Raped by the Vatican

Joseph Ratzinger. With an erstwhile rodentish name like that, Pope Benedict XVI sure has holes in the past he would like to see filled up, covered and forgotten. Before being elevated to papacy, his holiness (holiness! hahaha! definitely pun intended) used to be in charge of something called the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, a modern day avatar of what was the Inquisition. And for the all the controversy the man may have birthed while being pope by, for instance, talking against condom usage to prevent AIDS in Africa, his time as the 'chief inquisitor' seems to me far more scandalous.

His office oversaw, among other things, cases of sexual abuse by the clergy. And there seems to be quite a storm of these cases suddenly brewing in many countries across the world, made stormier not by the fact that there are so fucking many of them, but more because Ratzinger, or his office, back in the day apparently not just encouraged covering up these cases, but also did little to nothing to remove the abusing priests from contact with potential victims.

Of course, generous and bountiful like the love of god, these priests seem to spare no one. 200 deaf kids fucked by one priest alone? And then, there was a Vatican investigation going on against him at the insistence of his local parish, but it was halted after the poor old paedophile wrote to Ratzinger's office, saying he had repented for his past transgressions and that he simply wanted to live out the rest of his life in the dignity of his priesthood. Wow, this guy had some serious issues with the meaning of the word 'dignity', I am guessing. And yes, obviously, repenting returned to those kids all their collective ass cherries that he popped with all due priestly dignity.

Ratzinger has also been busy issuing letters of apology to the Irish public, saying sorry for all the cover-up activity his office indulged in when it came to the numerous sexual violations by members of the clergy in Ireland. And he has yet to talk about matters much closer home, matters from Munich where he spent considerable time before he went on to the Holy Office, matters that once more dealt with holes best not interfered with, especially if you are a follower of a religious creed that denounces homosexuality as a cardinal sin. Or hang on... cardinal sin... a sin fit for a cardinal? Maybe that's why all these priests love to bum-fuck so many kids?!

To read an account of such things, one wouldn't be blamed for mistaking it for the works of Marquis de Sade, who at least to his credit, was bluntly honest about it. Imagining a black mass from one of his works, complete with the naked underage virgin boys and girls and the dirty old priests salivating and drooling, not just from their mouths, is not that difficult to set under the dome of the Vatican suddenly.

Stop, eat, sleep, swim

Got to Bangalore yesterday morning. A week off from work which has become infinitely more anal ever since my CEO asked me to stop wearing t-shirts to work. Fucking arseholes, I wonder why they are so fucking stuck up about how other people dress. I mean, if I were showing on telly every now and then, I could understand his desire to have me "look good" by wearing a stiff collar and things, but I am never on camera, unless it is lounging somewhere in the far background or some such, unintentionally at that. And there are plenty other t-shirt clad people in my office doing exactly that. Or am I being singled out only because I sit right outside the CEO's cabin and spend a lot of time joking, laughing and cursing?

The plan was to eat a lot, sleep a lot, swim a lot, and perhaps smoke a ton of weed too. I have already covered ground with the first two objectives. Went swimming a while ago, but the water was so fucking cold, I got a headache and had to leave the pool after some 4 measly laps. Will make sure I go to the pool in the afternoons from tomorrow. As for the last part of the so-called plan, only 2 joints smoked last night but I ain't complaining at all about that. Getting high is not high on my priority list right now, given the amount of alcohol my system has ingested in the last couple of weeks. But I might still go tour a vineyard on the city's outskirts.

Now I need to procure shirts so that the CEO's white arse doesn't try to shit over me again. How exactly the fuck does wearing a shirt make one more professional is beyond me. I mean, there are retards in my office who wear shirts, sure enough, but do little else that would contribute to the profession the company is engaged in. Fucking appearances fuck. It really pisses me off. Maybe I will go find the gaudiest shirts I can bear to wear, some Hawaiian beach prints, some orange Om-covered, and whatever else. It would be interesting to see that old white fart's reaction to those, seeing as they will still be shirts.

Anyway, enough office talk already poisoning this holiday. So another post on another subject soon!

The Creed of Tolerancy

When we went for that vacation to Tarkarli, we had been warned by her dad to be careful, to be wary of the Shiv Sainiks and other fundamentalist Hindu groups who have been harassing yougsters in many parts of the country. The reason for harassment could be anything from celebrating Valentine's Day (which I personally find quite stupid, but no reason to harass anyone for) to getting 'intimate' in public (warped as their insanely narrow definition of 'intimate' may be), or even standing in too much proximity if the twosome in question happen to not be entangled in the ties of matrimony. The fact that the weekend we went on holiday also happened to accommodate Valentine's Day only heightened her dad's concerns.

So it was no surprise when a cop we were asking for directions started questioning me as to why I was driving topless. The aircon in the car was on, I was shirt-less and yet, I was sweating. And I pointed out as much to the cop, who to my mild surprise, looked us over once, said to himself more than to us that we were on holiday and pointed us on our way.

Anyway, some days back, MF Husain was trying to decide whether to give up his Indian citizenship and become a national of Qatar instead, the country he has been living in ever since his self-imposed exile triggered by the many threats issued against him. These threats, not very different from the fatwa issued by the Ayotallah against Salman Rushdie, were set out by fundamentalist Hindu groups whose fanaticism led them to proclaim his paintings of Hindu goddesses and Mother India as obscene and hence making him worthy of premature death.

This is not about raking up the issue however. I saw this bit on one of the gazillion TV screens in the office and casually remarked to a colleague about how I thought it was fucked up. The response was "It's a good thing only, that fucker should stay out". At my "What the...?!", the response changed. It went "Actually, no, he should come back. Else, how will we ever beat up the mother-fucker?"

When I argued about artistic freedom to interpret and the subjectivity of obscenity, I was told that I should respect other peoples' opinions, and to live and let live. Now that's rich, don't you think? I mean, how often do you get an intolerant cunt asking you to respect others' opinions? And this particular individual talking of obscenity? I mean, he is the kind of creep who stands on the office balcony looking down at women exercising a few floors below just so he can see some jiggling boobs. People like him brandishing intolerance for obscenity really takes the cake.

And oh, I also have a word for anyone talking about the zodiac. This arse-wipe and me share the same birthdate. And if anyone tells me (in person) that he and me are alike, be ready for a nice punch on the face. After all, a display of intolerance will only be fair, won't it?