Death Trap

A few weeks ago, there was a spirited discussion on this blog about Indian kids showing up en masse seeking reviews from the soulless jerks that run this outfit. Amidst the usual talk about skull-fuckery and sodomy, we were left scratching our crania for answers. This week is the perfect example of a week in the life of this blog - 1 blog was decomposed cat litter, 2 blogs are from where this guy lives. And this guy.

I've always thought humor was universal, that a man eaten alive by a pack of compys would be as funny in Swahili as in English. But reading today's reviewee has me doubting that assumption. Forgive me for the bias, but "Kaushik's Magical World of Nonsense" already sounds like a bastard child of H2G2 and the Discworld series. But I shrugged off that feeling and dove in for the review. Kaushik, from his blogger profile, is a shoe. Well that didn't make any sense, so back I went to his blog. It appears that Kaushik is a student of the assembly line of Indian geniuses "Indian Institute of Technology" which means he'll soon make more in a year than I ever have.

Where do I begin? I ignored the 2 latest posts - I don't read poems, and will not follow you on to your "other" blogs. So a post imaginatively titled "My trip to Bhutan" is a start. As I read on, I realized I was badly mistaken in my bias and that I was in the company of a literary heavyweight who made words do his bidding. His thoughts opened up a tired old predator's mind to the mystical wisdom from the east. His posts were sublime, evocative of what every aspiring writer hopes to become, and should finally change everyone's opinion about bloggers from India.

Just kidding. Kaushik rambles on without pausing once to breathe, think or contemplate editing. He repeats phrases and humor "devices" (lame ones at that). Back to your post on that trip to Bhutan - I tried reading it Kaushik, I really did. About a third into that cesspool of minutiae, I scrolled down to check on how much was left and all I could do was yell "FAAAAAAAAAK YOU". Why bother with verbiage if it adds up to nothing? Why is brevity such a lost art? Stretching a story out for comedic value has worked in the past, but it took a Kaufman-esque reveal in the end to keep things interesting.

I do not need to prove that I spent time reading your blog, that I tried searching long and hard for something redeeming. And what I dfaskl;dfhasfkljas';asjdglkasdgjaskl;dgjasdkl'gjasdg. Wait sorry, that was me banging my snout to the keyboard in frustration. You seem to have attended some sort of writing workshop, and if this is the product, I'd suggest asking for a refund. And the heads of the idiots who encouraged you. It also appears that you've authored some prose or a play or whatever the fuck this means. Good lord, mercy be upon the souls subjected to your dimwitted humor.

I really have no "advice" for the reviewee, some things are beyond repair. To those looking for some entertainment this Wednesday afternoon, I'd recommend stabbing your eyes with something sharp and metallic, and downing a gallon of bleach. The ambulance ride will keep you more engaged than this inane collection of thoughts, poems and "jokes".

Five Fuckin' Flamin' Fingers.