Consumer Product Reviews

Posted by : Abdul Vasi
Source : Country Club Review
Location : banglore India
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One fine day, a well-trained female voice speaks up on the phone and tells me about the possibility of being a proud owner of a tract of land (about 2000 sq ft), somewhere on the out-skirts of Bangalore, near Tumkur. The lady-of-the-rotten-lamp sends across Mr. Slime Ball (Name held anonymous, what fucking difference does it make anyway?). So the glib conman comes in, pushes the details of the apparently shady deal and walks out. He keeps following up for his pouch of drugs and I had to relent, at one time or the other.

Then he comes in for the final kill. The second coming. The Cat call. When asked to explain, he labors on the amazing, Never being offered, Offer. I asked him to show me the land first, since I was born skeptical. He said that he was not authorized to do so. I suspected a bloody snake dance here already and asked him to procure some previous registration papers (done for others who had already purchased). He danced for a while and gets me his pre-fabricated, lousy registration look-alikes which was certainly earth-worm like. I give in to his snake-language, ease up a little and agree to go ahead with the deal.
I hereby, sound the freaking death knell. I am done. May death befall all pranksters!

Money starts to roll out. I begin to start writing out cheques, having accrued money through my hard-earned, ass-toiled-unto-death labor. Since I paid in bits and pieces, I needed receipts for those cheques and Mr. Slime Ball has got the balls NOT to give them when required and take his and his devil’s sweet time to do so. The receipts come in like a monthly magazine and then our man shows up one day with the bloody allotment papers with land numbers other than the ones that were promised to me ( I had asked for the more craven corner tracts and paid up for it).

I am, needless to say, enraged. I storm into their sleaze building and find the snake-charmer, the guy this Mr. Slime Ball reports to. I pushed him hard enough to come back to his human senses and had him profusely apologize, stating that the slime ball had been wrong and that he needs to own up (What the fuck did he intend to do about it anyway?). Now they hold their balls up and tell me that they are Oh-so-sorry and have to wait till the good ever-so-fighting government has to allow land registrations and is bound to take time. Time, eh? As long as they needed to suck on my money, they called me mercilessly. Now that they are done with pissing ice water and duped me, they don’t bother picking up calls.

The strip-dance after they stripped ME is not going to serve me any good. Those sleaze balls had earned their moolah, while I lost mine. I can’t look people in the eye, my wife’s wide-eyed, shocked but still trusting face yells out at me everyday. What answer would I give her? How do I make her trust me and my actions in the future? Isn’t my family at a major double jeopardy here?

Just because a few two-bit, third-rated fuck faces, decided to take a flying fucking like in a freaked out Chinese blue film and did not have the balls that real men do, they decided to out-wit simple, tax-paying, responsible men like myself and a lot others. Go do a google check on the world Country-Club and what you would see is a world wide web full of extreme loathing for this con – pany.

If you are in anyway associated with this hell-brick-hell model called Country-Club and if you were naive enough to think that they are doing a service which satiates your hungry ego, you so rightly deserve, perhaps, you need to wake up. I slog my butts off, doing what I do, relentlessly in an unending battle with life – with all its complicated issues and problems, accruing rupee after rupee, only so that it leads to a better life for my wide, daughters, parents and I. You are of course on the same rocking boat!

I am not about to take a flying fuck like this or lying duck fuck like that, by some unknown porn star out to eat my money away. I will slog for each and every rupee lost; I will unleash a media war or any godamned war, by all means available to me, empowered by all those who are reading this today. If this country is worth its salt, if you are all people who could relate to me in someway, somehow, I am prepared to do whatever I can, walk the damned last mile and beat the shit out of con men and get them down to their knees. It will take time; I might have to face shit. But hell, I will restore my integrity. I will earn my money back.

I am a simple man and all I wanted was a peaceful life. A content life. A happy family and my promises honored and well-kept. If some lousy rascals had to scratch something somewhere, they should have probed their under-garments. They have scratched a freaking volcano and they haven’t tasted lava yet.
It is not just about me, my money and my family. Most other lives are screwed due to a rape, manslaughter, a road accident, hit-and-run cases, dowry harassment and a lot more. Each and every one of us is, in some way or the other, a victim to this unending haranguing. Oh yes, I haven’t spoken about child marriages, child labor, corrupt politicians and procrastinating lawmen. It doesn’t seem to end, does it? Well, a beginning has to be made. Someone hold out the fucking torch! Here we come!

Just what the heck is going on around here? Where on earth have I landed? What would my family and I, having given away all we could for this piece of shit-land in India-town to those shit-collectors who had no one to be responsible to? What do you see on media? Advertisements or connertisements? Give me one fucking reason for me to believe what they say and if they really mean what they say, I will show you a million bull crap reasons to prove them all wrong. It’s not that you cannot do the same. It’s simply that you haven’t got to questioning all the slime in the world yet.
If I ( and you, of course) did believe in what such god-forsaken companies say in their promotions, their campaigns and their advertisements, but nevertheless got screwed or gang-banged by them, try to look into your young daughter’s or son’s eye, wife’s eye, or any other eye, whose look if it ever meant anything to you, and ask yourself this one question, When in the god’s name will I ever be able to get back what they had just snatched away from you?

You would then realize, like I did, that you are standing on the doorway between the Satan and God. You will simply perish unable to withstand the wrath of both good and bad tearing away at you everyday, practically, as you learn to pick yourself up and live on.

Either you worry yourself sick & tear yourself away, or FIGHT THEIR BALLS OUT.
You Choose.

It could be YOU tomorrow. Get ready to pick the damned call, comrade.
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