Satire || That Bitch Priya … Part 1


Astor Place, NYC. – She instructed me to call her Jaya when we first met on the campus of my Alma Mater two years prior. (Her full name would take up too much space on this short post.) The Starbucks at Astor Place where we rendezvoused is quiet for a Friday afternoon, especially since none of Jaya’s male cousins or younger brothers are crowding around our conversation like flies around the impoverished. to explain, she agreed to answer my questions provided I guarantee a venue where Jaya’s family members and friends wouldn’t recognize us talking in public. A little-known rule of Indian Culture stipulates that being witnessed in public with an African American male devalues a woman’s Marrying Market Value Potential (MMVP). Consequently, Jaya’s family would only be able to marry her off to men a Caste or two below her families historic standing.

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Getting Personal


I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is
immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice,
but because he has a soul, a spirit capable
of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
-William Faulkner,
Nobel Prize Banquet Speech

If you’ve been a reader of this blog, you might have noticed that I’m not a fan of divulging much personal information. Instead, my audience is presented with thoughts, ideas and some arguments about the day’s hot-button topics but rarely ever more. Lately, as I work the night shift for 70+ hours per week, my output is diminutive at best. Consequently, I’m unable to fulfill the wishes of a friend who wants it longer and more often; my blog posts, unfortunately, especially since she is cute. I wouldn’t mind filling up her day with words, on second thought, more so a pulchritudinous stack of words.

Other reasons abound. Primarily, I don’t have either a child (at least that I know about) or a spouse struggling with some horrible disease to write about. In other words, my life isn’t that interesting, If I had an obstreperous daughter making my home life miserable because she was unable to fulfil her boyfriend’s (with Asperger’s) fantasy of having peanut butter licked off his cock due to being allergic (to peanut butter, not cock), then we would be in business. Next, anonymity on the internet is about as reliable as an elder person’s bladder. Companies feel that if what you do outside of work, and your personal beliefs are not in line with the status quo, your employment is a threat to their business. Furthermore, the internet has become quite oppressive. People love to take what you say out of context and use it as a weapon to assassinate your character. As many as 140 characters stand between you and getting fired or worse be labelled anti-Ke$ha.

Today is the exception!

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