|By Chris Rego, UAE [ Published Date: July 24, 2008 ]|
Note: For a better read, feel and comprehension of this article, I suggest the readers to take a brief glance through 'From Uncle Sam with Love'.
The son has truly dug in his heels in the grand ole US of A and his earnest attempts to Americanize himself in a jiffy apparently seem to be paying rich dividends! So here goes…..
Hey dearest momma,
See momma, how I have changed my form of address as per your suggestion (actually it sounded more of a threat) in your reply to my last rag.
Howdy do, momma? I hope those knees don't bother you too much and you're taking something for your flatulence too. Me - I'm fit as a fiddle - that is, when I'm not as tight as a drum! The days are rushing by and I'm swamped with work. Which reminds me, I'm not getting any younger, momma! I need to get settled down pronto but more on that later on, coz I think I almost did although I'm not too sure! Anyway, I just got back from a smashing trip from Las Vegas and thought of penning down a few thoughts from whatever little I remember, before those wonderful memories are lost forever.
Where was I the last time momma, before Fido darling wet her diapers and interrupted my track of thought? Oh yes, I was filling you in on the basic mechanics, the ethos and the vibrancy of my new adopted land – the grand ole US of A. So let me not waste any more time, momma, coz time is money and money is time – especially for yours truly in this Land of Plenty! Darned fiddlesticks, that rhymes, momma!
Well, the latest first – the Presidential Elections. We have age, wisdom and liver-spots versus youth and color battling it out tooth and nail to be hailed as the Master of the Universe. For now, my only concern is that at least this time they will have learnt to count the votes properly! Coz momma, we simply can't afford a fiasco like the previous election. Even the Afghans and Iraqis sniggered in their jocks under their dishdashas for that one! But, trust Unc Sam never forgot!
Forget the Weapons of Mass Destruction cited by those Texan politicos to convince the world. That was mere hogwash, momma! I know better and so methinks those giggles were the numero uno reason as to why we blitzed them! Nobody can poke fun at us and hope to get away with it. The rumor mills have it that the CIA snoops even listened to the Iranians laugh at us. No wonder Bush has them in the crosshairs and has labeled them as the latest baddies in the Middle East! I know momma, at times facts can be stranger than fiction! But that's the truth and nothing but the whole damned truth!
If the top economist out here is to be believed, the two wars have cost us a whopping three trillion USD, momma, and the tab is still running! Now why on earth did we start such insanely expensive wars in Afghanistan and Iraq? Sure they laughed at us coz we couldn't count votes and in retribution, we have gotten so even with them that we've begun to look odd! But a deeper analysis will reveal that Superman Bush has immovably staunch faith in himself and his half-cocked perceptions. And as they say – faith can move mountains! For Superman Bush however, whenever his faith can't move mountains, he settles for the next best option - he makes mountains out of molehills! Then he moves them - with impunity and cocks a snook at everybody! That's exactly what's happened to Afghanistan and Iraq.
Momma, recently I read someplace that the 'three whites' are on the way out. For a moment I was appalled! I mean, momma, imagine a civilized world without George Bush, Dick Cheney and Bill Gates? But then, once my 0 watt bulb flickered and kicked in, I realized that they were talking about white bread, refined sugar and salt. Now those three are OK momma, coz I wouldn't even to deign to touch them with a bargepole! American English! Harrumph! What a funny language it can be - but nothing there to worry momma coz I'm learning and learning it in a big way too!
The truth apart, life out here can awfully lonesome at times, momma! Writing high-tech code is exacting work and it does take a lot of skill, time and patience to get those zeroes and ones to jell and do some work done for you. But being a big zero myself, I must confess that I manage that part with consummate ease and dexterity! All I see are zeroes and zeroes everywhere, momma! I juggle them at work and count them adding on by the hour in my bank balance! God bless whoever invented the zero, momma! All because of that one lousy zero, I've finally become a hero!
Oops, I guess I veered from the topic since I was telling you about how lonely it can get here. You see, momma, there are times when I yearn for some human touch, fun and sun.
So the other weekend I decided that I needed an impromptu break and thought of driving down to Las Vegas for some sun and fun. There I was heading down the elevator with Bozo (my West Indian Chauffeur) and Fido, when we bumped into Mr. Papadopoulos and his better halves - half a dozen well-endowed blondes. When he heard where I was headed, all of them practically invited themselves along for the ride. Thank God that I have this huge stretch limo that I'd told you about in my last letter. Divine providence must have indeed decreed it for exigencies such as these! Anyway, I was only too glad coz I desperately needed some company and loads of human touch too!
Well, I didn't really care much for the former but of the latter, I got plenty! It's kinda hazy momma, but let me tell you whatever little I remember. Here goes…..
We drove and drove cruising along those seemingly endless highways. The scenery was breathtakingly awesome, momma. The weather was great. Our mood was upbeat especially since Mr. Papadopoulos had enough stash on him to stone half of China! And by Jove, was he handing it out like Santa on Xmas eve! We stopped en-route only to pick up six-packs and tinkle-breaks. Bozo played some awesomely romantic songs on my dashboard CD player cum dishwasher! The girls (Suzy, Karen, Becky, Callie, Vicky and Debbie) got awfully romantic and steamy and showered their collective attention on us (Bozo excluded, coz he had to drive you see!) I was on cloud nine. Life couldn't get any better! Finally (which actually seemed like a mere half an hour) we touched Las Vegas. We drank some, smoked some more, snorted a bit and gambled like pros. For everything Mr. Papadopoulos paid up by swiping his Platinum American Express. Why momma, at some point of time he even swiped it across Fido's posterior orifice!
And then things got even hazier. We bumped into this biker who claimed to be a freelance preacher cum pastor whenever he wasn't biking. We started talking. And then I recall seeing some greasy well-worn Bible being flipped open and a gravelly –
"Hey dude, do you take this seductive buxom blonde babe… so and so…. as your wife…through all the highs, lows and hangovers…. until divorce, boredom or the itch does you apart?"
I think Mr. Papadopoulos must have mumbled the "I do" coz momma; I was as mute as a statue. Everything went absolutely blank after that! The journey back was a blur and the weird part is that when I reached NY back; I found that I was sporting a wedding band! Now, even weirder is the fact that I can't recall who put it on me! But I'm positive that it could be only one of Mr. Papadopoulos' blondes, coz I didn't stray a micron beyond their lush and ample pastures.
Anyway, since I'm just back, I'll try and get my thoughts straightened out after some detoxifying aromatherapy and green tea. That should help me recall who among Suzy, Karen, Becky, Callie, Vicky or Debbie it was! They all look the same, Momma, – like Pamela Anderson! To make matters worse, they all felt the same and all of them call me "Hey darling/love/honey/honeybunch/sugar etc! And the weed didn't help much to differentiate matters too. (Psst… My pet theory is that with a southbound economy, I guess the Columbians spiked it with Grade-A Guano to maximize their ill-gotten profits!) No wonder that I can't piece back things together coz I still feel like guano myself! But those are two separate issues altogether!
Now back to the million $ question – who belled your darling kitty-cat (me momma, who else?) and that too with a wedding band? I'm still drawing a blank even after a gallon of green tea while my apartment smells like a Chinese bordello after the aromatherapy! I'm genuinely sorry for my momentary lapse of reason, momma! But then remember, momma, how often you used to quote some great schmuck say – "To err is human but to forgive is divine". So please find it in the bottomless pit of your infinitely good heart to forgive me, momma! And, please do continue to remember me in your prayers just in case the Devil forgets to take care of his own!
There! Now that I've dispensed with the formalities, think positive momma and count your blessings - just as you'd taught me. Because, at the end of my rainbow lies your pot of gold - your 220% American daughter-in-law – tall, blonde, blue-green eyed, Amazonian, well endowed and the works! Minor technicalities apart, such as who exactly it is, you'd be only too happy to have any of them momma! Just imagine how the people back home would ogle at her - immaterial of who it is! The local studs would drool and the neighboring girls would go green with envy. Oh, forget about the masters' degrees or the MBA's, momma, coz none of them are exactly Einstein material! Besides, with Windows Vista, any fool can type and you could rest assured about your regular supply of letters!
On the personal front, things look even brighter for you, momma! See, you make a small donation in Dollars and I figure out that the local parish priest would definitely make a special mention of you'll in his Sunday sermon! I'll bet my star-spangled designer jocks that praises to high heavens for your hard work, grit and dedication would follow! C'mon momma, if not yours, at least your only son's American Dream has come true! You would be the talk of the town and the subject of many a toast. Who knows – they might even felicitate you in the Town Hall and call you'll to be the Chief guests for some nondescript gathering! And if at all I manage to substitute her contraceptive pills with a placebo and sneak a salvo through the slip cordon, it'll be infinitely awesome! Imagine momma, your own grandchildren - ghostly white with blonde hair and green eyes! All in all, it's an awesome achievement for your pitch-black near-retarded son. Right, Momma?
I know momma, you're thinking what a great help she'd be in your work whenever you come out here. But then, all that she and all of them do are only workouts momma. So please don't be surprised if you're expected to chip in with some post-workout services such as a massage, breakfast in bed and suchlike! Well, I know momma, your arthritic knees must be cringing at the thought of such a daunting prospect! But then again, momma, let us recall our favorite hymn back home, that we used to belt out come sundown, the one that even our Hindu and Muslim brethren knew by heart– "One day at a time, sweet Jesus…..That's all that I'm asking from You….. Tra la la." That's become my theme song of late, momma, and I take my days one day at a time! So too should you if at all you land here one of these days after the long winter is over.
And despite my theme song and your prayers, if at all things don't work out for me; I guess I'll have to make yet another trip to Las Vegas. I just hope that I'll run into that ragtag biker cum preacher who married us off (or even one from his motley fold would suffice) and get a quickie divorce. However, since divorces can be messy I'm hoping that she will scoot after that blue-eyed blond Pizza delivery hunk who's been giving her more than an eyeful! Oh, Momma! That would be a huge relief and I could save on big time alimony instead of being sued for even my last pair of my star spangled briefs!
And so I sing - "Give me the strength to do everything that I have to do…..tra la la la laaaaa" And I know the Good Lord will understand me. So help me God!
……..D I N G D O N G………
Oops momma, I guess she's back after a spin with Mr. Papadopoulos. Even I can't wait to see whom I've gotten married to! So, I'll write to you later, momma! And for the time-being, please try and stop sending me tons of those glossy Polaroid's of the giggly, pimply buck-toothed local beauties from back home.
And once again - your knees - do take care of them too! Ciao momma!