Salman Rushdie and John le Carré end their fight and other stories

Politically and civically, this has been a pretty messed up week for Bombay, but in all the confusion and the hullabaloo we still found a bunch of things on the internet and several stories of general interest that we liked and you would too.

We love it when highbrow writers feud. Not because we love controversies in general but because the more intellectual the fighter, the more high-larious the fight and later the reconciliation. “Pompous Ass,” is the height of insult apparently. We would recommend “stupid fartface”, courtesy Leslie Knope but that’s just us.  Here, read about this writer feud which has ended, thankfully. And other literary feuds that came to an end after years of sparring.

We love Matthew Inman for real and here’s his very, very realistic portrait of being a writer for the internet versus being a writer for a publication/organisation. We’re a little reminded of what Roald Dahl said about writing fiction in Boy tales of childhood. To paraphrase, it was something about how a writer’s life is the most difficult life in the world but a writer is free. He answers to no one.

Following the news of Obama’s re election into office, everyone’s all about whether he will see his second term through with shining policies viz health, employment and foreign policy. Well, this one’s important too.

TS Elliot’s widow died earlier this week. Yeah, someone who knew Elliot was still alive till last week. Hot damn. To be that old and die having lived with someone that great.

Buffy the vampire slayer fan? Limerick lover? Here’s what happens when both your interests come together.

If you’re thinking of getting a tattoo, try these on for size. They’re elaborate and amazing.

We know you’re waiting for Game of Thrones season  3 and trust me, we are too. Maybe this will pave the way for the long hard winter.

Six dead people we wouldn’t have a drink with

Six dead people we wouldn’t have a drink with (Even though they’re awesome)

Gandhi

He ousted the British using only abstract concepts. He basically said “Nyah Nyah” to every school bully who shouted “You’re gay for not fighting.” He was the man, a beacon of hope, a figure of inspiration, a leader of men. Would we grab a cold one with him? Er, we already have plans. We’re cool with the Mahatma being a vegetarian, but he’s the judgmental sort of vegetarian which means that every bite of chicken would go down with a reproving lecture on foods that give you “a happier existence”. And oh he didn’t drink (we were getting there, smartass) which means his “cold one” would probably be a ….water. Not cool.

Helen Keller

Sharanya;  Hi Helen, karaoke?

Helen: xxxksjdhsjdhf

Sheena: Huh?

Helen: jhsdfhuygudf

*writes on hand*

Disturbing.

TS Eliot

Lit students everywhere: Five words: Tradition and the Individual Talent. Yep, there’s that familiar pang of annoyance. This is not literature, that is not literature. Hey Mr. Choosey-beans, come on man. TS Eliot was brilliant but he’s also a snob and incredibly hard to please. That works well, if you like your drinks with a big side helping of I’m-more-intelligent-than-you-sucker. Which we don’t.

John Lennon

Lennon forms a quarter of a big old pie of super awesome. He is a treasure. But as a drinking buddy, he is the equivalent of that nauseating guy that just got dumped and won’t stop talking about it.

Imagine there is no buzz; it’s easy if you try. Nothing to drink or dance for, John is sappy and a bore. See, thinking of drinking with Lennon is making us rhyme. We hate rhyming.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Charming. Creative gold. Well-dressed. Impeccable prose (almost poetry) to his credit. He knew his cocktails. And he definitely knew a thing or two about partying, yes, yes. Oh, but his choice in women. He’d probably babysit his all-over-the-place-but-engaging-wife right in the middle of my “Nick Carraway was the perfect flawed narrator” speech. Damn. So close.

Sylvia Plath

If you like running all around a bar trying to stop a crazy lady from breaking bottles, jumping on a bar and throwing fries in the air, go ahead and ask Sylvia Plath for a drink.

P.S – If she suggests you go oven shopping, run.