FunnyColumns

No lottery wins, but still feeling lucky

Why do some people seem to have all the luck in the world while others have no luck whatsoever?

Delma Kinney, 51, of Atlanta is one of the lucky ones. He won $1 million in an instant lottery game in 2008, then did it again recently. Yes, two lottery wins in three years!

As Kinney told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, he stopped at a convenience store to pick up some cold medicine, decided to buy an instant lottery ticket, and won another million bucks. It must be nice: one moment, you have a cold; the next moment, you’re blowing your nose on $100 bills.

The last time I stopped at a convenience store to buy cold medicine, I thought it was my lucky day too: the doughnuts were on sale.

That just goes to show you, of course, that whether you feel lucky or not depends on your expectations.

I feel lucky when I wake up in the morning, look out the window and see that no one has stolen our car.

I feel lucky when my wife prepares a healthful dinner for us and gives most of the vegetables to the kids.

I feel lucky when I switch channels on my TV and don’t see a single Kardashian.

I feel lucky when my wife exchanges more words with me on any given day than with her Facebook friends.

I feel lucky when I go for my annual physical and the doctor spends less time examining me than the guy at airport security.

I feel lucky when I’m standing in line at the grocery store and can catch up on Jennifer Aniston’s love life.

I feel lucky when I watch music videos with my children and the artists are wearing more than just their musical instruments.

I feel lucky when I can get a loan to buy a car and the loan officer at the bank doesn’t ask me if I can afford gas.

I feel lucky when the guy at the pawn shop doesn’t ask me whose earrings those are.

I feel lucky when everything works in my house: the dishwasher, the washing machine, the Alpha Male Plus pills.

I feel lucky when I tell my children to take a bath and at least one of them gets off the couch and asks, “Take it where, Daddy?”

I feel lucky when I can file my taxes less often than Billy Bob Thornton files for divorce.

I feel lucky when I visit the hairdresser and he doesn’t cut off more than a small section of my ear.

I feel lucky when I can go to the beach and do some reading –- all those words on well-tanned bodies.

I feel lucky when it’s a Friday night, the kids have gone to bed, and my wife whispers into my ear, “Do you feel lucky?”

“Yes, honey,” I say. “I do feel lucky.”

She smiles, pulls me closer and gives me a kiss. Then she sends me to the convenience store to buy lottery tickets.

Watch out for falling objects

If you’re planning to go for a walk –- and I strongly advise against this –- you might want to keep your eyes up. You never know what might fall on you: apples, frogs, Russian space crafts. Yes, it’s a dangerous world out there and the best thing you can do is stay indoors. If you absolutely have to go outside, follow my example and say a prayer: “Dear God, if you must drop something on my head, let it be hair. My bald spot isn’t getting any smaller.”

Apples may seem like harmless objects, but not when they’re dropping from the sky, as they recently did in Coventry, England. More than 100 apples fell on a main road in the village of Keresley, forcing drivers to slam their brakes. They were lucky they weren’t walking. An apple a day may keep the doctor away, as the old saying goes, but 100 apples will surely bring him.

Doctor: “What happened, Mrs. Smith? Why do you have all those bumps on your head?”

Mrs. Smith: “It's my son-in-law's fault. I was walking to the Pension Service to discuss my housing benefits and my son-in-law said, ‘Good luck, Mum! I hope your visit will be very fruitful.’”

Officials in Coventry are trying to figure out where the apples came from. One theory is that they were swept up from an orchard by a tornado and dropped on the road, but Keresley parish councillor Sandra Camwell has a more logical explanation: witches.

“We're in an area with a spooky history, where there have been witches for centuries, after all," she told The Telegraph.

If it were just apples falling from the sky, we wouldn't have too much to worry about. In fact, we might pray that more apples fall, especially in parts of the world where people would lie on their backs and open their mouths wide.

London man: “Yes!!! That apple just saved me a lot of money!”

Tourist: “But you didn't even eat it.”

London man: “Eat it? Are you bonkers? Why would I eat it? I just wanted it to knock out my loose tooth, so I wouldn't have to pay the dentist.”

Unfortunately it’s more than just apples falling from the sky.  Just ask anyone who follows the news closely and they’ll tell you about the thousands of frogs that fell in Odzaci, a small town in northwestern Serbia, in 2005, or the hundreds of fish that fell in Lajamanu, a town in Australia’s northern territory, in 2010. 

“When I told my family, who live in another part of Australia, about the fish falling from the sky, they thought I'd lost the plot,” a woman named Christine Balmer told The Daily Mail. “But no, I haven't lost my marbles. All I can say is that I'm thankful that it didn't rain crocodiles!”

Raining frogs and fish is bad enough, although you might get a meal out of them. But here's a warning: if something falls out of the sky, make sure you identify it before you put it in your mouth and start chewing. Even if it looks like a real fish, you should always turn it around to see if you can spot the words “Made in China.”

Experts believe that the frogs and fish were swept up by tornadoes or sucked up in a storm, but how do they explain what happened in Kentucky in 1876? Pieces of meat as large as three or four square inches fell from the sky into someone’s yard. According to The New York Times, “two gentlemen, who tasted the meat, express the opinion that it was either mutton or venison.”

I don’t know about you, but if chunks of meat fell from the sky into my yard, I wouldn’t be tasting it. I’d be running through the streets screaming, "Witches! Witches!"

The jolly old man who helps me get through Christmas

If my kids seem particularly well-behaved at this time of the year, it’s
because they think that a man with a white beard and red suit is keeping track of their behavior, all the way from the North Pole. Telling them that “Santa is watching” is a great way to get them to be nice to each other, far more effective than saying “God is watching.”

God may be all-powerful and all-knowing, but he doesn’t bring them toys on Christmas morning, not even a Jesus action figure.

All three of my kids, Lekha, 9, Divya, 7, and Rahul, 5, still believe in
Santa, still believe that the gifts they find under the tree on Christmas morning were placed there by the jolly old man. He travels to millions of homes around the world on a reindeer-drawn sleigh and –- here’s the real miracle –- manages to not get shot down by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

It helps, of course, that he’s a white man. If he were a brown man, he’d be spending the week after Christmas pulling bullets out of his butt.

Elf: “Santa, what happened? Did someone shoot you while you were sliding down their chimney?”

Santa: “No, they shot me while I was landing on their roof. Remind me never to deliver toys to anyone named Sasha and Malia.”

I would never think of shooting Santa, whatever race he happened to be.
Santa is a great help to me. My kids are much nicer in the weeks before
Christmas. And if they unwrap their gifts on Christmas morning and don’t
like what they’ve received, all I have to do is shrug and say, “Sorry,
kids. The old man messed up again!”

Santa doesn’t usually mess up, of course. That’s because the kids tell him
exactly what they want, either by writing him a letter or saying it aloud.

Rahul: “I want Santa to bring me a gun.”

Me: “Santa doesn’t believe in violence. I don’t think he’s going to bring
you a gun.”

Rahul: “Okay then, can Santa bring me a set of drums instead?”

Me: “Santa doesn’t believe in noise either.”

Rahul: “What does Santa believe in, Daddy?”

Me: “He believes in small toys that cost $10 or less.”

What Santa believes in isn’t quite as important as what my children
believe. And I’m dreading the day that they stop believing in him. They’ve
already started asking too many questions.

Lekha: “Daddy, where does Santa get all the toys from?”

Me: “His elves make them in the North Pole.”

Lekha: “Then how come this toy says ‘Made in CHINA’ on it?”

Me: “That’s not the country China, honey. That’s the acronym ‘CHINA.’ It
stands for ‘Creative Households in Northern Arctic.”

Then there’s the question about all the Santas who appear at the mall and
other places in December.

Divya: “Is that the real Santa, Daddy? Shouldn’t he be in the North Pole?”

Me: “No, honey, that’s an imposter. He’s just pretending to be Santa.”

Divya: “Oh, that explains it.”

Me: “Explains what?”

Divya: “Why he smells of beer. I don’t think the real Santa would drink
and glide.”

Then there’s the question about communicating with Santa.

Lekha: “Daddy, I don’t feel like writing a letter this year. Does Santa
have Twitter? Can I just tweet what I want for Christmas?”

Me: “Sure, honey, you can tweet Santa. But don’t be surprised, on
Christmas morning, if you feel a little mis-tweeted.”

Kim's Fairytale 72-Day Marriage

When my wife told me that reality TV star Kim Kardashian and her husband, National Basketball Association player Kris Humphries, were getting a divorce after 72 days of marriage, I was pretty impressed. “Wow, their marriage lasted two and a half months!”

I didn’t realize they had been married that long. Two and a half months! I haven’t checked the Guinness Book, but I’m pretty certain that’s a record for a celebrity marriage involving a man who enjoys playing basketball and a woman who enjoys playing the field.

You have to give them credit. A celebrity marriage doesn’t last that long without the couple trying really hard to work things out. After the first month, they must have gone to marriage counseling; and after the second, they must have gone to Dr. Phil.

Dr. Phil: “Kim, you say you have some major differences with Kris. What seems to be the biggest difference between you?”

Kim: “I’d say height. He’s much taller than me.”

Dr. Phil: “No, I mean the type of differences that are causing problems in your marriage.”

Kim: “I’d say ratings. He didn’t do much for the ratings of my reality shows.”

Dr. Phil: “You’re thinking of divorcing your husband because he didn’t improve the ratings of your TV shows? Forgive me for being blunt, but are you NUTS?”

Kim (standing up to leave): “That’s it. I’m outta here. I knew this wouldn’t help.”

Dr. Phil: “Hey, come back here. You can’t leave so soon. What about MY ratings?”

Kris: “That’s all right, Dr. Phil. I’m still here. I’ve got nothing else to do. The NBA is locked out.”

Dr. Phil: “Oh, thank goodness. Tell me, Kris, when you and Kim tied the knot in that glitzy $10 million TV wedding in August, were you hoping your marriage would last forever?”

Kris: “Well, I was hoping it would last at least until Christmas.”

Dr. Phil: “But it has already lasted longer than most celebrity marriages. You’ve had a number of anniversaries. How did you celebrate them?”

Kris: “Well, for our one-week anniversary, we went to Las Vegas; for our two-week anniversary, we went to Hawaii; and for our three-week anniversary, we watched ‘Kim’s Fairytale Wedding’ on E! network again and counted all the money we made from it.”

Dr. Phil: “How romantic! What about your other anniversaries?”

Kris: “Well, we started taking each other for granted after that. I forgot all about our four-week anniversary and she made me watch 10 episodes of ‘Kim and Kourtney Take New York.’ We had a big fight on our five-week anniversary because she wanted the cameras to follow us around and I shut the door when I peed. The six-week anniversary was great because E! network had a special about it and my friends kept asking, ‘What’s the secret? How did you make it last so long?’ And I had to tell them about the ‘C’ word.”

Dr. Phil: “Commitment?”

Kris: “No, cash. The reality show producers were paying us to stay together. We couldn’t let the marriage end too soon. Besides, when you have cameras following you around, you have to try to make things work. Otherwise you’d look really stupid.”

Dr. Phil: “That’s true. Whatever happens now, you definitely won’t look stupid. Tell me, Kris, what do you think it was that attracted Kim to you?”

Kris: “Well, she likes athletes and I’m … uh … always around them. She also liked my name. It’s the same as her mother’s and it begins with ‘K.’ She told me that she’d like to have a reality show called ‘Kim and Kris: One Kardashian, Two Kaucasians.” But that was before she realized that ‘Caucasian’ doesn’t begin with a ‘K.’”

Dr. Phil: “What advice do you have for other celebrities?”

Kris: “My only advice is this: If you have to marry a Kardashian, marry one who doesn’t have a reality show.”

If you want to see chivalry, go to the hospital

Some people believe that chivalry is dead, but I don't think that's true. Chivalry isn't dead –- it's just on life support. Doctors are trying their best to revive it. But do we really want them to?

That's a question women need to answer. Men are ready to open doors for you and give up seats on buses and trains for you. We'll do almost anything for you, except carry your handbags while you shop. Even the most chivalrous man has to draw the line somewhere, especially with so many video cameras around. No one wants to be featured in a viral video titled “Lost at the mall: this guy’s manhood.”

Granted, not all men are eager to jump to your assistance. Some of us are ill-mannered buffoons. You know the type: the only door they’ll open for you is the door to the kitchen. And when you’re done cooking an elaborate meal, they’ll wait for you to serve them, saying, “Opening that door really tired me out.”

But most of us do want to be considered gentlemen. In fact, there was a time when we went out of our way to be courteous to women. My memory isn’t perfect, but I do recall a moment in 2001 that I opened a door for a young lady. Or did I just dream it? No, I’m pretty certain it really happened. I parked the car, ran around to the other side and opened the door for my lovely wife. She looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, “What did you do this time?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you must have done something wrong and are trying to make up for it.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman? Let me guess: you’ve been watching Oprah again.”

Yes, women can sometimes be a little suspicious when you try to be nice to them. But that’s not the main reason chivalry is on life support. What has really hurt it is the Women’s Liberation Movement. Women want to be treated as equals –- and before I get myself in hot water, I should state that I fully support equality of the sexes, especially if it means that my wife gets to climb out of bed and investigate any suspicious sounds in our house at night, while I hide under the blankets.

Women’s Lib has opened many doors for women, including doors to the boardrooms of major companies. “I can do anything you can,” the liberated woman says to the man in her life. “You don’t need to treat me like the weaker sex.”

“Okay, fine,” the man responds. “I’ll just sit on the sofa and watch some cricket.”

“Please do that,” the woman says. “But before you go, can you open this bottle of mango pickle for me? It seems to be stuck.”

The man is confused: Didn’t she just tell him not to treat her like the weaker sex? It appears to him that she can’t do everything he can. After all, when was the last time she grew a moustache? It’s also apparent to him that he can’t do everything she can. After all, when was the last time he gave birth to a baby?

But both sexes are equally capable of certain tasks, he realizes, so he stops opening doors for women, stops giving up his seat in buses. And then one day, an old woman on the bus gives him a glare and says, “Whatever happened to chivalry?”

“I’m asking the same thing,” he replies. “I was on this bus yesterday and not one woman stood up to let me sit.”

(This piece originally appeared in Times of India, Chennai edition.)

Saying goodbye to a trusted friend

My wife, Malathi, and I recently bought a new minivan, trading in the 2000 Subaru Legacy Wagon that had served us well for nine years. As we were leaving the Honda dealership in our sparkling white minivan, my 7-year-old daughter, Divya, stuck her head out toward the parked Subaru and waved. “Bye, car! Thank you, car!” she said.

It wasn't the first time one of us had spoken to the Subaru. When we bought it second-hand in 2002, Malathi had trouble learning to drive a stick-shift (manual) car. As she took her foot off the clutch pedal too quickly, the car would jerk forward and stall. “Go! Go! Go!” Malathi would yell, but the car couldn’t seem to grasp this simple instruction. Being a good husband, I tried to be helpful: “It’s a Japanese car. What’s the Japanese word for ‘go’?”

But after Malathi's initial words to the car, I don't recall any of us talking to it until Divya's parting
words. I hate to admit this publicly, but we didn't even give it a name. We just referred to it as “the car” –- as though it didn't have an identity of its own, as though it was exactly like all the other Subarus. Just ask any mechanic and he will tell you that no two cars in the world are exactly alike. “Your car is definitely unique,” he will say, “and it has a unique problem that will take me many hours to fix.” And pretty soon you will have a unique bill to pay.

“You charged me for an exhaust pipe, exhaust gasket and exhaust clamp,” you say, looking at the items on the bill. “But why did you charge me for exhaust fluid?”

“Sorry,” says the mechanic. “I was exhausted and needed a drink.”

Our Subaru certainly had some unique qualities. For example, if I made a sharp U-turn, it would produce a popping sound. I used Google Translate and found out what it was saying: “Make up your mind where you’re going, you idiot!” If I went over a bump too fast, it would make a deep vibrating sound, which Google also translated for me: “Time to get your eyes checked, you moron!”

But despite its occasional complaints, it was a good, reliable car, one that we shamelessly took for granted.  Even when it had carried us safely on a 30-hour trip, we didn't have the decency to give it a pat on its bumper.  If it was dirty and needed a bath, I waited for a rainy day and tossed it a bar of soap. And when it came to feeding it, I was always slow to do so, waiting until the gauge showed empty, not feeling any remorse if the warning light came on, saying “Feed me, dude. I'm not a model!”

I may have neglected the car now and then, but I never intentionally abused it in any way, either verbally or physically, even when it was at fault. When its battery died and it wouldn't start one morning, I didn't kick its tires and scream, “Stupid car! Why didn't you remind me to turn your lights off?” When it almost crashed into a building while Malathi was at the wheel, I didn't punch its headlights out and shout, “Stupid car! Why didn't you tell her that her foot was on the accelerator, not the brake!”

I always felt a sense of loyalty to the car and was reluctant to part with it. That's why I was pleasantly surprised to hear Divya's words of gratitude. While the rest of the family was excited about the new minivan, she had taken a moment to appreciate the old car. I should have done the same: “Good bye car! Thank you for keeping us safe. We’ll miss you. I hope your new owner speaks Japanese.”

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If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through Amazon.com and McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Think twice before naming your baby

If you’re having a baby and thinking of potential names, please don’t be too creative. Your baby will have to live with that name for a very long time, at least until he or she is old enough to change the name officially. So please stay away from a name like “Pomegranate.” If you want to name your baby daughter after a fruit, try something that’s more acceptable like “Cantaloupe” or “Kumquat.”

If you want to name your son after a car, please stay away from names like “Mercedes” or “Kia.” Those are girls’ names. You’re better off with something masculine such as “Cadillac” or “Land Rover.” But don’t complain if some kid in kindergarten climbs on your son and tries to drive him around.

Whatever name you choose, please try not to be as creative as some celebrities. Singer Jermaine Jackson named his fourth son Jermajesty, magician Penn Jillette named his daughter Moxie CrimeFighter, actor Jason Lee named his son Pilot Inspektor and actress Shannyn Sossamon named her   son Audio Science. Compared to them, singer M.I.A. gave her son a rather normal name: Ikhyd. I’d rather be Ikhyd any day than Jermajesty. Otherwise I’ll be dreading the day that someone introduces me to the King of Spain: “Your majesty, Jermajesty.”

Parents have a lot of freedom in choosing baby names, but we need to exercise that freedom carefully, or else it might be taken away from us. If you don’t believe me, just look at what’s happening in New Zealand. The country’s Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages has banned 102 names over the past two years, according to the Herald Sun. One of the rejected names is Lucifer, which three sets of parents tried to name their offspring. Who in their right mind would name their baby Lucifer? Probably someone named Lou Natic.

The agency also rejected names that sound like titles, such as Bishop, Duke, General, Judge, Justice and King, as well as the number 89 and the letters C, D, I and T. Oh no, there goes the dream of one of those computer guys from India –- to name his son I T King.

New Zealand has not always been so strict about baby names. In 2008, a couple had twin boys and were permitted to name them Benson and Hedges –- after the popular cigarette brand. At least their middle names made a lot of sense: Sillimom and Stupidad.

Another couple named their son Violence. That’s worse than Benson and Hedges. They deserve to be locked up immediately. Not for giving their son a bad name, but for breaking the New Zealand law that forbids citizens from deliberately creating Violence.

I hope that Violence grows up to be a great man. I can’t wait to see the newspaper headlines: “Violence Wins Nobel Peace Prize,” “Violence Makes First Visit to Middle East” and “Mob Attacks Parents Who Asked to See Violence Again.”

If Violence seems like a terrible name, just wait till you see what another couple named their son: Number 16 Bus Shelter. No kidding, they named him after a bus shelter, probably because that’s where he was conceived. They were waiting for a bus and the man looked at the woman and said, “How would you like to have another baby?” And the woman said, “Great idea! It would be wonderful to have a baby brother for Mercedes C-300 Backseat.”

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If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through Amazon.com and McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Prayer requests via Facebook

As part of an ongoing effort to get more young people to participate in church, Good Shepherd United Church decided to accept prayer requests on its Facebook page and print them in its weekly bulletin. Pastor Jim Williams was pleased to see the entire congregation, young and old, reading the bulletin with great interest the following Sunday.

Prayer Requests:

Please pray for C.J. as he awaits the results of an important test. His classmate Jenny recently gave birth to a baby boy and is having a paternity test done. Pray that C.J. isn’t the father, but if he indeed is, please pray that he has the strength to face his parents.

Please keep Mike in your prayers as he tries his best to get tickets to the U-2 concert next week. Also pray that he doesn’t have to pay too much for the tickets, and if he does, please pray for the souls of the ticket scalpers.

Please pray that Harumi can overcome his addiction to viewing certain pictures and videos on the Internet, which is affecting his work and family life. He wants desperately to overcome his obsession with Will and Kate.

Please pray that Heather will have success with her experiment in chemistry class. There is a cute guy in the class and she is experimenting playing hard to get.

Please pray that Mukesh can solve his Visa issues and bring his wife and children from India. He wants to buy airline tickets and needs a new Visa card to charge them to.

Please keep Veronica in your prayers as she begins a new phase in her life. Pray that she has the strength to survive without Oprah.

Please pray for Joanne, who strongly desires to tie the knot with her boyfriend, Ron. Pray that everything works out for her and that Ron finally gets the hint.

Please pray for Prince, who is trying desperately to get some money out of Nigeria and needs someone’s help.

Please keep Justin in your prayers as he faces a difficult decision in his life: whether to buy a Nintendo Wii or a Sony PlayStation. Help him get the direction he needs.

Please pray for Carson, who promises to come to church every Sunday for the rest of his life if he manages to pass his Grade 12 math exam.

Please pray for Miguel, who is recovering from a big loss and still can’t understand how the Mavericks beat the Heat. Pray that he has the strength to endure another season of watching LeBron come up short.

Please pray for Sunita, who is struggling with temptation and wondering why she couldn’t find employment at some place other than Baskin-Robbins. Pray that she doesn’t eat herself out of a job.

Please pray for Dawn, who is having a health issue. Her doctor says she needs to lose weight, but if she doesn’t get a little bigger, she won’t create enough space for a Justin Bieber tattoo.

Please pray for Jack, who just lost three friends. He doesn’t know why they unfriended him on Facebook. Pray that his prayer request results in a few more friend requests.

The challenge of being a stay-at-home dad

For the last nine years or so, I’ve been a stay-at-home dad, but I prefer to call myself a write-at-home dad. That’s because I spend a lot of time writing. I mostly write emails to my wife with questions such as: “Why isn’t the baby drinking from the bottle? Doesn’t she like Coke?” and “Is it okay if the baby watches Law & Order with me? She seems to like it.”

Actually, I don’t ask many questions these days. That’s partly because my three kids aren’t babies anymore -– the youngest is 5 –- and partly because I’ve become an expert at being a stay-at-home dad. If this were a real job, I would have been promoted by now. I’d be the Director of Domestic Affairs or the CEO of Home Management.

Being an expert at this job does not mean doing everything well. It means making a list of everything that needs to be done and figuring out a way to get the kids to do it.

My youngest child, Rahul, often helps me load the washing machine. My oldest child, Lekha, often helps
me sort the socks and underwear. My middle child, Divya, doesn’t help much, but at least she doesn’t leave her dirty clothes lying around on the floor like a few other members of this household, who apparently believe that Dad has nothing better to do than pick up after them. I do have something better to do: watch Law & Order.

Yes, being a stay-at-home dad isn’t easy, even when you’re an expert. There’s so much to do at home -- cooking, washing, sweeping –- and it’s hard to get it all done during the commercial breaks. I don’t know how the stay-at-home moms do it –- I just don’t.

Thankfully, I don’t do most of the cooking –- my wife does. It’s her main responsibility when she returns from work, aside from spending time with the kids and asking me why the house is such a mess.

Most of the cleaning falls on my shoulders –- and then I flick it onto the kids’ shoulders. At least I try to. When I turn on the vacuum cleaner, my son gets excited and I can usually con him into doing some of the vacuuming. He loves to watch things get sucked up. This arrangement has worked rather well, especially since my wife hasn’t counted our children recently.

The biggest challenge for a stay-at-home dad, I’ve come to realize, is dealing with society’s expectations. Dads are not supposed to stay at home. We’re supposed to go out and make money. And if we can’t make money, we’re supposed to go out anyway –- go out and play golf, go out and watch a movie, go out and do yoga under a tree.

A woman can call herself a housewife and no one will bat an eyelid. But you should see the looks I get when I call myself a houseband. “Stay-at-home dad” is more acceptable, of course, but even then, the first question you’ll get is “Are you looking for a job?” Trust me, I know. I’ve heard that question hundreds of times –- and not always from my mother.

It’s going to take another century, perhaps, for society to completely embrace the idea of a father staying at home, looking after his kids. After all, the custom of fathers working outside the home goes back thousands of years. Just imagine a caveman saying to his wife: “You go kill mammoth. I stay in cave, look after baby.” What do you think would have happened to him? Yes, he would have received a threat: “You no kill mammoth, you no get my mud pudding tonight.”

Caveman: “Me no need your nasty pudding.”

Wife: “You no kill mammoth, you no get my fire-roasted worms tonight.”

Caveman: “Me no need your nasty worms.”

Wife: “You no kill mammoth, you no pudding your little worm anywhere near me tonight.”

Caveman (grabs spear): “How many mammoths you want me kill? One or two?”

 

Photo by Michael Verhoef

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If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through Amazon.com and McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

The end of the world as we know it

If you happened to spot me running down the street the other day, screaming, “The world is ending! The world is ending!” please don’t think I’m a fool. I was only reacting to all the news reports that carried a dire prediction: the world would soon be without Oprah.

Thankfully, I learned that Oprah herself isn’t disappearing. It’s her show that’s going off the air. Oprah will still grace the cover of O, The Oprah Magazine, appear on the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN), and have tea with Michelle and Barack. But the world will not be the same without The Oprah Winfrey Show, which has been on TV for 25 years and made such
a difference in my life, I just don’t know how my ancestors survived without it. How did great-grandma know what food to eat and which books to read? How did great-grandpa know what clothes to wear and which celebrities to gush over?

In fact, when I think about it, my life can be divided into two distinct periods: Before Oprah (B.O.) and After Oprah (A.O.).

B.O.:  I ate whatever I wanted, without worrying about calories or nutrition.
A.O.:  I ate whatever Oprah’s chef recommended –- and bought myself bigger clothes.

B.O.: I thought I was happy with my life.
A.O.: I took Oprah’s “happy quiz” and realized that I was quite miserable.

B.O.: I didn’t know how to say “I love you” to a woman.
A.O.: I screamed “I love you” many times to Meg Ryan when she appeared on Oprah.

B.O.: I didn’t do much reading at all.
A.O.: I read every cover of O, The Oprah Magazine, while standing in line at the supermarket.

B.O.: I thought that aging was inevitable.
A.O.: I watched Suzanne Somers on Oprah and learned that it’s possible for a 60-year-old, through regular hormone injections and vitamin therapy, to look barely a day older than 59.

B.O.: I didn’t know how to attract women.
A.O.:  I attracted hordes of women by putting a sign outside my apartment that said: “Oprah’s on. Anyone want to watch with me?”

B.O.: I didn’t know how to exercise.
A.O.: I watched Oprah run a 26-mile marathon and was inspired to run 26 times around my couch.

B.O.: I didn’t know how to take care of my finances.
A.O.: Oprah taught me, in just one episode, how to save money for a rainy day, and in another episode, how to invest it all in designer underwear.

B.O.: I didn’t know how to dress well.
A.O.: I watched Aishwarya Rai on Oprah and learned the proper way to wear a sari.

B.O.: I didn’t know if I’d ever get married.
A.O.: I watched an episode called “The man who conned nine women into marriage” and realized that if he could con nine women, I could con at least one.

B.O.: I was happy with the size of my apartment.
A.O.: Oprah gave viewers a tour of her mansion and I realized that I’d be much happier if I lived in her closet.

B.O.: I was satisfied with my appearance.
A.O.: I watched an episode called “Does my butt look big?” and realized that there were other channels on the TV.

                                                        ***

If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Taking action against high gas prices

Now that President Obama has taken care of Osama bin Laden, it’s time for him to do something about rising gas prices. All the conventional methods have failed, so Obama needs to do something drastic: send a team to “negotiate” with oil company executives. I suggest Navy SEAL Team Six.

I hope to turn on my TV one of these days and see Obama making an important announcement again:

“Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed the wanton greed of Exxon Mobil, British Petroleum and Chevron, as well as oil companies in the Middle East. Together, these companies are responsible for millions of sad faces at fuel pumps around the world.

It was nearly 130 years ago that the first gasoline-powered automobiles were produced in Germany, with Henry Ford and other Americans introducing their own versions not long after. Little did they know that when they gave up on horse-drawn carriages in the name of progress, their descendants were doomed to stare at gas-pump prices with faces as long as horses’.

Over the last 10 years, we have seen gas prices gradually inch upwards, and we have scratched our heads to try to understand many of these increases. It was reasonable, the experts told us, that gas prices would increase when we went to war in Iraq. But my fellow Americans, was it reasonable that gas prices would increase when Oprah went on a diet? Was it reasonable that gas prices would increase when David Beckham got a new tattoo? Was it reasonable that gas prices would increase when Angelina Jolie got a new baby?

Of course not! But these were some of the many excuses for oil company executives to increase prices and boost their profits, while laughing at us for not only paying high prices at the gas pumps but also doing all the pumping ourselves. And so shortly after taking office, I directed Leon Panetta, the director of the CIA, to make the killing of oil company greed the top priority of our war against high gas prices, even as we continued our broader efforts to disrupt, dismantle and defeat their evil network.

Then, last August, after years of painstaking work by our intelligence community, I was briefed on a possible solution to high gas prices. It was far from certain, and it took many months to run this thread to ground. I met repeatedly with my national security team as we developed more information about the possibility that we could corner oil company executives within a compound deep inside of Pakistan. And finally, last week, I determined that we had enough intelligence to take action, and authorized an operation to surround oil company executives in Pakistan and scare the living daylights out of them.

Today, at my direction, the United States launched a targeted operation against that compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan. A small team of Americans carried out the operation with extraordinary courage and capability. No Americans were harmed. They took care to avoid civilian casualties. After a firefight, they killed oil company greed and gave it a quick burial at sea.

Yet its death does not mark the end of our effort. There’s no doubt that oil companies will continue to pursue attacks against us and our wallets. We must — and we will — remain vigilant at gas pumps at home and abroad.

The cause of protecting our country from high gas prices is not complete. But tonight we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to, even bring gas prices down to 10 cents a gallon.

Let us remember that we can do these things not just because of wealth or power, but because of who we are: one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty, justice and low gas prices for all.

Thank you. May God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.”

                                                        ***

If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Knocking on Hell's Door

Osama blacked out and found himself at the bottom of a deep shaft, with a single tunnel leading out of it. He crawled through the tunnel and was pleased to see that it got wider and wider until he was able to walk upright. He walked for a mile or two and came to a large iron door. He knocked on the door. No answer.

“Hello!” he called out. “Is this where I get my 72 virgins?”

The door opened slightly and a gust of heat shot through it, scorching Osama’s eyebrows. He fell back against the wall of the tunnel. A red-faced creature with two horns peered through the gap, smoke spiraling from his ears. He pointed at Osama and laughed hysterically, his forked tongue swishing over his lips. “72 virgins? Ha ha ha! That’s a good one!”

He turned away from Osama and yelled into the fiery abyss behind him. “Is anyone a virgin in here?”

A wave of laughter, more powerful than the heat, rumbled through the door, causing the tunnel to shake.

“Sorry, buddy,” the creature said. “You’re out of luck! No virgins here. But we do have a guy named Virgil.”

“But I was promised 72 virgins in heaven.”

The creature laughed hysterically again. “Heaven? Sorry, buddy, you’ve come to the wrong place. Did you use Google Maps or Yahoo?”

“I didn’t have time to use either. What place is this anyway?”

“Well, it used to be called hell. But we sold the naming rights a year ago. It’s now called the Enron Corporation Hot House.”

“But there must be a mistake. I was supposed to go to heaven.”

The creature laughed. “That’s what they all say. Even Adolf believes that he belongs in heaven.”

“But I killed more than 3,000 infidels.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why you were fast-tracked here. You were sent straight to hell. I mean, straight to Enron Hot House. Just like Saddam.”

“My friend is here? Can I see him?”

“He’s busy getting a root canal. After that, he has an appointment with the proctologist.”

“What about his sons? Can I see them?”

“They’re busy getting their taxes done. Every day is tax day here.”

“Is there anyone else I can see?”

“In a few hours, perhaps. I can’t let you in just yet.”

“You think maybe I don’t belong here?”

“Oh, you belong here all right. We’ve been waiting a long time for you. But we need to make sure you’re really dead.”

“What do you mean? I felt those bullets go through me. I’ve got to be dead.”

“Yes, I know. But the photos of your dead body haven’t been released –- and someone spotted you at a restaurant in Japan, eating sushi with Elvis.”

“But if I’m here, aren’t I dead?”

“Not necessarily. Sometimes people come for a few minutes and then they leave. It happens every 10 years or so.”

“You think that might happen with me?”

“Well, you have a snowball’s chance in Enron Hot House. But I just want to be certain. You know what would happen if I let you in and you don’t stay? All Enron Hot House would break loose.”

“So you want me to wait out here alone?”

“Not alone. I’ll be sending out the vermin to keep you company. They’ve been waiting anxiously to welcome you.”

“Vermin?”

“Yes, 72 of them.”

Cartoon by Mahendra Shah

                                                        ***

If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Questions about Obama never cease

President Barack Obama has been in office for more than two years, but some questions about him have still, amazingly, not been put to rest. The most common question concerns his birth: Was he really born in Hawaii?

It’s a question that has been asked continually by a certain segment of the population. These people are known as “birthers,” a term that was coined to describe Republicans and others who are seeking to prove, through a growing body of evidence, that they’re nutcases.

Not all of them are nuts, of course. Some are fruitcakes.

Talk to them and you’ll get statements like these:

--- “Obama wuz not born in Hawaii, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s inedible to be president.”

--- “If he wuz born in Hawaii, how come he don’t speak Hawaiian?”

--- “I don’t believe he was born in Hawaii, but even if he was, should Hawaii really be considered part of America?”

Many of these people suspect that Obama was actually born in the land of his father, Kenya. It may seem like a far-fetched belief, but if you go to Kenya, you will find a similar group of people, also called “birthers,” who suspect that their president, Mwai Kibaki, was actually born in Hawaii.

I spoke to a “birther” in Kenya named George Mbacho.

Me: “Is the beer in Kenya really that strong?”

Mbacho: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I mean, do you really believe that President Kibaki was born in Hawaii?”

Mbacho: “Yes, we believe that Obama got Kibaki’s birth certificate and Kibaki got Obama’s.”

Me: “But Kibaki was born in 1931 and Obama was born in 1961.”

Mbacho: “You noticed that too? They are only one digit apart.”

Me: “What do you hope to achieve through your accusations? Do you want Kibaki to step down?”

Mbacho: “No, we are hoping for a trade. We’ll take Obama, let the Americans have Kibaki.”

Me: “What if Americans don’t want Kibaki?”

Mbacho: “They have to take him. He was born in Hawaii!!!”

It’s important to note that in 2008 Obama’s staff released an official ‘Certification of Live Birth’ from the State of Hawaii, which clearly states that Barack Hussein Obama II was born on Aug. 4, 1961, at 7:24 p.m. in the city of Honolulu, weighing 60 lbs, 8 oz.

Actually it doesn’t provide his weight or any of the other details that “birthers” are seeking. That’s what I gathered from a conversation with an outspoken “birther," who has the apt name of Bertha.

Me: “Let me get this straight: you don’t believe the ‘Certification of Live Birth’ proves anything?”

Bertha: “Well, it proves that he didn’t come from an egg. That’s what it proves.”

Me: “So you agree that he’s a mammal?”

Bertha: “Well, I never suspected he was a reptile. My friend Gertrude did, but not me.”

Me: “What does the president need to do to prove once and for all that he was born in Hawaii?”

Bertha: “Well, if he wants us to believe him, he needs to release his long-form birth certificate, the one from the hospital, as well as signed statements from the doctor and nurse who delivered him, and also a photo of him wearing a Hawaiian print diaper.”

Me: “And if he provides all that, would you and others stop asking the question about his birth?”

Bertha: “Yes, we would stop asking that question. But then, there’s still the other question.”

Me: “What question is that?”

Bertha: “Is he a Muslim?”

                                                    ***

If you enjoyed this piece, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Protecting Condom from the condoms

If you’ve ever used a product called “The Original Condom from Condom, France,” you may be disappointed to discover that the condom did not really come from Condom. It came from Malaysia, a country that produces a large portion of the world’s rubber and, apparently, a large portion of the world’s rubbers.

Though the company that makes “The Original Condom” is headquartered in the southwestern French  town of Condom, the townspeople wanted to cut themselves off from any connection to condoms. And so they got together, had a vote and changed the town’s name to Vasectomy.

Actually, they didn’t change the town’s name, but put the town’s lawyer to work instead. She convinced a nearby court to ban use of the brand “The Original Condom from Condom, France.” According to Agence France-Presse (AFP), the judge stated in his ruling that "it is clear that the use of the name, the image and the renown of the town of Condom, without its knowledge, for entirely commercial ends (is) manifestly illicit.”

It would be like making a jam in China and selling it under the brand “The Original Jam from Jamshedpur, India.” Or selling water from Jamshedpur under the brand “The Original Water from Watertown, Massachusetts.” Very deceptive indeed.

I wanted to go a little deeper and find out more about Condom, so I made a call to Bernard Gallard, the mayor of Condom.

Me: “I hope you won’t mind some of the questions I’m going to ask, Mr. Gallard. Many of my readers have never been in Condom and are eager to know what it’s like down there. But let me start by asking you about your job. What’s it like to be mayor of Condom?”

Gallard: “No different from other mayors, I suppose. I have my ups and downs.”

Me: “Did you always want to be the head of Condom?”

Gallard: “Not always, but for a few years now. It’s a very demanding job. The people have put their trust in me. I have to make many important decisions that determine the success or failure of Condom.”

Me: “Trust me, Mr. Gallard, you’re not the only one who worries about Condom failure. But I’m sure you’re more knowledgeable than most men. I’m sure you don’t need any instructions on Condom management.”

Gallard: “Thank you for saying so. I’m proud of my record. I feel that I’ve left my mark on Condom. I’ve taken Condom to places it’s never been before.”

Me: “What’s the weather like in Condom?”

Gallard: “Sometimes it gets a little hot in Condom. But then we get some rain and we all feel better.”

Me: “Do you have many tourists entering Condom?”

Gallard: “Of course. We have new people entering Condom every day. They come to see the Condom Cathedral, the Condom Museum and the Condom Machine.”

Me: “Condom Machine? What does the machine do?”

Gallard: “Well, if you put five euro in the machine, it gives you a miniature replica of the town. A mini-Condom, you could say. The town’s craftsmen and craftswomen make it.”

Me: “Does Condom produce a lot of things? I imagine you’re quite proud of the ‘Made in Condom’ label.”

Gallard: “Yes, we are very proud of our products. You could say that we’re bursting with Condom pride. In fact, we have a very successful ‘Buy Condom, Grow Condom’ campaign.”

Me: “Do you have other slogans that show your Condom pride?”

Gallard: “Yes, we have many slogans on T-shirts and bumper stickers, such as ‘I Love Condom’, ‘Beautiful Condom’, and ‘This is not your father’s Condom.’”

Me: “You must be excited about the judge’s ruling. How did you celebrate?”

Gallard: "We had a Condom parade. Many of our youths walked in the parade, as did our dignitaries and, of course, our most beautiful citizen, Miss Condom herself.”

Me: “Do you have any regrets that you couldn’t work out a deal with the condom company? You could have made some money for Condom.”

Gallard: “Yes, but then our town would forever be associated with condoms. When people think of Condom, we don’t want them to think of condoms.”

                                              ***

If you enjoyed this column, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Three steps to get rid of bed bugs

Bed bugs are showing up everywhere –- in homes, hotels and even planes –- and if you don’t watch out, you may find yourself as angry as the single middle-aged Toronto woman who thought she was hearing good news when a fortune teller told her, “You’ll never be alone in bed again.”

The bed bug population in North America is rising as fast as the unemployment rate, which means that if you don’t have a job, you can’t just lie in bed. And if you think bed bugs are a pain, wait until you meet sofa bugs.

Wherever you encounter them, they’re likely to give you itchy restless nights. 

“I woke up to find a dozen bite marks on my back,” said a 20-year-old New York woman. “My doctor says it’s either bed bugs or Marv Albert.”

“They’re all over my bed!” said a college student in Pennsylvania. “I wish I hadn’t gotten a tattoo that says, ‘Bite me.’”

“I hate all the bed bugs in hotel rooms!” tweeted a professional basketball player. “How’s a guy supposed to have an affair?”

“Too much scratching going on,” he later tweeted. “Not the bed bugs –- my wife just scratched out my eyes.”

Once you have bed bugs, it can be really tough to get rid of them. The first step, of course, is to make sure you have bed bugs and not some other critters. Just examine the bite marks on your body. Bed bugs like to leave small red dots close to each other and if you connect the dots, you will see a picture of Muammar Gaddafi. (If you see a picture of Barack Obama, you do not have bed bugs. You have democ rats.)

The next step is a drastic one. Take all your furniture outdoors, spread it around and put up a large sign that says “Yard Sale.” Make sure you warn potential buyers about the bed bug infestation by displaying messages such as “All sales final” and “All items sold as is.”

If you don’t attract enough buyers, you might want to put up a more enticing sign: “Moving Sale.” (Just don’t tell them who’s moving.)

The final step is to deal with any bed bugs that are still hiding in your house. The best way to do this, most experts agree, is to blast them ruthlessly with one or two Justin Bieber songs. The bed bugs will rush out of their hiding places –- and so will any teen-aged girls. Smack them with an old magazine (the bugs, not the girls).

If you’re unable to get rid of all your bed bugs, try to look on the bright side. Strangers will be reluctant to enter your home, so you won’t have to worry about crime. Just ask the 40-year-old accountant in Seattle. “I got rid of my lazy, good-for-nothing dog,” he said. “Instead, I put up a sign that says ‘Beware of the Bed Bugs.’ Everyone has been staying away, even my mother-in-law.”

In some cases, bed bugs can even invigorate your love life. Just ask the 80-year-old man in the Atlanta retirement home. “Nothing was happening between my wife, Mildred, and I until last Saturday,” he said. “Then, in the middle of the night, I heard her say, ‘Oh Harold, it’s been so long since you nibbled my ear.’”

                                                       ***

 

If you enjoyed this column, you'll love Melvin's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge," available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com You can also find it at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here and an excerpt here.

Indian Security Forces Bracing for Protests

While anti-government protests in several Arab countries have put security forces throughout the region on high alert, India’s army, police force and other security personnel are also in a state of readiness, as part of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s proactive initiative known as Operation SAPROCS (Strategic Action to Prevent Riots Over Cricket Scores).

India, along with Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, is hosting the cricket World Cup, an event that eclipses the soccer World Cup in terms of number of fans willing to set themselves on fire after a loss.

Cricket isn’t just the No. 1 sport in India, surveys show that it’s also the No. 1 activity of any kind involving one ball or fewer. A recent poll asked male college students to rank their top ten favorite activities and “watching cricket” came second, right behind “playing cricket” and just ahead of “thinking about cricket.”

Cricket has been played in India for almost three centuries and, according to historian Gopal Krishnan, is considered by most Indians to be “the only good thing the British gave us.” Other scholars point to the vital role cricket has played in the country’s progress. Indeed, when angry nationalists demolished statues of British lords in the 1950s, they did so with cricket bats.

Despite the sport’s popularity, India has captured the World Cup only once -– way back in 1983, when you had to commit a crime to use a cell phone. Indian fans have watched in anguish as Australia hauled away the last three World Cup trophies. But hopes are high this year, because not only is the Indian team playing at home, they’re the odds-on favorites. Fans are dreaming of victory parades, fireworks displays and a national month of celebration. “It’s a heaven or hell situation,” said cricket writer Manoj Shah. “If our team wins the World Cup, everyone will be in heaven. But if they lose, all hell might break loose.”

That’s where Operation SAPROCS comes into play. A million uniformed men and women will hit the streets of major cities to quell any riots that break out. “One way or the other, a riot is going to happen,” said Mumbai cricket fan Jatin Bhagat. “If we win the World Cup, there will a big riot. If we lose, there will be a bigger riot. Some of my friends are already practicing rioting.”

In the event of an embarrassing loss, the homes of cricket players will be cordoned off by security forces, with an extra buffer provided by members of India’s SPCC (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Cricketers).

Special protection will be given to Mahendra Singh Dhoni, captain of the cricket team, as well as his namesakes, said SPCC spokesman George Abraham. “We have determined that there are 10,568 men named Mahendra Singh Dhoni in Punjab alone and we are offering them protection too.”

SPCC had originally planned to distribute effigies of every cricket player, so that fans could discharge their anger by burning and kicking the effigies. But the plan was shelved following threats of more riots from members of PETE (People for the Ethical Treatment of Effigies).

Mike Sanders, a global security expert, is also concerned about India’s overall security, with everyone distracted by cricket. “If any country wants to invade India,” he said, “this would be the good time to do it. And if any married women want to fool around, well ... the men are too busy!”

Prime Minister Singh took a moment at his regular press briefing to reassure the nation that the security personnel watching over India’s nuclear weapons are not simultaneously watching the World Cup. “We want to eliminate Pakistan,” Singh said, “but only with our bats.”

                                                       ***

 

Melvin Durai's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge" is now available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com It's also available at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here.

Joining forces to fight baldness

If you’re completely bald or have a receding hairline or an ever-growing bald spot like me, I have some good news for you: scientists are getting closer to a cure and it doesn’t involve a spray can. It may even happen in our lifetimes, which means we could have all our hair back within a few decades, just in time to charm all those ladies at the retirement home.

Actually, there’s only one lady I want to charm and she doesn’t seem to care that I have a bald spot. If anything, she’s pleased that at least one part of me is thinning.

I’m perfectly okay with having a bald spot, really I am. And if you don’t believe me, just ask anyone in my Bald is Beautiful support group. We get together once a month to share our stories of hair loss. There’s Al and Bruce and Pedro and Salman and a few other guys. We have varying degrees of baldness. For example, I have a bachelor’s degree and Salman has a PhD (prominent hair deficiency).

Our last meeting began, as it usually does, with a little sharing. We sat in a circle and shared a bottle of wine. It always helps the guys open up. Al took a sip and said, “Yesterday, while I was at the laundromat, I met this pretty woman who told me she’s a cancer survivor. So I said, ‘Really? Well, I’m a baldness survivor. Maybe we can go out sometime.’ And she slapped me.”

Pedro shook his head. “People just don’t understand what baldness does to a man. When I started losing my hair, my so-called best friend kept saying, ‘You’re going bald, Pedro,’ as if I didn’t already know. As if I didn’t look in the mirror every morning and take attendance. Ricardo, here. Enrique, here. José, here. Alfredo … oh no, I lost another one.”

Bruce laughed. “You named your hair too?”

“Of course. When you have so few, you grow close to them. They’re like family.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bruce said. “We need to educate people about this. We need to make them more aware, so that our sons and grandsons don’t have to endure as much baldism as we have. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Sure would,” Salman said. “That’s why I’m starting a petition online to get President Obama and other leaders to declare the third Saturday of March as Baldness Awareness Day (BAD). We could organize a lot of BAD activities that day, maybe even get Obama to give a BAD speech for a change.”

“Good idea,” Bruce said. “We could honor all the great bald men in history, such as Dwight Eisenhower, the first bald man to be elected president of America, Tom Stafford, the first bald man in outer space, and Seal, the first bald man to marry a supermodel.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to call it Bald Man’s Day?”  Pedro said. “That way, we could get our family and friends to give us cards and gifts.”

“I like that,” Al said. “Forget the petition, Salman -– let’s write to Hallmark instead.”

“Speaking of cards,” Pedro said, “we should send a ‘thank you’ card to Dr. George Cotsarelis of the University of Pennsylvania for all his great research on baldness. I was so thrilled when I heard that we bald guys have just as many stem cells on our heads as the guys with hair. All we need to do is figure out a way to get them to be active again!”

“Does beer help?” Al asked.

“No,” Pedro said. “I’ve tried that. Rum doesn’t help either. It just makes my head sticky.”

“I’ve never heard of Dr. Cotsarelis,” Bruce said. “Is he one of us?”

“No,” Pedro said. “He’s got hair. But he’s a strong advocate for the bald.”

“We need to help him,” Bruce said. “I’m sure he needs money for his research.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Salman said. “Let’s organize a fundraiser. We can call it the Walk-a-thon to Cure Baldness. We can get our family and friends to walk five miles and raise thousands of dollars.”

“Sounds good,” Al said. “But do I have to walk too? Can’t I just drive and meet everyone at the finish line?”

                                                       ***

 

Melvin Durai's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge" is now available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com It's also available at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here.

Money-saving tips that really work!

Everyone’s offering money-saving tips these days, trying to help people survive the economic downturn. It doesn’t take much to save a few bucks here and there, even if you’re already scrimping, even if you order the “short” cappuccino at Starbucks and have reduced your cable TV package to only 380 channels.

Anyone who’s really serious about saving money needs to follow Melvin’s can’t-miss tips:

1. Be more religious. Yes, going to the temple, gurudwara, mosque or church can save you money. How? Well, many of these religious institutions offer you something you can’t usually find anywhere else: FREE FOOD! Entire meals are served at many temples, gurudwaras and mosques, while snacks are commonplace at churches.

I’m not suggesting, of course, that you go there just to eat. You can also get something to drink. But if the minister asks if you want to be “filled with the spirit,” it’s probably not a good idea to say, “No, thanks. I’m driving.”

2. Don’t pay interest on your credit card. If you’re buried in credit card debt, it might be time to look in the mirror and accept that there’s only one person to blame for the mess you’re in: your spouse. (Or significant other.) He or she buys all sorts of luxury items with the credit card, whereas you use it only for essential items, such as wool pajamas for the dog. It might be time to get a divorce –- from your credit card.

3. Find vacations on the Internet. Let’s face it: it’s expensive to travel abroad and, even if you can afford it, do you really want to spend half your vacation going through airport security? Thankfully, there’s an easy solution. Just travel anywhere in the world –- Tahiti, Jamaica, Hawaii –- by gazing at your Facebook friends’ vacation pics. Put your face right against the computer screen and you’ll almost feel yourself there.

4. Cancel your gym membership. Does it really make sense for you to spend two hours lifting weights, sweating profusely and not getting paid for it? Instead, head to the airport or train station and get yourself a job as a porter. Many companies, including UPS, Wal-Mart and Sears, offer “lifting opportunities,” though it might be a good idea to stay away from shoplifting.

5. Take the bus or train to work and do some reading. The first step is to buy a monthly bus/train pass. The second step is to cancel your newspaper subscription. Why subscribe to the newspaper when you can read it for free over someone’s shoulder?

6. Take advantage of telemarketers. If you get lots of calls from telemarketers, you need to do what I do: sell them stuff. It’s amazing how much you can sell if you’re a little forceful. Just ask Satwinder, the guy in New Delhi who just bought 100 copies of my novel “Bala Takes the Plunge.”

7. Do your own recycling. Don’t throw out that fashion magazine –- pull out the glossy pages and use them to wrap small gifts. Don’t throw out that worn boot –- fill it with soil and grow a plant in it. Don’t throw out that old pair of underwear –- cut it into a fancy shape and use it as a doily.

8. Keep your lotto dreams in check. It’s okay to buy a lottery ticket now and then, but if you’re plunking down 10 bucks a week, you’re throwing your hard-earned money away. Yes, people do win the lottery, but you have a better chance of getting Justin Bieber to share nail polishing tips with you.

9. Think big. Don’t buy a small bag of rice when a big bag is more economical in the long run. The best part is, once the bag is empty, you can recycle it. Just write “Gucci” on the side of it and use it for shopping.

10. Get to know your neighbors. Neighbors can save you a lot of money. In fact, if you’re trying to buy a house, make sure you find one with a plumber living on one side, an electrician on the other and a carpenter across the street. Don’t forget to show them your appreciation with a special gift, such as a nicely wrapped doily.

Photo by Route 79

Melvin Durai's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge" is now available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com It's also available at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here.

http://www.torontosun.com/life/fashion/2011/01/10/16826841-wenn-story.html

Letter to your child's teacher

Both my daughters are in school –- Lekha in third grade and Divya in first grade –- so I know firsthand the challenges of being a parent of school-going kids. That’s why I’ve decided to create a form letter that I and other parents can send to teachers:

Dear (teacher’s name),

Thank you for doing such a wonderful job teaching (child’s name). He/She really loves being in your classroom –- please don’t be misled by the squeals of joy whenever the bell rings. He/she is just eager to get home and do his/her homework. In fact, you will be pleased to know that he/she jumps out of bed on Monday mornings, screaming, “Hurray, the weekend is over! I can’t wait to see (teacher’s name)!”

(Name of school) is lucky to have you as a teacher, and the next time I see (principal’s name), I will tell him/her to give you a raise/promotion/better parking spot. No need to thank me -– it’s the least I can do, considering everything you have done for (child’s name) and all the great adjectives you will write in his/her report card.

However, I do have a few concerns that I’d like to bring up, though (child’s name) tried to keep me from doing so, saying, “You shouldn’t disturb (teacher’s name). He/She is probably very busy, preparing his/her acceptance speech for the Teacher of the Year Award/Educator of the Century Award/Nobel Peace Prize.”

Here are my concerns, in no particular order:

1. Having a school fundraiser is a great idea, but how the (bad word) do you expect me to sell so many chocolates/raffle tickets/pizza kits? If I was good at selling stuff to my friends and family, I would have joined Amway. Even my parents don’t want to buy stuff for me, saying, “Isn’t it enough that we paid for your education/wedding/tattoo removal?”

Instead of getting parents to sell stuff, perhaps you should look at other ways of raising money, such as auctioning off a date with that smokin’ hot gym teacher/librarian/janitor.

Here’s another idea: Whenever a kid uses the F-word, ask the principal to discipline him/her with another F-word: FINE. Imagine how much money you would collect from the kindergarteners alone!

2. I’m glad you’re taking (child’s name) on so many field trips (to the zoo, museum, theatre, etc.), but do you think you could take a field trip, one of these fine days, to an actual field (soccer field, baseball field, etc.)? I don’t know if you noticed, but (child’s name) could really use some exercise.

While we’re on the topic of field trips, do I have to sign a permission slip/injury waiver every single time? Can’t I just sign one form at the beginning of the year that says: “I (parent’s name) am aware that (child’s name) could get hurt during a school activity. If such an injury occurs, I will not hold (name of school) responsible, as (child’s name) has a natural, God-given talent for doing stupid things. I promise not to sue (name of school), as I am aware that this may result in (name of school) having to organize more fundraisers.”

3. I’m very pleased that you’re giving (child’s name) lots of homework, but I’m concerned that it’s getting in the way of his/her other homework: doing the dishes. On some nights, he/she has pleaded with me to help out with the homework, and as a caring parent I have gladly done so, though I didn’t really appreciate the ‘D’ you gave me for the “Best Tasting Beers” essay.

By the way, I noticed that you do not have a Facebook page, so I’ve taken the liberty to create one called “World’s Finest Teacher.” No need to thank me -- just post a copy of (child’s name)’s report card there. I’m sure I will ‘like’ it -- and get all my friends to 'like' it too.

                                                     ***

Melvin Durai's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge" is now available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com It's also available at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here.

The New Year's Resolution

As New Year’s resolutions go, Brenda had a very strange one indeed. Unlike many of her friends, she didn’t need to lose weight, not even a few pounds. She didn’t need to floss her teeth more often or read more self-help books or make a greater effort to stay awake in church. She didn’t have any serious addictions she needed to quit: she didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t manage a farm on Facebook. But she did want to quit something –- and that’s what her resolution was all about. She wanted to quit calling her husband a moron.

Brenda and Ron had been married for 20 years, and Brenda couldn’t remember a time when Ron hadn’t  given her a reason to call him a moron –- or at least think he was one. She loved him, of course –- loved him as much as she loved Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. But that didn’t change the fact that she often wondered if his mother had dropped him on his head when he was a baby.

Poor Ron had actually gotten used to it -– being called a moron. It started on their wedding night –- at least that’s what he thought when he heard her screaming, “More Ron! More Ron!” He immediately stopped what he was doing and tried something else: turning on the TV. And soon they were in a state of bliss, watching an episode of “Baywatch.”

Two weeks later, Brenda called him a moron for real. It was one of those nights when she returned home late from her job at the pharmacy. He had offered to make dinner for her, but had left the frozen pizza in the oven for too long. “Sorry, I was distracted by the football game,” he said. “It’s a good thing the plastic wrapping didn’t melt.”

Brenda didn’t want to call him a moron, but as she stared at the plastic stuck to the melted cheese, she couldn’t think of a more appropriate term. And she soon found herself using it with regularity. There was the time that Ron took her bottle of Pantene Pro-V from the bathroom and used it to shampoo the living room carpet. There was the time he brought the wrong baby home from the daycare and wondered why it kept asking for “Mami” and “Papi.” And there was the time he put laundry detergent in the automatic dishwasher, just so he could throw in a few dishcloths.

Ron was so used to being called a moron that it hardly even bothered him anymore. She might as well have been saying “honey” or “sweetheart.” It had almost become a special thing between them. No one else could call him a moron and get away with it.

But Brenda often felt guilty about it. After all, he wasn’t really a moron. That’s what Brenda’s mom said. “He’s not a moron,” she said. “He’s just a man. Men don’t always use their brains. They use it for football and fixing the car, but then they shut it off. They give it a break. That’s why they need women.”

It was true: Ron did need Brenda. And she certainly needed him. That’s why their marriage had lasted so long. Sure, Ron didn’t always use his brain, but he was a good husband in all the important ways. He didn’t cheat on her or hit her or even raise his voice at her –- unless she walked in front of the TV during the football game.

Brenda was determined not to call him a moron anymore. It was her only New Year’s resolution and it lasted all the way until 9 a.m. on New Year’s Day. Brenda awoke to find Ron making breakfast for her. He had already made the eggs, hash browns and sausages, and was working on the pancakes. There he was, standing in front of the stove, wearing an apron, whistling happily as he tried to flip the pancakes with the fly swatter.

“You’re such a moron,” Brenda said. “How much did you drink last night, anyway?”

Then, realizing all the trouble he had gone through, she put her arm around him and added, “Did I call you a moron? I was using the acronym MORON. It stands for ‘Man of Remarkably Outstanding Nature.’”

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Melvin Durai's humourous novel "Bala Takes the Plunge" is now available in North America through McNallyRobinson.com It's also available at major bookstores in India and Sri Lanka or online at FlipKart, IndiaPlaza, FriendsofBooks or other sites. Read the latest reviews here.