Working in India

I'm guessing that most of you have never owned an ass before - and no - crass conversations about owning someone's booty don't count here. Working in India, is, to my mind, like owning an ass. I haven't owned an ass either but I can imagine what it would be like with my brief stint working here. People are generally smart - like an ass would know how to survive, when to eat, when to take a shit etc. But when you need the ass to work for you (no pun intended again), well you have to really give it a good wanking (sigh - I can't control these innuendos anymore).

Even though you own the ass, the ass knows that you can't do without it. there's a sense of frustration but someone needs to do the heavy lifting. And you don't really want to get a horse, cause let's face it - horses are expensive and race horses - forget it. So that brings us back to the ass (back to the ass - nice nice).

The ass serves a few very limited functions for you - the only way to be successful it to recognize what those are and not expect the ass to, well, I don't know, say play the piano. Not recognizing limitations are going to get you to only going to give you ulcers and a shorter life expectancy or lunacy - take your pick.

Finding horses is not hard in India - if you find one and do get him to work for you and not one of the Parsis who own a race horse stable, try and pay him a mule's salary (slightly more than an ass and slightly lesser than a horse). This will hold you in good stead.

But it's very important, to try and change the culture little by little. Take an additional few minutes everyday and try and explain things to your ass. Make it understand that it doesn't have to just serve one purpose., that there's pleasure in being an ass., even though it's hairy, not pretty, it an still take some serious riding and be of assistance.

Blurb ...

Where I ask is my own little privacy
In a world filled with frivolous fallacy
Everywhere I look, there're faces galore
Rich, poor, happy and torn
Why are we driven by so very little
A few gold coins make our values brittle
Our souls are decaying with cold contempt
Of human life, property, nothing's exempt
Were we always this greedy, green-eyed person
Raping, severing, looting, committing arson
This world is no longer the place it once was
Humans - you and I, are the primary cause
What's it going to take to bring back sanity
Or is the point of no return, not within vicinity
Hope - the quintessential human flaw
Keeps us going, fighting till the last straw
Morose I may sound but that's cause I'm hurting
Don't know why but healing by writing ...