25th July, such a sad day

Underwent the ordeal of watching "Harold and Kumar escape from Gautanamo Bay" today. The movie summed up a rather sad day with bomb blasts and India's batting collapse. 

The only bright part in the two hour movie was the poem at the end:

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

Sadly the other two events lacked even this thinnest of silver linings. More on them later.