15. THIS IS AMAZING DUDES

I generally don't blog the emails I get. But I found this one exceptional. So I thought I'd make an exception just for this once. Give it a try. Hate Maths? So do I. Who don't? Try this one for size!

At the end of this message, you are asked a question.
Answer it immediately.
Don't stop and think about it. Just say the first thing that pops into your mind.
This is a fun 'test'... AND kind of spooky at the same time! Give it a try, then e-mail it around (including back to me) and you'll see how many people you know fall into the same percentage as you.. Be sure to put in the subject line if you are among the 98% or the 2%. You'll understand what that means after you finish taking the 'test..' Now - just follow the instructions as quickly as possible. Do not go to the next calculation before you have finished the previous one.. You do not ever need to write or remember the answers, just do it using your mind.. You'll be surprised..


Start: How much is: 15 + 6







21








3 + 56






59






89 + 2



















91







12 + 53



















65







75 + 26






















101





25 + 52



































77







63 + 32
























95







I know! Calculations are hard work, but it's nearly over..




Come on, one more! ....















123 + 5





















128












QUICK! THINK ABOUT A COLOR AND A TOOL!





















Scroll further to the bottom....
























A bit more...



























You just thought about a red hammer, didn't you?

If this is not your answer, you are among 2% of people who have a different, if not abnormal, mind.


98% of the folks would answer a   red hammer while doing this exercise.

If you do not believe this, pass it around and you'll see.

Be sure to put in the subject line if you are among the 98% or the 2% and send to everyone, including the person that sent it to you.

-- "When you are dissatisfied
And would like to go back to youth,
Think of Algebra."

14. FORGIVE ME DUDE IF YOU CAN.

I saw you lying there on the side of that lonely stretch road in the beam of my headlight, dude. There’s no denying that! I saw you were in trouble, maybe badly injured, maybe dying. Or were you already dead?

My foot came off the accelerator and hovered over the brakes for a moment… just for a single moment.

Indecision.

Hesitation.

It was a conflict between the heart and the brain, both vital. For a moment heart seemed to be in charge, because I felt the minivan slowing down as it lost momentum.

Just then the brain took over. I hit the accelerator hard and swung the wheel to give you a wide berth. While passing I saw the bicycle you should have been riding a moment before you were hit by that hit-and-run-driver, lying on its side. I also had a glimpse of the dark pool of liquid you were lying in, probably growing larger by the minute… and also I’m not very sure of this … that you were convulsing.

While I was speeding away my heart screamed. “Hey, stop and help him. How could you run away like this? This is not like you. How many people have you helped? Hey Dude, how would you like to swap places with him? How can you be so heartless? Where are all the values you believe in?”

The feeling of guilt was consuming me. 

The rear view mirror suddenly lit up. I squinted. Some headlights were behind me. I felt a bit better. Someone would stop. Or would they?

It didn’t help much. How could I run away like that? Your loved ones, maybe your wife and children, maybe your mother or sister could be waiting up for you right at this moment, waiting for you to turn up any moment. You may be the one who feed so many mouths, toiling all day. And tonight a few more hours of OT most probably, in a desperate attempt to make ends meet. The possibilities were endless.

Who is that woman who is in tears and screaming in my head, “You monster, how could you just pass him? He would still be here, if you just stopped. You could have called 119…”?

Then who’s this woman in all smiles and saying this? “Thanks to you sir, he is here with us. We have no words to thank you for what you did. We are forever in your debt…” tears of joy ran down her face, “Thank God for making you pass that road, when you did.”

I almost hit the brake to slow down and make a U-turn when two cars overtook me at lightning speed. I swerved instinctively. I’d just avoided another crash. I’m not the only runaway. What about them? I can’t scold them. All of us dudes behind the wheels that night on that particular stretch of road seemed to be thinking the same thoughts. Get out of here as fast as you can. 

As if  running away from a plague!

I realized the vehicle was in a skid on the wet tarmac.

A cop with handcuffs flashed in my mind like a motion picture. 

“You are under arrest for causing this accident and…”. 

I was protesting, “Officer I’m the one who stopped to help him.”

“You can say that at the courts.” The hand cuffs snapped shut.

This solemn judge was saying in this solemn tone, “There is no evidence to prove beyond reasonable doubt that…” I didn’t want to listen.

The dude whose head is swathed in bandages opened his eyes. His eyes scanned the crowd and then they rested on me. He then mumbled, “He is the one…”

Hey, it was you!!!

I was actually back home on holiday. I was supposed to return to the foreign land and to the foreign job once again in a few weeks. So much was riding on my job, not tires tonight as that tire manufacturer Michelin said. And so much that I can’t risk on an unknown stranger like you. My kid in college. The house that I built with sweat and blood, this minivan for which I compromised so much to own. Well my whole world would tumble down. Who would help me? Who would help my family while I would be doing my time in jail?

All the stories I had read in the newspapers about the fate of the Good Samaritans who stopped to help and were accused later of a crime they never committed, by the law and as well as by the angry mobs didn’t help at all.

All the stories of the unsuspecting people who stopped to help and were robbed, carjacked and  even murdered, didn't help either. 

I steered into the skid text book precision. Minivan was back in control though still in motion. I corrected the wheel to avoid hitting the tree and the vehicle responded immediately and straitened out . I changed my mind one more time. 

Forgive me dude if you can.

  

I stepped on the accelerator again, homeward bound, where safety and security lay. The faithful Toyota diesel engine purring reassuringly beneath me whisked me through the night. Away from an incident that would possibly have changed the lives of mine and my family.
 

My wife and kids, tired of the 150km journey through the night were still asleep, lulled by the hum of the engine, restrained by the seat belts in the reclined seats, unaware of an event that could have turned their lives upside down.

If given a choice would I do the same? Absolutely.

I would have done the same. 

How come this makes me feel better?

EPILOGUE: This is a common occurrence in our society. This could happen to anybody. No one dares to help another human being in trouble. Whose fault is it?

All the photographs are from the albums of henryblogwalker aka Dude, that is me.
Based on a true event.

13. I HIT MY FIRST TWO 1000s SIMULTANEOUSLY DUDES!!! Yeaaaah!!!

Hey Dudes,

Thank you very much. 

To all of you who visited my two blog sites from all over the world, made comments, and became members, I’m really grateful.

I started my English blog “Hey Dude” on 13^th of July, 2011 

and my Sinhala blog “මට හිතෙන හැටි” on 14^th July, 2011. 

Both were riding neck to neck and I think it’s a very memorable thing that both blogs hit 1000 mark exactly in 6 weeks on the same day at the same time. 

And the thousandth visitor was the same person who happened to sit down with a cup of tea to check out what’s new on my blogs. 

Isn’t it an awesome   coincidence.

These are the two comments she sent in.

 

12. " THAT'S A SICK JOKE, DUDE ! ! ! "

Thilaké is a bit senior dude than us. Anura (ACR) and I used to call him Carlos Santana because his long wavy hair reminded us of Santana. He used to wear his wavy hair which reached the small of his back in a pony tail when going out. And he stuffed the whole ponytail under his shirt when he was going somewhere important. This formed a soft hump on his back, which I used to thump on every time I meet him. I also used t pull his curls which stretched to double the length and sprang back when let go.

He was very clever at electronics though he is actually a cartographer by profession. Recently one guy was curious. 

“Thilaké, What exactly are you doing at the university?” 

“I’m a cartographer.” Thilaké replied.

“Carto..what?  Do you drive carts there in the campus, machan?”

“No machan, I’m just in charge of fixing horseshoes.”

Collecting old Volkswagen Beetles was one of his obsessions. There is a fleet of rusty Beetles all around his house at various stages of deterioration. He is in love with old German scrap metal alright.

His room was once our hangout. We loved to hear his tales, actually drama from real life. No matter how much we smoked and drank he never touched the stuff. He sat in a cloud of cigarette smoke and used to narrate his stories entertaining us as the host. All he did was dipping into our fries dish from time to time. We repeated our well worn but famous catchphrase, “Hey dude, don’t make meal out of our Fries. (Original: Don’t make a diet out of our bite)

We had a ritual we called punching the card. If I happened to pass his house any time of the night, no matter what hour it was I used to howl at the top of my voice, 

“Hey.. Thilaké ooo..” and fly by. 

And in return every time he passed my house in the night he flew by yelling,

“Hey Henry oooo!!”

I have woken up with a start so many times from deep sleep in the small hours, by his punching the card. Some days even my father asks with an amused grin, “Thilaké went by last night, didn’t he?” 

One of his overused jokes was yelling at me through the bus window. Every time when the bus stopped at his place he would yell to be heard by everybody,

“Hey Henry, just smile a while dude so that I can locate you” then the rest in for the other passengers in general, “Only this dude’s teeth are white. You can see him only when he’s smiling.” 

The passengers start enjoying because it’s new to them. The funny thing is he’s only fractionally lighter skinned than me. He… he…! (For non Sri Lankan reader: This typical joke has nothing to do with racism or color discrimination)

One night Thilaké had to go somewhere with another friend on that his brand new motorbike. They were in such a hurry none of them had helmets nor the documents for the bike. And Thilaké was wearing a sarong. (A sort of wrap around garment)

On their way back, with the headlight beam of an oncoming vehicle they had a glimpse of the cops waiting to catch traffic offenders. (Not the cops with rifles and traffic motorbikes.) Already one motor cyclist was stopped and being questioned. The dude throttled back and was about to surrender to the fate when Thilaké said,

“Dude you don’t stop. Just pretend you didn’t see them. I’ll see to the rest.”

Assured by Thilaké’s words dude whizzed by ignoring the cop’s signal to stop. A shrill whistle followed. Then  a voice bawled, “Halt!” A powerful flashlight was beamed to light up the rear end runaway bike and the riders. 

Back at Thilaké’s place the dude was grumbling.

“Now see dude. That was a stupid thing to have done. They would have noted my number plate. Now I’ll have to go to the courts. I should have stopped and talked my way out of it. All because of your stupid advice…I gotta be crazy to have listened to you...”

“Heh heh heh, don’t talk bullshit, man. What number plate? Number plate was in my sarong. Actually I’d lifted my sarong and covered the number plate tail light and everything.” He paused for a high five and continued. “But by any chance if you stopped, they’d surely have stripped me of the sarong, too.”

I warn you dudes who read this. “PLEASE DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME. THESE STUNTS ARE PERFORMED BY TRAINED PROFESSIONALS, BLAH BLAH BLAH.” And that is the Disclaimer.

Now to the main story. Another night Thilaké met a dude on the road who wanted to hitch a ride. (Now don’t ask why all his stories are night stories) Thilaké told him,

“Machan, I need to go to that funeral house over there, too. Won’t you get late?”

The guy said it was quite okay and got onto the back quite happily. Too happily for Thilaké’s liking which made Thilaké wonder. Ah hah! The road runs by the cemetery after a few kilometers. The dude is scared to go alone.

Near the funeral house Thilaké parked the bike and asked the guy to be with the bike till he pays a visit to the funeral. He agreed.

After about 15 minutes Thilaké returned and they started the journey. As they were nearing the cemetery the dude realized that Thilaké is unusually silent.

He inquired,

 “Hey, Thilaké,  why are you so silent, dude?”

Now they were passing the cemetery.

“Haah Haah Haah,” 

Thilaké made an eerie laugh. Dude froze. Cold sweat broke out of his forehead. What he heard next made his blood curdle.

“...What makes you think I’m Thilaké?”

 
Dude nearly wet his pants. The still functioning part of his brain told him the real Thilaké could still be at the funeral house. And this creature also came from the direction of the funeral house and he remembered he actually hadn’t even seen his face properly in the dark. Or had he?

“Oh please Thilaké, please. Stop it. You are kidding, aren’t you? That’s a sick joke, dude.”

The guy was almost in tears, begging. Thilaké told us later he actually felt sorry for him and gave up the sick joke to the utmost relief of the dude.

The Sinhala version of this post is blogged simultaneously at “මට හිතෙන හැටි”

11. I updated "Dudes, Ever Watched A 7D Movie? Not 3D! Wow!!"

Hi, I updated the post  "Ever Watched A 7D Movie? Not 3D!  Wow!!" with these  four new photos

The Other 7D Movies Displayed Above the Door in the Lobby.

This Is the Ticket for the 7D Movie we watched "The Lost Island"

In the Lobby. You can see an employee watching the audience on the TV screen.

The Name Of the Movie We Watched "затерянный остров"  . It means  Lost Island  .

.

10. LABOR PAINS 3 - LABOR SCREAMS IN MULTI LANGUAGES

She was having her first baby. As was the custom those days it was a home delivery. Hey, I mean not in a hospital, child birth at home. The top ranking gynecologist attending was actually a family friend of the husband who was a high ranking diplomat who has served in many European capitals. The wife was in the bedroom having contractions at regular intervals watched closely by the nurses. A bunch of relatives and friends were gathered in the living room . The gynecologist was having a friendly chat with the expectant husband who seemed very edgy and was already hitting the bottle – as was the custom again I think. 

The wife though was from a rural aristocratic family was now well traveled and spoke a number of European languages fluently. 

Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by the scream from the bedroom.

“Oh, my God! Help me please!!”

The husband jumped to his feet with concern written all over his face. The gynecologist remained seated. He shook his head knowingly and said,

“Sit down, Sam. Not yet.”

Sam sat down reluctantly but in a little while another shrill scream, this time in French reverberated through the closed bedroom door.

“Mon Dieu,oooooooh!! Aidez-moi, sil vous plaît !!!”  

  

Sam shot back to his feet. Doc shook his head with the usual nonchalance which was now beginning to irritate Sam.

“Sam, take it easy dude. I’ll tell you when it’s really serious.”

Sam lowered back into the couch. Now the drink was forgotten. 

“O Mein Gott!!! Helfen Sie mir bitte!!”, came the scream now in German. Doc remained detached. Sam was now losing his head and was cursing himself for the choice of the attending gynecologist.

Another pause and then,

“Ooooh Mio Dio, Aiutatemi per favore!!!” 

 The ear splitting scream in Italian made even the men waiting around jittery.

“Doctor, now I think you gotta do something,” said Sam his face pale, drained of blood.

“Sam, bro, believe me.” Said the doc,  “I know the real thing when I hear it. You leave it to me. Have another drink. Looks like you need one.”

Even though Sam didn’t show it now he was infuriated at the gynecologist’s snobbish attitude. A few minutes passed without incident.

“ ¡Oh Dios mío!! Ayúdame põr favore!!” 

Aww! This time in Spanish! Still the doctor is unimpressed.

A gynecologist with an attitude! What a nerve! Sam wasn’t going to put his loving wife through this. He was going to call another doctor. This son of a bitch isn’t the only doctor around. Sam was dialing the phone furiously when everybody heard the final call from the bedroom, but this time definitely not of European origin. It was in pure exotic Sinhala, the once mother tongue, long forgotten.

“බුදු අම්මෝ!! මට බැරියෝ!! මා බේරා ගනියෝ!!”

The gynecologist shot up. “And that’s it dude. This is the real deal. Okay, see you then!!” and with a wave of  his hand the doctor hurried towards the bedroom door.

 Click here read LABOR PAINS 1- The Pregnant Dude

Click here read LABOR PAINS 2 - , “OK Ladies, Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You”

9. LABOR PAINS 2 - , “OK Ladies, Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You”

It was the peak times of the Women’s Lib Movement.  A group of activists went to see The Creator to submit a petition. It said that the women strongly felt that it was very unfair for only the women having to undergo the labor pains. It was a miscarriage of justice and they wanted the men responsible to suffer the labor pains, not only the innocent women. The Creator tried His best to make the women see the light, but they were so much set on their cause they refused to budge. After the classical warning, “Okay ladies, don’t say I didn’t warn you”, the wish was granted. Women walked away triumphant.

Everything seemed to be going fine. And then this woman was about to deliver the baby. She was obviously in no pain, and all the folks who gathered to watch this historical moment were watching the husband.  The dude was already hitting the bottle to deaden the pain he was supposed to get.

Now the contractions were getting closer and closer but the dude was taking it pretty cool sipping his drink. He seemed to be riding the pain so well, the other expectant husbands who were in the crowd noted the brand of liquor for them to stock up.

Now the baby was crowning and the dude was grinning.

“I don’t feel a thing, bro!” he stammered in his drunken stupor.

It was then everybody heard the ear piercing scream from the next door. Everybody ran out to see the guy next door was screaming on the lawn writhing in pain!!

Epilogue: An emergency Women’s Lib meeting was called immediately and it was unanimously agreed upon to appeal to the Creator to reverse the changes back into the good old ways of the good old days. This was done with the classical statement, "I told you so."  The default setting was selected and saved. 

Now women have labor pains again.

Click here read LABOR PAINS 1- The Pregnant Dude

Please come back tomorrow at the same for the LABOR PAINS 3 - LABOR SCREAMS IN MULTI-LANGUAGES – my favorite story of the three.