You know the feeling when you are down in the dumps and then someone pisses on you and then lights you on fire?
Well, that’s what I have been feeling for the last couple of days.
In a moment of extreme misguidedness (who cares if its a word) I created a poll. A poll for my dear friends and readers.
They get to vote on where I should travel next. There are 10 places on that poll. I am going to go to all of them in time, but could not decide where to go next, hence the poll.
I shared said poll with around 140 people.
Its been 3 days, from my stats page on my blog, I see that so far around 80 have checked the poll out.
So far less than 35 have responded.
That’s less than the percentage of voters in the recent UP by-elections; that’s less than half the number of seats the anti national Commie scums have in the Bengal assembly.
Oh the sadness
Oh the disappointment
See, the mistake wasn’t about not being able to decide or about creating the poll.
The mistake, as usual, was all about hope.
Some silly assed philosopher types once said that fear is the key. That fear is the strongest force the world has.
Said silly bugger was wrong.
Its the hope.
Its always the hope that kills you. I hoped that people would take 5 minutes off their super busy life to just click a button, but of course, its way too much to ask of fellow humans.
Anyway, gratitude to the people who did take time off to cast their votes. Some could not access the polo so they commented on the blog or on Facebook or on Whatsapp.
Bhutan has come up as a hot favorite. Its a neck and neck race between Canada and Italy and Egypt for 2nd place.
The only other thing clear so far is that nobody wants me to go to Indonesia. What have the Indonesians ever done to you lot?
My oldest mate Anindya Bera wants me to steer clear of Europe and Africa because of Passportgate when I was loitering around Paris. He claims that I should only go to either such places where I have someone local to support me in case of Collapsogate or such places where in case of fate screwing me again, he can at least go and rescue me and bring me back.
He has also insisted that I never go to the good ole USA. He says that since I look like Frankenstein’s monster after a horrific accident and walk like a drunk zombie during a typhoon, the Murican police will inevitably see me as suspicious and shoot me.
Impeccable logic that.
The Gudduda wants me to go to Egypt because I am still semi mobile and can walk or climb up a camel if necessary. He claims that in another few years when I inevitably become paralyzed, that won’t be possible anymore. He has flat out refused to bear my burden on the pyramids in the middle of the desert when I am fully paralyzed.
Again, impeccable logic.
My dear friend Johnny Honey on the other hand desperately wants me to go to Canada just so that I can get punched/kicked/gored by a moose.
Only Satty has picked Amsterdam, the rest have decided to spare the lovely wee baby my Gorgonzolaesque presence.
So different people, different reasons, all with impeccable logic.
Thank you to all of you.
And thank you to those of you who clicked on the link but could not be bothered to go down and click on a button because its way too much work right?
As I was saying, its my fault for hoping.
Never hope people, never hope.
It will kill you.
So there I was, full of misery, desperately in need of mirth.
And hallelujah people, mirth came.
First there was Shane Warne who claimed that we are all descendants of aliens.
And then there is Kanye West. He said that he is 53 million in debt. And then he asked Zuckerberg for 1 billion dollars. For the Kanye West project. Kanye west wants these American billionaires to stop wasting their money by building hospitals and schools in Africa and instead to fund his project. Because Kanye West believes that Kanye West is this generation’s Disney.
Faith in humanity restored.
At least there is Deadpool.