Tuesday, February 28, 2006

such is life

Quite sometime ago, a Singaporean bloke declared to us at the dinner table in uni that Singapore were on their way to becoming self-sufficient in terms of water supply. It was then, he said, that they could finally be free of Malaysia's grip. A couple of us Malaysians, fully knowing where this was leading to, decided to take the piss out of him in front some other people from different countries.

"Oh yeah? How?" I asked.

The Singaporean bloke then proceeded to (proudly) explain about NEWater and the excellent water treatment technology behind it - reverse osmosis, membranes, and the whole familt value package. Conveniently he failed to mention the source of water. My Sabahan friend, feeling a little mischievious poked him a little harder and got him to spill the beans.

"Sewage waste," he declared.


"Are you fucken' kidding me, mate?"

Of course, the Singaporean argued that it was proven to be cleaner than the drinking water in our homes. And of course, we would not dispute that fact. What was 'interesting' was the recycling of shit and piss that shocked the other people to the core.

Feeling a little agrieved that the Sabahan guy and I mocked him mercilessly over the PooWater, he then retorted, "Your Malaysian water pipes are just as dirty as shit water." To which my fellow countryman calmly replied, "One day your reverse osmosis plant will break down and you guys will end up drinking shit."

A few years later, fast forward to tonight, I was watching the Discovery Channel and that particular programme featured the woman behind NEWater. Turns out that she is a Malaysian. So in theory, the Kadazan guy could have been right.

Conspiracy theory time, folks!

See, the Malaysian government put a Malaysian in charge of what would be the most important neccesity of Singapore in the event of a war between the two countries. And if a war should break out, the Kadazan's curse of the reverse osmosis failure might just ring an eerie sounding bell.

No, but seriously. All stupid jokes aside.

The whole programme went on and on about her successes and obviously included a lot of praises from people who knew her. Such a successful woman.

Or so it seemed.

At the end of the programme, it was mentioned that she stays with her grandmother and a couple of dogs. Successful? To some people, maybe. To me, never. Here we have a woman who managed to succeed in the corporate world where others envy her. She has all the money in the world to spend, but at the end of the stressful day, instead of going home to the loving arms of a husband and adorable kids, she goes home to a couple of dogs.

Money and success doesn't buy you everything folks. Well, at least not in my books.


Monday, February 27, 2006

the feeling of war

I remember Mum telling me once upon a time about the Emergency period. She was born after the war, but of course the Emergency period was sort of a war in many ways. In fact, she goes on to say, May 13 1969 and the subsequent days was sort of a war as well.

Her favourite story was the uncertainty of rumours flying around. You would get a call saying somewhere, people were getting butchered. And yet, you didn't know whether you wanted to believe it or not.

The suspence comes when she tells the story of how there are curfews and nobody is allowed to leave the house. "You kids these days are very lucky," she says. "I hope that you never have to go through what we went through."

She goes on to say that when the curfews were lifted, people would rush out of their houses to stock up on food and other essential items. Obviously, people desperate for something would become a hoarde of unruly orcs. So much so, my mother claimed, that after a while, the shopkeepers wouldn't even open their stores when curfew was lifted.

There was this one time where they had an exceptionally long curfew. When it was finally lifted, one shopkeeper near our house decided to be kind and open shop so that everybody else could stock up. Big mistake. Herds of uncivilised creatures looted the shop inside out when they had sold out their supply of rice.

So lucky we are, Mum keeps telling me.

Well Mum, us kids these days are lucky. But you know Mum, we still face the swarms of barbarians out there everytime there is a rumour of a petrol hike.

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you don't understand

*boing boing boing*


*boing boing boing*


*boing boing boing boing boing boing*

"Holy shit!"

*boing boing boing boing boing boing boing ffffwwww*

"Whey...aku dah nak pengsan shiok ni"


Sunday, February 26, 2006

marketing hype

I had a quick lesson in marketing just now at the MPH warehouse sale. I was browsing through some books when I overheard a conversation nearby...

Girl : Pa! You must buy this book! It's very very very good.

Father : Hmmm...Da Vinci Code. What's it about?

Mother : Oh I heard from my friend...something about Jesus one...supposedly one of the better books out there..

Vincent : *blueak* koff koff*

So you see kids, it doesn't matter whether something is true or false. If enough people say something, everybody else assumes that it's true.

So, from this day on, if anybody wishes to address me, you MUST address me as 'Supreme Venerable Vincent "The Boy Genius" Lau'. I will ignore and disregard any other attempts to address me as anything else.


Wednesday, February 22, 2006

down the yellow brick road

Sometime ago, I made a freaking big mistake. Well, maybe it wasn't so much of a mistake than a lack of experience. Nonetheless, I hauled myself out of it all...looking very bad, not only to everybody who trusted me and everybody who trusted my judgement, but more importantly, I looked so bad the reflection in the mirror screamed profanities back at me.

But as they say, we all learn and move on. And goddamn, that is something I am good at. I take shit as they come and then toss them aside later. That is what I am best at, for fucks sake!

So here I am, some months later, about to make the same mistake all over again. I know it's not the same, but it sure as hell feels the same. What's frustrating is the fact that I know, or at least I think I know that it's going to turn out horribly but there isn't a damn thing I can do about it except to weather the storm.

And I can just feel it. This isn't going to be just a storm. It's going to be a hurricane and all I can do it sit home and hope it doesn't blow me away....


brainwave number 148153

I landed myself a copy of The Chinese Dilemma. I heard of it here, and have been dying to get my hands on it since then. Anyways, to cut to the chase, I read the first 3 chapters and figured......Goddammit, I knew all this shit already...and I have better and more radical ideas than these. These are not new things to me. I have said them many times.

And so...I went off on one of my crazy brainwaves, which could technically happen, but won't because I am too lazy to get my butt going. Mostly also because when I get a brainwave, I am all gung-ho about it and start thinking of the 100 reasons why it WOULD work. Then laziness kicks in after 2 or 3 days of thinking, and then I start thinking of 1000 reasons why it wouldn't work.

So, since I am in that famous gung-ho mood, I shall list down a few reasons why I could write a social commentary book. Actually, writing a book isn't the problem. Any idiot with a pen (and these days a computer) can write a book. Convincing a publisher to buy your book is the hard part I hear. But anyway, let's see....

Which idiot wants to read a political/social issue book written by a 21 year old?
Well, nobody, since 21 year olds are generally idiots who have peanuts for opinions and haven't seen the world. But you forget that I am Vincent Lau, the child genius. Let's think about this now shall we. Most political writers are old people.

If you want to write about a racial issue, then the best writer would be a Chinese (because they are supposedly the 'victims' here). And then, the older writers are 2nd generation Chinese. On the other hand, I am a 3rd generation Chinese, and this brings a totally fresh point of view. I never saw the war, I wasn't around when we got our independance, and I certainly wasn't born anywhere near the 1969 riots and the subsequent implementation of the NEP. Therefore, I represent a bunch of people who didn't really experience 'racism', and yet grew up racist. It would be great to examine the million ringgit question here : 'WHY?'

Actually, that was the only problem.

My reasoning is very good ok? Don't diss me. I want to go write a book now.

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Sunday, February 19, 2006

i spy with my little eye

I like riding on the LRT. If you haven't already figured out, I am a person who likes time alone by myself to think about stuffs going on around me. On the LRT, I get to sit around and observe people - the way they look, the way they dress, the way they behave.

Just the other day, a stunning young lady walked in and took her seat opposite me. She was drop dead gorgeous. Her smooth long locks weaved down past her shoulders. You could tell in an instant she groomed herself very well. Her eyebrows were plucked to form two lovely lines just above her eyes. Her complexion wasn't as perfect (or as fake) as pictures you see in magazines, but that made her even more beautiful.

She wore a spaghetti top but you couldn't see a bra strap underneath. Probably a strapless bra. Probably none at all. Her perfectly manicured fingernails poked out of her long fingers which were resting on her lap. One hand on each lap - she's trying to look very womanly. Below the belt was a nice fitting bell bottom pants that was a shade of a darker colour near the ankles. It was probably wet. She was probably standing under a bus stop when it started pouring earlier. Her toes were poking out from her slippers. Each of them nice and round with cute little toenails freshly cut.

I think she's a model. Either that or someone's paying for all those cosmetic products AND the Gucci on her wrist.

At the next stop a school boy walks in. He is wearing long sleeves and a pair of white pants. Probably a prefect. He sits next to Ms. Hottie. He could have sat next to me and joined me at oggling at her, but he has other priorities. His face spells fatigue. His droopy round eyes close the very instant he hits the chair.

Its hard to believe he is a prefect. His hair is scruffy, but that's probably because it was raining earlier and he might have gotten wet. His fingernails are long and dirty. Against his fair skin, they stick out like a sore thumb. His shirt is untucked but surprisingly, his white pants are immaculately spotless. The shoes are an eyesore - no longer white and a little torn near the tip just a little inside his right toe. My best guess is that he uses it to play football after school.

So, Scruffy falls asleep next to Hottie. In no time, his head begins to fall...first in front of him, then he stirs and picks up his head again. He doses off again, and his head falls to his right - right where Hottie is sitting. Hottie gets uncomfortable as Scruffy's head drops closer and closer to her shoulder. He suddenly picks his head up. Still asleep though.

A minute doesn't pass when he drops his head again. In Hottie's direction again, I might add. Weird how his subconscious mind prefers to lean his head on that side and not towards the rather large Malay woman on his other side. Hottie gets uncomfortable again. What should she do if the head does finally come to rest on her shoulder?

She tries to move her body more to her other side and lean to her right, but there is an old man on that side. Talk about getting caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea. She wonders whether she should prod him as his head drops agonisingly close. She looks up and sees me pretty amused by the whole situation. I am agonisingly close to bursting out with laughter.

I smile at her, somewhat taunting her predicament. She returns a friendly glare, so as to say,"Its not funny...what do I do?" I mime a slapping motion with my hand. She laughs and makes a desperate plea with her eyes. I laugh a silent laugh. She exaggerates bashing up an invisible man in front of her. Just then, I get an SMS. Scruffy is awoken by the phone. He stirs and sits up, but falls asleep again in a flash.

Hottie breathes another exaggerated sigh of relieve, sort of to thank me. I laugh at her again. Silently, of course. I wouldn't want to wake up a tired school boy. No way. After reading and replying the SMS, I look up and Scruffy giving the princess the same problem. She rolls her eyes at me. My smile doesn't get any more mocking than the one I gave her. Just then, the voice in the walls announce that my stop is coming up. I grab my bag and stand up, signalling to her to take my seat. She does just that, whispering a 'thank you'.

I get off the LRT in a playful mood.

I had done my good deed of the day. And for a hot chick, no less.


Thursday, February 16, 2006

ukec and all this political fuss

Related reading :

When UUCA is out of coverage overseas
Who's paying for UK students' CNY open house
Student's CNY party not political

I noticed a few blog articles about this particular issue, but nobody seemed to be giving a straight answer. Now, I do not claim to know all about UKEC and how it works. Nevertheless, this is my take on this situation as I have experienced.

UKEC was started as an umbrella body for all the Malaysian Societies in every UK university. Rightly put, there are about 17 000 Malaysian students in the UK and to my best knowledge, there are more than 60 different Malaysian Societies. You have to understand that most of universities have one Malaysian Society, but there are many universities where there are two. One would be called the Malaysian Society, and another would be called the Malaysian Singaporean Society. Where this is the case, usually the Malays join the Malaysian Society while the Chinese join the Malaysian Singaporean Society. This practice sounds ridiculous but it does happen especially in some larger universities. It opens a whole big can of racial issues, but that is a story for another day.

I was on the committee of the Malaysian Society a few years ago, when some people decided to wake up the sleeping giant which was UKEC. It was formed many years ago, but due to the lack of interest, it was left dormant until some kids tried to start it back up again. However, being someone who has been on the committee of the Malaysian Society of my university, I can safely say that it is hard enough to look after the welfare of the 300 odd members in our society. I therefore question the use and the effectiveness of UKEC who is trying to look after 17 000 students.

I understand what they are trying to do - to build relationships between Malaysians throughout the UK. However, a lot of Malaysian Societies already have activities that do just that. Our society in Nottingham organises the largest Malaysian event in the UK. We have something called the Nottingham Games annually with a turnout of around 4000 Malaysians from about 50-60 universities. It is quite a joke to think that an attempted UKEC games a couple of years ago (I don't know if they still do it now) did not manage even 20% of that attendance figure. A lot of societies also organise a Malaysian Night in their universities (Warwick is famous for theirs) and quite a number of students from other universities attend that event.

Again, the effectiveness of UKEC comes into play at this moment. It is VERY safe to say that most Malaysians in the UK have not heard of UKEC, probably because they do not reach out far enough. If you pay a visit to their website, their front page beams a great nice picture of the committee. It pains me to say this as I know two of them, one of whom is the president and someone I know personally. However, if I was still a student, I have to question the autheticity of a committee which supposedly represents me - yet a committee which I had no say in picking.

You may start gaping your mouths now.

No, the students that they supposedly represent do NOT have a say in their election. The executive committee is elected, I believe, by representatives of each Malaysian society, usually the president. Again, I am a little out of touch with the current situation, but if precendent allows me to make a fair judgement, then I would say that UKEC is the biggest platform for cronyism that I have ever seen. You may argue that it is the same in every organisation, but if you think about the logics, how do you elect somebody that you have never met?

You can't.

Most of the people who vote and most people already know each other. Nobody outside the clique would get in, mainly because there isn't a chance for them to show what they are good at. They usually come from the same college and if you ever want a good example of a herd mentality, this is it.

As for the second part of it all, people have been questioning as to who paid for the CNY open house. Based on the JeffOoi article, a clarification from the UKEC president stated that the Malaysian Students Department (MSD) paid for it. This is nothing new. The MSD gives out a lot of sponsorship. They contributed money for our Nottingham Games and they also gave us money for our Malaysian Nite. I have no reason to believe they didn't do the same for other societies as well.

However, if there is something to be upset about - it is to question where the MSD gets their funding from. While sponsorships for the said events are okay as they do promote a relationship between Malaysians, there are a couple of events that springs to mind.

A few years ago, the then Deputy Defence Minister Datuk Shafie Apdal visited Nottingham. We, the committee of the Nottingham Malaysian Society were given a hefty sum of money by the MSD and asked to organise a great big lavish event in which he would attend, supposedly chat with the students and give a speech. Sure, as students, we were thrilled. We get free food. Free GOOD food I might add. We weren't making noise back then, but thinking back....was it really necesssary??

As recent as last year, Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak visited Manchester the same time they had their annual games. Would you believe that they (the 'they' being either the MSD or the government) paid for EVERYBODY'S trip to get to Manchester? Quite simply put, if you were a student anywhere in the UK wanted to go shopping in Manchester, you had your bus ride to Manchester paid for. All you had to do was to sit through his speech for a while and you were free to roam around Manchester.

Great for the students.

Not so great for the taxpayers.


Wednesday, February 15, 2006

liar, liar

Of course, it is that time of that year again, where in the aftermath of an event, everybody competes to see who can come up with the biggest lie.

Never mind that every goddamn insect trawling this earth was trying to get home early so that they could fill the pockets of happy restaurant owners. Never mind too, that a trip home from the office 8 km away took me 45 minutes even though there was no accident. So here we are, trying to get home at a reasonable time, and all these bugs are crawling all over the place scurrying around in some apparent panic.

The panic was to celebrate a great big event, some would deem.....ridiculous. But I digress, any event that celebates love isn't really that ridiculous. If only those blokes storming around the streets in protest and getting people killed in the process....if only those blokes felt the luv', well there wouldn't be such a big problem now would there?

And of course when there's a celebration, there is money. Ridiculous amounts of money too. Now, I call it ridiculous, but my friend Monkey thinks that my Calvin & Hobbes collection is also a ridiculous amount of money spent. So, maybe I should retract my words and not call buying a stuffed pink panther 'ridiculous'.

So, thats love and money settled for you then. And then, of course there are lies. Ah...the deception, which makes a pretty good story. A certain Joe Rodrigo I know prefers to call it a scam, of which I choose not to take sides. Whatever floats your boat, a friend high on crack told me before.

The point? The point for all this? Not much my friends. I just felt like writing something, I felt like trying out a new writing style. I felt like I am a blogger who writes articles with content, even though it may be filled with utter ridiculous musings. I am trying not to blog a one liner and call it a blog post. Of course many people do that and think highly of themselves, but again, whatever floats your boat.

The main point was that I wanted to share a conversation I had with a friend, codenamed Tweety.

Tweety : I hope my boyfriend didn't waste money to buy me a present

Vincent : Did you buy him a present then?

Tweety : Oh, no.

Vincent : You can't tell me that you don't have a slightest hope that he got you something?

Tweety : Nope...

Here's an observation. Nobody, and I mean nobody doesn't like getting presents. Unless of course you are like my dad. When we were younger, when we bought him presents for Father's Day and the likes using HIS money. Even so, I still think he was a bit happy. But still....nobody doesn't like receiving presents, never mind the occasion. Presents are essentially like plucking fruits from a neighbour's tree. You get instant rewards for no effort at all.

After all...who would say no to a free blowjob?


Monday, February 13, 2006

valentines day advertorial

It may be just a wee little too late if you are sitting here at this moment, reading this and you suddenly remembered, 'Oh crap....I haven't bought sweetie-poo her Valentine's Day present.' In which case, you should be thankful for Vincent and his B*tchingLOG, for this article should give you a pretty good last minute gift idea.

Ok, let's be honest here alright....quarrels and arguments maketh the relationship. Everybody needs to release some steam every now and then, and that is where the passion behind the relationship is cooked to perfection. If you imagine the majestic Gunung Krakatua with all its volcanic fury, it is a million times more interesting than Gunung Ledang, with or without the sweet Puteri.

Of course, like Krakatua, there is always a source of all the fury where inequlibrium manifests in the average relationship. Most of the time, this source can be pinpointed to the phenomenon of 'that time of the month'. In fact, that phenomenon which is more commonly known as a period very much resembles a volcano, both literally and metaphorically.

And so, what better way to remind your loved one of the fury and passion of your relationship than to present him/her with a box of the finest tampons around?

No, don't laugh folks. This is as serious as serious gets. If you are a guy, you are probably a practical person and would like to get her something she can use. Flowers don't really cut it because there isn't much she (or you can do with it). Besides, the next time she has her period, and starts using the tampons that YOU gave her, she might just think back of how thoughtful and understanding you have been towards her period and instead of blowing up, she might just give you some extra lovin'.

Just when you thought that this isn't a gift suitable for both sexes (like chocolates), think again. I know you women love symbolism and a gift of a small pack of tampons to your man is every bit as symbolic as the Statue of Liberty (ok, ok...maybe a tad of irony there as well). It goes to show him the suffering that you go through as a woman with the hope that he becomes more loving and understanding during that dreaded time of the month.

On his part, well, he would probably stash it in a dusty drawer somewhere, but you can be sure that he would never EVER forget that you gave him a pack of tampons. And hence, everytime you nag him a little and he tries to get annoyed, he would suddenly think of the tampons and miraculously become guilty, thus letting you get away with murder. Who knows? He might even sacrifice Saturday night football for you...

What are you guys waiting for? Go out and buy a 12 pack Tampax right now!

Ladies and gentlemen, The Great Review returns after a long absence for a special encore. If you didn't already hear about The Great Review, you jakun, then quickly proceed to the links below and catch up on previous episodes.

It would be an ultimate travesty if you didn't read each and everyone of these:

Part 1 - Pilot
Part 2 - The Plot
Part 3 - The Tampax Review
Part 4 - The Kotex Review
Part 5 - The Tampax Absorbency Experiment


The review review
Green Tea
Dried Sotong
The review chat

The experiment preview

Returning soon to a B*tchingLOG near you..

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Saturday, February 11, 2006

it sucks

It sucks when you write what you hope is a nice article that could POSSIBLY change the mindset a few people.....and then you get people who crap about in your comments box.

if im a chinese and i dun even have freedom to choose my own race to married, then fuck u!

this aint abt racist, it is abt my respect to my own ancestors!!
# posted by apple_pie : February 10, 2006 1:22 AM
apple_pie, dun waste ur time, if vincent wanna married malay gal, its his own funeral lah..

# posted by minishuts : February 10, 2006 9:25 AM

I hardly ever comment on Kenny's blog, partly because I disagree with a lot of things, but mostly because there are too many comments in there for me to read and get into a proper discussion.

And then, the more I thought about his last post and considering the fact that I was pretty free this weekend, I decided to go through some of the jargon his horde of fans had to say. It was all very fine indeed that he says we should be able to discuss stuffs and not be so sensitive.

But it became clear from the comments I received, and certainly some of the comments he receives that we are no where near ready for such 'sensitive' discussions online and on our blogs. It doesn't help that most of his readers (and to a great extent, most kids on the net) have the IQ equivalent to a shrivelled mushroom, and hence cannot be counted on to make 'proper' arguments.

As for me, well, there isn't anybody quite like me when it comes to writing stuffs like these, eh?

But seriously, since this blog is awesome, and everything about is great and since I am an elitist fuck, do me a favour, will you? If you are like 16 years old, have bad english and nothing constructive to say, bugger off and go surf the net for Pokemon.


Thursday, February 09, 2006

a bad start

About the story the other day of the Malay guy at the interview praising my Malay accent and slang, well, it wasn't exactly the first time that's happened. A couple of years ago, I went for a camp where most of the participants were Malays. Boy were they chuffed when I could understand their lingo and talk to them in perfect 'kampung accented' Malay. Then they got a right proper shock when I knew the lyrics to Sheila on 7's Dan.

"Mana ada orang Cina dengar lagu Sheila on 7??" dia tanya.

Well, actually there are quite a few I know. Not many, but certainly a few. Thing is, the guy who asked that question probably didn't know many Chinese himself. I was reading with interest this particular article written by Minishorts, highlighting the ignorance of many Malaysians with regards to other people's culture. In fact, let me be bold enough to admit that I just learned from one of the comments that Malaysian Indians mostly speak Tamil, and not Hindi.

But this says a lot of the country we grow up in. As for myself, I went to a primary and secondary school of which 90% of the students were Chinese. And in case you didn't know, kids too can be very racist. Having mostly Chinese friends in school, and being very ignorant in many many things, I grew up around people who complained of the NEP and the 'special rights' that we were not entitled to. I wasn't exactly a saint too. As a kid, right up to Form 5, we went around bitching about the other races, telling all sort of very racist jokes.

Of course, I would not be so foolish as to repeat the jokes exactly as I heard them so let's just create a fictional race. Heck, no. Let's just classify a group of people, any group in particular, of course one that you personally hate, and for the sake of political correctness, let's just call them 'Hobbits'.

Now with all that formalities settled and shoved out of the way, let's proceed to the jokes, shall we?

Q: What's the difference between a Hobbit and a bucket of shit?
A: The bucket.

Q: What do you call a Hobbit driving a Mercedes?
A: A thief.

Q: How long does it take a female Hobbit to shit?
A: 9 months.

In fact, I dare challenge any fellow Chinese (I wouldn't know about the rest, I didn't have many other friends when I was a kid, remember?) to honestly swear that they never heard any such joke in school.

It wasn't much of a difference in college. It was there that I heard the infamous 'Row row row your boat' joke, which along with the 9 months joke rates among the worst of the lot. And the scary part was that we told these jokes without a care in the world. To us, they were extremely funny. In fact, if this furore with the caricatures had happened back then, I would have been the first to jump up and asked, "What the heck is all the fuss about?"

Studying overseas exposes you to a foreign culture and if you are open to it, you get to learn things that you won't otherwise learn. Ironically, it was also in the UK that I learned more about Malaysian culture (in particular, Malays) than I did in the first 17 years of my life. I never knew that there was such a thing as non-halal chicken and beef. I never knew women didn't go to mosques for Friday prayers and I certainly had never had ayam masak merah till I went there.

I would like to think that I have learned a lot and opened my eyes to understanding the behaviour of our fellow Malaysians. It does help that my best friend in the UK is a Muslim and the Chinese guys I were close to came from areas with high Malay population. The guys, especially helped me understand many things from the perspective of the common village folk. The importance of the 'special rights issue', which I could never understand in the past became crsytal clear while we were bersembanging one night. Ironically, it was the first day Chinese New Year.

Once that puzzle fell into place, everything else made sense. Agreeing with something is inconsequencial. Liking someone's actions is a secondary issue. What is of utmost importance should be our ability to understand how things work and why they work as they do. You would be surprised how understanding someones culture goes a long way to promote racial harmony. Not mere racial tolerence, but racial harmony. I use to word harmony, because that is what it should be - a harmonious co-existance.

Of course, what changed me only served to infuriate people more. There are countless numbers of people (sadly, mostly Chinese) who go abroad, and suddenly forget everything about home. They forget why things work like they do, and they start to hate things more than they originally did. Many of my friends returned home after their studies and say they can't get used to how things work back here. Culture shock, they say. Often, I shake my head and question, "How on earth is it even possible to be shocked by a culture you grew up in?"

Nevertheless, it all starts with understanding the situation. Acceptance and agreement can come later. Let's take things one step at a time. We have to learn about each other's practices and more importantly, we have to learn to respect them. Many a time, my Chinese friends complain of the loud hailer coming from the mosque every morning. An alarm clock, they call it. But these are the same guys who burn gold paper and leave offerings by the roadside. These are the same people who insist it is 'tradition' and 'culture' to burn firecrackers at midnight and insist that the government are racist to ban them.

Things like these start from the kids. With my story of the jokes in schools, you have to wonder where the kids heard those jokes from. Their parents? Their older siblings? Heck, that is a question I do not wish to hear the answer to. Maybe it would be a great idea to force kids to read the Bible, the Koran, the Buddhist scriptures and (forgive my ignorance again, but I do not know what the Hindu holy litreature is called). Maybe then, we can look forward to a whole new generation of Bangsa Malaysia.

Till then, here's a couple more riddles.

Q: What do you call a 1000 Hobbits chained to the bottom of the sea?
A: A good start.

Q: What do you call a 1000 Malaysians who aren't racist?
A: A VERY good start.


Tuesday, February 07, 2006

i am single because...

There are many reasons I don't have a girlfriend...

1) I like my freedom. Its great that I can sleep when I want, watch TV when I want, and sleep again when I feel like it.

2) I am fussy. Blimps can go hang. Bimbos too. Actually, add yourself to the list if you have any of the following traits: cannot cook, don't read the newspapers, spend more than5 mins putting make up, don't go camping, etc....email me for a full and comprehensive list.

3) I am like a lobster. I mate for life. This means that you have gotta be THE ONE. Selection of THE ONE is a bit like Star Wars. I use the force and as the Jedi Master, I can feel whether the force is strong with someone.

4) I am an elitist. If you are not as good as I am or better, there's no way I am going to talk to you, less agree to go out with you.

5) I am stingy. My money is to be spent on my toys and on food. Whatever remains of my paycheck after paying for toys and food goes to my car fund. My car fund is a fund set up to save money for a Ferrari before I turn 30. Now, if I don't have enought money to buy a Ferrari, do you think I want to waste money buying useless stuffs like teddy bears and earrings?

Ok, let's be honest here. I'll try not to be rude even. If you read all of that and nodded your head even once, chances are you are a single and have never been laid. Simple fact of the matter is that all of the above was bullshit. They are nothing but fabricated excuses to cover the 'embarassing' idea of a person being single. Oh my, the travesty!

Never mind whether or not I really believe those things. What's important is that they are nothing more than mere excuses usually blurted out by idiots who want to hook up but can't. Most of the time, it's the chicks who spew all this nonsense from their mouths. I once heard a girl say she chose to remain single because of all that supposed freedom. 3 months later, she went out with the most oppressive chauvanist I have ever seen. Today, she's still bonking him and he gets to control the type of clothes she wears.

The reason for this was the article in today's Star Section Two that focused on women who didn't want to get married. It was by far one of the stupidest articles I have read in a long long time. The whole article was peppered by testimonials of women who claimed they didn't want to get married, all for various reasons. By far the winning lie goes to this one woman who said her husband might not allow her to play futsal on Tuesday.

Any woman who claims to never want to get married (whatever lies, or excuses she gives) is crapping the shit out of you. The simple fact is, there isn't a single woman alive who doesn't dream that one day a Prince Charming would ride along and sweep her off her feet, a guy that would pamper her and look after her for the rest of their lives. It is a nice fantasy to have, and I refute any contradictory claims.

So hey, since Valentine's Day is coming, and the next time people ask you that dreaded question of 'WHY?' do everybody a favour and don't spew your bullshit in my face.


Saturday, February 04, 2006


Sunset over Tasik Kenyir

Just as beautiful as you are...

Puke already or not??