For I love SRK (Stammer Rukh, Can't) - A romantic journey from a gay soldier to a Nintendo toy

I love you K-kkkkkkk-kiran. Off Course many of you have fond memories of throwing up on these lines. I had to puke my entire lunch and coke and chips and the truth to my then girlfriend about the fling I was having post viewing this spastic delivery of romance. However it took me 3 IPLs, anal sex and breast implants to really understand the commercial importance of this statement in the history of Calcutta cricket franchises - IPL. It was highlighted by a good friend and fellow transvestite who often sneak around corporate houses and toilets about how our hallowed team was named 76 moons ago. As he said, after the various blood rituals were completed at the ladies washroom (which included sacrifice of 5 rats and 21 pregnant cockroaches) of a prestigious Calcutta hotel SRK (Stammer Rukh Cant) and his jolly follies came down to the most important part of the ceremony, naming the team. Stammer Rukh in his usual charming, gay self said “Kkkkkkya Hoga mera team kkkka naam”, “kkkkoi kkkkkuch to kkkkkahey” “kkkkkkamino”. Well thus carried on the constant bombardment of SRK stammerositis till half the jolly follies were hurt or fatally wounded. Finally, to stop further life and property loss, it was decided the team would be kkkalled Kkkkkolkata Riders commemorating the bisexual cyclists, the sexually mute and the Bihari rickshaw pullers of this great city. Drafts were done. Logos made. And on the eve of the first press release some goofing journo caught Stammer Rukh’s KKKkkkkkks and Kolkata Riders or KR became KKKKR in front of a full media house. Now all brand honchos from the world over were summoned to justify the other Ks in the KKKKKR and stuff like Kamina, Killer, Kleptomaniac, Klutz, Kutta and million others were jotted down on a stolen sanitary napkin before Didi’s (Khamata Banerjee) very own maophobic, one eyed midget numerologist Mukul who chose the tag "Knights" as the 2nd K. (as the other K’s he couldn’t see) of KKR. Thus we Calcuttans proudly inherited KKR. While the straight and jealous few in the city fervently hoped that KKR would have the same luck as Kiran in that ill fated movie and get chance to be rid of Stammer Rukh. But alas Sunny Deol is not interested in Calcutta or IPL as long as they don’t get into mud wrestling. We love KKR. And we simply lurrve Stammer Rukh. We Indians are a emotional lot and always have a soft disposition towards the under privileged, criminals, invaders, terrorists, gays, handicaps, Americans and other social, political and physically partials. We cry every time a Bisexual or an American gets run over by a cow. We bleed for the culturally empty states of Bihar and Hariyana. We all contribute at least a part of our taxes to the spastic society of Bollywood. We feel so empathetic whenever we watch the poor things trying to do something on the screen. Never could figure out what. Well it’s the least we could do for charity – watch a SRK movie. As I was saying we love Stammer Rukh. We fell in love with him when he did his first gay film on the psychological redundants of the city “Paazipurrr”. Here was this awesome crime thriller where he was a stammering race car driver with a sinus problem. He ultimately managed to kill his girlfriend and her father by constantly stammering into their ears an old Sinatra song “My Black Black Bums”. He was about to kill the director, the producer and the entire crew by singing nasal songs before the society of stray animals apprehended him mistakenly for a cross breed between a stray pug and a parrot. (His clothes were blunt and too colorful you see). We loved this film. It had all that we had expected. Torture. Sodomy. Arson and Dogs. Having Stammer Rukh alongside in my formative years has done wonders to my character. I have grown up to be Strong, Confident and a Pervert. Stammer Rukh’s most scholarly flick was “Maya” It was universally popular amidst parents, teachers and pimps. It was the only legal Porn those days akin to “My friend’s Hot Mom”. This was a mindless story of a cougar in heat doing steamy seduction with a scarecrow. Stammer Rukh brilliantly portrayed the ethos and the pathos of a straw man. In bed Stammer couldn’t do much, as his only introduction to sex till then were Bangkok She Boys. However nobody was too keen on seeing him either. This movie had a overwhelming impression on me and the likes of me, who quickly developed everlasting sexual fantasies on older women. I still peep when my Grandma (96) goes in to pee. James Cagney’s Angel’s with dirty faces was first done in Bollywood in 1994 as Ganjaam and later shown across the Atlantic in the 1930s. This real to life portrayal of a cuckoo criminal has been engraved in the Parthenon of Bollywood, the Juhu Beach. This was also a terribly academic film of those days. Part of my friends who couldn’t become perverts due to lack of imagination found a new direction in life. Arson and Serial Killing. GGLJ (Gillwale Gulonia Le Jayenge) was a box office thump. Overnight 26000 girls all under the age of 12 decided to run away from home following the screening of GGLJ. This was a very touching story about a wannabe stammer from East End London with a sexual fixation on his Mandolin and a ugly black sailor cap. Both had apparently become a sort of obsession with him. He seemed to attach almost a spiritual importance to them. He refused to be a Paki cabby like his father and runs away to India (Like Kasab) and tries his luck at women below 12. It received a dozen awards at the Nutty Film Festival held each year at the Ranchi Mental Asylum, for its portrayal of child abuse and ugly head gears. The film also had a very good bit on aspiring Ornithologists specialising on vampire pigeons. Since then my affection for Stammer Rukh has driven me and many other learned jack asses to many many many of his intellectually unbearble and torturously repetitive films wherein he always played either a 40 year old college student (KKHH, DTPH, etc), a mal nourished Don with a fetish for used Sunglasses (Don 1, 2,3,4,5,…n), a Jewish Music Teacher from Poland (Maha bhatein), An American Transvestite with a nose job, A Pakistani Cab Driver with a wet palms, A goat, A agnostic horse, and many, many, many other immortal roles. I’m a bit foggy and don’t remember all the names as these movies have given me and the half of India a welcome Alzheimer’s so that we could be spared of the mental trauma of the aftermath. Well nevertheless it was a great bunch Stammer Rukh. Stealthier than the N Bomb. I never understood your movies I'm a bit short on brain myself the old bean would appear to have been constructed more for ornament than for use. But what made me love you was that fact even you didn’t understand them. I always found your films better than having long cozy chats with my putrid aunt. We still love you Stammer Rukh even if you are have been lately diagnosed with OCD and Paranoia which keeps on giving you illusions that you are King of Bollywood (Psst. Is there really a country by that name?). Had you been a bit healthy and drank your veggies as a child we could have still considered you as King Kong of Bollywood but whatever you are darling, you reign in this heart of mine and millions of dements like me, in million gay and silicon fantasies, right next to the Texan Chain Saw Guy. So what if the erudite love Amitabh Bacchan? We can cross China on a one eyed she horse to see you crying, stammering and even going to the extent of changing your sex to be like him – remember winning is not all. Its participation in the race, which you did. I hate Amitabh Bachhan with his tall structure, deep baritone voice, his manly looks, his series of beautiful women, his box office hits and his ability to act and recite. We love you for being the pansy that you are. We love you for your pony tail wig, your charming smile, your nintendo aspirations, your loud Armani ties and your bum friendship with that gay kid Karan Johar. For we need all sorts to make this world. You are probably the only movie star from Bombay who had the innate idiocy to ape Amitabh. When he did Don you did Done. When he did Realty Shows, You tried your hand at Unreality shows. When he burped, you farted”. We love you more because of this sweet jealousy and insecurity of yours that is so child like, so effeminate, so genuine and so gay. I firmly believe that one day you would stop sitting on the side-lines with a blanket over your shoulders, waiting for a chance to get into the game itself. And may the best girl win. It was a shock initially when you got into cricket. We all thought perfect piffle. How the deuce could Stammer Rukh know anything about it. But you proved us wrong again. We loved you each time when you screwed up with cricket and IPL. We love your stupidity that even without the faintest idea about the game you decided to own a cricket team. However you have made us proud by having the only delinquent team in IPL. We have snobs, louts, losers, cross dressers, criminals, Pakis and all sorts in our beloved KKR. You have given Eden Gardens and the stoic Bengali a new vision and perception every time you show up. Now Calcutta firmly believes that it is possible to do miracles with Plastic Surgery, boob job, and fairness creams work. We are thankful till you don’t take up commentary. Calcutta also holds a special place for you in politics. Your deep insight and kinky thoughts have made you possibly the only person east of Atlantic to fall in love with Khamata Banerjee. Its so wonderful to see your “I scratch your bum, you scratch mine” relation. We derive our hope and faith from you that she would soon transform our state into a sanctuary for all rapists, murderers, homos, niggers, psychos and all other wonderful kinds. Darling please deal with your mid life crisis and don’t go around beating men in uniform. I do understand its kinky. But wont want you to hurt your nose job someday. Stammer Rukh Cant, do carry on in the way you are, we Indians have always been a tolerant and ignorant lot. We would love you if help us become Pakistan again. We would worship you if you can bring silicon outside the microchip. We would want you if make Gayism the main religion of the country. However if (Oh God Please) you ever do decide to go into jute business, or decide to immigrate to Peru we’d be equally happy. Love an admirer. .