Back in the good ol' days, when the only sign of a storm approaching was the aching bones of the aged,
when whatever was two words and brb was none,
when "In the face of increasing emigration from the Eastern Bloc post WWII, Nikita Khrushchev, the then First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, booked himself an unenviable place in history, by laying the foundations for the construction of the Berlin Wall" was still the unholiest amalgamation of the words face, book, wall, post,
when respect actually
meant something...except when used alone...as a sentence...amongst gangsters,
when E and X were still just alphabets...
there lived an Indian physicist named Isaac Nathan. The year was 1628 AD, and times were tough for Indian physicists. Now, Isaac was neither an engineer nor a doctor, nor a life-sustaining buffalo. So, he was an outcast. Trees provided
then, as they do now, much shelter at bargain-basement prices like occasionally being pooped on by a retarded bird.*
A token outcast, Isaac could often be found squandering his limited potential under a tree. This was the case one fateful day, when a fruit lost its tenuous grasp on the tree above, and made fresh acquaintance with Isaac's head.
*
do animals feel weird when birds poop on them? I'll ask.
Unfortunately for Isaac,
This was not Woolsthorpe-by-Colsterworth, Lincolnshire, this was Allapy.
The fruit was not an apple, it was a coconut.
He did not discover gravity and die of excitement. He did not discover gravity, and died of internal hemorrhaging.
And so, Nathan took his secret to the grave, or so it seemed,
until...
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[Read if you are smarter than the average human]
A limerick:
Small baby born with large brain
No gap 'tween a's in his name
In a big country
With no big-nut tree
He stole Isaac's ticket to fame.[Read if you are duller than the average human, although slightly smarter than the average bear]
This new kid Newton comes along, real smooth like. You shoulda seen this schmuck, wheelin' - dealin' ID stealin'. I mean it was like that scene from Face Off, but with like Victorian gowns 'n' shit. Anyway, word on the street is, this guy commits Grand Theft Idea on home boy's ass, takes this gravity shizz nizz and flips it around faster than mah man Guerro at that new pizza joint down by East 32nd 'n' Bowery, slaps on a copyright, bish boom bang, you got yourself one of 'em Science Oscars...a award that shoulda went to mah home boy.[And, if you auditioned for Yogi's sidekick and lost to Booboo]
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In all fairness, however, crediting a little known Malayalee physicist with the invention of gravity would be like crediting the fastest sperm with the invention of the human, or Rick Saloman with the invention of the sextape. They all just happened to be at the right place at the right time, and got their heads lodged in some fertile seed. History tells of several allusions to gravity, that predate Nathan's exploits.
1) "If the mountain will not come to Mohammad, then Mohammad will go to the mountain" (circa 2ad) - The force of gravity is equal, opposite and attractive.
2) The reign of terror of pop singer Britney Spears (1589 ad??-present) - a dying star eventually becomes:
a) an imploding white dwarf,
b) an exploding bright flash,
c) improperly exposing, white trash.
Of course, as the blog title is a double word play, I am contractually obligated by Blogspot (yes, they take this very seriously) to at least splash my toes about in the figurative pool of that monumentally successful book/movie,
The Secret. Blogspot will be happy to know that I did more than just splash about. I spent 2 potentially productive hours watching
The Secret, and all of 2 minutes more reading the back of the book You might say stood by the figurative deep end and did a perfect-10 figurative dive with my Perfect-10*-figurative self.
Below is a detailed testimony of why I then proceeded to unashamedly pee in the figurative pool.
*
Based on actual survey. Figures were rated from "I'll pass, you failure-1" to "OMFGWTF!-20".Dear Miss Bryne,
I have watched and fully understood the gravity of
The Secret, shrouded in mystique by shamans and alchemists, honoured with a vow of silence by pure-blooded lineage, carried in whispers from generation to generation, then slapped on a DVD and sold for $19.95. I have concluded that:
1) It is not worth the $20 I did not spend to buy it.
2) I shall never forgive you for what you're video did to my self esteem, and for what it did to the radio star.
Of course, your terribly factual account of the greatest secret known to mankind, also tells us that the law of attraction, the single most powerful force in the known universe, doesn't understand negative words like don't, won't, not, and never, and I'm guessing, as the one who manufactured this BS, you don't either.
You probably read the two points above and are giving yourself a good pat on the ol' back, so let me clarify. Sometimes positive words have less-than-positive outcomes...
The Secret proclaims that you are what you put out into the world.
The Secret made R Kelly strap on plastic wings and nearly jump off the 19th floor balcony of his condo in New York. It made a lovable blue furrball that indulged in the odd cookie, believe he had addiction issues.
The Secret, therefore, is the single last video I would draw inspiration from, after MTV Roadies, Jackass, and the Ring. At least that last one gives you seven days notice.
Disclaimer: Miss Britney Spears does not partly or wholly endorse the views shared by this blogger. Partly, because I am unsure (and alcohol has made Britney unsure) of her current marital status. Wholly, because I am sure Britney is incapable of reading printed text that is not spelled with a Texan accent.
