First, a few words of (s)advice. Allow me to help you – the (d)reader – to lower your hearbeats. Yes, it's true. There, I cleared the pollution... air, rather. Now don't start rubbing your eyes. Don't pinch yourself. Don't jump out of your chair, commode or any other surface where your gluteus maximus are resting on at this point of time. Don't howl out frantically and call your friends or family toward your computer screen. I know it's a rarity; like a diamond glittering from the rough of frivolous and trite bloggers haranguing the cyberspace, jostling for fame and pennies from accidental hits on Google Adverts. It may take time to sink in, I can understand but don't ever think you're all alone. I was gasping for breath myself, and I'm not somebody who gets impressed by any one-penny, two-penny literature, mind you. It's nothing unusual to be a fan, or a worshipper of this very incredible Uniform Resource Locator. That the latest offering from the arcane shelf – of yours truly – will raise or even rip-out eyebrows, make people stand up, and take notice, create flutters and even trigger windfall sales for HP, Canon and other printer manufacturers by sudden depletion of ink cartridges resulting from multiple prints of this post, will not be an overstatement. Your Sunday afternoon is taken care of, for sure. It's one to tell your grandchildren, alright. Your sojourn at the world's most frequented blog for non-content-reading-related purposes is about to commence.
The topic I'm about to begin my discerning analysis with is one which wasn't quite covered in depth by the mainstream media over the past month. It's a wedding that took place among a Cricketer from India's most friendly country and an Indian tennis star featuring in ITF's apocryphal list of 'Top Three Women Players of All Time Who Got Famous for No Fucking Reason' along with . The wedding which took place bereft of any controversy or an iota of doubt about the two parties being ever involved in previous betrayals... or betrothals, for that matter, left one tiny but potentially significant bit of information which may leave the future of mankind in serious doubt. The fact that the Cricketer-bridegroom in focus had a semen stained cloth left over at his first night-encounter with his former wife. Some wife who preserves such things. But as the saying goes, mementoss come in all forms, sizes and spots. That former wife of his, who never went out to the media with it, handed it over to the Police as evidence of their association. Mr. Cricket, here, has obviously not read this blogger's best seller 'Phani's Code for Clean Sex' or PCCS – its popular acronym. Such irresponsible acts are bound to have serious implications on progeny-creating habits of his millions of followers across his country and his wife's. His "miss" has been taken advantage of by his ex-"miss". In Cricket they say 'Catches win matches', as we can clearly see, they win lawsuits too! It's obvious that his coach never really gave him some "hitting" practice. Neither at the stumps nor at their gaps. His throws ran out his million strong tiny swimmers who plunged to death in the process. They bit the dust... on the pillow cloth. Given how clear it is that he didn't use protection that fortuitous night, it'll be fair to say that he never even got a good share of "Net" practice. This was one Cricketer who was definitely caught in a Monica Lewinsky moment. His cynics say this is where the similarity with Bill Clinton ends. But while Bill survived impeachment, our Cricketer has a year long break, thanks to the genius of his Cricket board, to reflect on his actions. Sources say he's contemplating becoming a private ball boy to his to-be. That way he can get to be with her wherever she goes for tournaments and as long as she stays there. Given her talent, I'm guessing that won't be more than a day or two.
We all live in a hope that this carelessness of his doesn't rub off on to others in whose hands (or other parts) lie the future of the sub-continent.
You can breathe... now.
