Suman Palit

For a while, this blog will refocus on some thoughts I have been gathering on architecture, design patterns, technical governance, and related issues.

For a while... :-)

South Park was hilarious this week... Al Gore spreading "Man-bear-Pig" awareness in South Park. I'm totally seriall, guys... heh!

THE TYGER

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The message of this protester would be sublime irony - were it not for the sick feeling at the pit of my stomach.

Those who argue that "dialogue" is indeed possible with the likes of these scum, you are welcome to join the ranks of the dhimmi. When they come for me, they can say hello to my little friend

Until then, I will enjoy the blissful terrorism of free expression.

I give you, Sen. Tom Coburn....

The Senate, which fancies itself the world's most exclusive club, has its Sir John Hawkins. He was the 18th-century musicologist whom Samuel Johnson called "a very unclubbable man." The very unclubbable senator is Oklahoma's Tom Coburn, 57, a freshman Republican whose motto could be: "Niceness is overrated."

Coburn is the most dangerous creature that can come to the Senate, someone simply uninterested in being popular. When House Speaker Dennis Hastert defends earmarks -- spending dictated by individual legislators for specific projects -- by saying that a member of Congress knows best where a stoplight ought to be placed, Coburn, in an act of lese-majeste, responds: Members of Congress are the least qualified to make such judgments.

This guy is more than a breath of fresh air. He is the key to resolving the corruption within Congress and the Senate.

A monastary on mist-laden mountain
A monk awakens
The child of yesterday never returns

When I get one of these (and it's but a matter of time), I think I'm going to pair it up with one of these. The good wife already has a pair of matched Kimbers; and in the interests of diversity I've decided to look elsewhere. Besides, there is something reassuring about having a big, burly and dependable Eastern European gal in your bedroom for those moments you thought only happened to someone else. Heh!

Watching Superbowl reminds me of why men are kinda weird critters.

Most men by their nature, are violent, passionate, idiot savants. We tear things down, we hunt in packs, we create art and mayhem in equal measure. What civilizes us are two essentials. First, a way to shape our destructive urge. Turn the fire of Kali into an engine of creation. Some men run marathons, some turn to the gladiatorial sports. Hence the universal fascination with football, soccer, ice-boxing, er, ice hockey... Others, like myself, spend cold fall days stalking deer and elk - to experience and relive the primitive man within us. We cannot tame something we do not understand. Men instinctively get it. It's funny, how we are all alike in that way.

What we also need, often desperately and above all else, is to be surrounded by the company of noble and worthy women. Mothers, wives, sisters, girlfriends... they take the eccentric savant, the primitve savage and they tame him. That's their job and most do a great job of it.

So give the women close to you a hug - if you are so lucky. Don't forget to salute the ones who came before them, and take comfort in the presence of those to come.