Rohit's Realm - June 2007

// / archive / 2007 / 06

June 04, 2007

Sweet Revenge

Several years ago, when I wrote what would later become my definitive manifesto on the ultimate futility of seeking idyllic romances and (what half wits, morons, and imbeciles everywhere refer to as) true love, I was lambasted—both publicly and privately—by many a self-professed romantic, often times with vitriol that generally should only be reserved for transients and the homeless menace. Though there were no explicit death threats, it certainly seemed as if though hordes of viciously star-crossed lovers, chomping at the bit and rabidly foaming at the mouth (perhaps all those roses they bought one another were giving them allergies?), were preparing their metaphorical nooses for a lynching of the heartless, soulless ingrate that dared publicly derided their most sacred of commandments. And yet, as Audrey pointed out last week, almost 3 years after I published my treatise, the Economist, one of the foremost publications in the world, has essentially validated the position I have long held on the Realm. Revenge is so sweet.

June 11, 2007

Mr. Rohit's Neighborhood

Despite my well-deserved reputation as an incorrigible cynic, my online popularity as both a suicidal nihilist and worthless yuppie asshole, and my recently epitomizing post-adolescent existential angst, as most of you have likely understood, I am often guilty of shameful hypocrisy that threatens to destroy the very pillars upon which I have created my (awesome) online persona. One particularly egregious instance of said insincerity is with respect to my position on small children; specifically, all the while publishing derisive articles condemning children (and especially, babies) as fundamentally inhuman, and questioning the validity of associating with such troglodytes, I have volunteered as a teacher at San Francisco elementary schools with the Junior Achievement program. For shame!

June 14, 2007

The Cross of Syringes

Hot on the heels of today's announcement in the San Francisco Chronicle that my dearly beloved (or intensely loathed) City of Berkeley is (finally) attempting to do something about the awful menace of transients and cracked-out bums that terrorize its streets, I would like to proudly announce the official release of the San Francisco Platform (Hope for a New Tomorrow) and the candidacy of my roommate, G-Unit (a.k.a. BliNG), for Mayor of San Francisco. For too long, we noble denizens of this great city have chafed under the yoke of soul-crushing inefficiencies and mind-numbing bureaucratic ineptitude. No longer shall we stand by as our enlightened city is overrun by bums, idiots, tourists, hipsters, and junkies! Have faith, ye with jobs and homes, and you shall be rewarded.

June 23, 2007

The Politics of Puerility

As an unapologetically overeducated coast-dwelling lib'rul that is hopelessly—and intentionally—out of touch with middle American values (of sanctimony and hypocrisy), I have often mentioned my great contempt for the majority of (barely literate) voters that, despite reveling in their own incompetence and ignorance much as babies do in their own shit, continue to hold as much sway as the individuals who spend their time educating themselves on the candidates and issues. Despite this overt disdain, by and large, I had up till now dismissed them as merely a nuisance (as does a lot of political science literature), whose random vote, while irritating, would nevertheless be rendered irrelevant when the knowledgeable (few) cast their own votes—much like Wikipedia. However, a column (subscription required) in this week's Economist will likely prove to be disconcerting for those who choose to still believe that the idiots amongst us can be appeased (with US Weeklies and American Idol). I mean, just look what happened to Chamberlain and Daladier in Munich.

June 27, 2007

Paradigm Shifts, Family Jewels, and Schrödinger's Cat

Though I have previously argued that a Heisenberg-esque Uncertainty Principle exist[s] in social interactions as much as it does in quantum mechanics, two recent (and unrelated) news stories have really driven home (for me, at least) the challenges we face, both as individuals and as a society, in attempting to make sense of contemporary developments. While this could be said about developments (or advancements, as the case may be) in any field of academic inquiry, be it art, science, or economics, the two disciplines I will focus on are (American) history and (molecular) biology, specifically the recent release of the so-called family jewels by the C.I.A. and recent developments in understanding the role of RNA, as outlined last week in the Economist (registration and subscription required, respectively).

June 18, 2007

The Black Venom

Rohit, Halloween 2005

Rohit, Halloween 2005

In my never-ending bid to be more like Seth Cohen of The O.C. fame, I decided to compensate for a childhood (regrettably) spent without reading nary a single comic book, by entitling my latest entry after an extraterrestrial symbiont in Spider-Man, that, when bonded with a human host, exaggerates certain characteristics of the host, and most importantly, causes the host to begin wearing eyeliner and dressing in all black. However, considering that I have never really needed an excuse to wear eyeliner or dress in all black (see nearby picture), I might as well have entitled this entry The Languorous Lethargy. Perhaps this might explain how three months ago, I found myself sitting in a dimly lit room, with weeks of Wall Street Journals and months of Economists by my bedside, lying in a pile of both clean and dirty laundry, mindlessly watching my fifth hour of The O.C. while eating pizza from a week ago—on a weeknight. Truly, I had been consumed by the Black Venom—of laziness.

June 25, 2007

The Lady in Pink (and My Failure to Capitalize)

In the past two months, there has been much ado—both online and off—about my apparent successes, and more realistically, resounding failures recently with the fair sex. And yet, despite finding (and losing) not one, but two soulmates in as many months, and countless blown opportunities at various social functions, my most catastrophic failures have come not as a result of my consummate inability to close the proverbial deal (though that certainly goes without saying), but rather, my inexplicable ineffectualness in detecting the (often overt) advances of said fair sex. An anecdote from my trip this weekend to Irvine (hereafter affectionately known only as the 'vine) should be instructive.