Why I don't care about Rampal and other things

Man wanted freedom. Man got war. Man won life. That basically sums up my understanding of how this world really works. Laugh all you want, but this is part of my national psyche. I don't even care what you tree-huggers have to say. Public service announcement: If you are easily offended by things, this article is not for you. In a world where the liberals are as extreme as the conservatives, offense is peddled at a dozen for a dime and frankly this is an exhibition just for it. Before I digress, allow me to return to the point in hand and tell you point blank, I don't care about Rampal or the damn power plant. I don't care about the irreparable damage it will cause and I don't care about the plight of the Royal Bengal Tigers. As far as I am concerned, the only tigers that even matter are the ones playing cricket and I take great pleasure in being routinely disappointed by them, owing to my high expectations. Thing is Tigers, if you can win a match against New Zealand, you damn better follow it up with a World Cup win and consistently whitewash victories in all other series. And while you are at it, don't suck at other sports either. See what happened here? I got more distracted thinking about the obvious glories our sporting teams can achieve instead of being bogged down by things like how many tourists consider tigers an attraction. Tell me something my environmentalist friends; when the tourists tire of your romantic village life and they want a hot bath but there is no electricity because you all didn't let the power plant be build, will that tourist ever come back again? Silence? Just as I expected.

Currently, I am busy on working on more important social projects. For instance, recently I was engrossed in a national tragedy. Apparently, a teenage boy fought another teenage boy and it was on the INTERNET where it said on GOOGLE that this incident happened and I was shocked. Not only did this event generate 9000 more likes than that stupid Rampal thing, it also offered a lot more scope for my self-aggrandizement and a way to quench my blood lust. Let me tell you at this point, full disclosure, that I didn't even know who was right and who was wrong among the boys. I was just in the mood for a beat down as my hot, man blood, demanded. But fighting isn't enough for me. I constantly find that when I want to hurt someone, I become strangely fascinated with my victim's orifices. I even devise very specific plans for what I want to do to them. Don't be shocked; it is just for my amusement. I think borderline homosexuality is a laugh and a half. But violation isn't enough either; I like to get more personal than that and get their mothers, sisters, girlfriends and aunts involved. The best way to attack a man is to attack their women. Also, it is convenient because everyone knows if you are a woman then that is a big fault and so you are easier to blame. It is also why we always elect female heads of state; that way we can blame the problems of our nationalism on them and completely ignore how our war narrative on repeat ad nauseam have shaped our vengeful personalities.

At this point, I must also make a point about proximity. Power plant destroys some far off forest and my reaction is like a zero. Gas explosion destroys a building in Gulshan and I will burn the town down. Why? Because, why would a well to do neighbourhood be damaged in anyway? Shouldn't our wealth cushion us from the blows of harsh reality? Isn't that the whole point on why we can pick and choose our tragedies based solely on the matter of wealth, disguised as a matter of “social development”. It is while I rocked the Paris tinge on my FACEBOOK profile picture after the Paris attacks and I did not rock an Ankara flag after the Ankara attacks. Where is Ankara anyway? Probably somewhere in Arab where all the terrorists live and so attacks can't really be shocking. Plus not even a 100 people died and if your body count is below the three-digit threshold, eat waste, because no one cares. All these things are what we think anyway, so what's the point of even hiding it any longer? I will continue fighting with my keyboard, every keystroke my ammo. In fact, I lived by the keyboard and I will die by the keyboard and I won't even explain my actions to anyone anymore because I am a man and I don't need to explain my muscularity to anyone. It's MY MUSCULARITY, OK BRO? In fact, thinking about all your dialogues, commentaries, derivations, spaces and what not is infuriating me so I will stop writing and post a meme about you now.