Balls Stick 4 Long

If there’s one thing that’s predhonimating every Indian’s mind right now it’s cricket. Bollywood stars have heaped praises on Sachin Tendulkar for smashing first-ever double century in history of ODIs, describing him as the "god of cricket" who has made Indians proud. Our swashbuckling team established its undisputed dhonimation in the arena of fast-paced cricket. Our team ran through an impressive list of formidable opponents inducing more fear in them than Sreesanthrax. Uthapparently, the enormity of this great win was the only thing the whole of India had agreed upon unanimously since calling Preity Zinta “that slag who doesn’t stop talking even while giving a blowjob”. Joginteristingly, the fan-fervor was so overwhelming during the motorcade that it caused a high degree of Yuvragitation in the streets. Fans, including millions of dhoniacs, celebrated by drinking whisky, vodka, and barrels of Gambeer.
               Unfortunately, every great thing will have something nasty wrecking it from being perfect. Like Aishwarya Rai with her hairy nipples. Or Kareena Kapoor who sings the Flintstones theme during sexual intercourse. The smear on the Indian Cricket Team’s most beautiful day was a bunch of whiny pussies who claimed to be the neglected representatives of some make-believe sport called Hockey. These attention-craving mother-puckers, like the jealous whores that they were, accused the Indian Government of not giving them their due for their exploits. They demanded that this so called game of “Hockey”, which is as appealing as a turban, be given as much importance as Cricket.
                In an effort to settle the issue of Cricket versus Hockey, an open debate was organized between the Cricket Team, the Hockey Team, and celebrity guest Shah Rukh Khan. Mediating the debate was the founder of NDTV, Prannoy Roy, also known as “the annoying old snob who doesn’t open his mouth while talking”.
HT: We want recognition too; we want free travelling benefits too; we want bigger cash awards too; we want more advertising contracts too; we want more respect too; we want to boast of rags to riches stories too.
CT: Well, judging from all the bickering you’ve been doing it sounds more like rags to bitches. You lot are whinier than Sushma Swaraj when she heard Sonia Gandhi had more ovaries than her.
HT: We’re not whining. We’re fighting for what’s rightfully ours. Why is that we didn’t receive an ovation so grand when we returned to India after winning the Asia Cup?
CT: Well, let’s see, for starters, it could be because we won the WORLD cup, not some retarded Asia Cup. The world is a little bigger than Asia, in case you aren’t aware. Secondly, hockey is for losers.
HT: We beat a strong Korean team in the finals to lift the cup. Don’t call us losers.
CT: Ooh! You beat the Koreans. Kudos on beating a bunch of guys who squint so much that they can’t even tell the difference between Britney Spears’s vagina and a water melon.
PR (mouth closed): To be honest, our NDTV cunt survey showed that a lot of people have trouble telling them apart.
CT: It’s easy. You sink your teeth into a watermelon and spit out the seeds after eating it completely. (pauses). No wait…
SRK (a little irked that his time is being wasted): Let’s move this along to the part where I have to talk about ‘Chak De’. I’m not interested in vaginas.
CT: Tell us something we don’t know.
SRK: Hey, if you’re talking about the thing that poked you in the thighs when I hugged you fellas after the finals it really was my cell phone. (pauses) For the umpteenth time, I do not find myself daydreaming about rubbing oil on Karan Johar’s love handles.
CT: Sure, we believe you. And we suppose your phone was set on vibrate as well with someone calling you like crazy.
SRK: Yes. It was Farah Khan calling me to ask if I had any spare time when she could come over and kiss my ass.
HT: Actually, we have a bone to pick with you as well, Shah Rukh.
CT: Oh, he’ll be more than happy to let you pick his bone.
HT: Was it so much trouble for you to show up at the Asia Cup finals and cheer us on? Did you forget what ‘Chak De’ was all about?
SRK: Of course, I didn’t forget. It was about me taking the credit of being the inspiration behind every triumph in sports that came towards India in the next few years.
HT: What about the game of Hockey that has been part of India’s history for decades?
SRK: Are you telling me it’s a real game? I thought it was just a ridiculous game that the filmmakers came up with.
HT (angry): Yes, it’s a real game. It’s the national game of India.
CT: Yeah right, and Kajol is not ugly as shit. The only reason why people started calling it the national game of India is because that was the first thing we managed to win after getting independence. It doesn’t mean that it’s an interesting sport and that people like watching it.
HT: People from all communities and walks of life play hockey.
CT: Get real, clowns. Hockey is a game played only by smelly Punjabis.
HT: Just because you have money coming out of your piss-holes doesn’t mean that you can be racist.
CT: How many of you have Singh as your last name?
(All the hockey players raise their hands and on realizing they had just been had put their hands down tetchily)
HT: We represent all religions and communities. Unlike Shoaib Malik.
(Suddenly, Prannoy Roy takes centre stage and speaks in a deep baritone, his mouth still shut tight)
PR: This is a message from NDTV to Shoaib Malik. You do not represent all the Muslims in the world. You are only the captain of the defeated Pakistan Team. You are nothing, do you understand? Nothing. NDTV loves Muslims. And Hindus. And Christians. You are an overzealous Muslim, Shoaib Malik. You cannot just speak shit and say you’re doing it on behalf of billions of others. Only diseased bastards would do something like that. This announcement, by the way, is being made by me as the universal representative of media, old people, snobs, and those with their heads tucked up their asses.
CT: Relax, you old fart. He was just being emotional. Stop blowing shit out of proportion. All he said he was he thanked all the Muslims in the world. You’re a rotten piece of shit to be ballooning that up when you have other important things on your channel to talk about.
PR (pouting): I will complain to Barkha Dutt and he will shout at you.
CT: Don’t you mean ‘she’?
PR: Who do you think knows him better? The stupid audience who sit in front of the TV or me, the head of NDTV- Nicely Disguised Transvestite Vixens?
(Suddenly, everyone stops talking because they hear a moaning sound. It’s SRK seemingly in the middle of a day dream)
SRK: Yeah…you like that, K-Jo? Hmm…Always stay under me…ok?…Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna…hmmm…your flab is so sexy…I’d like to drink your hot brown frothy coffee…yeah…
PR: Shah Rukh, wake up! I think you’re having a gay-dream!
(SRK wakes up and sees everyone staring at him)
SRK: What?
CT: You were gay-dreaming again, bum-boy.
SRK: No, I wasn’t. I was just thinking about my new movie Om Shanti Om.
CT: Don’t you mean ‘hOMo Shanti hOMo’?
HT: This is exactly what we’re talking about. This whole debate was supposed to be about us. But now it has turned into a dialogue between Cricket and Bollywood. We deserve attention too. We want all the luxury they get. We want more and more and more and more…
CT (smirking): Unless you’re talking about Kiran More I don’t think you have much of a chance.
HT: Up yours, you undeserving shit balls. We will kick your ass.
CT: Go suck on a puck, you whiny little pussies.
PR (mouth closed): I’m more powerful than God.
SRK: I miss Karan.
(Pandemonium breaks out. Everyone starts screaming and bickering. The Cricketers fight with the Hockey players. Prannoy Roy claws at SRK who’s groaning with pleasure. The debate gets so boisterous that the noise reaches the heavens and wakes up God himself. Fed up with this mysterious ruckus, God comes down to the scene of the scuffle)
GOD: Just what the fuck is going on here? Some of us are trying to get some sleep up there. I’ve had a very rough week what with the culmination of the 50 cent- Kanye West battle and all. I did all I could do to boost 50’s record sales but what can I say, that nigger keeps putting out some of the worst beats ever.
PR (mouth closed): I’m sorry, Mr. God, but as the supreme leader of the media world I need to warn you about your dirty mouth. You’re not supposed to use that term unless you are one. And clearly, you’ve more a greenish beige hue.
GOD: Hellooo! I’m God. I created the world. I can say whatever I want. And what’s with the closed mouth? Do you have any breath issues? Or are you trying to be a ventriloquist?
PR (mouth still closed): Well, if you should know…
GOD (interrupting): Shut the fuck up. (Prannoy Roy is flustered. God turns to the others). Now, why don’t you biatches get me up to speed? What’s all this fuss about?
HT: You’re the perfect person to settle this dispute, lord. The Indian Government and the people alike have been giving the sport of cricket an unjust pedestal even though the rest of the sports are just as great as cricket. But no matter how many trophies the rest of us win, it’s always the cricketers who get the true respect, the maximum benefits and all the acclaim. The rest of are left with nothing.
GOD (turning to the cricketers): How much money are you boys likely to get in the coming month alone owing to your recent victory?
CT: Hmm…maybe more than a few billion bucks…
GOD: Oh my fucking self! You’ve got to be fucking shitting me! Even I don’t have that much cash. And I’m the almighty!
CT: Well, it won’t seem like much because it’ll all be in thousand rupee notes…
GOD: I don’t want to hear anything further. I’ve been trying to bring about fairness and justice in this world of mine. But greedy beings like you keep making my job harder. All your earnings will be halved and distributed amongst these players. It’s settled.
(The cricketers are upset with the decision. They demand the case be referred to the third umpire but God reminds them that he’s the only umpire. The Hockey Players are ecstatic and start celebrating)
PR: Well, it looks like the Hockey Players have achieved what they set out to do.
GOD (taken aback): Whoa! Whoa! Hold your horses. What did you say?
PR: The Hockey Players have…
GOD: Hockey? That’s what you people play? Oh, well, that changes everything…
HT: What do you mean?
GOD: I’m sorry but I take back everything I said. No redistribution of the cricketer’s income, no benefits, no nothing. I had no idea you guys played hockey.
HT: Why, what’s wrong with hockey?
GOD: Well, firstly, it isn’t half as exciting as Cricket. And obviously, the cricketers have a much more perilous tenure than you biatches.
HT: Perilous? Cricketers in India get billions of rupees when they win.
GOD: That’s if they win. I don’t think people kick down your houses, blacken your property walls, molest your sisters, finger your mothers, and fist your fathers if you lose. That’s what the cricketers have to go through if they lose. Besides, people get dealt bad cards all the time. That’s just the way I run the world. You don’t hear mute people shouting that they deserve the same benefits as people who can talk, do you?
HT: God, you’re clearly exaggerating about the dangers cricketers have to face if they lose.
GOD: Well, that’s not all. There’s another very important reason why Hockey can never get the respect and richness that cricket does.
HT: What’s that?
GOD: Hockey is for losers.
(The Hockey Team leaves the scene with their heads hung low out of humiliation like the way they were meant to be)
CT: God, you’re just the bomb. There’s no other way to put it.
PR (mouth closed): I think you’re all forgetting that I’m more powerful than Mr. Party Mouth. I run NDTV. That’s harder than running the world.
SRK: In your dreams. Your channel thrives on news about me. Haven’t you heard Karan introduce me on his show? More people on this world know me than Tom Cruise. That means I’m the most powerful gay…I mean guy in this world. And Insha Allah, I’ll be more powerful than you, God.
(The cricketers look at God and shrug. God shrugs back)
GOD: Well, I guess there’s only thing left to do.
(God waves his hands around and turns SRK into Dev Anand’s dick; he then turns Prannoy Roy into Lata Mangeshkar’s vocal cords)
CT: They are definitely not going to enjoy their new lives. I guess they learned never to mess with you, God.
GOD: They sure did. Let’s just hope they never run into each other.
(The Cricketers are back to being filthy rich. The fans are still poor and in awe. God goes back to sleep. Everything’s the way it should be)

Aircell to you!!!

I owe a lot to TV. Over the years it has given me new ideas, new philosophies, and new women to fantasize when I’m interrogating my penis in bed. It has given me laughs, thoughts, ecstasy, and visions into worlds I never knew existed; it enables me to have cute newsreaders who give the headlines transformed into cute cheerleaders who’re lining up to give me head in my sound, unperturbed sleep. But most of all, I’m grateful to TV for the number of heinous acts it has prevented me from doing.
            The other day, I was sitting home, polishing my gun (not a masturbation metaphor this time), dusting my hunting clothes, lighting my cigar, ready to go shoot a tiger-much like any other sane, common person in India would do sometime during their daily schedule- when suddenly I saw Rahul Dravid on TV asking me to “save the tiger”. At first, I ignored it like the small lump that men find near their balls which they mistake for a third testicle. Then, after a few minutes, I saw Kareena Kapoor, who was probably wearing tiger-skin bra and panties, request me- and every other person in their hunting clothes watching TV at that moment- to not go and kill tigers; she, too, wanted me to “save the tiger”. I felt my heart sink; it was at that moment the scrotal lump became cancerous. I felt disoriented by a moral conflict. Hunting tigers was, after all, something that I, and every other ordinary Indian watching TV most of their time, did from childhood onwards; it was, practically, part of our lives, our Indian tradition. But here was Rahul Dravid- who couldn’t save his place in the one day cricket team let alone a big striped cat- and Kareena Kapoor -a bitch, who in a sudden attack of consciousness, wanted to protect a feline warning all of us that if we- sitting home with a remote in one hand and a gun in the other- continue shooting tigers and killing them- like we’ve been doing for so long- the tigers were soon going to be extinct. At that moment it hit me like a big bag of feces at a rock concert, we’ve all been striving and caring for the wrong things. Fuck world peace! Fuck religious harmony! Fuck protesting against fake-piety! Fuck fighting against police brutality! Fuck the safety of children! Fuck the safety of common women! Fuck protecting rape victims (to be fair they’ve been fucked already)! Fuck fighting against dirty politics! Fuck freedom of speech! Fuck poor people! Fuck the unemployed! Fuck the illiterate! Fuck the ill! Fuck fighting against terrorism! Fuck resisting fake-patriotism! And fuck life all together! The only thing that matters in the world is saving a fierce carnivorous smelly animal- who would by the way rip you into shreds if you get too close to it- that some guy in a wasted moment named as our national animal.
            I exercised my brain a great deal to figure out the kind of things I could do to help “save the tiger”. I was initially confused when the TV channels went on about saving “the tiger”. Clearly, they were just talking about one specific tiger. Rahul Dravid said, “Save the tiger.” Kareena said, “Save the tiger”. Which one you crazy cunts? Which is the tiger we’re supposed to save? It would have been a lot of help if they said something like, “Save the tiger- the one named Billu.”
            But then I decided, perhaps, I shouldn’t focus on that one tiger everybody was talking about; if I’m intending to save tigers I should, ideally, make an effort to save all of them. On doing research I discovered that one of the first steps that needed to be taken to ensure the protection of tigers was building in them a strong sense of morality and a desire to survive. To be honest, I kind of get the feeling tigers are not really keen on surviving. So we killed a whole lot of tigers and brought their numbers down to about 5000. Big fucking deal! So what? I’m sure they’re aware of a little thing called “banging”. When Hitler murdered six million Jews they didn’t become endangered in the next four years, and then move on to complete extinction, did they? No, they fornicated like crazy and are back stronger than ever. That’s in fact the story of mankind in general. I’m pretty sure that humans kill more humans than tigers every day but that hasn’t brought down the staggering rise in population, has it? You don’t see any celebrities on TV pleading with the world to “Save the mankind”, do you? So, I say teach the tigers that if you want population then you got to have copulation.
             That’s when another thought crossed my mind. What if the tigers are in fact banging but just not having cubs? Whenever you switch on nature channels there are tigers fucking each other. If they are horny enough to have sex on video, then having sex is probably not their big hurdle. It could be hesitancy in conception. And there could be two reasons for that: a) the tigers are into family planning or b) they are faggots. If the tigers are into family planning all you have to do is either make an animal version of the movie “Cheaper by the Dozen” or get them to have a talk with Lalu Prasad. Meanwhile, if the tigers are homosexually inclined, a completely different route of penetrating the issue has to be taken up (no pun intended. Who am I kidding! Of course, pun intended). Get a celebrity gay icon like George Michael or Harsha Bhogle and have them speak to these fudge-packing tigers. Convince these ass-mining tigers that after spooging into their partner’s anus they should insert their fists into the rectum, swipe all the tiger semen using one of their paws, and carefully place it inside a girl tiger’s vagina (stir if necessary). That should knock them up. If the tiger is a lesbian convince her that tiger cum can be used as a lubricant during dyke sex and she’s bound to fall for it. If the cubs turn out to be little fags, educate them about this procedure as well, thereby instilling this paw-cum-pussy ritual as part of the tiger culture.
             As I ponder about saving tigers, another startling revelation comes to me. Sure, the numbers are dwindling when it comes to tigers but what about other creatures. Are we not being a little specie-ist by only wanting to save tigers? I don’t know about you but I haven’t been seeing as many moths as I used to a few years ago? Where are they? What’s happening to all the moths? I’m leaving the lights on outside my home, not using clothes and books for months at a time but I still don’t see any sign of them. Could it be that the unattractive, wannabe butterfly-like creature is disappearing right in front of our eyes without our knowledge? Would we have to satisfy our future generations by showing a color picture of a moth when they cry “show us the moth, show us the moth”? Well, not if I can help it. I’m not going to waste one more moment worrying about the stupid tigers who just don’t want to fuck each other heterosexually. Instead, I’m going to focus my energy on saving the creatures who really need our help. The moths. I mean, I don’t even think they have penises. Have you ever seen a moth with a penis? How on earth are they supposed to procreate without penises? So let’s all forget about the tigers and devise plans to help save the moths. Whatever we can do: not swat them, not smash them with newspapers, donate sperm, whatever it takes. So, I’m pleading with you: Fuck the tiger! Save the moths!

Babble Wabble Babble !!!!!

And the Lord has yet again failed to shed some light on my misery considering the weather conditions in the city. The increasing power cuts, receiving bills from unknown sources, never ending work hours, and my increasing ability to do absolutely nothing and get tired of the same. I thought I was the most miserable person till Kaushik sent his experiences from the other side of the green grass through youtube. Hehehe!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQlGZFnEulk

I have been engrossed in demonology and possession cause I just needed to convince myself that I need not be exorcised and it is just me..possessed with a increasing desire to be possessed. :)

To my critics, I have finally compiled my E-book cause I thought why should I suffer alone. All the articles have been edited by my Fiancé.

Nikhil E-book

More when I have more

Fashion Ka Jalwa

They are out on the streets; they are in your homes; they are inside airports; they have organisations fighting for their rights; they have special clothes and toys designed for them. And in some uber-affluent places, they have even hotels exclusively for them. It's very evident that a dog is man's best friend for a good reason. If my best friend fed me, clothed me, pampered me, and picked up after me, i would stay loyal to him forever too. And if you read sarcasm into this, it's not driven by any kind of hostility towards dogs. Canines and i have had an understanding for the last two decades. I don't mess around with them and they don't mess around with me. However, what boggles my mind is people's obsession with making dogs more like humans. Recently, a good friend of mine took her dog, Pebble, to a dog show. Pebble, whom she loves and treats like a sibling, participated in a number of 'athletic' events. He won gold medals in two events he had no idea he was in and lost the coveted crown due to one tiny mistake: he flinched and let out a bark when the judge examined his genitals.

Now, i'm not quite sure how beauty pageants for humans operate across the world. But if winning involves staying still while the judge gropes you, i'd much rather not know. Despite finding my views about mankind's perverted dog obsession abhorrent, my friend did agree that her dog was very confused as to what was happening around him. He merely did as he had been trained to do. As i was pondering this, i saw something on TV that shed some light on the situation. It was a talent hunt for children, where kids as young as seven or eight were dressed up in ridiculous outfits and tonnes of make-up. They hopped around and did what they had been trained to do while their owners sorry, parents sat in the crowd smiling proudly. It was then i realised that using other creatures to gain fame and money for ourselves is part of human nature. There was no reason for me to feel awkward about it. What i had to do was embrace this trait. And that's why i have signed up my pet snail for the 100-metre dash in the upcoming Commonwealth Games.

Paisa Paisa Karti hai....

I was heading towards my flat about a week ago, and got the strange feeling that someone was following me. I kept going, blaming my paranoia on last night's X-files rerun. Suddenly, a strong "Sir" from behind stopped me in my tracks. It took me a few moments to recognize the speaker as the obsequious waiter who works at a restaurant one frequents. Without a preamble, he made a semi-demand, "Please give me 100 rupees." I eloquently responded, after a three-second shocked pause, "What?" He identified himself as the waiter from the particular restaurant as he thought that was the cause for my surprise. I decided to go with "Why?" the next time. He responded that he was going on vacation. The more disturbing element wasn't the fact that he was treating me like his holiday fund but the creepy smile on his face that refused to fade. I attempted to extricate myself from this awkward situation by promising to pay him the money next time i visited the restaurant. But, he proved to be someone who staunchly believed in the adage 'try, try until you succeed'. With that smile on his face getting wider, he said, in the same polite tone, "I want the money now, sir." I wondered for an instant if this was actually the world's mildest daylight robbery in progress. I reiterated my previous statement, finding no other way out, turned around and sped forward to my destination without waiting for a response.

That incident called to mind another experience when a professional mendicant approached me and demanded 50 bucks. The episode had left me nonplussed. I had always assumed that there was a 10-rupee cut-off limit when it came to alms. This man, however, had no intention of adhering to the unwritten laws of begging; he was a revolutionary of sorts. I refused to part with my money both times. It wasn't the traditional 'he's healthy, let him earn his money' justification for me; it was more the 'I'm so broke i can't spare a penny' truth that prevented me from helping them out monetarily. Every one of us have, at one point or the other, swallowed our pride and asked for money from our friends or family. It's an agonising feeling refusing to give money to someone in need. Money is, indeed, the root cause of terrible social awkwardness.

Chillax :)

Winter makes blimps out of people. If you step out onto the streets of Delhi, you'll see that everyone's walking around like they're in fat suits. When a person puts on three to four layers of sweaters, a pair of thick woollen gloves and a cap pulled so far down his face that he's at a risk of asphyxiating himself, you can't really blame him for looking like Eddie Murphy from The Nutty Professor. This is my first winter in Delhi and my teeth have done a lot more chattering this year than it ever did in Mussoorie. Experience definitely is not a useful weapon in your arsenal when it comes to combating Delhi winters. More often than not, multiple layers of clothing end up not achieving the desired effect. A couple of days ago while travelling by auto, my exposed face got such a ruthless dose of biting cold that i was, for the first time in my life, able to empathise with refrigerated meat. The auto driver, whose black eyes were the only thing revealed to the outer world, were fixed on me as if to suggest that i was dumber than a lobotomised chipmunk.

I encountered, however, more daring winter-rebels on the streets: the homeless people of Delhi clad in their usual torn T-shirts and pants begging for alms. Sure, their working conditions and hours weren't as bad as what some of the A-list Bollywood actors have to deal with 'oh shooting in Switzerland was so tiring. I had to wake up at 4 a.m. from my luxurious trailer and parrot lines for a few hours for a measly sum of Rs 50 lakh' but it was an unenviable sight nevertheless. I have created a list for the benefit of those lacking the skills to combat the piercing cold after barely surviving this merciless Delhi winters. First, when you get a cup of coffee or tea don't drink it. Instead, move it all over the exposed parts of your body in an effort to thaw them. Second, if you're travelling by auto, always have two naive friends with you and seat yourself in between them. Third, always sleep with your shoes on, preferably large cowboy boots. Four, if you have a big furry dog or an oddly hairy relative, hug him like there's no tomorrow. And finally, move to the Caribbean islands.

Nowadays, going through newspaper editorials often gives one the uncanny taste of repeatedly eating the same dish cooked in different styles. Even though the basic ingredients remain crime and punishment, there's so much hot and cold blowing about the now fragile issue of a criminal's fate, it makes me wonder whether it's really a matter of life and death. Between Dotsovesky and opinions as risky, I'm hanged if I can understand the reason of debate.

First of all, I don't hear any rumbles against rewards being befitting appreciation of merit and virtue. Conversely, then, the concept of punishment befalling a defaulter should be considered a natural corollary. And just as, at the apex, Lifetime Achievement Awards have been fashioned to befit superlatively laudable performers at home and abroad, so does the life sentence befit the indicted criminal, for whom then lawful society has no use. No arguments yet.

Now objects like locks are deterrents to the virtuous, not to the criminal. So, I imagine, are laws, respected by the lawful, spurned by the awful the offender. As matters stand, therefore, just because responses differ, it does not negate the existence or need for locks, laws, their protectors or enforcers, does it ? "No, it doesn't", you grudgingly agree. So by now, we have sifted society into, largely, 'inlaws' and 'outlaws', if you know what I mean, with the latter having developed an immune conscience. Obviously, therefore they have to be dealt with separately, as our grammar teacher would have said, with sensible sentences. And, the Lord help us, when it comes to the rarest of rare cases, when paediatric and geriatric predators (to name a few) outrageously outrage, plot, plunder, ravage and kill, the sentence has to match the extremity of the crime - sensibly, brutally. When Cain killed Abel he was marked for life to hang his head in shame in a society of three. In a society of billions, the onus would be on us to hang Cain, head and all. After all, despite the Human Right Activists' clamour (in protection of subhumans, I'm sure), people like him are as much use to society as a diseased appendix (also God's creation, mind you) is to us. And I don't hear anyone say if you can't make an appendix you have no right to destroy it.
As for those publicity seeking amatuer cooks waxing eloquent about capital punishment (I thought 'capital' meant 'perfect' !) being redundant because it does not prevent future such (a) crimes (b) criminals from evolving, they ought to have their heads examined before talking their heads off. I mean, do they have a divine missive from Nostradamus, including a comparison chart, as to how many such 'scheduled crimes' were encouraged by, or occured unmindful of such punishment ? Are they propogating giving such offenders another life, even as the single life of the hapless offended has ended ? Do they imply that a victim's right to live and be respected ends with his or her death ? Do they plan to cite Holly and Bolly Woods as the prime instigators of crime, with the criminal merely "doing as directed" ? The sentence of death is instituted only to criminals that richly deserve it many times over. Though any form of punishment cannot stop crime, it can nip the growth of many potential perpetrators in the bud, even if not all. No, there's no argument; vicious non-life in the form of killers and sexual violaters needs to be rendered lifeless, albeit within the purview of law.

The final victim of the imbroglio remains the Judicial system - hanged if they do, hanged if they don't. Sure, they're slow and overworked, with holes in their set-up like Swiss cheese (though not as palatable), but then they are not on trial here. The system is relevant, and it takes much debating and deliberating for judges to sentence an offender to death - not for joy, sadistic pleasure or a chance to play God. I dare say the final sentence is delivered by them with immense remorse and repugnance. One thing is perfectly clear, however - there is absolutely no scope for any more laxity than already exists. The Lord knows, already there are a lot many people around that deserve the noose but never end up getting it.

In conclusion, the most appropriate justice we need today in such extreme cases is, sadly, what the modern, sensitive and increasingly democratic world has left behind; the public display of punishment commensurate to the crime, including the death penalty. No closed door 'hush money' fines or out of court settlements, but a veritable exhibition of performing justice, understood and absorbed by the most illiterate; where lashing and chopping leaves a lasting impression on both the criminal and the viewers. Perhaps even the publicity seekingr cooks would grudgingly acknowledge the probability of a substantial decline in heinous crime thereafter. While hoping for a revival of that period, any punishment remains a capital idea. Of late, lawful citizens have begun to show their way of befitting instant justice by public lynching of criminals. Let's hope modern State law enforcer takes a leaf from their book soon - already the suspense is killing.