A moo point, basically …

… and I was on my way back from a midnight buffet somewhere.  My autorickshaw was cruising along at a breakneck speed of sixty kmph. I say ‘breakneck’ because if the rick was to topple over due to a tiny, innocent bump on the fairly bumpy road, I would actually end up breaking my neck. There was an extremely arbit Kumar Sanu – Anuradha Paudwal duet (I think it was this one) blaring through the speakers with the singers competing with the insanely loud Jhankar Beats to get their point across – all I could hear was meeeooowww-dhish-tick-thak-thakka-dhish-tick-thak-thakka-weeoooooow. In short, life was good  in the fast lane.

Our ‘mosam‘, so as to speak, was rudely interrupted by this bright red Skoda Octavia which whizzed past us with a whoosh sound. It passed by so close that my rick encountered turbulence in its wake and started wobbling dangerously. Given that it was a 6-lane highway and that there wasn’t a single car in sight, neither the driver nor I (me?) appreciated this unwelcome attempt at closeness. The car then gave a Left-turn indicator and turned right.

“Yeh chhokri log ko kayko gaadi chalaaneko dete hain, pata nahi saab (why they give cars to ladeez to drive, god only knows sir),” said the driver with a snarl on his face. I couldn’t really see his face because he was facing ahead, but I could definitely hear the snarl in his voice. I know – it was so sexist of him to generalize this, and it was so distinctly unfair to all those brilliant lady-drivers out there who ply our roads with deft skill on a daily basis without threatening other life forms. I would had protested vociferously, but it seemed pointless given the complete lack of a female audience/ rational audience.

We then saw the same Skoda parked a few metres ahead at the side of the road. I decided to do my bit towards registering my protest by peeking inside to glare as hard as I could at the driver. That was when I observed that the driver was, in fact, a girl. And that there was another girl sitting right next to her as well. What were the chances, eh?

For some reason, this reminded me of that scene from Crash, that spectacular Oscar-winning movie from 2004. The scene had Ludacris and another black guy moaning about how prejudiced white people are towards black people and how badly they stereotype them (black guys, that is). And then the two of them … well, see the video. (Embedding unfortunately not allowed for this video).

What can one say or do in such scenarios?

The Oscars last year were, apparently, the worst Oscars ever (Here are John Oliver and Stephen Colbert making fun of the host Jon Stewart for hosting the biggest show that nobody watched). Look at who the nominees were for the best picture last year – Atonement, Juno, Michael Clayton and There Will Be Blood. All are movies which would neither set your pulse (hearts?) racing,  nor would they make you sigh in fond nostalgia. The winner ended up being No Country For Old Men which, as I have confessed before, I didn’t quite understand. Yawn!

The nominations this year had all the makings of a proper snorefest. There is the Benjamin Button movie whose concept is as interesting as a new toy is to a toddler; then there’s Frost/Nixon, which is a fairly irrelevant movie about old crooked American politicians who no one really cares about; Milk, which is your customary gay Oscar nomination; and The Reader, which is your customary art movie which no one but the nominators have seen.

Just to tie up loose ends, the Academy left out The Dark Knight from the Best Picture and Best Director noms. But then, probably because there is a God up there who has a soft corner for the Academy, they had the brilliant idea of picking Slumdog Millionaire.

Now let me be clear – I do not wish to imply that SDM is a bad movie; au contraire, it is a fairly well-made, well-edited and well-directed movie with enough stereotypes to appeal to a foreign audience while also containing enough controversy to engage the Indian public (Previous thoughts here). I am very tempted to give the Academy the benefit of doubt on this one – maybe they actually did like the movie. But the fact remains that SDM is not really an obvious Oscar choice. It involves the triumph of hope and destiny over all circumstances, a theme one gets to see in every third Hollywood movie. (Ed: maybe SDM is the ‘Pursuit of Happyness’ of  this year – another movie which I’ve never been sufficiently motivated to watch). I also doubt how much of a clout the film’s Brit-producers had while lobbying for the movie. Also, I do not believe that SDM is a better movie than The Dark Knight, leave aside Kung Fu Panda or The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas.

Anyhoo, by giving SDM nominations by the dozen (ten, to be precise), the Oscar-folks have ensured that viewership is not going to be a moot point whatsoever. People will wake up at 6 in the morning if they have to to watch ‘their movie’ win. They will cheer wholeheartedly when Rehman and Gulzar get the nude statues (never quite understood why they are nude, btw) and will be elated because of the belated redemption we will have finally received – it will be ‘the recognition we always deserved but never got’. Lagaan was nominated for Best Foreign Film, and look at the hype it generated. This will happen because -

1. We watch anything on TV as long as there is a possibility of bringing in national pride and honour into the picture. (Actually, we watch anything on TV. If you add ‘India’ and ‘winning against all odds’ to the mix, then we will watch it in droves. Also,

2. We are unapologetically (is that a word?) partial to anything or anyone Indian.

When a billion people think alike, the impact can be quite staggering. It can ensure that the 2003 Cricket World Cup becomes the largest money-spinner for the ICC when the Indian team reached the final against all odds. It is also why a first-round exit for India made the 2007 Cricket World Cup a complete flop – I personally know people who had planned a Caribbean cruise which was to coincide with some of the matches but which they canceled once India crashed out. It ensures why the Miss World/ Miss Universe/ Mrs. World pageants are so successful in India – it almost excuses giving away the crown to someone who doesn’t know that ‘people who live on in my heart’ do not count as people alive, or to someone who goes and marries an arbit prince just to satisfy a childhood fantasy (ok that is probably a wee bit mean). It is the reason why we nostalgically remember Bhanu Athaiya winning the Oscar ages ago for ‘Gandhi’, although less than a handful of us really know what he (she?) has done otherwise in life.

Anyway, remind me to wake up at 6.30 am (IST) on 23-Feb. That’s all I wanted to say, really.

NB: This post contains spoilers for the book Atonement and for the recent ‘Indian’ movie Slumdog Millionaire. Also, it will most probably not make sense if you haven’t read the former (which I strongly recommend) and seen the latter (which is not a bad choice either).

‘Atonement‘ by Ian Mckewan has got to be one of the best books I’ve read. It has a wonderful, languid style of describing thoughts and landscapes, and yet manages to keep the story fairly tight. The book is essentially told through the eyes of a twelve-year old girl called Briony, and it describes the epic tale of her sister and her friend/ lover/ neighbour who get caught in a cruel chain of events with the Second World War as an imposing backdrop.

‘Slumdog Millionaire‘ by Danny Boyle is a decent movie which narrates a tale of love and destiny with the great slums of Mumbai as the primary backdrop. Watching the movie, I got the feeling that it was nothing spectacular, and could had in fact been much better.  and

I can see why the movie has been widely appreciated by a non-Indian audience. It has a lot of astonishing/ striking things which might not seem that odd to someone who has stayed in India all his/ her life but would certainly pique the interest of someone foreign. It’s more or less the same reason why I liked the movie ‘Cidade de Deus’ (City of God) so much. Slumdog, however, is NOT that awesome a movie. It is most certainly NOT the 34-th best movie of all times (at the time of writing) as indicated by the IMDb rankings. Rehman’s music in the movie, while pretty decent without a doubt, is NOT his best by any stretch – (Roja, Bombay, Dil Se, Swades and Taal come to my mind immediately). The acting is ok, but definitely NOT Best-Actor material: the lead actor perpetually oscillates between shock and anguish.

My favourite part in Atonement (and I don’t know whether it’s there in the movie since I haven’t watched it yet) is right at the end, when a now-senile Briony hints (Again: Spoiler Alert!) at the possibility that perhaps, all that she has described in the preceding chapters might not really be accurate – maybe what she has narrated with great conviction might not have happened at all. But she sincerely believes it to be so true and inevitable that she convinces herself that it is, in fact, the truth. And you don’t really care that you’ve just been cheated out of a standard conclusion to a book with all the makings of a classic.

Now imagine if the creators of Slumdog had incorporated this into the ending – Jamal keeps on telling how he was destined to know the answers (which is a roundabout way of saying he was quite lucky), but just before the movie ends – he reveals that maybe the crap which he dishes out to the police officer as explanation might not really be true.

That would had been an awesome movie – maybe not a feel-good awesome one, but a whoa!-awesome one for sure.

Actually an assortment of confessions – tikli-tikli ones, if you may.

1. I’ve never quite understood the movie ‘No Country for Old Men.’

Not that I tried really hard, truth be told. It is a bit tough to be that interested in the fate of random people who keep staring at you emotionlessly for 2-3 hours and then just die. I did love the part where the guy in black kills people using a pressurized fire-extinguisher-cylinder thingy by blowing holes in people’s heads. Repeatedly. Sigh, to think that all that killing happens because he is pissed at his hair dresser (possible spoiler alert).

The movie ends with a long monologue which I did not understand even more because a) it was long and endless. It was like that John Galt radio speech from Atlas Shrugged which makes you want to reach out and strangle him or at least flip ahead through FORTY TWO pages. Also; b) i had lost hope by then anyway. It was no country for men of all ages, clearly.

I just realized that I made another mini-confession above – I have not read the John Galt speech from Atlas Shrugged. In all fairness, I cannot claim to have read Ayn Rand well enough to find her boring. Thankfully, fairness and thorough knowledge are not pre-requisites for finding someone boring.

Getting back to the movie – I seriously think that the Oscar folks thought the same way as I did about NCfOM -

Judge1: “Dude, I did not understand that shizzle.”

Judge2: “Dude, I didn’t either. Got balls to admit that?’

Judge1: <Looks down, then up with the same fear in his eyes as the second guy in the movie to be murdered> “Duuuuude!”

J2: “Thought so. Me neither.”

J1: “Let’s give them the Oscar. Then we’ll see who the joke is on, eh?”

J2: “Dude. Srsly. LOL. k.” **

This admission qualifies as a confession btw because previously, in response to ‘Did you like the movie?’, I used to nod sagaciously and murmur with an all-knowing look,”It is a different movie, I know. Not every one likes it.”  That pissed most people off and I most people I met ended up finding the movie quite interesting and thought-provoking. I couldn’t pull off my usual enigmatic stunt however when a colleague said with disarming honesty,” I did NOT like it. I did NOT understand it. It was too boring and I am not dense. What about you?” Different’ just doesn’t work then.

2. I have always sucked at Pac-Man. Glad to have that out of my system. This is a game I’ve played for ages without progressing beyond a few levels (three, to be precise). And this is not something I exaggerate (as I often do) to make it sound funny. There’s something about the ‘waka waka waka’ noise/sound which draws me with its awesomeness like flames drawn to moths or vice-versa. But whenever I see Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde approaching (yes – those are the names of the coloured ghosts who keep chasing you. Yes – I have Pac-Man trivia although I suck at it) – whenever I see them in my vicinity, my hand-eye coordination just goes bonkers. Maybe I take the game too personally- I don’t quite know what my problem is. Most of the times I lose lives because I sadistically try to eat those buggers when they’re blue and slow and mesmerized by something I ate seconds before, but I always touch them when the spell has just vanished (people who’ve played will sympathize. Empathy is more welcome). This happens all the time – it’s like I’m jinxed or doomed to fail.

In my defense, my entire comp-gaming skill set is limited to Solitaire, Freecell, Snake, Minesweeper (at which i can say with complete immodesty that I totally ROCK!), Need For Speed (in which I got busted by cops while driving an Aston Martin DB myself an improportionately large number of times) and FIFA 07 (which I haven’t played in over 18 months ). The total amount of LAN gaming I’ve done – those multiplayer games like Halo and UT and WoW which are somewhat scary – is not more than 2 hours in all. But still – having Pac-man as my Waterloo kills me bit by bit, everyday.

**The recent movie called Burn After Reading by the directors of NCfOM  is again quite different, actually. I liked it a little bit.

There have been quite a few movies which I watched in the past few (quite a few) weeks, and here are my 2 pennies/ pence/ cents (but not reviews).

(Again somewhat long post)

- Kung Fu Panda - Possibly the best movie of the year so far, which is a pretty strong statement to make given some of the releases so far ((notably – The Dark Knight). Sarcastic, witty, beautiful, detailed and oh-so-god-help-me funny. It shows why Jack Black is such a wonderful talent and how animation can sometimes actually take a movie to great levels. I heart Po totally.

- A Wednesday - Pretty laid back and mundane in spite of the tight storyline, but still worth watching.  One can wait for the video release provided no one tells him/ her the plot. Acting by Naseeruddin Shah and Anupam Kher is brilliant – true stalwarts of Indian cinema, these guys. I still couldn’t get myself to fully accept the makers claim that a thug pees in his pants just because a snarling Jimmy Shergill is in the vicinity. Sorry, but just not gonna happen.

- Phoonk – I wish I could say out loud, without any apprehensions, that -

a) The movie is insane, arbitrarily disjointed and oh-so-NOT scary. The same goes for its creator. b) The voyeuristic crow is the best actor in the movie which speaks volumes about the ‘actors’. c) A movie makes money when Revenues – Expenses > 0. Clearly, each cast member was paid no more than half grand. => Expenses ->0. => A Hit. Even K-Jo agrees with this hypothesis and calls it a sleeper hit (whatever that means).

Ideally I shouldn’t be afraid to say all these things, but I am petrified of Ramuji. Terrified that that he’ll hex me, phoonk me up or worse – sit me down and explain to me in mind-numbing detail how godmax Daud and Nisha/Priyanka Kothari are. That’s one major reason why most reviewers gave it a thumbs up, in my opinion – RGV had them sh** scared too. You might say I’m just being scared/ superstitious, but then you know what they say – It’s superstition until it happens to you. Brrrr …

- Rock On - A nice rock movie with pop-style music, well-shot concert videos and songs which are refreshingly different (although not that awesome – you can’t play the audio alone in an infinite loop without a video playing simultaneously). I say pop, because every rock band should always have a bass guitarist, while the keyboard player is not a necessity. The story can be summarized in 6 words – band-disband-grow-reband-pathos-joy. Arjun Rampal takes up the Atul Agnihotri mantle of deadpan dialogue delivery no matter what the occasion and succeeds in being woodier than the entire Amazon forest. Farhan Akhtar sings better than he acts. Watching him being a successful, Jai-Sri-Krisna going I-Banker with a nice swanky house and a cute wife gives me considerable heartburn, but it’s ok  …

- Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na - The movie worked because it was different, which was quite ironic – the story is pretty old and predictable (two good friends who don’t realize that they are in fact made for each other). The acting is strictly ok. The gags are like old wine in a new bottle (or the other way round- don’t quite remember). There are a lot of glaring errors (lots of time warps to cover ~20 km in like 2 minutes) and random references which can please smart-asses but which otherwise must have passed unnoticed. Still, the movie succeeds because of its novelty, hype, freshness vis-a-vis the actors and a fairly peppy soundtrack (Only one complaint: the overdose of singers with heavy South Indian accents seemed a bit out of place at times). Overall it was good, but definitely not a masterpiece as some made it out to be. Its success can be more attributed to a paucity of decent Hindi films (the other movie which released on the same day was Love Story 2050. LOL!)

- The Dark Knight - Brilliant movie, simply brilliant. First time in a long, long time was I actually on the edge of my seat. Heath Ledger’s death gave it a surreal effect, like someone was addressing you from the grave, and his acting was mind-blowing. The stunts were crazy and the movie could had gone on for like ever without anyone complaining. Not the #1 movie of all time, though.

- Bachna Ae Haseeno – Ranbir Kapoor has a good screen presence, even when he wears purple lipstick to complement with his deep purple (coloured, not the band ka) t-shirt and pink khakis. His character’s inability to commit is not as cringe inducing as some thought, but the entire second half is full of predictable reconciliatory attempts which are … well, quite boring. Bipasha looks like an aging has-been hottie who ’swallowed’ one-too-many times, thereby acquiring a positively scary voice. Minissha Laambaa looks like a cute frost-bitten bunny and displays a unique ability to deliver all her dialogues with her teeth firmly clamped shut. Deepika Padukone has a distinctly Marathi accent which seems a bit out of place in Sydney. But still, it is an ok movie – very colourful and hummable, but nothing more.

- De Taali - Watching this movie was the closest I’ve ever felt to experiencing a Dementor’s Kiss (from the Harry Potter series) which sucks out all joy from your life (the kiss, not the series). I felt miserable for days after that, and would had given up watching movies altogether had I not been so jobless most of the time. It was not just not funny – it was anti-funny. The very opposite of funny. It was what Laughter is prescribed for when people call it The Best Medicine. There was just ONE joke in the entire frikkin’ movie, and that too I missed because I was out of the theatre recuperating. Worst waste of my time ever.

- The 40 year old virgin - Nice, awkward movie which has its moments. I liked it more because I’m a big fan of Steve Carrell from The Office. Overall an okay watch.

Over and out.

- He talks to the media only when he feels like it, which pisses off most people but at the same time leaves them hungry for more. And he does seem to care a lot about his fans, which is good I guess (Sample – his blog)

- He mouths a lot of bull about damming/ running issues almost as if his conscience has occasional reminders of its existence, but quickly zips it and goes back to what he’s good at – making films.

- He is slow and elaborate to the point of being didactic and almost boring, but still people listen to his opinions.

- He is (apparently) extremely nosy, laborious and interfering in all movies he’s a part of, and still people want to work with him.

- He is extremely picky as far as endorsement choices go, which has made him a mega-brand in India. Sample this -

Before he endorsed the Samsung Beat 450 phone by goinb ‘Oooh Aaah’ and all tingly in his Jarhead-Ghajini hairstyle, the mobile handset market was dominated by the Big 4 - a) Nokia (very reliable, high resale value, easiest to get hold of phone chargers for handsets); b) Sony-Ericsson (low resale value, generally classy and pretty, good music and picture-taking abilities); c) Motorola (People either like it or hate it. Me in second category); d) LG (Only if you use a CDMA phone). People have suddenly woken up to the possibility that life can exist outside these Four. Exceeds expectations as far as brand impact is concerned, wot say?

- He makes an awesome movie like Jaane Tu ya Jaane Na without people realizing that a) he didn’t really make it , and b) it isn’t really that awesome. His major contribution to the movie is his nephew Imran Khan (who’s so white that making him stand next to most Indian folks might seem racist). I doubt Aamir can take too much credit for Imran’s existence though.

(More about JTYJN later)

- He promotes movies he’s associated with with a mad energy, voluntarily appearing on arbit quiz shows like 10 Ka Dum . The show’s host has an extremely confused accent when he exhorts the contestants with stuff like ‘Aawo Khey-le Dyus-Ka-Dyumm‘. He also displays an intense urge to strip and ask ridiculous questions like ‘What percent of Indian males wash their undies?’.

- He says Baalls to people who request him to postpone movie releases. Of course, this might probably be because he has already had a sneak peek of what/ whom he’ll be doing a favour and feels that it is his moral obligation to ensure that people are NOT subject to the most extreme form of torture in the form of pink-haired heroines whose fingers have a mind of their own, unoriginal heroes who are doomed to fail from the outset or shady teddy bears who make shady noises and do lots of shady stuff.

- He also says Baalls to the infinite movie awards which happen almost every week because he can never be a part of the fraternity. He is however supremely delighted when feted with much a less glamorous award like the Dinanath Mangeshkar award, ready to even hobble along on crutches to receive the honour.

- He gets terrorist threats from folks who managed to f**k up their timer wirings and still seems fairly unfazed and earnest when he talks about how tough it is for the Police to police and all.

He does all this, because he Khan.

Sorry for the interruption (and the very bad pun)

Ed: Here is Baradwaj Rangan being super eloquent on the same topic.

Mikael Ballack – ze German who seems to be destined to finish second every time- and Matt ‘Bourne‘ Damon look so similar, it’s freaky!

If only Ballack had Jason Bourne’s awesome abilities, the Germans would had celebrated winning the Euro Cup. And my prediction would not had fallen flat on its face … sigh

On the topic of Matt Damon: There’s this movie he co-wrote with his best friend Ben Affleck (and co-won an Oscar too) called ‘Good Will Hunting‘. The movie is brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Every character is played to perfection and the mathematics/science is sufficiently ambiguous to keep everyone interested. The only thing I could possibly object to was that Robin William’s hairy arms seemed at times a wee bit too conspicuous.

The part in the bar where Will Hunting (Damon) makes fun of some guys to impress Skylar (Minnie Driver) and defend Chuckie (Affleck) is awesome. But the one scene (link) in the movie (possible spoiler alert) which I especially like is where Chuckie tells Will to stop his self-pity crap and embarks upon what is possibly one of the best friendly-yet-enlightening and concise-but-expletive-filled monologues ever heard.

Aside: I’ve always wondered why the term is called spitting image …

So there’s a guy who has the following characteristics –  

- muscular, popular, spectacular, single, dashing

- owns fast car(s), is filthy rich, friendly, smart

- ambitious, musically inclined (plays the guitar), holidays in France, extremely popular and kind

- can’t dance.

And people are making fun of him solely because of the 4th point - that and probably because his parents, in what must have been a pretty rare bout of extreme drunkness, went and named him Pappu. Some folks have even created a controversy over this (link via this), which is quite ridiculous – probably even intentionally planted by Aamir Khan, who talks to the media only when he has a movie release around the corner

I never knew being able to dance was so important. This song might have been written by the aam junta (average person) to make fun of the popular kid in class everyone secretly hated, but all it does is just make me plain depressed. I want to be Pappu! I’m 25% there already !!

Hero is unassuming/way-over-the-top (one of the two extremes). Hero is brilliant and yet quite caring in either case.

Hero has a major screw up and ends up affecting himself directly or indirectly.

Gamma radiation, Krypton, Mutation, Transmorgification, Radiation and such exotic-sounding terms are thrown around at will to justify anything and everything.

Hero says ‘This is my gift and also my curse.’ Or he says ‘Angry. Rwaaarrw’ and it’s understood that that is what he means.

There is a bunch of absolutely irrelevant thugs/ goons/ school bullies out to generally pain the Hero. They get their a$$es kicked major time in the process and we get to snicker ‘lyoosers!’ at them. They also serve the dual purpose of giving the Hero some much needed match practice.

Hero tries to get rid of his boon/curse and succeeds in doing that… but not quite. Then some Maniac gets hold of those/ equivalent/ better powers and becomes something scarier, nastier and with worse mouth odour, which makes him a menace to society and Greenpeace protesters.

Maniac goes on to kill many people but for some reason never actually harms Hero’s gal. The relationship between Hero and his Damsel can be best described as It’s complicated.

Hero returns to fight Maniac. Maniac dies (but is not directly killed by hero) or is at least rid of his powers/abilities. Hero gets to kiss his gal at most once and then he’s off to do the noble thing – i.e. live a life of celibacy and make up for it (well not literally) by screwing bad guys.

Make Hero slender, supple, net-savvy and with a convoluted dressing sense – you get Spider man.

Make Hero hairy, bulky, a monkey and generally pissed off at everyone in life – you get King Kong.

Make Hero hairless, green, bulky with absolutely no dressing sense and generally pissed off at everyone in life – you get the Incredible Hulk.

As far as the actual movie goes – nothing new, somewhat entertaining, good visual effects, lots of destruction, weak jokes, predictable story.

Imagine your face while trying to calculate 1793/41, or when you’re quite constipated. Then imagine yourself doing a maanja lappet (tying up your thread after losing your paper kite) with all fingers outstretched while having the above face. That’s my rating for the latest Hulk movie.

(Nice review this one )

How long is sixteen hours?

Any attempts at numerical conversions into minutes/ seconds are thanked, but not thanked.

Sixteen hours can be effectively summarized as -

Sleep + Enchanted with lots of Fast Forward + Bourne Ultimatum + Sleep + Football Highlights + Rush Hour 3 + a long wait for the Loo line with random flirting with airhostesses who go by generic names like Donna and Jackie (Can I have a muffin? Can you butter my muffin? Which beer would you recommend?) + Juno + License to Wed.

This, however doesn’t include the part where your In-Flight Entertainment suddenly decides to hang while you’re fast forwarding the soporific parts of Enchanted. With >14 more hours to go, 16 hours suddenly seems like -

A lecture of CH101 + Dravid embarking on one of his marathon innings + A Bengali art film + A Sonia Gandhi speech + A Rituporno Ghose movie with Dravid and Sonia Gandhi explaining the isomorphism of nitrobenzene …

Basically-  horror, boredom, horror over the prospect of further uninterrupted boredom; all eventually leading to total panic. The presence of an extra large squirming lady in the seat next to you effectively kills your last resort – a nice little book, or maybe a few nice little books. Full blown panic sets in.

Thankfully, the system decides to unhang itself, sanity is restored and sixteen hours seem to just (excuse the pun) fly by.

–

First impressions of NY – Everything is so larger than life, be it Time Square, the skyscrapers, the highways, everything. And it all reminds me of Mumbai in a very weird way. If it wasn’t for the chilly winds, things would had been just perfect right now