BreakPoint Blog

Why Worldview Matters, Installment 27: Soft Drinks

Cow I just so didn't need to read about the idea that some Hindu nationalists came up with to combat Coke and Pepsi. The purpose, evidently, is "to cleanse India of foreign influence and to promote  . . . Hinduness."

Like Chuck says, "Worldview matters."

Read it here, if you dare.

I really ought to stop skimming the Drudge Report.

(Image courtesy of Food Safety Central)


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(Psst. ReeQuod. Nevel say 'nevel'). Ow! No ma'am. I meant….(JT! Help me out!) I meant, uh, 'Neville Chambelrain'). Ow! Write WHAT 500 times? ‘I will not be impertinent?’ But – but. . . . Ow! I will not be impertinent. I will not be impertinent. I will not be impertinent. I will not be impeltinent. Ow!
That's the spirit. :-)
A lurel!! Hey Lorrey, she's got a lur- *OW!!* ...Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am, I don't want to go sit in Principal DtS's office - but I've heard he's a really nice man because he's Swedi- Yes, ma'am. Can I use copy/paste in my word processor to write it 1,000 times? Yes, ma'am, handwritten. Yes, that's my drawing of a cow, ma'am, and yes, that's a Coke bottle, and yes... Sorry, Miss Dalfonzo; no, never again, ma'am.
If you two can't behave, I'm going to have to move you to the front of the classroom, where I can keep my eye on you. I still have my ruler, you know.
Rolley wrote: "(But since all I have is my sisters, the jury is still out on my specific mode of exit)." Or maybe there's no exit, Sartre of. So indeed this dialogue could continue until we see diamonds and crowns. Or some detractor shorts out our keyboards, and we shockingly dialectical. But since we have each other, as iron sharpens iron, we have no risk of getting puffed up with knowledge falsely so called, and needing Dr. Steve to help us lest we diagnosis. Or worse, to get caught like fish in Dianetics. I'm thinking of moving up to Canada, near SBK, leaving my Fahrenheit thermometer here in the USA so I can diametrically. But I worry about my political affiliation, leaving the Republicans to tragically diadem. This could indeed go on forever, provided Gina will tolerate us using The Point as our personal diary. (I may end up in Hong Kong, where if I stay to my demise I could indeed... never mind.) But speaking of our Fearless Editor, she might decide that this problem could be solved by taking us to the vet to get us "tutored". (She seems to think it would solve this need we have, to mark every post.) So I'll stop; I've no desire to become a flabby, tame male housecat like those you mentioned at the beginning of this subthread, Rolley. I'd rather diatom.
You know, this could go on forever. And maybe it should. Dialogue is a good thing. (So is Dial Soap, as Gina, frequent user of same on those of us who persist in superfluity of naughtiness, can attest). But I diagress with my impertinent diatribe. LeeQuod, if I had my druthers, I’d dialaffing. (But since all I have is my sisters, the jury is still out on my specific mode of exit). This much is certain, however – so long as Benjamin keeps a low profile I won’t diadem Rol-Adys! (And that’s a good thing as they are said to cause diarrhea. What a way to go). And although a case may be made from this thread that I might diurnal, I’d much prefer getting hit in the back of the head by a meteor from the 7th planet. Still, the odds favor a different scenario in which you, Lee Quad (sic per Sebastian) play a significant role in my demise. Yes, you, my good friend. For as the goofy banter continues the probability increases exponentially that I will diatonic, a la Proverbs 17:22: “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine”. I’m out to prove the squirt wrong who said “you can’t get too much of a good thing”. He obviously never heard of The Point where chums can chew the manna on their way to the Celestial City. Well, later. Gotta go get my Diahatsu out of the garage so I can take the family to see UTI and the Blowfish perform their hit single “Drowning” (from the Album “Cracked Rear View”) before riot police evacuate the concert hall. I can already hear the unmistakable sound of the sirens: “wee-oo wee-oo wee-oo!”. Uh-oh. Just as I feared. Here comes Gina, totin’ soap.
Rolley wrote: "Sir, for so grievous a wound I feel I must now declare my last request before it is too late." When I fully considered this level of concern for the opinions and expressions of l'il ol' me, I was truly stunned - so stunned that my jaw hit the floor. Being a glass jaw it shattered, of course, and went tinkle, tinkle, tinkle... And lest anyone see my contest with Rolley - this effort to create the worst pun in a sequence, odd that "striving to be worst" may be - and gather the wrong impression, let me state unequivocally that the depths of my fraternal affection for him have no bounds. I would not want to be thought of as being in the least bit RH-negative.
Well, everybody, I'm no physician, but from Rolley's prior output of puns I'd assume we could expect a steady stream from him. And it's obvious we need to threaten physical violence to get it to stop; could you pass a stone? Or else Gina will need to say, loudly and quickly, "You're in deep trouble! You can't make watery puns and pass watered-down jokes here at The Point!!" At least, that's my thought. What's your analysis? (Aside to Rolley: you diapering, I'll diacritical. But if we don't stop, I'll bet they'll come after both of us, and we won't dialate.)
What manner of spectacle is this? LeeQuod’s mercy in suspense? Contingent upon more than my true humility? How can it be? I am smitten to the marrow and think that I shall die. Sir, for so grievous a wound I feel I must now declare my last request before it is too late. But be forewarned that, in repayment for so heartless a deed, I intend in the very act of uttering this last request, to inflict severe regret upon you by means of the most heinous and unendurable pun imaginable. (Translation and an aside to Gina: this is LeeQuod’s fault). [Melodramatic drumroll, please. Thank you.] My last request, all I had ever hoped for: I had hoped, sir, that like a contented cat, I would find myself at the end of my life wholly at peace -- and thus, diapering.
Rolley wrote: "I trust I may be excused that failure." Depends.
LeeQuod, I trust I may be excused that failure. I've been multitasking so much today, I'm afraid I just haven't been minding my P's and Q's here too well. Alas, I'm afraid the old mind is getting to be a leaky bucket. With solemn resolve I promise I'll make it my Number One priority to rectify things as much as possible. But in the event I fail again so egregiously, I'll accept the unavoidable conclusion that I'm all wet. --- (Note to Mom - Mom, your years of hard work and sacrifice to make something of me have finally paid off. The folks at The Point are unanimous that I've finally groan up).
Yeah, Rolley - normally at this kind of thing you're a whiz.
GROAN. :-)
Can't speak for others, but I was a wee bit slow.
How did we not think of this one??
By definition I cannot tell if there is something subliminal about useing the word eliminate five times as if it were it would be hidden in my subconscious. However doing so was a writing flaw and would have lost me one or two grade points.
Reminds me of my wife's comment on horses and the taste of beer, which helped me to give up my newlywed habit of "Foster's Fridays". (She also said something about the water used to wash sweat socks. Skol.) Gotta wonder how India's Muslim population will react. But Dave, I'm delighted to see you posting again so quickly. On the other hand, your note-to-self about avoiding Drudgery (and other Internet news of the weird, too) is sound advice.
Actually, Rolley, what's it with me and Coke? My first post ever on "the Point was about Russians saying "Nyet" to Coke. When it comes to protesting Coke or Pepsi, I prefer the Russians' approach.
Jason, The only reason I ask is because, well, in your first paragraph, you talk about "different cultures piled on top of each other...." and "purging India of foreign influence..." But there are more reasons than this that I'm not a Hindu.
I, for one, am looking forward to ice-cold dys*pepsi*a.
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