Medical atrocity

I have been away from this blog, but I haven’t been away from bringing you all the truth.

I have addressed some psychological… disturbances… in a previous post. So, based on that I have done extensive research in the field of psychology and physiology among the sexes. And I am not, I repeat, I am not talking about girl on guy reverse cowgirl sweat and moaning action… though I should be. I am talking about men and women, and their differences, psychologically… and physiologically.

Contrary to popular belief, men are as susceptible to physical and mental ailments as women. No, it’s totally true. Well, maybe not as much on the mental stuff as much as women. Women are fucking crazy.

Well, men still can get fucked up in the head and body. But in our defense, its mostly to impress women. So again, women are to blame. So there. But, we can’t play the blame game all the time, someone needs to do something about these serious psychological… umm… thingies. Here are two of the physical and psychological disorders/syndromes/watchacallits that affect men.

Double Douchebagitis

This particular ailment is a deadly one. This can affect a person, and the people around him. Double Douchebagitis (hereby referred to as DD) is a result of the Rap Virus entering the bloodstream of the male host and rendering his sense of reason (and fashion) useless. A patient of DD can be identified primarily by his choice of clothes. A baseball cap or a hat of some kind is common among DD patients. Though the Rap Virus fucks up their heads so much, that they don’t know which way a visor should face. Usually facing sideways, these caps would be crying if they weren’t inanimate pieces of headgear. Also, DD patients have severe speech impediments, though they often try to pass this off as slang. Also, they tend to wear loose pants which leave the onlooker with the sight of the patients’ dirty boxers. No one wants to or needs to see that. And DD patients also act like they are better than everyone else, but this is because of the virus. This is how the name of this sad disease is derived.

Also, bling. Ugh.

Just look at the amount of degradation *sniffles*

Tightesterone Malfunctionary Douchebaggeritiva

This is a particularly annoying form of disease which affects men. Tightesterone Malfunctionary Douchebaggeritiva (hereby referred to as TMD) is a direct result of infection of the Celebrity Virus. As with DD patients, you can easily identify TMD patients from their clothes. Tight, sometimes see through clothes. The victims of this sad delusion causing blight are also hearing impaired. They seem to think that the cacophony that is popular music, popularly called pop music by most of the population, is actually ‘cool’ or ‘good’. As us sane people know, these sounds are nothing but audibly distinct abominations. Care must be taken in interacting with these tortured souls as these patients have their brains re-routed to their penises. You know… because of TMD. And because of this, their brain cells tend to die out to the point that they can’t even spell their own names.

Seezan? Seeson? Seaxon? C-zan?

And the saddest part of it all is that medical science simply does not have a single cure for these ailments. And these diseases in their worst cases are, in fact, contagious. May god help us all.

A great revelation

I have noticed a great injustice. We have been deprived of something big. Something huge. Something colossal, even.

I’m not talking about the fuckers who cheated the vote. I’m not talking about the high prices of foods and services. I am most certainly not talking about the atrocity that is subjected to us in the form of TVM.

I am talking about something that needs to be in our culture. For the good of the entire community. I think I have found the source of all the hate that people have against Islamic extremists.

you know how Christians have their nuns and Catholics? Now, have you heard of sexy nuns and catholic school girls? You see what I'm getting at?

Words are insufficient... let me show you.

I have something for you to study...

yummy nun mummy

See what i mean? This is appealing. This is sexy. This can be enjoyed by all people of all races and religions.

The haabees have this...

aahhhggleee

So, haabees, you get the drift. if you guys want to take this heat off your back, get some of those big sheets of black cloth to show some skin. Maybe a nipple slip. Anything. Just sex them up.

We need more flesh. What do you expect when you cover up our Maldivian meat under that hideous garb?

Also, fuck haabees.

For a friend

Friends may just be the most precious commodity in this world. They are the people who lift you up when you are down. They are the people who fix you up after you break up with your woman. They are the ones you turn to in times of need. We all need friends. And when someone messes with your friends, you don’t take it lying down.

It seems like just yesterday I ran into my bud Satan. I was walking home after tripping over an old man into a puddle. I was five, or so, I think. He seemed delighted. He pointed and laughed at the man before talking to me.

We have been BFF ever since.

It appears that the wahhaabees are hell bent on blaming Satan for everything. See what I did there? I had no idea things had escalated this much. Its getting out of hand.

I was trying to sleep when I got a call. It was Satan’s mom. Apparently, he had been in his room for a week. She wanted me to go talk to him. So I made the trip to hell, after the long ritual of human sacrifice and goats blood and some pentagrams. I admit it was nice visiting hell after so long. Its always Satan who comes to visit me.

Ma Satan was waiting for me at the palace. I patted the pet dragon Azazel. I had missed him the most. Ma Satan led the way to Satan’s room, wished me good luck and left. I knocked and entered. Familiar Black Sabbath music rang through the room.

He sat there. In the dark. It was nice the way his eyes light up when I come over. I mean literally. They light up with fire or something.

He told me how the damn wahhaabees were going about blaming him for every little thing. How is it his fault that people can’t keep it in their pants? He has bigger fish to fry. Who do you think keeps the Middle Eastern war going?

So I learnt that even Satan was sick of the haabees’ hypocrisy. So I told him what I would’ve told anyone at that point. If someone tries to oppress you, then you should fight back. Give them hell. But in this case, not literally. Then we started to talk about the old times. And that really started to cheer him up. We had a couple of goblets of virgin blood and had a good time with the succubae. I saw the old Satan again. Well, almost. Then I had the best idea.

We decided to go down the torture chambers and rip open a haabee or two. Yeah, that cheered him up real nice. There are a lot of them down there to choose from you know.

Don’t believe me? You’ll see for yourself when you are down there… soon enough.

Environmental Studies or something.

This has been a long time coming. I’ve been away so I couldn’t get around to posting this until now. This post is for all the people who rode on vehicles on the whole environment day ‘no vehicles’ segment. From the deepest depths of my cold dead heart, I wish you all die painful deaths and rot the fuck in hell.

Okay maybe not that extreme. But I really do think you all are a bunch of half brained fuckheads with nothing better to do than to disgrace the god given gift of sentience.

If anyone who rode a motorcycle on that day, fuck you. By fuck you I mean go fuck yourself.

You completely missed the point of that day, dumbasses.

The reason it was encouraged to not to use vehicles for transportation that day was to unite in some small act of environmental care. Voluntarily.

So all of you who were trying to be a bad ass by driving or riding, feeling good about your delusion that your ‘street cred’ will rocket off the charts, congratulations! You have succeeded in making an ass out of yourself. Not only are you a lame ass fuck nugget, you are also a dweeb. Get that stick out of your ass because the only way you can be a bad ass is that you have to grow a new one. Because the one you have is lame.

Those of you who wanted to ‘fight the power’ because the ‘government wants you not to ride motorbikes’ and you won’t bow to their whims, congratulations! You are a grade-A moron. Nobody said you were forced to. There were no laws to forbid anyone to drive anything. The government couldn’t give an ass fucked rat on a cracker with cheese if you rode your motorcycle in your fucking birthday suit. The only thing you should have fought was that urge to prove to everyone that you are an asshole who likes sucking dick.

Those of you who thought that in some way, your needs were just too important and you didn’t have to participate in anything, congratulations! You are a self absorbed prick! Get over yourselves. You think you are so much better than everyone that you are above and beyond everything? Fuck you. Your needs are nothing. It doesn’t matter what you think. The fact of the matter is, you are not better than anyone. You didn’t have the fucking sensibility to be part of something that’s bigger than that little world you created for yourself. You are a retard. And chances are your children are going to be, too.

And one last question. Who would you be hurting if you turned off your lights for a freaking hour, you bunch of bitches?

What the Amjay is this?

Its been a long time coming, but it had to happen. I have met with the world famous director known only in the Maldives, Amjay. As I approached him on the street, acting all curious with questions and shit… I couldn’t help but notice a dramatic decrease in weight in Amjay. Maybe not so dramatic compared to his movies, but still, pretty much so.

Me: Hey Amjay! What a pleasant surprise!

Amjay: Oh, who are you, and isnt there a law against being so strikingly handsome?

Me: No there isnt, and I don’t swing that way.

Amjay: Neither do I! I was just kidding of course *uncomfortable shift*

Me: Riiiiight…

Amjay: So, did you want something?

Me: Actually I wanted to ask you something.

Amjay: Sure… wait… what are you doing with a huge wrench?

Me: Oh, don’t mind that. Im just going to fuck your face up later on.

Amjay: *gasp* You are going to hit me in the face with that?

Me: is that what I said? I meant I have some plumbing work later… yeah… that’s is.

Amjay: ooookaaayyyy…

Me: So why the Decrease in weight? Bored of not being able to see your own penis without a mirror?

Amjay: Actually, I havent been able to sleep or eat well… I heard there was some blogger out to get me.

Me: Really?

Amjay: Really. I heard he’s skilled at torture and he’s merciless as well as charming and good in bed.

Me: Must be a real dangerous man, huh?

Amjay: No shit! Have you heard anything about this?

Me: Somewhat.

Amjay: I just wouldn’t know how to defend myself against such a strong and powerful man who relies on brute force and good looks.

Me: Enough about this handsome and manly blogger… why are all your movies crap?

Amjay: You know how when you were a kid you had such awesome ideas and you wanted to draw them out but you couldn’t, because you couldn’t draw?

Me: No, I could always draw.

Amjay: I never outgrew that phase. Only I am a fim maker and I cant direct worth a shit. Don’t tell anyone, though.

Me: Everyone knows.

Amjay: Darnit!... … hey… wait a minute…

Me: what?

Amjay: you are extremely good looking. Are YOU this blogger out to get me?

Me: Yes, I am.

Amjay: *starts running*

At this point, I proceeded to run after him. It was no problem to catch up, considering he is a fat git. And then I beat his face with the wrench I had, until it was fucked up. Needless to say, he cried like a girl. Until he died, that is.

What i should have posted

I am going to go on about how its not cool to make someone be tortured. Especially if that someone is me. Mental torture is the worst. It makes us question who we are. Why we are here. And who’s that groping me from behind while I’m being subjected to this horrendous atrocity. I’m talking about the most brutal agony there is.

Maldivian “cinema”.

I hate the so called Maldivian Film Industry. lovingly called ‘Mollywood’, it is single handedly responsible for the godforsaken stupidity of most of the older population of Maldives, as well as regular moviegoers. These people who call themselves filmmakers looking to make a quick buck make low grade movies on minimum expense and expect maximum profit… which, lets face it, they achieve. Most of the time.

Consider this an open letter to everyone of this so called industry.

Dear sir/s and/or madam/s

I am a simple person from a simple background. I have loved movies all my life. I have grown up with them. I like the people in them. I like the gunfights in them. I like to see my childhood heroes like batman come to life on them.

But you, sir/s and/or madam/s, don’t have any value for movies. You seek only profit. You don’t have charming characters in your movies. Your characters are two dimensional. Nobody can relate to them. Nobody cares about the characters. Nobody even likes them. Except for the people you have brainwashed into liking your sob stories and your three hour cry-a-thons. So, in order to protect the spirit of cinema, that I love so much, I make a promise to you.

I will hunt you down and kill you all. No, I’m not joking.

I have had enough of your fucking pathetic whining, your crying men, dancing whores (okay maybe not the dancing whores) and you shameful and greed-ridden attempts to cash in on other peoples hard earned money. And you have the fucking nerves to call out ‘copyrights’? plagiarize much, motherfuckers? Everything you do is ripped off from some Indian movie or song. And if that wasn’t a clusterfuck in itself, you fuckbrains think your special effects are Hollywood standard. Im looking at you, Amjay.

Amjay. My niece can do a better job directing horror movies than you do. Seriously. Who the fuck you think you are, you morbidly obese small pricked cunt? I will fucking massacre you.

And all the actors. By actors I mean people paid to stand around, crying and not doing much in front of the camera. Yeah, you all can line up behind me and smell my farts for the rest of eternity, because that’s all you are good for. Even then I’m not sure you have the intelligence to actually know what a line is. And the so called actresses… you all… well, … umm… call me later… I’ll tell you what you can do.

So I hope you all will give this some thought, and I look forward to seeing some development in the *ugh* film industry. Don’t make me come after you.

Hugs and kisses,

Iya

Udhabaani: the Review

I’ll tell this to you straight: I miss the Bakhabaru News. So I guess this is a tribute to them. This one is for you, Bakhabaru. You are the greatest news team that ever existed. We need you dudes. You and your reviews.

Also, this is my first review.

I went to work the other day, and saw that my office people had a surprise waiting for me. A ticket to Udhabaani the movie. I protested at first, but finally decided to go, considering I got the ticket for free, and all my workmates were going. It could be a fun night.

Boy, was I ever wrong. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

All my office mates decided to meet up at Olympus. I arrived there and noticed a “house full” board on display. Funny, as I got the ticket for free, along with 20 other people. I wondered how many people actually paid to be there

The movie was preceded by a bunch of “trailers” and some advertisements. It seemed to be looping. Ah, finally, the movie was about to begin. I admit I was looking forward to the movie… not for the experience of cinema, as I wasn’t expecting much out of the movie, but to scare the ever loving excrement out of the three girls who had sat in front of me. I nudged a workmate who was next to me, and he got the idea. The opening credits seemed very convincing that this was a horror movie. With creepy sound and including the old weathered text effect. Unfortunately this was the highlight of the whole film. I discovered that this film was made by a bunch of people calling themselves “Learner’s Productions”. Whatever hopes I had withered away.

The movie begins and I was slapped in the face with a song and dance number. Literally. This film has a way of slapping your face with a song number. I swear, once this girl was crying her eyes out and the next second, she was singing in the rain with the hero, and the next, she was crying again. I deduct that three fourths of the dialogue of the heroine were said while crying. And every time she cries, she looks like she is having a stroke or is about to regurgitate her lunch and/or dinner. Not to mention the cheesy dialogue.

The heroine comes from a dirt poor family. So poor that when her parents are introduced in the film, they are discussing how they are going to survive. Apparently they have no money for food, or clothes. But apparently they have money to have the mother’s eyebrows done. They also have money for a ton of foundation that goes on the mothers face. And also they have a truckload of money for the amount of lip gloss that the mother wears. That’s just the mother. The only poor looking person is the father. But he gets killed off almost 15 minutes after he is introduced and is replaced by a sea monster. Which brings me to…

…the sea monster. Apparently the evil entity that haunts this movie is a horny sea monster. Yes. This evil spirit/monster of the sea, which Maldivians lovingly call a ‘fureytha’, wants to bang this chick. All I can say is, kudos. This thing wanted to sleep with this girl so bad, it killed (and probably ate) her father, disguised itself as him, and also guised itself as her boyfriend, while killing a total of four people in the course of the entire film, including the girl’s mother. What guys will do to get laid, huh?

The movie seemed endless. Three whole hours. The plot didn’t progress. The whole movie could have been summed up in 20 minutes of footage. That’s if you include a few dance numbers.
The director ‘Amjay’ went on a celebrity type show and said that this movie is not like anything any Maldivian film has ever accomplished. That may be right, I don’t know, because I don’t have anything to draw from here. But it makes me think… if this is the best that filmmaking in the Maldives has to offer, how full of crap must be the rest of the films that hit the screens of Male’?

The best part of the movie has to be when the hero gets into a legendary fight with the sea monster, and ultimately chopping its head off with a sword. But even that wasn’t good. Because it didn’t happen. There was no fight. There was no confrontation. There was no closure. After three hours of unholy melodrama, we were treated to a “to be continued” screen. And the lights went on, and I lost it and screamed out something along the lines of “what the fuck was that?” (rough translation)

Needless to say, that was the most boring, tiresome, and wasted three hours of my entire life. And this movie wasn’t even funny. Some unintentionally funny moments, though. Its hard to take a movie seriously when actors and actresses start crying at the drop of a hat and then strikes random dance poses.