<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947</id><updated>2011-07-31T04:26:33.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>funny sunny life with lots of salt n pepper</title><subtitle type='html'>For all that's worth(not really) talking about..</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-1942353738265994877</id><published>2010-05-28T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T08:10:45.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ooooh Golf</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;A man was stranded on a desert island for 10 years. One day a beautiful girl swims to shore in a wetsuit....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "Hi! Am I ever happy to see you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl: "Hi! It seems like you've been here a long time. How long has it been since you've had a cigarette?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "It's been ten years!" With this information the girl unzips a slot on the arm of her wet suit and gives the man a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "Oh thank you so much!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl: "So tell me how long its been since you had a drink?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "It's been ten years" The girl unzips a little longer zipper on her wet suit and comes out with a flask of whiskey and gives the man a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "Oh... thank you so much. You are like a miracle!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl: [Starting to unzip the front of her wet suit.] "So tell me then, how long has it been since you played around?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man: "Oh, my God, don't tell me you've got a set of golf clubs in there too?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-1942353738265994877?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/1942353738265994877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2010/05/ooooh-golf.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1942353738265994877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1942353738265994877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2010/05/ooooh-golf.html' title='Ooooh Golf'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-1403525080232479060</id><published>2009-11-20T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T18:48:27.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self proclaimed demystifying tips on women?y can't v ask Mel Gibson</title><content type='html'>Can't we just be friends?......There is no way in hell I am going to let any part of your body touch any part of mine again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need some space......without you in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I look fat in this dress?......We haven't had a fight in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, pizza's fine......Cheap bastard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want a boyfriend right now......I just don't want YOU as a boyfriend right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know; what do you want to do?......I can't believe that you have nothing planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come here......My puppy does this too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like you, but......I don't like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never listen......You never listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're moving too quickly......I am not going to sleep with you until I find out if the guy at the gym has a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be ready in a minute......I AM ready, but I am going to make you wait because I know you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, no, I will pay for myself......I am just being nice; there is no way I am going Dutch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh YES!!! Right there......Well, near there; I just want to get this over with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just going out with the girls......We are gonna get smashed and make fun of you and your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no one else......I am doing your brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Size doesn't matter......unless I want an orgasm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-1403525080232479060?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/1403525080232479060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/11/self-proclaimed-demystifying-tips-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1403525080232479060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1403525080232479060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/11/self-proclaimed-demystifying-tips-on.html' title='Self proclaimed demystifying tips on women?y can&apos;t v ask Mel Gibson'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-8609413982194816852</id><published>2009-11-20T18:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T18:45:58.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Straight to gay for not having a dog according to Deductive Reasoning</title><content type='html'>Neighbor 1: "Hi, there, new neighbor, it sure is a mighty nice day to be moving."&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "Yes, it is and people around here seem extremely friendly."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "So what is it you do for a living?"&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "I am a professor at the University, I teach deductive reasoning."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Deductive reasoning, what is that?"&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "Let me give you and example. I see you have a dog house out back. By that I deduce that you have a dog."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "That is right."&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "The fact that you have a dog, leads me to deduce that you have a family."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Right again."&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "Since you have a family I deduce that you have a wife."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Correct."&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "And since you have a wife, I can deduce that you are heterosexual."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Yup"&lt;br /&gt;New Neighbor: "That is deductive reasoning."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Cool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Later that same day:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Hey, I was talking to that new guy who moved in next door."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 2: "Is he a nice guy?"&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Yes, and he has an interesting job."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 2: "Oh, yeah what does he do?"&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "He is a professor of deductive reasoning at the University."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 2: "Deductive reasoning, what is that?"&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Let me give you an example. Do you have a dog house?"&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 2: "No."&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor 1: "Fag."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-8609413982194816852?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/8609413982194816852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/11/straight-to-gay-for-not-having-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8609413982194816852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8609413982194816852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/11/straight-to-gay-for-not-having-dog.html' title='Straight to gay for not having a dog according to Deductive Reasoning'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-7835570596996160938</id><published>2009-10-30T03:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T03:33:32.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for the falling star</title><content type='html'>A woman takes her 16-year-old daughter to the doctor. The doctor says, "Okay, Mrs. Jones, what's the problem?"&lt;br /&gt;The mother says, "It's my daughter. She keeps getting these cravings, she's putting on weight, and is sick most mornings."&lt;br /&gt;The doctor gives Darla a good examination, then turns to the mother and says, "Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but your Darla is pregnant -- about 4 months, would be my guess."&lt;br /&gt;The mother says, "Pregnant?! She can't be, she has never ever been left alone with a man! Have you,?"&lt;br /&gt;Daughter says, "No mother! I've never even kissed a man!"&lt;br /&gt;The doctor walked over to the window and just stares out it. About five minutes pass and finally the mother says, "Is there something wrong out there doctor?"&lt;br /&gt;The doctor replies, "No, not really, it's just that the last time anything like this happened, a star appeared in the east and three wise men came over the hill. I'll be damned if I'm going to miss it this time!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-7835570596996160938?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/7835570596996160938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/10/waiting-for-falling-star.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7835570596996160938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7835570596996160938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/10/waiting-for-falling-star.html' title='Waiting for the falling star'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-9090718056939053519</id><published>2009-09-07T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T04:36:14.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&amp; weirdly urban reasons y god would create eve &amp; from a feminist point of view i think</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;10. God was worried that Adam would frequently become lost in the garden because he would not ask for directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. God knew that one day Adam would require someone to locate and hand him the remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. God knew Adam would never go out and buy himself a new fig leaf when his wore out and would therefore need Eve to buy one for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. God knew Adam would never be able to make a doctor's, dentist, or haircut appointment for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. God knew Adam would never remember which night to put the garbage on the curb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. God knew if the world was to be populated, men would never be able to handle the pain and discomfort of childbearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. As the Keeper of the Garden, Adam would never remember where he left his tools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Apparently, Adam needed someone to blame his troubles on when God caught him hiding in the garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. As the Bible says, It is not good for man to be alone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the number 1 reason why God created Eve…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When God finished the creation of Adam, He stepped back, scratched his head, and said, "I can do better than that!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-9090718056939053519?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/9090718056939053519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/09/weirdly-urban-reasons-y-god-would.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9090718056939053519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9090718056939053519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/09/weirdly-urban-reasons-y-god-would.html' title='&amp; weirdly urban reasons y god would create eve &amp; from a feminist point of view i think'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-8626739634833181622</id><published>2009-07-20T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T05:19:17.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dad suggests</title><content type='html'>Hey kids, why don't you try a new social networking tool?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's called, "&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;outside&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-8626739634833181622?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/8626739634833181622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/07/dad-suggests.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8626739634833181622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8626739634833181622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/07/dad-suggests.html' title='dad suggests'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-3901696444470882989</id><published>2009-06-16T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T06:01:23.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prison..Office..Office..Prison</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You spend the majority of your time in an 8x10 cell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You spend most of your time in a 6x8 cubicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You get three meals a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You get a break for 1 meal and you have to pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You get time off for good behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You get rewarded for good behavior with more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; A guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You must carry around a security card and unlock and open all the doors yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You can watch TV and play games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You get fired for watching TV and playing games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You get your own toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You have to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; They allow your family and friends to visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You cannot even speak to your family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; All expenses are paid by taxpayers with no work required.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You get to pay all the expenses to go to work and then they deduct taxes from you salary to pay for prisoners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You spend most of your life looking through bars from inside wanting to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; There are wardens who are often sadistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; They are called supervisors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In prison:&lt;/strong&gt; You have unlimited time to read e-mail jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At work:&lt;/strong&gt; You get fired if you get caught.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-3901696444470882989?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/3901696444470882989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/06/prisonofficeofficeprison.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/3901696444470882989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/3901696444470882989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/06/prisonofficeofficeprison.html' title='Prison..Office..Office..Prison'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-5801272683232136622</id><published>2009-06-14T00:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T00:29:48.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bisiness SIGN?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Instead of Astrological Signs, how about these .. What's Your Business Sign?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;MARKETING&lt;/strong&gt; You are ambitious yet stupid. You chose a marketing degree to avoid having to study in college, concentrating instead on drinking and socializing which is pretty much what your job responsibilities are now. Least compatible with Sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;SALES&lt;/strong&gt; Laziest of all signs, often referred to as "marketing without a degree." You are also self-centered and paranoid. Unless someone calls you and begs you to take their money, you like to avoid contact with customers so you can "concentrate on the big picture." You seek admiration for your golf game throughout your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;TECHNOLOGY&lt;/strong&gt; Unable to control anything in your personal life, you are instead content to completely control everything that happens at your workplace. Often even YOU don't understand what you are saying but who the hell can tell. It is written that Geeks shall inherit the Earth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. ENGINEERING&lt;/strong&gt; One of only two signs that actually studied in school. It is said that engineers place ninety percent of all Personal Ads. You can be happy with yourself; your office is full of all the latest "ergodynamic" gadgets. However, we all know what is really causing your "carpal tunnel syndrome."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. ACCOUNTING&lt;/strong&gt; The only other sign that studied in school. You are mostly immune from office politics. You are the most feared person in the organization; combined with your extreme organizational traits, the majority of rumors concerning you say that you are completely insane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. HUMAN RESOURCES&lt;/strong&gt; Ironically, given your access to confidential information, you tend to be the biggest gossip within the organization. Possibly the only other person that does less work than marketing, you are unable to return any calls today because you have to get a haircut, have lunch AND then mail a letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. MANAGEMENT/MIDDLE MANAGEMENT&lt;/strong&gt; Catty, cutthroat, yet completely spineless, you are destined to remain at your current job for the rest of your life. Unable to make a single decision you tend to measure your worth by the number of meetings you can schedule for yourself. Best suited to marry other "Middle Managers" as everyone in your social circle is a "Middle Manager."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. SENIOR MANAGEMENT&lt;/strong&gt; (See above - Same sign, different title) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. CUSTOMER SERVICE&lt;/strong&gt; Bright, cheery, positive, you are a fifty-cent cab ride from taking your own life. As children very few of you asked your parents for a little cubicle for your room and a headset so you could pretend to play "Customer Service." Continually passed over for promotions, your best bet is to sleep with your manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. CONSULTANT&lt;/strong&gt; Lacking any specific knowledge, you use acronyms to avoid revealing your utter lack of experience. You have convinced yourself that your "skills" are in demand and that you could get a higher paying job with any other organization in a heartbeat. You will spend an eternity contemplating these career opportunities without ever taking direct action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11. RECRUITER&lt;/strong&gt;, "HEADHUNTER" As a "person" that profits from the success of others, most people who actually work for a living disdain you. Paid on commission and susceptible to alcoholism, your ulcers and frequent heart attacks correspond directly with fluctuations in the stock market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12. PARTNER, PRESIDENT, CEO&lt;/strong&gt; You are brilliant or lucky. Your inability to figure out complex systems such as the fax machine suggest the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. GOVERNMENT WORKER&lt;/strong&gt; Paid to take days off. Government workers are genius inventors, like the invention of new Holidays. They usually suffer from deep depression or anxiety and usually commit serious crimes while on the job...Thus the term "GO POSTAL".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-5801272683232136622?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/5801272683232136622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/06/bisiness-sign.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/5801272683232136622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/5801272683232136622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/06/bisiness-sign.html' title='Bisiness SIGN?!'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-8455981068019349301</id><published>2009-05-03T02:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T02:52:31.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Constitution of India</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;WE,THE PEOPLE OF INDIA,having solemnly to resolved to constitute Indis into a [SOVERIGH SOCIALISTIC SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC] and to secure all its citizens:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;JUSTICE,social,econimic and political;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;LIBERTY of thought,expression,belief,faith and worship;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;EQUALITY of status and of opportunity and o promote among them all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;FRATERNITY assuring the dignity of the individual and the [unity and integrity of the Nation]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;IN OUR CONSTITUTION ASSEMBLY this twenty sixth day of November 1949,do HEREBY ADOPT,ENACT AND GIVE TO OURSELVES THIS CONSTITUTION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-8455981068019349301?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/8455981068019349301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/05/constitution-of-india.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8455981068019349301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/8455981068019349301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/05/constitution-of-india.html' title='The Constitution of India'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-7288943198592962523</id><published>2009-05-02T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T10:01:07.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taxi driver</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped centimetres from a shop window. For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said, "Look mate, don't ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passenger apologized and said, "I didn't realize that a little tap would scare you so much." The driver replied, "Sorry, it's not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver - I've been driving a funeral van for the last 25 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-7288943198592962523?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/7288943198592962523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/05/taxi-driver.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7288943198592962523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7288943198592962523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/05/taxi-driver.html' title='Taxi driver'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-359299846741532600</id><published>2009-04-28T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T10:36:39.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh God,the Pope</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;A shy gentleman was preparing to board a plane when he heard that the Pope was on the same flight. “This is exciting,” thought the gentleman. “I’ve always been a big fan of the Pope. Perhaps I’ll be able to see him in person.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine his surprise when the Pope sat down in the seat next to him for the flight. Still, the gentleman was too shy to speak to the Pontiff. Shortly after take-off, the Pope began a crossword puzzle. “This is fantastic,” thought the gentleman. “I’m really good at crosswords. Perhaps, if the Pope gets stuck, he’ll ask me for assistance.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost immediately, the Pope turned to the gentleman and said, “Excuse me, but do you know a four letter word referring to a woman that ends with the letters ‘u-n-t?’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one word leapt to mind…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My goodness,” thought the gentleman, “I can’t tell the Pope that. There must be another word.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman thought for quite a while, then it hit him. Turning to the pope, the gentleman said, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘aunt’.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course,” said the Pope. “Do you have an eraser?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-359299846741532600?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/359299846741532600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-godthe-pope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/359299846741532600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/359299846741532600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-godthe-pope.html' title='oh God,the Pope'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-9052980712453071349</id><published>2009-04-20T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T09:01:00.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alzheimer or AIDS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mr. Smith goes to the doctor’s office to collect his wife’s test results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Receptionist: “I’m sorry, sir, but there has been a bit of a mix-up and we have a problem. When we sent the samples from your wife to the lab, the samples from another Mrs. Smith were sent as well, and we are now uncertain which one is your wife’s. Frankly, that’s either bad or terrible.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Smith: “What do you mean?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Receptionist: “Well, one Mrs. Smith has tested positive for Alzheimer disease and the other for AIDS. We can’t tell which is your wife.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Smith: “That’s terrible! Can we take the test over?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Receptionist: “Normally, yes. But you belong to an HMO, and they won’t pay for these expensive tests more than once.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Smith: “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Receptionist: “The doctor recommends that you drop your wife off in the middle of town. If she finds her way home, don’t sleep with her.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-9052980712453071349?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/9052980712453071349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/alzheimer-or-aids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9052980712453071349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9052980712453071349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/alzheimer-or-aids.html' title='Alzheimer or AIDS'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-3870557873323458075</id><published>2009-04-19T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T06:22:05.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>meaningful or?!</title><content type='html'>A farmer walked into an attorney’s office wanting to file for a divorce. The attorney asked, “May I help you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, “Yeah. I want to get one of those dee-vorces.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney asked, “Well, do you have any grounds?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer replied, “Yeah. I got about 140 acres.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney said, “No, you don’t understand. Do you have a case?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, “No, I don’t have a Case, but I have a John Deere.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney said, “No you don’t understand, I mean do you have a grudge?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, “Yeah, I got a grudge. That’s where I park my John Deere.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attorney said, “No, sir, I mean do you have a suit?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, “Yessir, I got a suit. I wear it to church on Sundays.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exasperated attorney said, “Well, sir, does your wife beat you up or anything?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer said, “No, sir, we both get up about 4:30.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the attorney asked, “Okay, let me put it this way. WHY DO YOU WANT A DIVORCE?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the farmer replied, “Well, I can never have a meaningful conversation with her!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-3870557873323458075?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/3870557873323458075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/meaningful-or.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/3870557873323458075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/3870557873323458075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/meaningful-or.html' title='meaningful or?!'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-775047351988166885</id><published>2009-04-07T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T10:20:09.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gala in Hell !!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;One day a guy dies and winds up in hell. As he is wallowing in despair, he has his first meeting with the devil…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: Why so glum?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Why do you think? I’m in hell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: Hell’s not so bad. We actually have a lot of fun down here. You a drinking man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Sure, I love to drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: Well you’re gonna love Mondays then. On Mondays, all we do is drink. Whiskey, tequila, beer, soft drinks, you name it! We drink till we throw up, and then we drink some more. And you don’t have to worry about hangovers because you’re dead anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Gee, that sounds great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: You a smoker?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: You better believe it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: All right! You’re gonna love Tuesdays. We get the finest cigars from all over the world and smoke our lungs out. If you get cancer—no biggie, you’re already dead, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Wow… that’s awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: I bet you like to gamble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Why, yes. As a matter of fact, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: Cause Wednesdays you can gamble all you want. Craps, blackjack, roulette, poker, slots, and Kino. If you go bankrupt, you’re dead anyway. What about drugs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Are you kidding? Love drugs! You don’t mean…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: That’s right! Thursday is drug day. Help yourself to a great big bowl of crack…or smack. Smoke a doobie the size of a submarine. You can do all the drugs you want, you’re dead, who cares?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: WOW! I never realized Hell was such a cool place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: You gay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: No…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan: Ooooh…You’re gonna HATE Fridays.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-775047351988166885?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/775047351988166885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/gala-in-hell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/775047351988166885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/775047351988166885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/04/gala-in-hell.html' title='Gala in Hell !!!'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-2327524278586747592</id><published>2009-03-28T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T23:43:26.148-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you want?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;A married couple is driving down the interstate at 55 mph with the husband behind the wheel. His wife looks over at him and says, “Honey, I know we’ve been married for 15 years, but, I want a divorce.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband says nothing but slowly increases speed to 60 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then says, “I don’t want you to try to talk me out of it, because I’ve been having an affair with your best friend, and he’s a better lover than you.” Again the husband stays quiet and just speeds up as he clenches his hands on the wheels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, “I want the house.” Again the husband speeds up, and now is doing 70 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, “I want the kids too.” The husband just keeps driving faster, and faster, until he’s up to 80 mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She says, “I want the car, the checking account, and all the credit cards too.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband slowly starts to veer toward a bridge overpass piling, as she says, “Is there anything you want?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband says, “No, I’ve got everything I need right here.“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asks, “What’s that?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replies just before they hit the wall at 90 mph, “I’ve got the airbag.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-2327524278586747592?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/2327524278586747592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-do-you-want.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2327524278586747592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2327524278586747592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-do-you-want.html' title='What do you want?!'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-9046590048215380621</id><published>2009-03-04T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T09:12:47.685-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing business the Bartender way</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A man walked into a bar one night. He went up to the bar and asked for a beer. “Certainly, sir, that’ll be one cent.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ONE CENT!” exclaimed the guy, the barman replied, “Yes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the guy glanced over at the menu, and he asked, “Could I have a nice juicy T-bone steak, loaded baked potato, salad and chocolate cake?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Certainly sir,” replied the bartender, “but all that comes to real money.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How much money?” inquired the guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Four cents,” he replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“FOUR cents!!!!” exclaimed the guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where’s the guy who owns this place?” The barman replied, “Upstairs with my wife.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy said, “What’s he doing with your wife?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bartender replied, “Same thing I’m doing down here to his business.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-9046590048215380621?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/9046590048215380621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/03/doing-business-bartender-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9046590048215380621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9046590048215380621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/03/doing-business-bartender-way.html' title='Doing business the Bartender way'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-2386307801138465650</id><published>2009-02-26T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T04:35:17.409-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bear it from Behind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;There once was a bear hunter who was having no luck in finding his quarry. All at once, he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. It was a huge grizzly bear.&lt;br /&gt;The hunter's shock was increased when the bear spoke to him. "You are hunting me, I'll bet", said the bear. "You may choose your punishment. Either I will maul you to death or fuck you up the arse!"&lt;br /&gt;The hunter didn't want to die, so he consented to give the bear the pleasure of his booty. The bear left satisfied and the hunter returned to his cabin.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the hunter decided to kill the bear for revenge. But, as luck would have it, the grizzly found him first. Once again, the hunter felt the tap on his shoulder and the bear made his request. The hunter dropped his pants, bent over, and took what the beast had to offer.&lt;br /&gt;The third day, the hunter was really irate and decided he would torture and kill that bear! Once more, though, the bear was the better hunter. When the man felt the familiar tap on his shoulder, he expected to hear the grizzly's offer of a choice again, but this time the bear just said, "You're not really into this for the hunting anymore, are you?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-2386307801138465650?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/2386307801138465650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/bear-it-from-behind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2386307801138465650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2386307801138465650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/bear-it-from-behind.html' title='Bear it from Behind'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-7512765951017671121</id><published>2009-02-26T04:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T04:34:11.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Selected</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The CIA had an opening for an assassin. After all of the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were three finalists — two men and one woman. For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;““We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances. Inside this room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. You have to kill her.” The first man said.“You can’t be serious. I could never shoot my wife,” The agent replies, “Then you’re not the right man for this job.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes. Then the agent came out with tears in his eyes. “I tried, but I can’t kill my wife.” The agent replies, “You don’t have what it takes. Take your wife and go home.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it was the woman’s turn. Only she was told to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one shot after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow and said, “You guys didn’t tell me the gun was loaded with blanks. I had to beat him to death with the chair.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-7512765951017671121?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/7512765951017671121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/youre-selected.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7512765951017671121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/7512765951017671121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/youre-selected.html' title='You&apos;re Selected'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-1220173819285583107</id><published>2009-02-20T00:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T00:47:33.992-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Thor' Will Be: Petulant, Wild, Natural Warrior, Other Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;What is director Kenneth Branagh looking for in his Thor? Coming Attractions has posted this casting call:&lt;br /&gt;Male MUST BE MID-LATE 20'S and SIX FEET OR TALLER. LEAD. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Physically powerful, very handsome, occasionally egotistical, petulant, and wild. A natural warrior with a quick charming wit who must be genuinely and severely humbled before becoming the compassionate, mature hero of our film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you know someone who fits the description, I suggest doing all you can to hide this opportunity from them. They've surely led a blessed life from being so physically powerful, very handsome, charming and witty, and you don't need to help them out any more. Why do you even hang out with this dude? As if you're going to get any girls with this egotistical, petulant, natural warrior around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-1220173819285583107?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/1220173819285583107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/thor-will-be-petulant-wild-natural.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1220173819285583107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1220173819285583107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/thor-will-be-petulant-wild-natural.html' title='&apos;Thor&apos; Will Be: Petulant, Wild, Natural Warrior, Other Things'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-6031089753969372942</id><published>2009-02-20T00:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T00:29:22.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>swatch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.swatch.com/sense/villain/evil_nature.html" style="padding:0;border:0;margin:0;" title=""&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.swatch.com/cache/png/villain_in_hi-6d152c530922664c79071883ddf6aee2-aa82ded7ca6e7c3534a62467a2746dd0-072b030ba126b2f4b2374f342be9ed44.png" style="padding:0;border:0;margin:0;" border="0" alt="Your evil" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-6031089753969372942?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/6031089753969372942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/swatch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/6031089753969372942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/6031089753969372942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/swatch.html' title='swatch'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-1980124407681857277</id><published>2009-02-19T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T07:32:04.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gates meets Reality   (no offence)</title><content type='html'>Bill Gates dies in a car accident. He finds himself in purgatory, being sized up by St. Peter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, Bill, I’m really confused on this call; I’m not sure whether to send you to Heaven or Hell. After all, you enormously helped society by putting a computer in almost every home in America, yet you also created that ghastly Windows ’95. I’m going to do something I’ve never done before in your case; I’m going to let you decide where you want to go.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill replied, “well, what’s the difference between the two?” St. Peter said, “I’m willing to let you visit both places briefly, if it will help your decision.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine, but where should I go first?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll leave that up to you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay then,” said Bill, “Let’s try Hell first.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Bill went to Hell. It was a beautiful, clean, sandy beach with clear waters and lots of bikini-clad women running around, playing in the water, laughing and frolicking about. The sun was shining; the temperature perfect. He was very pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is great!” he told St. Peter. “If this is hell, I really want to see Heaven!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine,” said St. Peter, and off they went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven was a place high in the clouds, with angels drifting about, playing harps and singing. It was nice, but not as enticing as Hell. Bill thought for a quick minute, and rendered his decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmmm. I think I’d prefer Hell,” he told St. Peter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine,” retorted St. Peter, “as you desire.” So Bill Gates went to Hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later, St. Peter decided to check on the late billionaire to see how he was doing in Hell. When he got there, he found Bill, shackled to a wall, screaming amongst hot flames in dark caves, being burned and tortured by demons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How’s everything going?” he asked Bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill responded, with his voice filled with anguish and disappointment, “this is awful! This is nothing like the Hell I visited two weeks ago! I can’t believe this is happening! What happened to that other place, with the beautiful beaches, the scantily-clad women playing in the water?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That was a screen saver,” replied St. Peter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-1980124407681857277?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/1980124407681857277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/gates-meets-reality-no-offence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1980124407681857277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/1980124407681857277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/gates-meets-reality-no-offence.html' title='Gates meets Reality   (no offence)'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-2685485096389395860</id><published>2009-02-18T10:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T10:47:33.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving Licence Application @ Rural India ??!!God help us if its true</title><content type='html'>NOTE: Please do not Soot the person at the applikason kounter. &lt;br /&gt;He will give you the licen. &lt;br /&gt;For phurthar instructions, see bottom applikason.&lt;br /&gt;1. Last name:&lt;br /&gt;(_) Yadav (_) Sinha (_) Pandey (_) Misra (_) Dot no &lt;br /&gt;(Check karet box) &lt;br /&gt;2. First name:&lt;br /&gt;(_) Ramprasad (_) Lakhan (_) Sivprasad (_) Jamnaprasad (_) Dot no&lt;br /&gt;(Check karet box)&lt;br /&gt;3. Age:&lt;br /&gt;(_) Less than phipty (_) Greater than phipty (_) Dot no &lt;br /&gt;(Check karet box) &lt;br /&gt;4. Sex: ____ M _____ P(F) _____ not sure _____not applicable&lt;br /&gt;5. Chappal Size: ____ Lepht ____ Right&lt;br /&gt;6.Occupason:&lt;br /&gt;(_) Politison (_) Doodhwala (_) Pehelwaan (_) House wife (_) Un-employed &lt;br /&gt;(Check karet box)&lt;br /&gt;7. Number of children libing in the household: ___&lt;br /&gt;8. Number that are yours: ___&lt;br /&gt;9. Mather name: ____________ _________ __&lt;br /&gt;10. Phather Name: ____________ ________ (If not no,leave blank) &lt;br /&gt;11. Ejjucason: 1 2 3 4 (Circle highest grade completed)&lt;br /&gt;12. Dental rekard:&lt;br /&gt;(_) Ellow (_) Berownish-ellow (_) Berown (_) Belack (_) Other -__________ Give egjhakt color&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Check karet box)&lt;br /&gt;13.Your thumb imparesson :&lt;br /&gt;____________ _________ _______&lt;br /&gt;(** If you are copying from another applikason pharom, please do not copy thumb impression also. Please provide your own thumb impression .)&lt;br /&gt;PELEASE DO NOT USE PHINGERS OF YOUR LEGS &lt;br /&gt;Use thumb on y our lepht hand only. If you dont have le pht hand, use your thumb on right hand. If you do not have right hand, use thumb on lepht hand. &lt;br /&gt;NOTE : IF YOU DONT HAVE BOTH HANDS, YOU CANNOT DRIVE.&lt;br /&gt;WE ARE VARY ISTRICT ABOUT THIS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-2685485096389395860?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/2685485096389395860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/driving-licence-application-rural-india.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2685485096389395860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/2685485096389395860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/driving-licence-application-rural-india.html' title='Driving Licence Application @ Rural India ??!!God help us if its true'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-9138902522297437411</id><published>2009-02-17T09:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T09:51:47.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trade Negotiations</title><content type='html'>President Clinton arrives in D.C. after a trip to his home state of Arkansas. He steps out of the plane, carrying two pigs, one under each arm. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the marine guard salutes him sharply. Clinton smiles and says, “I’d like to salute back, son, but as you can see, my hands are full.”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, sir!“ says the marine.“Mighty fine pigs, sir!”&lt;br /&gt;Clinton replies, “These aren’t just ordinary pigs, son; they’re pure Arkansas razorbacks.”&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, sir!“ says the marine. “Mighty fine razorbacks, sir!”&lt;br /&gt;Clinton says, “I got one for Hillary and one for Chelsea.“&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, sir!” the marine says again. “Good trade, sir!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-9138902522297437411?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/9138902522297437411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/trade-negotiations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9138902522297437411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/9138902522297437411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/trade-negotiations.html' title='Trade Negotiations'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-888788020662806947.post-5090426522583704744</id><published>2009-02-17T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T09:46:36.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So u Want 2 b a Doctor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZr35YqhFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Gi47stWmRu4/s1600-h/5b70612897f70db9bd58fef3e53b5_3801.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZr35YqhFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Gi47stWmRu4/s320/5b70612897f70db9bd58fef3e53b5_3801.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303824076427564306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So You Want to Be a Doctor?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;by Brian Carty, MD, MSPH&lt;br /&gt;10-27-2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;A couple of years ago I worked as an internist in a small town in Wisconsin and spent weekends in Madison, a college town, where the U. of Wisconsin is located. While drinking coffee at Starbuck’s one morning, I noticed a couple sitting next to me, and the young man, in his late teens or early twenties, was studying organic chemistry.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I made a friendly comment about organic chemistry and asked whether he had a test coming up. He answered no; he was studying for the MCAT, the Medical College Admission Test, and was applying to medical school.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I suggested that medicine is a less attractive career than it once was. His girlfriend had apparently heard this before. She gathered herself up, her face contorted by rage, stood up and slammed her notebook on the table. She said “I don’t want to hear it! Don’t even talk about it!” I apologetically mumbled that I was a physician and was only trying to be helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;She turned and stomped out into the snow-covered street. Her boyfriend sheepishly collected his things and walked out after her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;For the past several months, Medscape, the online medical education website, has been running a blog titled “So You Want to Be a Doctor?” There are hundreds of entries from practicing physicians on the subject of whether they would advise young people to pursue a career in medicine, and whether they would still become doctors if they knew what they know now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;From this series, there seems to be agreement among the physicians on several issues. First, most of the physicians find medicine a rewarding (but not necessarily financially) and enjoyable profession. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is a representative post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I do agree with many of the negative opinions expressed here, but I think about our message to younger persons who approach us asking if medicine may be a good choice for them. I’d tell them that “Medicine is a calling more than a profession” (William Osler). If the individual who is asking the question feels a calling for medicine, regardless of remuneration and demands on personal time for family and leisure, I’d say “Go for it, by all means, and there will be no greater happiness” for saving one life is like saving the entire world. I’d also advise those who don’t feel such calling or who wish to make money to stay away from medicine. And finally and above all: One should be prepared to serve people and have humility.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Second, most of the dissatisfaction in the medical profession is due to interference in the delivery of care and limitation of income by the government and by insurance companies.&lt;br /&gt;Many physicians would not enter medicine if they had it to do over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;That’s very nice, but I do not believe that any of these visionaries had working for serf-wages while Insurance company execs make millions off our collective toil, and Medicare unloads their burden on us - at our expense - in mind when they stated these platitudes. It’s hard to believe in a higher calling, when you can’t even pay the bills. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I do not believe that it is somehow against a higher principle to be able to pay your mortgage, kids’ educations and put money away sensibly for retirement rather than proving a burden on the society you served, in your waning years. I am not a Plastic Surgeon, I don’t drive a Mercedes (it’s a Subaru and its 5 years old, my other car is a 20 year old Dodge hatchback) and I did not make even six figures much less seven. No, in my last year of primary care in internal medicine I made less than $30,000. No; rather, like 70% of my colleagues, I would steer the prospective medical student in another direction.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wonder what happened to the young man I met at Starbucks. Immediately after the couple left, I felt guilty. Many physicians are ambivalent about recommending that young people apply or not apply to medical school. Many of these docs give a lengthy, nuanced description of the pros and cons of a medical career, without clearly recommending or not recommending medicine. I am usually, but not always, in this camp.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Maybe the premedical student from Starbucks is in medical school now. When I was applying to medical school, I remember how hurt and indignant I felt whenever anyone suggested that there were other desirable careers besides medicine. This is an obvious truth, but such comments were mainly meant to comfort people who weren’t accepted to medical school. However, in the 70s, it would never have occurred to anyone that medicine might not be a well paid career. I hope it occurs to people now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Still, no path in life guarantees against hardship. Pope Benedict recently said that the current financial crisis shows that money is an illusory goal. I don’t think he meant to minimize the sufferings of poverty. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;He also said that “Whoever builds his life on this reality, on material things, on success…builds (his house) on sand. Only the word of God is the foundation of all reality.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/888788020662806947-5090426522583704744?l=dbdocmed.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/feeds/5090426522583704744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-u-want-2-b-doctor.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/5090426522583704744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/888788020662806947/posts/default/5090426522583704744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbdocmed.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-u-want-2-b-doctor.html' title='So u Want 2 b a Doctor'/><author><name>balaji</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14453444676074536373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZwUlW5JgEI/AAAAAAAAAAY/aWA-GXMeP_8/S220/paint.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fC3u6RgAgXY/SZr35YqhFRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Gi47stWmRu4/s72-c/5b70612897f70db9bd58fef3e53b5_3801.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
