Not here. Not there. Not anywhere.

Due to a mixture of good fortune and misfortune in equal measure, I have not been able to say anything for a while here.

As a result, I have things colliding in my head like loose change. Without much further ado:

The anatomy of a soap opera:

If at all you are like me and you are going to be home on a Saturday evening (for reasons such as being broke), then you had better arm yourself with one or more of the following:

1) Alcoholic drink 2) A movie or two 3) A novel

This is because if you don’t, you will be spoilt for choice as far as offering on TV is concerned. Especially that wretched hour between 8 pm and 9. On all our premium channels, we have Mexican soaps of various shades in a contest for attention.

The formula of a soap must be the first thing on this earth that can be claimed not to get out of fashion or tired. The same plot is pulled from the shelf, dusted off, some color, scenery change and voila! smash hit. It must be an effortless money spinner.

The lead character will be a woman. This woman is very beautiful. Another character, a man, is added. His name will nine times out of ten be Alejandro. Or Juan.

This man is beauty itself. Tall, very handsome, athletic and in excellent health. He usually comes from a poor or middle class background and his means are modest, his profession noble. Sometimes, they will stick a real brain in this man. He is a surgeon extra-ordinaire. Or something along those lines. His gentleness, manners and capability for romance know no bounds.

Yet another man is added. This man (or his family), is so rich, that his fortune cannot be mentioned; It can only be hinted at. He has a darkness of soul that is second only to Satan's. He is ruthless, merciless and generally inhumane.

Enter girl number two. She comes from a rich family too. Not as rich the other guys. Her family is happy to play second fiddle.

We have the vital ingredients:

1....2.....3....Action!

The first girl, extremely beautiful and exuding the innocence of a newly sprouting flower, is hopelessly in love with Juan/Alejandro, the class A good guy. The evil guy desires her the way a starving lion regards a fat, supple antelope. The beautiful girl's family is intractably tangled with the rich guy’s family, usually either economically or by crime. This is why even though she is very "strong and moral", she cannot help and indulge the evil man, for the sake of the family.

The handsome good man is also madly in love with the beautiful girl. The rich man will on occasion have the other guy thoroughly beaten up as a discouragement. The ladies (plus male models) who watch shed hot tears, fawn and curse and wish they could pull the perpetrators from the TV screen and feed them some justice.

The family of the second girl is pushing their daughter to bag the rich man so that their situation in the world can improve.

Against this, there is a background of sleek sports cars and limousines; unbelievable palatial mansions on beach fronts; clothes designed by Gucci and other such exotic names; jewellery that produces its own light.

To cut the long story short. The good guy marries the good chic, after real anguish and suffering. The bad guy loses his money and goes to jail (or dies). The other girl finds a similar fate, for trying to assassinate the poor girl or something equally stupid.

Cut!

A slight variation of that for your entire lifetime. The producers walk to the bank grinning.

Faux Pas.

A random man. A random woman. The only thing that is not random is the meeting. It is pre-meditated. The man has talked, with a lot of difficulty, for the whole of five minutes, and finally, grasping at straws, has run out of stuff to say. The random is girl is extremely helpful to the man in distress. She keeps quiet and contributes nothing to the conversation.

Desperate, he glances around, racks his brain. Presently, a very beautiful girl strolls into the pub/restaurant. The man is about to do the first deadly mistake.

The man unwittingly directs all his attention on the beautiful lady. She is too collected. Not a hair out of place. She is moving gracefully.

He opens his mouth and commits deadly mistake #2.

M: How do you guys do it?
W:(between clenched teeth)Do what?
M:Come on I mean, look at her. She looks as though she has just descended from heaven. Not a spec of dust on her. Isn't she beautiful?
Without waiting..
M: How much time and money is spent to make her look like that?

The woman is now looking at the man with pure unadulterated hate. It suddenly kicks in. The man's next sentence dries up in the dark recesses of his throat. The next attempt at conversation (or explanation if you like), is in fits and starts.

The random chic leaves with a piercing parting shot:
Since you like her so much why don't you take her for the rest of your lousy date?
Up and she is gone.

The random man, an acquaintance, advises men:
If beautiful women start filing into a club, stare into your bottle of the KBL liquids and ask yourself this question:

What is the physics behind those bubbles in the beer? Do not unstare until:
i) The question is answered
2) The beautiful woman is out of your field of vision.

Whichever comes first.

Isn't funny?

That someone will look for a (reg-ex string here) friend and for a long time not find one. Then, by sheer luck, someone will give someone a fleeting chance. Something begins to simmer. Suddenly, other people start getting very interested. Your last fiancé comes crashing back into your life and chooses very opportune moments, like the middle of the night?

Bird Flu?

I eat Kenchic chicken with gusto. I was reading a notice which has been stuck up in all fast-foods, informing people on the avian flu. The only thing you have to worry about is adding weight. Avian Flu is a non-starter in Kenchic fried chicken. Here is why.

When you buy your chicken, you are given a paper slip that has the net cost of all you are eating. This paper slip, you hand it over to a greasy man who will not be content to merely take the paper, but will insist on smearing your hands with frying oil. The man pierces a piece of meat from a slick glass cabinet and ferries it over to a blackened vat. A dark, still liquid sits in this vat; that is until your piece of meat is popped in. The hot frying oil comes to life and gives the impression of a thousand demons rising from the sea. Your piece of meat is turned into a crusty biscuit in short order. Some of the organo-carbons in the meat turn into elements that cannot be mapped anywhere in the periodic table. The meat is handed back to you for your consumption.

I have difficulty in believing that an organism that cannot even be seen with the naked eye can survive this inferno.

Relax, death will find you in its own good time.