford to hire a few auditors to make sure no one is getting
rich off the war, except those approved by the president.

I wish some of the soldiers were getting rich, because many
of them come from poor families. Rich kids don’t go to
war — they go to Congress. And they never know what it’s
like to be in a war, never know what it’s like to be shot
at, except of course when they go hunting with Cheney.

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(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.
MelvinDurai.com

 

BUSH RIDES WAVE OF POPULARITY IN INDIA

Web Column of Melvin Durai

President Bush recently spent two days in India, prompting
an estimated 100 million people to take to the streets to
protest his policies. Many carried banners calling him the
world’s biggest terrorist and some really bad names in
Hindi.

“Welcome to India, Mr. President,” U.S. ambassador David
Mulford said, shaking Bush’s hand in New Delhi. “You’re
going to like it here. Your approval rating is higher here
than in America. Indians absolutely love you.”

“They love me?” Bush asked. “But 100 million of them are
rioting and calling me bad names. I’m afraid to see what
they’d do if they hated me.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” the ambassador said. “It’s
only 100 million Indians. The other 90 percent absolutely
love you. They adore you. “

“So you think I’m safe here?” Bush asked, visibly relieved.
“No one will shoot me?”

“Very safe here,” the ambassador said. “As long as you
didn’t bring Mr. Cheney with you.”

Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said the reports of 100
million protestors were greatly exaggerated. “I’m not
disagreeing that 100 million people were on the streets,” he
said, “but most of them were simply waiting for the bus. And
what looked like a riot to foreign journalists was just our
usual traffic.”

Upendra Kumar, a Bangalore man who helped organize the
protests, agreed with Singh’s assessment, adding that the
protests would have been more effective if all banners and
signs had been spellchecked. Indeed, one protestor, shown on
TV networks worldwide, carried a sign that said, “Go home,
Amrican terrierist.” Another displayed a banner that said,
“George W. Bush: world’s biggest tourist.”

Despite the protests, Bush’s visit was a resounding success.
He and Singh reached an agreement to share nuclear
technology and expertise. “I feel very confident about India
having weapons of mass destruction,” Bush said. “This is a
peaceful country that loves all its neighbors.”

To underscore the point, Bush visited a memorial to Mahatma
Gandhi and praised the leader’s philosophy of nonviolence.
“He has had a great influence on me and the rest of
America,” Bush said. “It is because of him and his
principles that we have chosen not to invade more countries.
We are keeping our nonviolence to a minimum. I mean, our
violence. You know what I mean.”

Singh took Bush on a four-hour trip to the southern city of
Hyderabad. They stopped at a high-tech center after Bush
expressed a strong desire to “visit all the American jobs.”

Singh told Bush that most of the jobs at the center had been
outsourced from America in the last five years. “You mean I
created all these jobs,” Bush said, beaming from ear to ear.
“And to think the Democrats say I haven’t done anything for
the economy.”

As he left India for Pakistan, Bush said he hoped to foster
economic and political development that would make India’s
neighbor “a force for freedom and moderation in the Arab
world.” Bush later corrected himself, telling reporters that
he meant to say “the Muslim world.”

“I know that all Muslim countries are not Arabic,” he said.
“And I also know that all Arab countries are not Muslimic.”

Meanwhile, White House press secretary Scott McClellan,
hoping to prevent another round of protests in the Muslim
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(c) Copyright 2006 Melvin Durai. . All Rights Reserved.
MelvinDurai.com