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Thursday, October 28, 2004

miser

Sometimes, when making a joke, you can be perceived to be someone you are not.

Me? I am a very generous person.........to myself of course. Here are two stories that contradict my kind and generous character.

Case #1:

Friend : You know ar, that bloody Rajesh, everyday take a lift in my car, but damn fucking stingy. Toll also never help to pay, petrol also never help to pay.

Vincent : Scold the bastard la. Leeches like that exist in the society. Damn blood suckers.

Friend : What to do?

Vincent : Don't panic, go find some salt, and pour all over the scum invertebrate. Watch him shrivel up and die. If you got magnifying glass, try to observe what happen to his little dick.

Friend : No la dumb fuck. Not the leech. I mean Rajesh, what do I do with him?

Vincent : Oh, that leech. Just write him a long bill and give it to him at the end of the month. Here, let me help you.

*scribbles stuffs*

Friend : What the fuck is this? Why got so many things?

Vincent : Sohai ar you? Charge him petrol and toll only meh?

Friend : Yeah, then charge what?

Vincent : Tyre wear. The fucker so fat, make your tyres wear out faster. Not cheap you know. Also, brake fluids and brake pads. Since he is so fucking fat, your car becomes heavier, and because of that fucked up thing called inertia, its quite hard to brake your car.

Friend : Kaneneh you........I am not that fucked up.

Vincent : Wait.......got some more. Engine oil also. Air-cond gas too. Fat people release a lot of heat you know, so everytime he sits in your car, you gotta on the air-cond at full blast. I think he is spoiling your car's suspension too. Everytime you go over a bump, the extra lard he carries destroys those springs.

Friend : Hehehe..you calculative fuck.

Vincent : But then again, its useful to have him around. No need to worry about tyre punctures. He got damn many spare tyres.




Case #2:

In my en-suite room in hostel....

Kay : Can I use your toilet?

Vincent : No.

Kay : Why not?

Vincent : Don't waste my money.

Kay : How the fuck am I wasting your money??!? You don't even pay the water bill. (hostel pays for it)

Vincent : You're right about that. But I pay for blue colour blocks of soap in the cistern.

Kay : What the fuck does that gotta do with anything?

Vincent : Everytime you flush the toilet, that blue thing disolves into the water mah. So the more you flush it, the more frequent I have to replace it with a new block.

Kay : You kiamsiap fuck! I need to pee! *uses the toilet anyway*

Vincent : Heyy!!!!............you gotta pay me back for that.


*yes, I am an asshole, if that wasn't already obvious to you*

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Wednesday, October 27, 2004

"turning on a tap" for dummies

A lot of people questioned my supposed bullshit in my last post. What ballocks is this, they say. 1000 words on how to turn on a tap? You gotta be joking.

No.

Hence, I am putting this up here, although making it vulnerable to copycats and intellectual thieves. It isn't even a great piece of litreature. I got bored sometime between school and college and decided to write out stuffs for the fun of it. This is the article as I wrote it the first time, and has never been edited since, although I can think of many ways to increase the word count.

The objective of it was not to produce something nice to read, but more of an exercise to see how much nonsense I could write. Of course, after reading this, you could go on and do something like that, that's easy. But the challenge at that time was that I had no clue what the end result would be. I wrote 1 sentence at a time, each time trying to prolong the essay.



"Turning on the tap" for dummies

Isn’t it weird and sometimes seemingly strange that such an easy task which can be performed by small children and maybe even toddler can prove to be a challenging and daunting task to some grown ups. So, for all you people who do face problems turning on a tap to wash your hands before meals, while brushing teeth and so on, well let me tell you that it really is an easy task. All you need is the proper instructions and you would be well on your way.

Firstly, spread your palm flat out. If you are left handed, use your left hand and if you are right handed, then use your right hand as starters. You will need to get used to it before you can become ambidextrous on performing this task. Most people who have a great deal of experience can turn on the tap with either hand with relative ease too. Also, since the hot water tap is usually on the left and the cold water tap is on the right, people usually use their left hand for the hot water tap and the right for the cold water tap. One might say that taps are conventionally placed that way because most people are right handed and whilst cold water will only make you shiver, hot water will actually scald you (which I think is biased towards left handed people like myself – we might use our left hand and scald ourselves!!). But anyway, it really is easy when you get the hang of it. And for now, let’s take things one-step at a time. So, with whichever hand you feel comfortable with spread your palm out.

Now, slowly but surely, wrap your palm along the tap head. Have a good feel of the tap head. If it is a modern tap you are dealing with, have a good feel and experience the ergonomic design of the head. Old-fashioned taps are a little more uncomfortable to feel, instead of a nice round head, they instead have an “X-head.” Those old-fashioned taps are not at all ergonomic but they do however pose fewer difficulties to beginners such as yourself. Whatever the design is, that is of little relevance. All you need is a good grip of the head and you would be on the right track. If it is your first time grasping a tap head, you would find that the metal head does indeed have a cold feeling. This cold feeling can sometimes shock a person, so as a beginner, you have to prepare yourself for the sudden change in sensation. Don’t worry, don’t panic; it is not a case of your tap freezing when your surrounding is warm and humid. The simple explanation behind that is because metal is a good conductor of heat. Therefore, if quickly conducts heat from your palm and so you would feel that if it cold. To accustom yourself to this weird, yet pleasant sensation, I would suggest that you leave your grip on the head for a little while before doing anything. Once you have accustomed your hand to the temperature, you are now ready to begin.

You have to bear in mind that the tap is very much like a screw, you are loosening a screw in the tap to allow water to flow in. As many laymen are unfamiliar with this, you have to take note that the universal rule for loosening a screw, or a tap in this case is by twisting it in a counter clockwise direction. So, with your grip still firmly placed on the head, imagine that your hand is now a clock needle. Imitating the movement of the arm of an analogue clock, taking the tap head as the centre point, move your elbow to the right as to follow the anti clockwise direction. This is a little complicated and takes quite a lot of body movement to get it done but I had taken into consideration that you are new in this so I have decided to make this instructions as simplified as possible. Now, when you keep your palm in place and move your elbow, it requires you to move your shoulder forward as to follow the movement of the tap head. Theoretically, you should face no problems in turning the tap head. Actually, once you start moving your elbow and your shoulders, the tap head should move with ease.

Following Newton’s 1st law of motion, there is something called “inertia” in every object. Although minimal, you have to remember that there is also friction in the joints between the tap head and the washer. Because of that, enough of force has to be applied to overcome the frictional force and the inertia preventing the movement of a static body. Once you have applied sufficient force, the tap head will then proceed to move slowly but surely. Once movement has started, you would discover that it gets easier and easier to turn the head. Usually, turning the head about 180°-360° would be enough to have a moderately large water flow. This of course also depends a lot on the water pressure in the area. The more you twist the head anti-clockwise, the larger the flow will be and the higher the water pressure is in the area, you would have to twist the head less to get the same rate of water flow when compared to a tap in a low-pressure area.

Now, since you are a beginner of sorts and a dim-witted one as well, I will not be going into details on how you are going to turn off the tap because I personally feel that the information you have gathered today would be too much for you to absorb. That partly being the reason, and the other reason being that this is a “turning ON the tap” for dummies lesson, not a “turning OFF the tap” lesson. So, now that the tap is on and most probably running in full volume, you would probably be wasting a lot of water. Never mind that, small sacrifices need to be made in order for us to achieve perfection. Therefore, leave the tap running a little while and run along to your nearest bookshop and pick up the sequel to this book which would of course be called “Turning off the tap for dummies”

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Tuesday, October 26, 2004

uh-oh

You know you are fucked when :

You write daily articles which have an average of 500 words.

You can write stupid stories about chickens which contain around 2000 words.

You once wrote an essay on "How to turn on a tap" -- 1068 words long. For the fun of it.

But you are struggling to write a paragraph of a case study title that you picked yourself and is due in 10 hours time.

And you console yourself saying "Its ok. Go write a blog and wait another 3 hours or so. You always work best under stress anyway."

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glory hunters

*If you are confused by my terms of Group 1, 2, 3 female football fans and Group A, B, C male football fans, please read this first - Women & Football*

In the wake of yesterday's results, a lot of unknown Manyoo fans have popped out of nowhere.

For the sake of the Group 1 and Group C people out there, a brief roundup. Manyoo, an "ailing team" who only won 3 out of their first 9 league games and scored a grand total of zero goals in their last 2 games played the "great and invisible" ARSEnal who were unbeaten in the last 49 league games scoring something like 29 goals in their 9 games so far this season. Manyoo won 2-0.

I have always supported Manyoo for as long as I can remember, through thick and thin. It therefore pisses the fuck out of me when glory hunters come along. "Fans" who support a team when they are winning, and abandon ship when they are losing. I have seen many such "fans" with Manyoo having an incredibly bad start to their season.

After yesterday's win, a huge number of such fans arose from the ashes of poo. A great big deal of them started gloating about OUR win. Gloating to Arsenal fans about how WE are a great team. Mostly Group 2 girls. Girls who had never watched a single Manyoo game this year went out to some place in Bangsar or Hartamas, watched the game, didn't understand shits, and came home happy. WE won? Fuck. I don't remember seeing you on the pitch playing.

"Ooooohhhh.....Ronaldo! He's soooooo good."

Fuck you cunt. He played shits. Ashley Cole kicked his fucking ass.

Stop gloating. Stop pissing the fuck out of me.

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Saturday, October 23, 2004

paranoia

How private is your life nowadays? There are always those kinda shows where you see government agents hunting down a normal civilian and the guy always wonders -- how do they know so much about me? And you used to watch those shows and think, "Nah, thats bullshit. They won't know this and this about me. They don't know who I am."

But nowadays, how much of that is true?

Open google. Type in your damn name. Or somebody's name (a lot of people find my site by typing my name). Chances are, if you have something you wrote or something someone wrote about you, you can find it. Blogs for instance. Its true isn't it? You read a blog, you read a stranger. And people wonder -- how come other people know so much about me?

Friendster. You know it. People use it to find friends. Conspiracy theorists suggest that some intelligence network of the CIA set it up to get a database of people. Can be true. Me, I think Friendster was set up by an Internet porn king somewhere.

You know fake pictures of nude celebrities? On Friendster, you can find a lot of girls who seem to think its a good idea to put out their nicest studio photo. Good idea to attract guys, yes? Yeah, guys with itchy dicks. It also makes it easy for people to take your photo, edit it and paste it on top of a nude model and circulate it around the net.

Friendster is a fucking dangerous place. Government networks to track down people? Why do you need a government network when you have a ready done network in front of your face that tells you what a person likes, what he dislikes, and what his friends think about him.

Paranoid? Maybe.

Possible? No doubt.

If you are one who doesn't really care about privacy, then its ok. But if you really do care, then why the fuck are you voluntarily giving out your information? That's really stupid.

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ebay, part 2

As we all know, you can get all sorts of stuffs on Ebay.

Cars, TVs, books, concert tickets, mobile phones, comics........

You name it, they have it.

I hear you screaming again. NO VINCENT! They can't possibly have EVERYTHING? Well, yes they do. Name it.

How about a used condom? Check.

Toilet brush? Surely nobody would buy a toilet brush on EBay? Thats what you think.

How about fart in a jar? Who the hell would sell that? Wrong again.

I think I'll leave it to you to decide the expletives you want to use in this situation. Cause I am lost for words.

Sometimes, in an auction, people tend to have a very competitive behaviour. They want to win, no matter what. And most of the time, these people are a detriment to themselves. They bid crazy amounts just to get something they want, even though that same item can be procured elsewhere. Also, sometimes, when bidding against some other person, the question of the object no longer plays a part. Instead, people concentrate on WINNING. Which isn't the cleverest thing to do.

The other day, I was looking for a book that I want -- Da Vinci Code. Now, that book costs £6.99 (I think) in a bookstore.

So, if you were to find a second hand book on ebay which costs £6, will you buy it? Well, no, cause you still need to pay for postage which is not included in the bid price. Which means that if you add in another £2 or so for registered mail, the cost of buying it will be more expensive than if you buy a brand new book from the bookstore. Not very clever actually.

Now, time to make some money.

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Friday, October 22, 2004

totally fucked

No, I didn't have sex.

Played 2 hours of football in the rain and mud. (anybody want to wash my boots and socks for me? I'll pay you.) Then rested for 2 hours. Then played squash for one and a half hours.

You try that then you tell me whether you get fucked or not.

My legs were aching so bad that the minute I got back and sat on my chair, I had a bloody relieving sensation. What kinda sensation, you ask?

Imagine your best ever orgasm.

No, you pervert! Don't start wanking now!

I didn't ask you to have it. I said imagine it.

After that, you are lying on your bed, or backseat of your car, panting and then passing out.

Just before you pass out, you feel satisfied and happy.

Multiply that feeling by 10.

And you still won't feel how I felt just now.

Going to sleep. I'll write about Ebay when I get up.

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Thursday, October 21, 2004

ebay, part 1

If you are jobless, in need of cash, and have a smart business brain, I suggest you go into the E-Bay trading business (if you don't know what E-Bay is, go ask your mum, I couldn't be arsed educating frogs under a glass). E-Bay is filled with morons which have IQ lower than a toilet brush. And it is the general rule of thumb in marketing -- there is a shit load of money to be made from dumb asses.

I had never liked the idea of E-Bay. But I wanted to get tickets to go watch a Corrs concert in 2 weeks time. Being a procrastinator, I never got down to buying the tickets online. When I finally got down to it, the seats were too damn far away for my liking. So, I resorted to searching on E-Bay. To my bloody amazement, it seemed that all the good seats for the concert were on E-Bay.

A particular one caught my eye.

2 Front row seats. Dead centre. £259 with 2 days to go on bidding. (the bid ended at something like £350)

And I thought, FUCK ME! Tickets had a face value of £35 each. But people were willing to pay 5 times the price for a front row seat? Why didn't they go line up at the ticket booth when it first opened?

Then came the interesting part. Horrible seats were selling too. Up to £40 pounds for a rubbish seat with a rubbish view. Still a profit for the seller. Are people that stupid? I finally hit the jackpot. I won a bid for a reasonably good seat.On the lowest tier and quite centralised -- and only for £26.

Brainwaves after brainwaves hit me. Being a smart ass that I usually am, I decided that if I ever had time, I would trade stuffs on ebay. Hell, I thought, if I can't find a job after I graduate, I'll set up my own company to trade stuffs. Was feeling damn proud about myself having thought up an original idea, until I later found out that people actually do that for a living, and there are many such companies.

Still, extra cash is good for anybody. Students like me especially. Working in a restaurant? A bar? Thats hard work man. I could buy concert tickets online and sell them on ebay and make as much money as those guys slogging it out serving beers to old horny men. So, I searched out Ticketmaster, and found out that Westlife were performing in March 2005.

Cool. I'll buy some real good tickets and sell them. Hormone induced harpies love faggot singers. I knew that for a fact. And if Corrs tickets could fetch such a good price, so could these dudes. The original plan was to buy a ticket, and hold it until February.

I was wrong. I underestimated those phoney Billy Joel wannabes. A concert to be held in 5 months time had sold out most of its good seats. I couldn't get a ticket that I thought was worth selling on ebay. But for curiosity sakes, I decided to search ebay for Westlife tickets. I didn't expect to get many hits for it since the concert was a long long time away.

Again, I was wrong.

Search came back with more than 200 hits. To think that Corrs only had around 70 hits, this was amusing me over more. Firstly, I thought that some buyers on ebay were stupid. Then I realised, even the sellers were clearly not thinking straight.

A concert due to be held in March and people are selling tickets in October? What the fuck? Surely the tickets would be worth MUCH MORE in February when they start getting desperate? Now, people will look at the price and think, nah, I can get cheaper tickets, or better tickets. But in February, when desperation creeps in, they'll put any price on it.

Come on dudes. This is fucking Westlife. Teenage girls are fucking crazy about them. The guys, maybe not so much, but anything to please the girlfriend, yes? And what better a Valentine's Day present than FRONT ROW TICKETS to see Westlife?

If you get £300 pounds for the tickets today, I am damn fucking sure it can go for at least £350 in February. And I figured out that if were to get into this Ebay thingy as a job, I'll end up ruling the place. Its a certainty. Like how I hate ALL TYPES OF IDIOTS. There is no question about it. Its for sure.

Part two : Other Ebay stuffs

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Wednesday, October 20, 2004

moral dilemma

Let's say, some bastard pissed the fuck out of you. Well, ok, maybe he didn't really piss me off. What if he inconveniently shoved his arsehole into my business?

If I were in the mafia, I would kill him. But I am not.

Humiliation is the best way to teach somebody a lesson, yes? But what if he is humiliated so bad that he decides to hang himself? I know I wrote that I support people who want to kill themselves, but moral conscience is too fucked up a thing to ignore.

I have means to do it right now. But I can't decide whether the guy pissed me off enough to warrant a face bashing. Its like blackmail you know. You have to plan it right. You have one and only one trump card in your hand. Do you use it now or save the trump card for later? Or do you even use it if you can win without resorting to such means?

This is ballocks.

Some people need to be taught a lesson. But should I be the one who does the teaching? I'll go to bed and ask Vince. He'll tell me.

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Tuesday, October 19, 2004

virus can be cool

Got back my computer yesterday. The people who serviced it for me had already gone home, so I collected it from the clerk at the university computing centre. With it came a job sheet, which I will frame up.

I usually don't agree with the term "a picture speaks a thousand words" but in this case, its true.





How cool is that?

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perfection, part 2

If you haven't read yesterday's article on perfection. Go read it first.

I asked you guys to think about what perfection is.

Honestly, I am dissapointed with all of you. Especially you guys out there. Utterly dissapointed, that's what I am. Nobody came close to the answer!

Here you go. Here is an idea of perfection.






* Courtesy of The Sun UK, voted by British men.

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Monday, October 18, 2004

perfection

Think about it. What is a perfect creation?

I reckon, it is something that can achieve all its purposes of its creation without flaw.

A lot of people choose to say things like :

Nobody is perfect.
Humans are not perfect.
Only God is perfect.

Bull-fucking-shit.

People with that mentality never get far in life. A lot of people justify their mistakes with the sore excuse that they are not perfect.

"We are only humans, we make mistakes"

Ever heard that before? So, you make a mistake, and you blame it on your imperfections? Here's something to think off, why not work to IMPROVE your fucking imperfections and strive to be a perfect creature?

"No such thing as a perfect creature!" I hear you scream. "Nothing is perfect!"

Rubbish. A lot of things are perfect. Created to serve their purposes. Take a look at your desk.

A pencil. First, there was those lead pencils, with a fat piece of lead imbedded into a piece of wood. But then people decided that it sucks. Cause it keeps breaking and constantly needs sharpening. Hence, the creation of a mechanical pencil.

What's wrong with a mechanical pencil? Nothing. I have been using the same mechanical pencil since Form 3. Thats 6 years now. Its not gotten spoilt. I use it everyday and it serves me fine. There you go. Perfect creation.

What else?

An old t-shirt that I now use as a bathroom rag. First, I wore it. When it tore at certain parts, I use it as a rag. When it tears some more and the material becomes fuzzy, it will make a better rag by soaking up more water. See, perfect creation.

So you see, perfection is relative. I say I am a perfect creature. Why am I perfect? Cause I keep evolving. I discover my faults, and evolve to make up and eliminate those faults. I know my strengths, and make sure complacency doesn't weaken them. Hence, I am perfect. You could be perfect too, if you wish.

But then, I hear people screaming, "That's bullshit Vincent. You will die someday. Someday, your pencil will break, and that bathroom rag will tear up so badly that you can't use it anymore. Things will die. That is why nothing is perfect, nothing except God."

Oh yeah? The most perfect thing, God, doesn't die?

Maybe not for you. But for the millions of atheist around the world, tell them that God is alive. Tell that to a dying man who has lost all faith in everything, tell him that God is alive. To you, God doesn't die. To him, God is long dead.

So, what is perfection?

You think about it. I'll tell you tomorrow.

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Sunday, October 17, 2004

ask vincent - paying for idiots

Today's Ask Vincent question is from Avaxis. Its not so much a question, more of an opinion thingy.

What do you think of this statement - do not pay for other people's mistakes?
Simple example would be, a cashier gives you $10 extra in change. Morality and ethics (vince-and sympathy) tells you to give the cash back. However, if you apply the above statement, it simply means the cashier made a mistake and they should pay for it (thus forking out the $10 from their own pocket).

First off, you did not have the intention of cheating the cashier, so you can't really be blamed. Now the catch is, if you do things according to ethics & moral, and give the money back, then the cashier wouldn't learn from his mistake. If you pocket the money and the cashier later realises it, he would have learned to take more notice when giving out change.

Responsibility. If you make a mistake you be sure as hell be prepared to take responsibility for it. In the above scenario, it is not YOUR responsibility to give the money back, it is the cashier's responsibility to give correct change. So if we have take responsibility for our mistakes, then why are we taught to be honest and give the money back?

In a way that's taking the responsibility off the cashier who made the mistake! Its basically contradicting between taking responsibilty for mistakes & pratice morals/ethics and correct others when they make a mistake. If people are not made to pay for their mistakes, then they will never learn, and if they never learn they will continue to make even more mistakes.
Personally I stick to the "do not pay for other people's mistakes", and if I make one, I'd be prepared to take a can of whoopass (however, if I can get away with it, I would, then it would be the mistake of the other individual to let me get away with it!)


I remember once, when I went into the 7-11 near my house to buy a loaf of bread. It was early in the morning, around 6.30am. The cashier woman gave me the impression that she had just woken up, was sleepy eyed and everything.

I put a loaf of bread on the counter, RM2 I think it was. I gave her a RM5 note. She took it, punched a few keys in the cash register and started counting some red notes. To my amazement, she gave me back RM48 change. I stared at her, and she stared back at me, sort of with a glare asking me, "WHAT?!?!"

I told her that I gave her RM5, not RM50. Her eyes finally opened into a big goldfish stare. She thanked me, I gave her back the money, and I walked out of the shop feeling good about myself. I saved her RM45. 45 bucks! That's probably more than she earns in a day.

When I started this "ask vincent" section, it was to make my blog more educational.

Heh.

I am the one learning stuffs from it now. Avaxis did make good points.

Look, the stupid woman was half asleep on her shift. If I had walked out of 7-11 with that extra change, I could have bought myself a month's supply of ice-cream. And that woman would have permanently learned from her mistake. Expensive mistake, yes, but it would have been better for her. After all, it is true, you make a mistake, then you be prepared to take the flame for it.
However, I think Avaxis forgot a few important factors.

Firstly, conscience. I don't think I would have enjoyed all that ice-cream with the knowledge that that money is more than what that clerk makes in ONE day. Probably two day's worth of her salary. She would have problems paying for the TV that she bought from Court's Mammoth.
After all, what is ethics? As I told a small baby few days ago, the only ethics I know, is knowledge that my actions would enable me to look myself in the mirror at the end of the day. And comparing that to the fact that people are supposed to pay for their mistakes, I think conscience outweighs everything.

Another driving factor, I believe is the circumstances on that day. Like whether my mood is good. Like, whether the change given is a small amout or not? I think it would have kept the wrong change if it was the order or RM2 or something like that. But RM45 was too big a burden on my conscience.

Also, the mood of cashier is important. Did he smile at you? Did she sulk? How nice was he? Did he wish you good morning and smile while checking out your purchases? If the guy was fucked up, I could have been fucked up as well. (the woman was fucked up, but like I said, I was small and had no malicious intent)

Oh, and for guys, the most important factor, the size of the cashier's boobs.....and how chune she was. Never forget that.

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Saturday, October 16, 2004

virus is bad

If you follow my blog closely, you would have noticed me constantly moaning about how fucked up my computer is. In fact, in the space of 3 weeks, I reformatted my comp 4 times. But viruses persist in spite of having THREE anti-virus agents. Since I came back here, somebody on the network had been spreading the virus.

This morning, I was sleeping, some idiot called me :

Guy : Hi, I am from SNS (Student Network Services). Do you know your computer is infected by virus?

Vincent : Hmmmmmmmm....

Guy : Not only is it affecting your computer, it is affecting the whole network.

Vincent : (smiles.............cool!!)

Guy : Yeah, you have to disconnect your comp from the network now, otherwise we will disconnect you.

Vincent : Ok.

Guy : Then, bring in your comp to the computer centre and we will get rid of the virus for you for free.

Vincent : COOL!

Guy : Have a nice day.

*I am stuck without a comp for the whole weekend. But they are doing it for me for free. I was about to bring it to a shop for them to fix it for me.*

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Friday, October 15, 2004

bus stop chat

It was raining. I took the bus. Waited under the bus stop shed.

4 people at the bus stop.

Blonde guy on phone.

Brunette chick looking really cold.

Spanish guy with beard and long hair.

Vincent the great.

While waiting for my bus, heard the conversation the blonde guy was having on the phone.

Blondie : So what else is new?

Phone : .............

Blondie : Wot??!

Phone : .............

Blondie : You shi'ing me mate.

Phone : .............

Blondie : Tom's shagging Charlotte?!?!?

Phone : .............

Blondie : Has he no shame? She's hideous!

Phone : .............

Blondie : Wot the fuck is his problem?

Phone : .............

Blondie : Alcohol? That's ballocks mate. A drunk Irish won't even fucking look at her.

Phone : .............

Blondie : Stupid muppet. What else is new?

Phone : .............

Brunette chick, Spanish guy, and Vincent look at each other and smile.

Bus comes.

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the duck story

No, this one is not like the chicken story. I am not obssessed with poultry. But anyways, true story this.

There's this shop in PJ owned by a spinster selling duck rice. (not sure whether its one or two of them. lets just assume there's only one) Most people from PJ would have heard of it. The duck is fantastic, although there's also another of equal standard not too far from it. This one opens for lunch while the other one opens for dinner.

Its good, and on Sunday afternoons, you can see people queing up outside the shop like as though the ducks are made of gold. Very good business. Even on working days.

Now, the problem is, although her ducks are fucking tasty, being a spinster, all the built up sexual frustrations gets to her and makes her fucking grouchy. Sometimes, she scolds customers for changing orders. Sometimes she fumbles the orders and scolds the customers.

My mum and her gang of friends got scolding from her once although she took the order wrong. My mum got pissed off, but kept quiet cause her friend's husband who was treating everybody else to the meal laughed it off. He made a joke about that spinster being too sexual frustrated, like an old maid, so she had to release her tension on her customers. He said he didn't care as long as the ducks tasted good.

One day, my mum ordered a few ducks for my family's Chinese New Year celebration. There was some confusion with the orders, I can't remember what. My mum might even have been in the wrong, I can't remember. But since when was a customer in the wrong?

Anyways, she scolded my mum in front of all the other customers. My mum got pissed off and told her there was no need to scold customers. My mum stormed out of the restaurant, not before telling her these two sentences :

"I won't starve if I don't eat your duck. And you won't go bankrupt if I don't buy duck from you"

True.

My mum gets the equally good duck from the other shop nearby. She hasn't gotten ill or suffered in anyway from not eating the spinster's famous duck. Neither has the spinster gone bankrupt by not getting business from my mum. You can still see loads of people there every lunch time.

True story this.

*Every story I tell has a reason behind it*
*Every sentence I write in such stories has a meaning that can be interpreted*

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Thursday, October 14, 2004

snooker date

First, let me describe the snooker room in my university's sports centre. Its a large room, spacious and quiet in the corner of the building. The location is perfect, far from the basketball courts, it is eerily quiet. Any noise you hear in the room would come from the players and the clashes of the balls.

There are 3 tables, all positioned nicely within the room so that the players do not interefere with one another. The table in pristine condition as the carpet is stripped and changed very often. Smoking is not allowed in the room unlike most snooker centres. No where in Malaysia have I played in such perfect conditions.

As such, many people find these conditions very condusive for playing, and for other activities. Now, I frequent the room two times a week, once with my friend George, and once more to practice on my own. As of late, I noticed a very significant increase of female snooker players.

Some girls come with their boyfriends to watch. Never mind them. Whats more interesting is the people who obviously are not a couple. In an attempt to woo a girl, a guy brings her to the room to teach her the game. Maybe and hopefully, to impress her. Again, nothing of my business what the guy wants to do.

However, I have to question the wisdom in that. You see, in theory, snooker rooms are as quiet as a library. As with the flipping of pages in the library, you have the clashing of balls in a snooker room. It is common courtesy to shut up and let other people concentrate on their game. Snooker is not a social game. You are not supposed to talk at all.

Therefore, people who go on dates in snooker rooms clearly did not think it through. What kinda date can you not talk to your partner? And if you talk, it is just purely inconsiderate. Not an impression you want to leave on somebody you want to impress, yes?

Then theres a stony matter of guys who actually TEACH girls how to play. They make a whole load of noise. Better still, the guys who are crap at the game. You see, for beginners, snooker looks like a damn easy game. So, when you do make a mistake at a seemingly "easy" shot, it looks stupid on you.

Snooker is not like basketball or football (girls like nothing more than watching a bunch of guys play basketball). It requires no physical strength. It is a game of technique and concentration. Compared to basketball, there is no question which game will impress chicks more.

That's what I always thought. Until last night. I was there practicing alone, when a couple came in. I was having a shitty night and most of my shots were off target. So I took a while, sat down, and watched the "couple" play. I don't think they were a couple. Just a guy trying to woo a girl or teaching her how to play the game.

I can't believe that after playing the game for 3 years now, it was just last night that I noticed the many advantages of taking a chick to play snooker. Just last night. Fucking unbelievable.

If you have seen a snooker player in action, try to recall his pose as lines up to cue to ball. Bent over the table, chest low, nearly kissing the table. Itchy bastards stand facing the chick, and lo-and-behold, full view of a huge gaping monsoon drain. Alternatively, they stand behind the girl, staring at her full ass as she bends over to strike the ball. Some girls wear low cut jeans, so sometimes their red lace panties show.

Then, theres also the chance of holding a chick's hand. On the pretext of teaching her how to hold the cue stick. On the pretext of teaching her how to steady her hand. Many many reasons can arise, all to get close to the girl. He could "hug" her from the back as she tries to line up a shot, adjusting the position of the stick and her hands, his nose sniffing the fragrance of her hair. All so fucking convenient.

Moral of the story : Guys are horny people.

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Wednesday, October 13, 2004

ravaged

I meant to write about this a couple of weeks ago, but I forgot.

Anyways, about 2 weeks ago, I went for a student's society's EGM. It was one of the coolest EGM's I have been to. They actually used a OHP for their presentation, quite professional. While waiting for people to arrive, they used the OHP to show some videos. Music videos to be precise.

There were some usual music videos. Some I have seen before. Like there's a Korean (I think) video by Kiss. The song is called "Because I'm your girl." Its a nice song, but the music video has to rate as one of the corniest videos I have ever seen. Hopeless romantics will disagree though.

Anyways, then there came up this Chinese song sung by some guy with the video of course. Now, I don't listen to many Chinese songs, so I don't know much about them. Maybe not even Chinese, the fella might have been a Hongkee or something, I didn't have a fucking clue.

So the singer dude had a typical faggot look I thought. The video showed a close-up of his face. Wow. Smoother than baby's lanjiao's foreskin. Whiter than steamed chicken. His hair also one kind. And the eyes...........oh my god. Its as if he murdered some Milan catwalk model and stole her eyes and used them.

Being ignorant in stuffs like that, I turned to my friend HQ who was sitting next to me and I asked him out loud, " Eh dude, who's the faggot on the screen ar?"

It was a mistake so costly that I would regret it for some time to come.

Because, immediately as I said that, the two girls sitting on my left turned their heads and stared me in the eyes. Their eyes looked dangerous. "What did you say?" they hissed with awesome ferocity. But I was in a joyful mood and didn't get the drift. So I replied even louder than before, "Oh, I was just asking HQ who the faggot on the screen is."

Without blinking again, the bunch of girls sitting directly in front of me turned around and jumped over their chairs, transforming into some skanky harpies (just like in Van Helsing). They rose majestically into the air and formed a circle, hoovering just above my head, ready to attack me at any moment.

The two girls on my left continued to focus their Medusa stare into my eyes. Their pupils turned bloody red and instantly hooked up with my eyes, like lovers staring into each other's eyes. Only problem is, those two weren't interested in love. They wanted to kill me, or at least torture me to make me pay for my blesphemous words.

Within a few seconds, their eyes had stared deep into mind and had already controlled my brain and froze it. Mind control. That was their intent all the while. My mind went into a frenzy as I did not have control over myself. With an instant, the harpies over my head rained down from the ceiling and began attacking me. As much as I wanted to, I could not defend myself because of the mind control.

Even without mind control taking its effect on me, no ordinary guy could withstand the attack of such savage beasts. And savage they were. The harpies immediately went to work. Two of them dived for my pants and immediately tore it to pieces. They looked at my giant sized member and gave as gasp of horror. Not too sure whether it was pleasurable horror though.

Cool, I thought. If they think sex is torture, I will have it anyday. But I was wrong. Immediately, the harpies took hold of my hands and held it apart, some took hold of my legs. The only harpy that didn't do that was a harpy I did not see earlier. Which was surprising at that moment, for she was the largest and biggest harpy around.

She was so fucking fat, I still can't figure out how she managed to fly around. Surely it must strain her wings a great deal. Anyways, horror dawned upon me like a child realising for the first time that he would get punished if he was naughty. The fat bitch was preparing to rape me.

She thrust her fatty thighs around my waist and took hold of my giant tool trying to insert it into her fat infested body. The fats were all around me. I couldn't see anything. Her two big blobs of natural fats were in my face and drowning my senses. I passed out.................

It was a traumatising experience for me. Till this day, I thank God for little mercies. Thankful that I passed out half way through the nightmarish ordeal. Thankful that they didn't kill me, although a torture such as that is bad enough.

Later I learned what the faggot's name was. The faggot in the video. The cause for all my problems. Fuck I hate that sissy bapok. The pussy of all pussies. The wanker that caused two girls to resort to mind control. The homometrosexual cunt that caused a bunch of innocent young girls to turn into savage horny harpies.

Jay Chou.

That's what his name was.

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Tuesday, October 12, 2004

superman

Yes, yes.

Its been all over the news. Superman died. Newspapers wrote stories about it. Bloggers wrote blogs about it.

But none of them to this impact.

Check out Maddox : Christopher Reeve is was an asshole. Do read the full article.

For people too lazy to click the page, here are a few exerpts of that article:



Why is Reeve an asshole?
Simple: because he's selfish. Reeve didn't give shit about paralysis before his accident, but now that he's paralyzed, suddenly he opens up a paralysis foundation and cares about the plight of cripples? Where was his foundation in '95 when he played the role of a man with spinal cord njury?

What really pisses me off about Reeve is the sheer arrogance. Look up a Reeve biography and you'll find praise like "he has now found new meaning in life." Let me tell you something: any time you find new meaning in life because of a debilitating injury, your "old" life didn't have much meaning. Paralysis could strike anyone at any time, and if you're living your life in such a way that all your goals require the use of your arms and legs, then your life probably doesn't mean much to begin with. I'm sure people who were born paralyzed don't appreciate being told that their lives "have meaning too.

The "still living life to the fullest" doctrine pisses me off even more because you can almost hear a voice in your head that finishes off the sentence with "...as a cripple." What does it mean to "still live life to the fullest"? Why should it require any extra effort or energy, or the addition of the word "still" in front if you were living your life "to the fullest" to begin with?
What can physical mobility afford you that pure thought can't alone? It's so gracious of Mr.Reeve to acknowledge that you can "still" live a meaningful life, even as a cripple. I'm sure that people who struggle with paralysis every day are exuberant at having someone champion their cause, it's just too bad that Reeve is in all likelihood doing it because he cares about himself first and foremost. Would he have opened up a paralysis foundation before the accident? Doubtful. Of course, we can never know for sure, but the fact remains that he didn't open up a foundation before the accident, and he poured his heart and soul into research afterwards, so the only conclusion that can be made is that he's doing it simply because he himself needs treatment.

The fact that he's helping thousands of people as he helps himself is a side effect of his cure; not necessarily his intention. I have little doubt that Mr. Reeve would work as hard to find a cure for paralysis if he was one of only a hand full of victims, so I don't think he deserves praise for this "good deed," because if it was intentional on his part to help these people, he probably would have had a paralysis foundation before the accident occurred.

I didn't have any beef with Reeve before his accident, but it's the praise he collects for his selfishness that makes him an asshole in my book. If tomorrow Reeve selflessly dedicated all of his time and effort--or even half of it--towards finding a cure for cancer or heart disease, he'd have my respect (not that he's trying to earn my respect, but having my respect is an awesome
privilege). Hell, he'd earn my respect if he just cut the condescending bullshit for a few minutes, such as this prize quote "I've noticed that there are very few roles for people in chairs... I would like to see people with disabilities featured sympathetically." No shit? As opposed to all those other movies that show people with disabilities being demonized? Like it happens so often anyway. Why should people with disabilities be featured any more sympathetically than people without disabilities? If his goal is to live a normal life, how normal could his life be if all his future roles were "sympathetic"? Oh look, here comes the cripple, everyone act sympathetic regardless of the plot, because real life cripples never experience conflict or drama. If I were in a wheel chair, I'd want an ass kicking role where I would spend the entire movie running over
people's fingers and tossing old ladies off of cliffs, not some suck-ass sissy role where I'd sit around and cry like a pussy.


The guy does have a point.

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Monday, October 11, 2004

education 2

Click here to read about my previous article on education. Its not related though.

I have already ditched my anti social behaviour. I am now a very friendly and approachable dude.

Anyways, I am now talking to almost everybody in my hostel. The silly questions have stopped, albeit from a few people. Which is why, in the first line of this paragraph, I said ALMOST everybody.

Now, there are a lot of international students in my halls of residence. Singaporeans, Malaysians, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, Thais, and of course English. The other day, when I sat at the dinner table, a few of them were already deep in conversation.

JapGuy : Sawasdee.

ThaiGirl : Ni Hao?

EnglishGirl : Konichiwa.

Apparently, they were learing each other's culture and language. So they were teaching each other to say some phrases in other languages. Stuffs like, "How are you?" "I love you" and "You look nice". In short, pussy phrases.

They got it all wrong, and I soon put that mistake right. I mean, that method of learning languages is seriously flawed. You can't expect people to learn a whole new language like that.

So, I told them that I will teach them a few coloquial Malaysian phrases.

Pukimak

Tiu nia seng

Kaneneh

Pegi toceng la ngkau

Lanjiao

Kepala buto ngkau


Everybody knows that when you want to learn a language, first thing you learn are the holy words.


*I never actually taught them that. I kept quiet and ate while they were learning the stuffs*
*They still think I am a good and holy boy*
*Kinda the same with Dexter's supposed education*
*I reckon I could really teach people a lot of useful stuffs if I wanted to*

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Sunday, October 10, 2004

palm nuts

In my final year group project, my group has to design a machine which can crush the shells of palm nuts (kelapa sawit) and seperate the shells from the kernal.

The machine is to be used in Ghana in some remote villages where there is no electricity supply. Obviously too, it has to require very low maintainance as the local people would not have the expertise to fix it. It needs to be cheap too, so that they can afford to buy it.

In other words, a machine that doesn't get spoilt, works in rough conditions, and cheap. In engineer's terms -- a perfect machine.

The first obstacle is getting my hands on palm nuts for testing. My 3 English group mates had never heard of it before (don't blame them). So, we probably need to import it from somewhere.

Still, during our group meeting, one of the guys pointed out, "We probably need a whole sackful of nuts." Before he could say anything else, it clicked into his mind what he just said, and we started laughing until our stomachs we aching like crazy. It was so fucking funny, I even heard people on the table next to us giggle a bit.

Immediately after our group meeting, we had to meet our supervisor to report our progress:

Dr Jones : So, where are you guys going to get the palm nuts from?

Vincent : Yeah, we were saying, since we can't get it here, we would probably need to import it from somewhere. *evil grin* We probably need a whole sackful of nuts for the testing anyway.

The 3 other dudes were killing themselves trying to silence their laughter. They were looking at me funny and were trying to cover their faces so that our supervisor wouldn't see them laughing.

This is going to be a cool project.


*If you don't find anything funny about a "sackful of nuts" you are a good pure holy person. You shouldn't corrupt your innocent mind by reading my blog*

*Oh, if anybody out there works for an oil palm processing company, or knows anyone, kindly let me know, I need to talk to someone about some technical details. Save me some reseearch. Haha. Oh, I still need to get my hands on a sackful of nuts too. Anybody know where do I get them from?*

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Friday, October 08, 2004

the chicken story -- conclusion

And so it was, that for many many moons the chickens of 3 Doves waged their silent wars, against themselves and against 5 Seas. Just when there looked to be no hope of reconcilliation, along came a cockeral and a chicken which would open the eyes of their fellow villagers.

He was a young chick, no more than 200 moons old (that's young in chicken terms) from the Village of 3 Doves. The charm he extended to the chickens was unrivalled by any cockeral. With feathers as black as the night sky and a crown as red as fire, chickens from all over the Village adored him.

She was a chicken of average beauty. On a bad day, her feathers often ruffled and had uneven patches of colour. On other days, the uneven patches of colour made a glitter in the sunlight presenting a stunning beauty. She was smart, possibly the smartest young chick in the whole land. But besides that, she was an ordinary chicken didn't draw much attention to herself. And, yes, you guessed it, she was from the Village of 5 Seas.

As the story would have it, they met and fell in love under mysterious circumstances, as the details are too mushy for such a macho blog. Needless to say, their love affair was met with strong resistance from both sides.

It was blesphemous to speak of -- 3 Doves' most eligible cockeral and some random chicken from 5 Seas? It could have been any village -- 1000 Smiles or even 2 Helps, but why 5 Seas of all? Why the betrayal? Why the ultimate kiss in the bishop's nose? But he insisted that she was different. "She's not a snob like those others from 5 Seas," he said. Above all, he claimed, she wasn't afraid of losing. It remained unknown till much later on, "Losing what?"

It would be unfair, and not to mention inaccurate to say that she escaped the blunt of the critisism. For in the Village of 5 Seas, critisisms run more viciously and with more sting. "How could you", chickens would ask, "a proud chicken of 5 Seas lower yourself and disgrace your intelligence by falling in love with such a cockeral who by rights should not even qualify for your consideration?" A simple but blunt answer would silence all, "He treats me better than any cockeral from 5 Seas has ever."

And so, the two love-birds (all pun intended) would withstand the test of time, defying all odds, as their love grew stronger by the new moon, and for many moons to come. Chickens from both villages watched in amazement, and began reflecting on themselves. The two lovebirds have shown that genuiene love can exist between 3 Doves and 5 Seas. This would bring new change in the mentality of the chickens.

Happy ending?

Well, after many many moons of courting, the young cockeral surprised all the other chickens. He had finally gave up on play acting. He was not actually any different from any of the 5 Seas cockerals (well, he was better, of course, but only slightly). He was bored of that funny "never wanting to lose" mentality that she had. Apparently, he himself didn't know, "Lose what?". And so it was that the great love affair that was doomed from the beginning was finally doomed at the end. A bitter spat ended with the proud young cockeral throwing all his charm away as he blurted out words of immortality,"A 5 Seas chicken will always remain a 5 Seas chicken!"


*this ain't no ___ (can't think of any love story writer) but its a true story*

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free speech

People seem to think that "free speech" means that you can say as you please, and when you wish. They reckon that freedom of speech gives them the right to criticise anything according to their whimps and fancies.

To be honest, I don't have a damn clue what the fuck "free speech" is.

I am guessing, it is something that the white men, the "Champions of Democracy" came up with. Which supposedly suits everybody fine, but I don't think that they can go around shouting, "I hate Niggers" and get away with it. Isn't it after all, free speech? If free speech means you can speak your mind, then why did a football pundit get sacked when he called a footballer "a fucking lazy thick nigger?"

So again, I ask, what is free speech?

We all ask for freedom of speech, but in our everyday lives, it is not something that we practice as well. Especially among Asians, when people dislike something, they are sometimes afraid to say it for the fear of invoking anger or hurting someone. A friend pisses you off, but you keep quiet. You want to critisise people, but you can't. Where is the free speech there?

I say, especially in our Malaysian society, freedom of speech is not something that is feasible. Sure, it'll be great to diss other people as you please. But what happens when someone does find it funny to go around insulting other races?

In an attempt to mimick the luxuries and privilledges of other nations, we have forgotten something that we have always preached -- that we are a unique nation made up of many races. 1969 has indeed taught us what happens when the fragile understanding and tolerance between races is broken. So, can we blame the government for not granting us enough free space to air our thoughts?

After all, we have never really proven ourselves to be matured enough. How much have our mindsets changed since 1969? None at all. 45 years since that day and nothing has changed. Students who can't scholarships don't usually blame themselves, they blame the other race and quotas first. Racially motivated gangfights still occur in schools. Remember the Kampung Baru incident just a few years ago? Give it another 10 years or 50 years down the line and the same racial issues will still remain.

Therefore, in our country, free speech is not a right, and can never be one until we shed our skin and change our thinking. There are social taboos in every country, and more so in ours. Don't bitch that you can't go around saying things that you want to without being thrown in jail. Understand that if those laws are not there, people will go around chopping up other people.

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Thursday, October 07, 2004

the chicken story, part 2

Chickens are generally proud of their own village and hence, a strong rivalry usually occurs between villages. As each village strives to improve living conditions for the chickens, it is then not surprising that sometimes, chickens hate other chickens from another village -- just for that fact only.

Between all the villages, the rivalry is most intense between the Village of 3 Doves and the Village of 5 Seas. The Village of 5 Seas is actually a tiny little village south of 3Doves. Small it may be, but it is much richer than 3 Doves, and has many things that 3 Doves could only dream of having. It can primarily be said that that is the main reason why the chickens of 3 Doves hate 5 Seas so much.

The feeling is mutual though, for once upon a time, many moons ago, 5 Seas was actually a part of 3 Doves. To cut to the chase, an Elder Chicken of 5 Seas poured water over the back of 3 Doves' Chief and Elders. This incensed most of the chickens of 3 Doves (clan lines were another reason too) and 5 Seas was to suffer the ultimate humiliation of being cast away as a rejected community. Not surprising then till this moon that the chickens of 5 Seas still harbour ill-thought and deep hatred for 3 Doves.

As chicken laws would have it, the best way for revenge is to shove things up your enemy's bishop's nose. The Village of 5 Seas thrived, and thrive they did. This of course invoked jealousy from the chickens of 3 Doves village. Jealousy is a bad thing, it causes the chickens' eyes to go green and not being able to see much other stuffs clearly.Therefore, a silent and subconsious hatred was born. On the other hand, while revenge is a dish best served cold, the memory of the past still cannot extingush the flames of humiliation, and it is something that 5 Seas will never put to rest.

The chicks and younger generation chicken are not spared from the surrounding fog of contempt either. Chicks from 5 Seas often view their counterparts as poor and of lower class than themselves. They see a village poorer than theirs and therefore of inferior quality.

On the other view point, chicks from 3 Doves see arrogance and a pampered rich kid when the look in the eyes of a 5 Seas chick. They are perceived to have nothing but greed and materialistic values compounded with an uppity disrespect for lower class under educated chickens.

I recall once seeing a beautiful gracious chicken waltzing right in front of my eyes. Its feathers were silky and black, with tiny beady eyes like pebbles from the heavens. A young cockeral from 3 Doves saw the beautiful chicken and fell crown over claws in love with her. He had never seen her before, and asked her where she was from. The moment she answered, "The Village of 5 Seas" he ran away as fast as his 2 chicken feet could take him.

It is quite odd then that cockerals and chickens of 5 Seas can't seem to mate. As a result, the population of chickens in the Village of 5 Seas is slowly declining. The Chief resorted to many many methods of encourage the chickens to mate, but usually to no avail.

To many, such as myself, the ways and methods of the Village of 5 Seas is kind of........fucked up. Uncomprehensible to say the least. I'll could never understand that Village, and that's all folks, for this time.


*Up next -- Conclusion*

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Wednesday, October 06, 2004

the chicken story, part 1

I have a story. It is a tale about war, hatred and..........love. It is a simple story about the lives of a few chickens, and nothing more.



Somewhere on this planet, there is a place inhabited by millions and millions of chickens. It is not simply any place as you would imagine it to be. It is a vast continent, if you may, consisting of many many islands and a vast plain. Huge, in other words.

In this place, the chickens are divided into various villages. The village lines were drawn many moons ago, even before I was born, sometimes in ink, sometimes in blood. Those were troubled times as some villages tried to expand their bounderies beyond their own. Loyalty to your own village was something that was taught to young chicks in school.

However, in some villages, civil rivalry is a more thriving problem. You see, even though the chickens belong to the same village, they also belong to different clans within the same village. Some clans are hardworking and richer than the others and are often said to be unscrupulous in business while some clans are often said to be lazy in nature. It is not really justifiable as it is a stereotype but that's just the way of the Chicken World.

One such village facing this problem is the Village of 3 Doves. The village chief and the chicken elders have a huge problem in keeping the other chickens peaceful. Although this village paints a beautiful picture to the rest of the surrounding villages, clan lines are drawn thick and black in the rules and norm of the chicken community.

For example, inter-clan marriages are not unusual, but are certainly frowned upon especially by the older chickens, whether the chickens like to believe it or not. Even the young chicks show signs of clan loyalty at a very young age. The Chief of the Village of 3 Doves does in fact acknowledge this problem, but nothing could really be done. Not something immediate that is. Chickens are a stubborn breed of living creatures and hence the complexity of the situation.

Such is the fragility of the situation that the Chief and the Village Elders were forced to ban chickens from even talking about the other clan. Say anything bad about a chicken of the other clan and the offending chicken would be fried and fed to the humans. A capital punishment indeed.

In an ideal chicken world, there shouldn't even be a problem. But you see, in the Village of 3 Doves, such is the immaturity of the chickens that a simple critisism of any clan cannot be tolerated. Reculcitrant behaviour indeed. Such is the paranoia that simple comments by one chicken, just ONE chicken is powerful enough to make the Chief and the Village Elders fearful that a full fledged war would tear apart the Village of 3 Doves.

Of course, their fears are not without seed. Such a war has happened before, many many moons ago, and it is based upon the fear of a similar war that such a paranoia creeps in. Unfair as it is, but chickens in the Village of 3 Doves are not entitled to the luxury of freedom of speech simply because the Village Elders cannot afford to allow it. While in actual sense, there isn't anything wrong with freedom of speech, the Village Chief simply would not risk it.

Such is the severity that when just a few moons ago, a chicken was wrongly accused of blesphemous sayings, when his water pitcher was knocked over by a chicken of another clan. I must add here that chickens don't really like water, although it is necessary for their betterment. The water toppled over like a raging waterfall which then spilled over and wet other chickens from both clans. A small war erupted with members of each clan furiously defending their own and blaming the other.

It is peculiar then, that for chickens with such short tempers, the chickens of the Village of 3 Doves also have very short memory. In less than half a moon, when the waterfall had subsided its flow, and the torrential stream had seeped into the ground, all was calm once more. The chickens of the Village of 3 Doves got on with their lives again, pretending to love each other until the next war erupts.

It is indeed sad to say that some of the chickens do really love each other regardless of clan names, but in a war, a chicken is forced to take either side. Simply because a chicken without a side to support in a war is essentially a chicken who does not belong anywhere in peaceful times.


*Part 2 -- The Silent Wars of 3 Doves & 5 Seas.

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Tuesday, October 05, 2004

so funny

I play snooker a lot. And since snooker cues are much cheaper here than they are back n Malaysia, I invested some dough into getting my own. Personalised snooker cues are usually split into two seperate parts, so that it is shorter and hence more convenient to carry around.

When you want to use it, you just screw the two parts together. Most personalised snooker cues are split half-half so that they are roughly equal in length. However, I prefer the three quater-quater split. Because of that, my cue casing is longer than most others you would see.

Its a black hard case, a rectangular box, if you may. It is about 4 feet long x 2 inches high x 3 inches deep. Comes with a handle to carry it around, like you would carry a suitcase.

Now, carrying it around always draws stares from people in general. And most of the time, when I bump into someone I know, chances are they would eye the case, look at me funny and ask me, "What's that?". And the one thing all those people have in common -- they all have boobs and are more widely known as WOMEN.

And my reply is always the same : "Oh this ar? Gun. Sniper rifle you know."

And the response is always the same : "He he he"

If you didn't already know what sound that is, its not a laugh. It borders between a child-like giggle and a flirtatious laugh. What they don't realise is that I was not trying to make a joke. Its point blank sarcasm in the face of ignorance.

But well, if chicks think its funny, I'll play along.

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freaks

No, I am not talking about the guy in Petaling Street with 14 toes. That's just mean. And I am not mean. Not at all.

I mean I encounter a lot of people in this situation :

Crazy girl : *screams*
Vincent : What's your problem?
Crazy girl : I am FREAKING OUT. Charles told me that he loves me. OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!
Vincent : *kapow* Stop screaming la bitch *kapow*


Faggot boy : *curses*
Vincent : What's your problem?
Faggot boy : I am so FREAKED OUT dude. Fuck man. I think Diane is hitting on me. FUCK FUCK!
Vincent : *kapow* Shut the fuck up la pussy *kapow*


Dumb Bimbo : *looks constipated*
Vincent : What's bugging you?
Dumb Bimbo : I think Jack likes me. I am trying to figure it out. Do you think he does? Should I freak out?
Vincent : *kapow* No, you should get a life *kapow*


If there's something that makes my blood boil (and consequently vapourise) is that stupid term "FREAKING OUT".

Hey fuck. You've got a brain don't you? You can think, yes? If you answered NO, on either one, my condolences, and get the fuck off my blog now.

If its yes, then why the fuck can't you sit down and think what to do instead of screaming and acting like as though you woke up and found that you have both a dick and a pussy. What's this "freaking out" thingy all about then?

We have the ability to rationalise things. Freaking out only happens when you can't think of what to do, like what do you do when you find both a dick and a pussy down there? Those cases are acceptable. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and use your brains.

Freaking out = stress -----------> (Equation 1)

Constant stress = die young -=---> (Equation 2)

Die young = Not good -----------> (Equation 3)

Summarising Equations 1 to 3, we can then conclude that :

Freaking out = Not good

People who "freak out" should be called freaks. Not the guy with 3 dicks. Not the cow with 5 legs. These real freaks should be kept in a circus. No, not for display, but for lion food.

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Sunday, October 03, 2004

find your own brains, dude

Just now, I chanced upon something quite familiar.




Now, where the fuck have I seen that before?

Oh yeah. Here.

And I thought, "Wow, what a fucking coincidence!"

I was about to email the webmaster to tell him that great minds think alike, then I figured,"Fuck. It can't be true. If there were 2 of us in this world who share the same thinking, then it would have been the end of the world"

Then it hit me.

Its a was leech. An intellectual leech sucking out other people's work and calling it their own.

I left the dude's website having pity for the webmaster. Actually half pity and half pride. Pity cause the dude doesn't have much brains to think of stuffs by himself. But pride that such brainless retards actually know how to set up blogs of their own.

His mum must be proud of him.

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scapegoat

Face it.

If there's something to blame other than ourselves, we'll blame that other thing. It is of course easier to blame something else or someone else rather than blame ourselves.

In schooling and university life, the most commonly ostrocised scapegoat is "studies".

"Dude, its my birthday. Let's all go out."
"Can't mate. I've got an exam next week. Gotta study."

"We are organising a camp in 2 weeks time. We hope that you all can come."
"Sorry Sir. SPM in 2 months time. Can't go."

And the worst type of victimisation of "studies" comes in the form of :
"I am sorry, but I can't get into a relationship right now. I need to concentrate on my studies."

Absolute ballocks. Punchline comes when she goes shagging some other guy 2 months down the line. What happened to the studies then, eh?

I've got a better explanation for all those people who blame studies.

"Dude, its my birthday. Let's all go out."
"Can't mate. I've got a shit time management."

"We are organising a camp in 2 weeks time. We hope that you all can come."
"Sorry Sir. I've got shit time management. Can't go."


And the best :

"I am sorry, but I can't get into a relationship right now. I've got shit time management and I don't know how I am going to juggle between sex and studies."

Shame on all you buggers who use "studies" as an excuse. A pretty shit one too. If you can come up with a better excuse, I wouldn't actually get so pissed off.

Look, going for a party takes up, what? 3 hours of your precious studying time? Consider this, by the time you cook your own dinner and eat, 1 hour is gone. So, you can't even spend 2 hours of your time to humour your friend? If you know how to manage your time properly, 2 hours is nothing. It can be made up tomorrow and spread out over a week. Its simple shits.

Now, if you excuse me. I need to go and fucking STUDY.

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Friday, October 01, 2004

ask vincent - modern art

Today's 'Ask Vincent' question comes from some dude who calls himself Garfield. He asks :

"What the hell is wrong with people and modern art?"



Gee, Garfield. To be honest, I myself am quite confused by this whole idea of modern art bullshit. What ever happened to old fashioned art? Whatever happened to people going to the seaside and watching the sunset and painting a picture of it?

Its because people got lazy with technology. Throw away the paintbrushes, they say. "Let's use spray cans. Let's take a can of paint and throw it at the canvas and see what happens. Hell, let's not even go to the beach to paint something. Let's do it at home. And hey, I ain't in the mood to think what I should draw. Ok, I've got an idea. I'll just draw crap, and then figure out what it is later."

Take for example, this reknown piece of art created by world famous modern artist Peter Clemenza. Its called "A Speck in Chaos."

There are many interpretations to that. The most popular is that it is literally "A speck in chaos". There is a little red dot in the middle which is surrounded by an array of airbrushed colours. It supposedly symbolises our lives and the turmoil around us. The strong black specks around the whole drawing symbolises evil circulating our lives. But there is hope in the blue cloud around the red dot. It represents hope, faith and more importantly, the power of a prayer which can protect us from all the bad stuffs around.

Another popular interpretation is that the two black lines that seem to form a triangle actually represents the roof of a house. In the house -- turmoil. Parents fighting, and the kid(the speck) suffers from it all. The blue cloud here represents the psychological damage that it is inflicting upon the child. As you can see, the speck is not exactly round. A round speck would represent an untarnished and uncorrupted child. But the cloud has actually eaten into the speck, slowly corrupting him and destroying his childhood.

You see, modern art is drawn by idiots with bad artistic talents but good imagination. They want to draw the portrait of Britney Spears but end up with a portrait of Marilyn Manson. So, the loophole then exists in modern art. They can splash paint all over the canvas as and how they like, and then at the end of it, sit down and think what their painting is all about. Simple and effective.

And, with the affluent society these days, people like to act pompous. And modern art is the way to go. Why? Because supposedly, modern art is only appreciated by very cultured people. People who understand it are the very well exposed type. If you don't enjoy it, you are not cultured enough. Simple as that.

You see, Garfield, problem is, a lot of uncultured people like to see themselves as a very well known type of person. And so, they pretend to like and enjoy, even understand modern art, when in fact they don't have a rat's clue what it is all about. All for the sake of prostituting themselves to be accepted as a cultured person. In actual sense, the only people who understand modern art are the artists themselves. Who can't even paint a sunset.

So, what do I think of Peter Clemenza's Speck in Chaos? I think its shit. I can't understand why its so well known and is regarded as one of THE modern art pieces of all time. But that's just me. If anybody thinks its nice, let me know. I am quite interested to hear from modern art enthusiasts.

I hope I answered your question well enough, Garfield.


*There really isn't any Peter Clemenza*
*Well, there is. He is one of the underbosses in the Godfather *
*I drew that picture in like 10 minutes, using Microsoft Paint*

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aesop's fables

Olden day Aesop's Fable :

A hungry fox sees a ripe bunch of grapes. Unfortunately, it is on the other side of the fence. (don't ask me, what fence?) Anyways, he tries to get over to the other side of the fence so that he can eat those nice grapes.

He tries all methods possible. He tries jumping over it, but can't. Its too high, see. Then he tries digging a hole underneath so that he can crawl under. But he can't dig a hole deep enough. He also tries crawling through the small hole in the fence, but he is too fat, and the hole isn't big enough.

The hunger gets to him and he loses his head. He has tried everything possible. He decides to ram down the fence. He sets himself up, 10 paces from the fence. Runs towards it as fast as he can and crashes into it head first. Which, as we all would have figured out, is probably not a very good idea. It only serves to give him a spinning headache.

Finally, he decides that he can never get the grapes and decides to walk away, still as hungry as ever. While walking away, he decides to console himself by thinking, "Nah, those grapes were probably sour anyway."

Moral of the story : People who can't get what they want always have a lot of bullshit to say




Modern day Aesop's Fable :

A horny boy sees a chick with big boobs. Unfortunately, he is totally not in the same league as her. (don't ask me, what league?) Anyways, he tries to get over to the other side of the league so that he can enjoy those big boobs.

He tries all methods possible. He tries acting cool, but can't. He's too square, see. Then he tries to chat her up. But he can't conjur a conversation interesting enough. He also tries getting into bed with her when she is drunk, but he is too fat and ugly, and she's not that drunk.

The hornyness gets to him and he loses his head. He has tried everything possible. He decides to publicly declare his love for her boobs. He sets himself up, 10 paces from her. Shouts in the school corridor about his undying love for her boobs and causes a commotion. Which, as we all would have figured out, is probably not a very good idea. It only serves to give him a "face in the arse" syndrome and an outright rejection, plus a court order to stay the fuck away from her.

Finally, he decides that he can never get to her and her boobs and decides to walk away, still as horny as ever. While walking away, he decides to console himself by thinking, "Nah, those boobs were probably fake anyway."

Moral of the story : People who can't get what they want always have a lot of bullshit to say


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