<?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-13923775</id><updated>2011-12-15T08:22:59.734+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My Daily Mailbox</title><subtitle type='html'>All the interesting items which pours into my Mailbox daily.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-113102440912105590</id><published>2005-11-03T18:51:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-11-03T18:56:49.123+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Images of havoc caused by rains on Hosur Road in Bangalore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/image001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/hosur_road.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/hosur_road.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-113102440912105590?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/113102440912105590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=113102440912105590' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/113102440912105590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/113102440912105590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/11/images-of-havoc-caused-by-rains-on.html' title='Images of havoc caused by rains on Hosur Road in Bangalore'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-113101505733682465</id><published>2005-11-03T16:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-11-03T16:20:57.353+05:30</updated><title type='text'>marriages are made in heaven</title><content type='html'>If marriages are made in heaven , then what are made in Hell? Ans : the days after marriage&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;During Marriage ceremony why is the bridegroom made to sit on the horse ? He is given his last chance to run away.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband leaned over, made a wish and threw in a penny. The wife decided to make a wish,too. But she leaned over too much, fell into the well, and drowned. The husband was stunned for a while but then smiled "It really works!"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;LOVE is like a CIGAR It starts with a fire..... continues with smoke.....and ends in ashes... But dont worry - we are chain smokers&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;ur smile can be compared to a flower ur voice can be compared to a cuckoo ur inocence to a child but in stupidity u have no comparison u r the best&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;True love is like a pillow u can hug when u r in trouble u can cry on when u r in pain &amp; u can embrace when u r happy so when u need true love spend Rs.50/-Buy a pillow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Friend,&lt;br /&gt;when i ask u flower, u give me bouquet when i ask u a stone u give me a statue when i ask u a feather u give me peacock&lt;br /&gt;ARE U REALLY DEAF ?&lt;br /&gt;I had VODKA with WATER I felt DRUNK I had WHISKY with WATER I felt DRUNK I had RUM with WATER I felt DRUNK I SWEAR I'LL NEVER DRINK water....!!!&lt;br /&gt;when i call u; 1 ring means i'm thinking of u; 2 ring means i like u; 3 means i miss u; 4 means ........pick d phone idiot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Teacher : four beautiful ladies r walking on the road. change it to exclamatory sentence .. Student : WOW !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The human brain is most outstanding thing....... it functions 24hrs 365 days..... it functions right from the time u r Born....until you fall in love&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;SMILE - is a language of love SMILE - is a source to win hearts... SMILE - creates greatness in ur personality SO.... Brush ur Teeth today onwards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A cigarette shortens your life by 2 min.. A beer shortens your life by 4 min.. A working day shortens your life by 8 hours!!!!..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aacheydost/join" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;History Teacher : From where to where did the mughals rule ? Student : sir, i am not sure but think from page 15 to 26 sir....&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Teacher : U failure ! @ ur age Bill gates stood first in the class Student : Mind u, Sir, but @ ur age hitler commited suicide&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-113101505733682465?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/113101505733682465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=113101505733682465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/113101505733682465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/113101505733682465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/11/marriages-are-made-in-heaven.html' title='marriages are made in heaven'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112929673788652375</id><published>2005-10-14T19:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-10-14T19:02:17.896+05:30</updated><title type='text'>On god and spirituality</title><content type='html'>One day I decided to quit...quit my relationship, my spirituality... I  wanted to quit my life.  I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.  "God", I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?"  His answer surprised me...  "Look around", He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?"  "Yes", I replied.  "When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of   them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the  earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor.  Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. In  the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again,  nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo."  He said, "In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed. But I  would not quit. In year four, again, there was nothing from the bamboo  seed. I would not quit."  "Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth.  Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant...But just 6  months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet all.  It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and  gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a  challenge it could not handle." He said to me.  "Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you  have actually been growing roots?"  "I would not quit on the bamboo. I will never quit on you."  "Don't compare yourself to others." He said. "The bamboo had a different  purpose than the fern. Yet they both make the forest beautiful."  "Your time will come", God said to me. "You will rise high"  "How high should I rise?" I asked.  "How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return.  "As high as it can?" I questioned  "Yes." He said, "Give me glory by rising as high as you can."  I left the forest and bring back this story. I hope these words can help  you see that God will never give up on you.  He will never give up on you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112929673788652375?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112929673788652375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112929673788652375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112929673788652375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112929673788652375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/10/on-god-and-spirituality.html' title='On god and spirituality'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112814636881053735</id><published>2005-10-01T11:28:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-10-01T11:29:28.820+05:30</updated><title type='text'>These are actual ads on a matrimony site</title><content type='html'>Just too good!! Spend 5 minutes.. this will make your day…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grammar and spell errors have no place in a profile, Description as everything is straight from the heart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer:&lt;br /&gt;I am not Responsible if you forget your basic grammar after reading this mail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hello To Viewvers My Name is Somesha , I am single I don't have Famale, If any one whant to marrie to me u can visite to my home. I am not a good education but i working all field in bangalroe.. if u like me u welcome to my heart... when ever u whant to meet pls viset my resident or send u letter.. Thanks yours Regards Somesha ~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want very simple girl. from brahmin educated family from bihar state he is also know about RAMAYAN, GEETA BHAGABATA, and other homework&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Homework?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wants a woman who knows me better and can adjust with me forever. She may never create any difficulties in my life or her life by which the entire life can run smoothly. thank you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The principle of running life smoothly was never so easy!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She should be good looking and should have a service. She Shoulsd have one brother and one sister. She should be educated.&lt;br /&gt;(ain't it unique !! 1 brother 1 sister criteria !)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a happy-go-lucky kind of person. Enjoys every moments of life. I love to make friendshi!&lt;br /&gt;p. Becauese friendship is a first step of love. I am looking for my dreamgirl who will love me more than i. Because i love myself a lot. If u think that is u then why to late come on ........ hold my hand forever !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The dilwale dulhaniya effect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am simple boy.I have lot ofproblemin mylife because ofmylucknow I amlooking onegirlshe caremeandloveme lot lot lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I don't know why but this is one of my favorites)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife should be as 'Parwati' as in Kahani Ghar Ghar Ki and as Tulsi as in KSBKBT......&lt;br /&gt;(Ok I haven't seen these soaps but I am sure he must be demanding too much, ain't he?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want a girl with no drinks if she wants she can!&lt;br /&gt;wear jeans in house but while steping out of house she should give recpect to our cast&lt;br /&gt;(by not wearing her jeans? ahem...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HYE I AM A GOOD LOKING GUY,WHO HAS THE CAPABILITY TO MAKE ANY BODY TO LOUGH.I BELIEVE IN GOD AND ACCORDING TO ME FRIENDS ARE THE REAL MESSENGER OF GOD. THE 3 THINGS I AM LOOKING FROM A GIRL ,THEY ARE 1.THEY MUST BELIEVE IN GOD.2. THEY HAVE TO LIKE MY PROFFESION AND THEY SHOULD NOT GET BORED WITH ME WHEN I WILL TRY TO MAKE THEM LOUGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(all of us are loughing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever she may be but she should feel that she is going to be someone bride and she must think of the future life if she is too like this she would bde called the lady of the la!&lt;br /&gt;mp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I am clueless, I feel so lost. Can anyone tell me what this guy wants)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love my patner i marriage the patner ok i search my patner and i love the patner ok thik hai the patner has a graduate ok&lt;br /&gt;(I am again clueless but I liked the use of "ok". The person is suffering from "Ok-syndrome")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HI IAM VERY COOL NUATHER OK MY HOBBY IS SEE T.V AND NEWS OK I HAVE 1 ÊR AND 1 BONWL OK MY MOTHER ALSO GOOD OK MY FARUET WORLD IS OK&lt;br /&gt;(the "ok syndrome" again)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iam pradip my family histoy my two brother two sister and fater &amp; mother sister complity marred&lt;br /&gt;(somebody please explain in comments section how to get married 'completely'?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iam very simpel and hanest. i have three sister one brother and parent. I am doing postal sarvice and tailor master my original resdence at kalahandi diste naw iam staing at rayagada dist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(actually what is this guy doing? Postal service or tailor.??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my name is farhan and i am unmarried. pleaes you marrige me pleaes pleaes pleaes pleaes pleaes pleaes pleaes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(height of desperation! :-))))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want one girl who love me or my !&lt;br /&gt;mother. she love me heartly or she havea frank she's skin colour 'normal'not a black or not a whitey. I Think the main think is heart if your heart is beautiful then you are beautiful. But iam not a handsome person or not a good looking. but my Mom say that Iam a good person. My father already expired . iam ''AEKLAUTA''. THE CHOICE IS YOUR. bye bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(uttama purushan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iam kanan. i do owo businas.one sistar.he was marred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(No comments)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM LITTLE FAIR INDIAN COLOUR. I DON'T HAVE ANY HABIT.&lt;br /&gt;(maybe the poor guy meant BAD habits)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hello i am a good charactarised man. i want to run my life happily.i divorced my first wife.her charactor is not good'. i expect the good minded and clean habits girl who may be in the same caste or other caste accepted ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(but credit cards not accepted..???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my colour is black,but my heart is white.i like social service&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;!&lt;br /&gt;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;(Zebra..???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm looking out for who lives i!&lt;br /&gt;n bombay,girl simple who trust me lot should be roman catholic, LOVE ME ONLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Now that criterion is a must, isn't it?)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nb!&lt;br /&gt;sp;&lt;br /&gt;to be married on jan-2005. working woman preferable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(this guy has fixed the marriage date too! But he is yet to find a bride. I wish him best luck on behalf of all of us. I am sure he will get one soon.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would like a beautyfull girl. and i do not want her any treasure. Because girl is the mahalakshmi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Now she is going to be a lucky girl! Any takers?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ssc failed three times and worked with privated ltd company which not paying salary at present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Any takers again?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112814636881053735?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112814636881053735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112814636881053735' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112814636881053735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112814636881053735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/10/these-are-actual-ads-on-matrimony-site.html' title='These are actual ads on a matrimony site'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112721158046022739</id><published>2005-09-20T15:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-09-20T15:49:40.466+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Professors of India on their usage of English</title><content type='html'>Old one, but nice to read again.,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tribute to the Professors of India, on their usage of English&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Inside the Class:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Open the doors of the window. Let the atmosphere come in.&lt;br /&gt;* Open the doors of the window. Let the Air Force come in.&lt;br /&gt;* Cut an apple into two halves - take the bigger half.&lt;br /&gt;* Shhh...Quiet, boys...the principal just passed away in the corridor.&lt;br /&gt;* You, meet me behind the class. ( meaning AFTER the class ..)&lt;br /&gt;* Both of u three, get out of the class.&lt;br /&gt;* Close the doors of the windows please .. I have winter in my nose today.&lt;br /&gt;* Take Copper Wire of any metal especially of Silver.&lt;br /&gt;* Take 5 cm wire of any length.&lt;br /&gt;* shhh... quite, the principal is rotating in the school.&lt;br /&gt;* (Facing the Board) Dont talk in front of my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# About his family:&lt;br /&gt;* I have two daughters. Both of them are girls....(?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# At the ground:&lt;br /&gt;* All of you, stand in a straight circle.&lt;br /&gt;* There is no wind in the ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# To a boy, angrily:&lt;br /&gt;* I talk, he talk, why you middle middle talk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Giving a punishment:&lt;br /&gt;* You, rotate the ground four times...&lt;br /&gt;* You, go and under-stand the tree...&lt;br /&gt;* You three of you, stand together separately.&lt;br /&gt;* Why are you late - say YES or NO ....(?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Sir at his best:&lt;br /&gt;Sir had once gone to a film with his wife. By chance, he happened to see one of our boys at the theatre, though the boy did not see them. So the next day at school (to that boy): "Yesterday I saw you WITH MY WIFE at the Cinema Theatre."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112721158046022739?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112721158046022739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112721158046022739' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112721158046022739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112721158046022739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/09/professors-of-india-on-their-usage-of.html' title='Professors of India on their usage of English'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112679630240425477</id><published>2005-09-15T20:27:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-09-15T20:28:22.410+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cricket Joke: Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly,</title><content type='html'>Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly, now pretty old guys, 75 and 80 years old, are sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons and talking about cricket, like they do every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sachin turns to Sourav and says, "Do you think there's cricket in heaven?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal: if I die first, I'll come back and tell you if there's cricket in heaven, and if you die first, you do the same." They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Sachin passes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day soon afterward, Ganguly is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Sourav... Sourav!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly responds, "Sachin! Is that you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes it is, Sourav," whispers Sachin's ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly, still amazed, asks, "So, is there cricket in heaven?" "Well,"says Sachin, "I've got good news and bad news." "Gimme the good news first," says Ganguly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sachin says, "Well... there is cricket in heaven." Ganguly says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sachin sighs and whispers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You and me, We are going to open the innings on Friday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112679630240425477?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112679630240425477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112679630240425477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112679630240425477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112679630240425477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/09/cricket-joke-sachin-tendulkar-and.html' title='Cricket Joke: Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly,'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112601582158862311</id><published>2005-09-06T19:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-09-06T19:40:21.593+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Comparision New Orleans and Mumbai</title><content type='html'>inches of rain in new orleans due to hurricane katrina... 18 inches of rain in mumbai (July  26th).... 37.1&lt;br /&gt;population of new orleans ... 484,674 population of mumbai....  12,622,500&lt;br /&gt;deaths in new orleans within 48 hours of katrina...100 deaths in mumbai within 48hours of rain..  37.&lt;br /&gt;number of people to be evacuated in new orleans ... entire city..wohh number of people evacuated in mumbai...10,000&lt;br /&gt;Cases of shooting and violence in new orleans ...Countless Cases of shooting and violence in mumbai.. NONE&lt;br /&gt;Time taken for US army to reach new orleans... 48hours Time taken for Indian army and navy to reach mumbai...12hours&lt;br /&gt;status 48hours later... new orleans is still waiting for relief, army and electricty status 48hours later..mumbai is back on its feet and is business is as usual&lt;br /&gt;USA ...world's most developed nation India ...third world country..&lt;br /&gt;oops...did i get the last fact wrong???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112601582158862311?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112601582158862311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112601582158862311' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112601582158862311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112601582158862311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/09/comparision-new-orleans-and-mumbai.html' title='Comparision New Orleans and Mumbai'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112445926608526097</id><published>2005-08-19T19:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-08-19T19:17:46.090+05:30</updated><title type='text'>North Indian vs South Indian girl : THIS IS WHY GUYS ARE STILL SINGLE:</title><content type='html'>THIS IS WHY GUYS ARE STILL SINGLE:*********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U have to think twice b4 committing to a North IndianGirl**********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. At the time of marriage, a north Indian girl has more boyfriends than her age.&lt;br /&gt;2. Before marriage, she looks almost like a bollywood heroine and after marriage you have to go around her twice to completely hug her.&lt;br /&gt;3. By the time she professes her undevoted love to you, you are bankrupt because of the number of times you had to take her out to movie theatres and restaurants. And you wait longingly for her dowry.&lt;br /&gt;4. The only dishes she can think of to cook is paneer butter masala, aloo sabji, aloo gobi sabji, aloo matar, aloo paneer, that after eating all those paneer and aloos you are either in the bed with chronic cholestrol or chronic gas disorder.&lt;br /&gt;5. The only growth that you see later in your career is the rise in your monthly phone bill.&lt;br /&gt;6. You are blinded by her love that you think that she is a blonde. Only later do you come to know that it is because of the mehandhi that she applies to cover her gray hair.&lt;br /&gt;7. When you come home from office she is very busy watching "Kyonki saas bi kabi bahu thi" that you either end up eating outside or cooking yourself.&lt;br /&gt;8. You are a very "ESpecial" person to her.&lt;br /&gt;9. She always thought that Madras is a state and covers the whole of south india until she met you.&lt;br /&gt;10. When she says she is going to "work out" she means she is going to "walk out"&lt;br /&gt;11. She has greater number of relatives than the number of people you have in your home town.&lt;br /&gt;12. The only two sentences in English that she knows are "Thank you" and "How are you"&lt;br /&gt;13. She thinks Govinda can dance better than Michael Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;******WHAT IT MEANS TO HAVE A South indian GIRL-FRIEND***********&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mother looks down at you because you didn't study in IIT or Madras /Anna University.&lt;br /&gt;Her father starts or ends every conversation with " ... I say..."&lt;br /&gt;She shudders if you use four letter words.&lt;br /&gt;She has long hair, neatly oiled and braided (The Dubai based Oil Well Company will negotiate with her on a 25 year contract to extract coconutoil from her hair.)&lt;br /&gt;She uses the word 'Super' as her only superlative.&lt;br /&gt;Her name is another name for a Goddess or a flower.&lt;br /&gt;Her first name is longer than your first name, middle name and surname combined (unless you are from Andhra)&lt;br /&gt;When she mixes milk and rice you are never sure whether it is for the Dog or for herself.&lt;br /&gt;For weddings, she sports a mini jasmine garden on her head and wears silk saris in the Madras heat without looking too uncomfortablewhile you are melting in your singlet.&lt;br /&gt;She thinks Mohan Lal is the sexiest man alive.&lt;br /&gt;Her favourite cricketer is Krishnamachari Srikkanth.&lt;br /&gt;Her favourite food is dosa though she has tried North Indian snacks like Chats (pronounced like the slang for 'conversation')&lt;br /&gt;She bursts into songs with her cousins in every movie.&lt;br /&gt;She bores you by telling you which raaga each song you hear is based on.&lt;br /&gt;You have to give her jewellery, though she has already got plenty of it ...&lt;br /&gt;Her thali (Mangal Sutra) weighs more than the championship belts worn by WWF wrestlers.&lt;br /&gt;She is more educated than you.&lt;br /&gt;Her father thinks she is much smarter than you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112445926608526097?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112445926608526097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112445926608526097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112445926608526097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112445926608526097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/08/north-indian-vs-south-indian-girl-this.html' title='North Indian vs South Indian girl : THIS IS WHY GUYS ARE STILL SINGLE:'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112152160340850503</id><published>2005-07-16T19:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-16T19:16:43.413+05:30</updated><title type='text'>IIM Professor and his marketing concept</title><content type='html'>Marketing Concepts !! (Simple examples)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A professor at IIM was explaining marketing concepts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. Marry me!" - That's Direct Marketing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You're at a party with a bunch of friends and see a gorgeous girl.&lt;br /&gt;One of your friends goes up to her and pointing at you says: "He's very rich.&lt;br /&gt;Marry him." -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's Advertising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and get her telephone number. The next day, you call and say: "Hi, I'm very rich.&lt;br /&gt;Marry me." - That's Telemarketing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. You're at a party and see gorgeous girl. You get up and straighten your tie, you walk up to her and pour her a drink, you open the door (of thecar)for her, pick up her bag after she drops it, offer her ride and then say:"By the way, I'm rich. Will you marry me?" - That's Public Relations&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You're at a party and see gorgeous girl. She walks up to you and&lt;br /&gt;says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are very rich! Can you marry me?" - That's Brand Recognition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. Marry me!" She gives you a nice hard slap on your face. - That's Customer Feedback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and say: "I am very rich. Marry me!" And she introduces you to her husband. - That's demand and supply gap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. You see a gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and before you say anything, another person come and tell her: "I'm rich. Will you marry me?"&lt;br /&gt;and she goes with him - That's competition eating into your market share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. You see and gorgeous girl at a party. You go up to her and before you&lt;br /&gt;say: "I'm rich Marry me!" your wife arrives. - That's restriction for entering new markets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112152160340850503?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112152160340850503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112152160340850503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112152160340850503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112152160340850503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/07/iim-professor-and-his-marketing.html' title='IIM Professor and his marketing concept'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112070870147760522</id><published>2005-07-07T09:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-07T09:28:21.480+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Can Beever achieve the same effect using oil painting , art paper and art easel?</title><content type='html'>John Beever with his diform paintings has been a huge draw. But how does he achieve this effect? What art material does he use? Is this an oil painting? He has no use for art paper nor art easel. For him pavement is his art easel as well as art paper. But his pavement art is not permenant unlike the old masters like Rubens , Rembrandt who drew oil painting. But is that a good or a bad thing? I suppose it depends on your attitude.You can gaze at a Monalisa for hours and again come back.But pavement art, does not have the same permenancy. But you need to appreciate the talent. Mere paintings drawn on art paper using easels cannot be qualified as art.&lt;br /&gt;However, one interesting thought, can Beever achieve the same effect using oil painting , art paper and art easel?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112070870147760522?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112070870147760522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112070870147760522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112070870147760522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112070870147760522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/07/can-beever-achieve-same-effect-using.html' title='Can Beever achieve the same effect using oil painting , art paper and art easel?'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112048577819870430</id><published>2005-07-04T19:31:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-04T19:32:58.203+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Letter From A Bachelor</title><content type='html'>It was not "someone" who called me a bachelor the first time. It was                                                            "something". The brown official-looking envelope I received by registered&lt;br /&gt; post  that day had my degree certificate in it. 'Bachelor of...', It   announced  in    somewhat   gaudy letters as I  stood smiling. Bachelor! Till then I was a boy, a brother, a student and whatnot -- but not a bachelor. All of a sudden, that important piece of paper had given me a new identity. I know you are dying to tell me things like 'this bachelor is not that bachelor', but believe me, the very next day my phone rang. It was my real-estate agent, an uneasy reminder to the approaching expiration of the initial company accommodation. "Sir, you are a bachelor, are you not?" "Sure, I am," I said, almost adding, "and now I have proof of that, if you need." "Sorry sir. The owner is not willing to give the house to bachelors. But don't worry, sir, I have many other houses. You see..." So that's how it is.No country for the people of  Palestine.  No food   for starving Somalis. No trees for migrating birds. And yes,  no houses  for poor bachelors. They are not welcome in residential areas. Bachelors party and make noise round the clock. They go after the neighborhood girls. They don't respect the norms of the colony.They come in groups... Anyway, I learnt my lesson: Bachelors don't have all the civil rights that 'normal' citizens enjoy. But then, what do we have that makes many a married guy cherish the memories of  his long-lost bachelorhood? Palestinians have to cling to their land. Migrating birds are bound by directions. But a bachelor has few restrictions. Except for renting an apartment and walking intoone those stupid 'couples only' clubs, he can have everything else. He gets up at any time and sneaks into the office unnoticed when others get ready for lunch. He sits to almost any time in front of   the computer without worrying about anxious where-are-you calls. He stays away from the house for days and no questions are asked. He does whatever he wants on the weekend,in the company of his friends... Yes. Friends are the most important aspect of any bachelor's life. Without them he practically has no existence, especially if he's staying away from home. But then one day, over the thundering music and the first round of cold beer in a dimly lit pub, he announces his plans to get married to this cute girl that someone else had found for him. Over the double cheers, the naughty comments and laughter, I become aware of something that hurts me somewhere. My friend's getting married. Of course it's something to celebrate. But then, that also means he's leaving the gang! We attend his wedding, the most colorful function of his life, in full spirits. All of us. We give him gifts, wish him good luck and retreat to our good old world, one member less. It does not take much time before we find him reduced to much-delayed replies to our bunch of mails -- and as for phone calls,that comes only once in a blue moon. For my part, I watch the pile of wedding invitations in the corner of my desk grow at an amazing, alarming pace. Before I know it, most of my cool buddies are gone. And the rest of us soon realize that we are not always welcome to the new circle the married men have formed. So we seek so lace behind those office doors where the sun never sets. I do meet my married friends occasionally. In the office, on a casual walk, or in a busy restaurant. They are my friends still. And they are still friendly as much as their new lifestyle and added responsibilities permit. But... Oh heck, there's my telephone. I think it is my real-estate agent again. ~The Bachelor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112048577819870430?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112048577819870430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112048577819870430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112048577819870430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112048577819870430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/07/letter-from-bachelor.html' title='A Letter From A Bachelor'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112014044380905364</id><published>2005-06-30T19:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-30T19:37:23.813+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Japan by night</title><content type='html'>Its Japan by night, Click any location to see how it looks in night. In&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This site, the night view of western-part-of-Japan every place is introduced with the panorama photograph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click on The Red Dots That Come Up and enjoy. It's beautiful......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://ww4.tiki.ne.jp/~mmurakami/setoy/map.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112014044380905364?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112014044380905364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112014044380905364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112014044380905364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112014044380905364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/japan-by-night.html' title='Japan by night'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-112005474168346449</id><published>2005-06-29T19:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-29T19:49:01.686+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Great personalities</title><content type='html'>&gt;TWO TOUGH QUESTIONS&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Question 1:&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already, three who&lt;br /&gt;&gt;were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had&lt;br /&gt;syphilis,&lt;br /&gt;&gt;would you recommend that she have an abortion?&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Read the next question before looking at the answer for this one.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Question 2:&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;It is time to elect a new world leader, and only your vote counts. Here&lt;br /&gt;are&lt;br /&gt;&gt;the facts about the three leading candidates.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate A -&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Associates with crooked politicians, and consults with astrologists.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;He's had two Mistresses. He also chain smokes and drinks 8 to 10&lt;br /&gt;martinis a&lt;br /&gt;&gt;day.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate B -&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;He was kicked ou t of office twice, sleeps until noon, used opium in&lt;br /&gt;&gt;college and drinks a quart of whiskey every evening.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate C -&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;He is a decorated war hero. He's a vegetarian, doesn't smoke, drinks an&lt;br /&gt;&gt;occasional beer and never cheated on his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Which of these candidates would be your Choice?&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Decide first, no peeking, then scroll down for the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate A: is Franklin D. Roosevelt.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate B: is Winston Churchill.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Candidate C: is Adolph Hitler.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;And, by the way, the answer to the abortion question: If you said yes,&lt;br /&gt;you&lt;br /&gt;&gt;just killed Beethoven.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Pretty interesting isn't it? Makes a person think before judging&lt;br /&gt;someone.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Never be afraid to try something new.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Remember:&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Amateurs built the Ark&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Professionals built the Titanic&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-112005474168346449?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/112005474168346449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=112005474168346449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112005474168346449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/112005474168346449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/great-personalities.html' title='Great personalities'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-111995523765700738</id><published>2005-06-28T16:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-28T16:10:37.656+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Amazing photos of BMW small cars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/untitled.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/untitled2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/untitled2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;View Amazing photos of BMW small cars. My next post shall contain more amazing photos of BMW SMALL cars from Germany.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-111995523765700738?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/111995523765700738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=111995523765700738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111995523765700738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111995523765700738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/amazing-photos-of-bmw-small-cars.html' title='Amazing photos of BMW small cars'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-111995501770806223</id><published>2005-06-28T16:05:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-28T16:06:57.710+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Young King Arthur</title><content type='html'>Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by a monarch of a neighboring Kingdom.  The monarch would have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals.  So the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as  could answer one very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer, and if, after a year he did not succeed, he would be killed.  The question was....What do women really want?  Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query.  But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end. He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone:  the priests, the princess, the wise men, even the court jesters.  He spoke to everyone, but no one had a satisfactory answer.  Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only she would know the answer. But the price was high;  the old witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged. &lt;br /&gt;The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch.  She agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first.  The old witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot..the most noble Knight of the round table and Arthur's closest friend!&lt;br /&gt;Young Arthur was horrified.  She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises..  he had never encountered such a repugnant creature in his life.&lt;br /&gt;He REFUSED to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden. &lt;br /&gt;But Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He said nothing was too big a sacrifice to save his friend's life.  Hence a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:  "What a woman really wants, she answered.................... ...... is to be in charge of her own life. "Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared.&lt;br /&gt;And so it was..the neighboring monarch granted Arthur His freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.   The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling Himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom.  But what a sight awaited him.  The most beautiful woman he had ever seen lay across the bed.  The astounded Lancelot asked, How can this be??   The beauty replied that since he had been kind to her when she appeared as a witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time, and the beautiful maiden the other half. &lt;br /&gt;Which would he prefer?  Beautiful during the day, or during the night?  Lancelot pondered the predicament.  During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but in the privacy of his castle, an old witch?  Or hideous witch during the day and beautiful woman to share the nights.  What would YOU do???  What Lancelot chose, is below..BUT..make your choice  and read on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; OKAY???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Noble Lancelot..knowing the witches's answer to Arthur's question, said he would allow HER to make the choice!! Upon hearing this, she announced she would bebeautiful all the time for him, because he had respected her enough to be in charge of her own life.  NOW...The MORAL of this story is????  The moral is..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you don't let a woman have her own way..things are going to get ugly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-111995501770806223?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/111995501770806223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=111995501770806223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111995501770806223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111995501770806223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/young-king-arthur.html' title='Young King Arthur'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-111975794326571377</id><published>2005-06-26T09:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-26T09:22:23.270+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Real 911 calls</title><content type='html'>Dispatcher:  9-1-1 What is your emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I heard what sounded like gunshots coming from the brown house on the corner.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Do you have an  address?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  No, I'm wearing a blouse and slacks,  why?  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1 What is your emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Someone broke into my house and took a bite out of my ham and cheese sandwich.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Excuse  me?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I made a ham and cheese sandwich and left it on the kitchen table and when I came  back from the bathroom, someone had taken  a bite out of it.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Was anything else  taken?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  No, but this has happened to me before and I'm sick  and tired of it  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1 What is your emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Hi, is this the Police?                                       &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  This is 9-1-1.  Do you need police assistance?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Well, I don't  know who to call. Can you tell me how to cook a turkey?  I've never cooked one  before.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1 Fire or emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Fire, I guess.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  How can I  help you sir?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I was wondering.....does the Fire Dept. put  snow chains on their trucks?  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Yes sir, do you have an  emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Well, I've spent the last 4 hours trying to put  these chains on my tires and... well.. do you think the Fire Dept. could  come over and help me?  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Help you what?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Help me get these chains on my  car!  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1 What is  the nature of your emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I'm trying to reach nine eleven but my phone doesn't have an eleven on it.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  This  is nine eleven.  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I thought you just said it was  nine-one-one  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Yes, ma'am nine-one-one and nine-eleven are the same thing.  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Honey, I may be old, but I'm not  stupid.  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1 What's  the nature of your emergency?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller: My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Is this her first child?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  No, you idiot!  This is her husband!  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;And the winner  is..........  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  9-1-1  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Yeah,  I'm having trouble breathing.  I'm all out of breath.  Darn....I think I'm going to pass out.  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Sir, where are you calling from?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  I'm at a pay phone. North and Foster. Damn......  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  Sir, an ambulance is on the way.  Are you an asthmatic?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  No  &lt;br /&gt;Dispatcher:  What were you doing before you started having trouble breathing?  &lt;br /&gt;Caller:  Running from the  Police.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-111975794326571377?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/111975794326571377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=111975794326571377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111975794326571377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111975794326571377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/real-911-calls.html' title='Real 911 calls'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-111962218314038118</id><published>2005-06-24T19:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-24T19:39:43.140+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Amazing 3-D pavement pictures by Julian Beever</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/clip_image002b1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/clip_image002b1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/clip_image0022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/clip_image0022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/clip_image002c1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/clip_image002c1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/1600/clip_image002a1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7941/1243/320/clip_image002a1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julian Beever is an english artist who’s famous for his art on the pavement of england, France, germany, usa, australia and belgium. It’s particularity ? Beever gives to his drawing an anamorphose, his images are drawn completly diforms which give a 3D image when viewing on the righ angle … see for yourself it’s amazing !!!&lt;br /&gt;Picture of the Last but one is taken at a wrong angle, while the last one is taken at the right angle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-111962218314038118?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/111962218314038118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=111962218314038118' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111962218314038118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111962218314038118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/amazing-3-d-pavement-pictures-by.html' title='Amazing 3-D pavement pictures by Julian Beever'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13923775.post-111962142414096739</id><published>2005-06-24T19:25:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-24T19:27:04.146+05:30</updated><title type='text'>An interesting speech by Steve Jobs</title><content type='html'>Stanford Report, June 14, 2005&lt;br /&gt;'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says&lt;br /&gt;This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.&lt;br /&gt;I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.&lt;br /&gt;The first story is about connecting the dots.&lt;br /&gt;I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?&lt;br /&gt;It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.&lt;br /&gt;And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:&lt;br /&gt;Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.&lt;br /&gt;None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.&lt;br /&gt;Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.&lt;br /&gt;My second story is about love and loss.&lt;br /&gt;I was lucky - I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.&lt;br /&gt;I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me - I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.&lt;br /&gt;During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.&lt;br /&gt;My third story is about death.&lt;br /&gt;When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.&lt;br /&gt;Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.&lt;br /&gt;About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.&lt;br /&gt;This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:&lt;br /&gt;No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.&lt;br /&gt;Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.&lt;br /&gt;When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.&lt;br /&gt;Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.&lt;br /&gt;Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you all very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13923775-111962142414096739?l=mydailymailbox.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/feeds/111962142414096739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13923775&amp;postID=111962142414096739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111962142414096739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13923775/posts/default/111962142414096739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mydailymailbox.blogspot.com/2005/06/interesting-speech-by-steve-jobs.html' title='An interesting speech by Steve Jobs'/><author><name>My Daily Mailbox</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03695965380651964073</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
