Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Delirium: Duke Nukem

What am I doing, up at 4.39am?

I have diarrhea! Been going to the toilet every two hours or so, and that's only when its rumblings can't be contained anymore.

I think it's probably the antibiotics I'm taking. Antibiotics are known to cause diarrhea.

But. There is another explanation. I've been coughing and this diarrhea could be from - RADIATION POISONING.

It could be that somebody launched a nuclear missile at me while I slept. Goddamn cowards!

If you want to launch a nuke at me, at least have the decency to send me an e-mail or something.

Now my sleep has been disrupted. Goddamn nuclear warheads.

Oh, by the way, Malaysia might be nuclear-powered sometime soon. Knowing our beureaucracy, the next generation of Malaysians might be developing superpowers from the leak.

We will be raising mutants.

I imagine drinking coffee at a roadside cafe when a band of mutants show up and start killing people.

Professor M: Cum to me, my X-Men!

And then The Spectre would visit me and force me to be a witness Armageddon. From the Book o Revelations, foo!

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Delirium: Hardcore

So I woke up and went to see the doctor. The same one.

He told me that I have bronchitis and put me on another set of antibiotics. And non-drowsy cough syrup. Cause by this time, I guess he might be suspicious of all the cough medication I've been taking.

He suggested a few days' rest, but I can't have any of that. I got loads of stuff to do. So coughing or no coughing, and no matter how my body feels, I need to go to the office tomorrow and settle a few things.

Cause I'm such a hard-workin' man, foo! Cause I hardcore, foo! I AM the greatest.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Intermission: I am Sick

So I wake up today, and felt my back tingle. I was shivering, and coughing.

I reached for a tissue from a box beside by bed and coughed into it. Then I looked at it and saw...blood. BLOOD!


To continue my monologue, I went to the mirror and saw my handsome, sexy face marred by red eyes and the Rudolph-syndrome.


So I messaged my bosses at the office. Told them I won't be able to come in.


I should go to see a doctor, but I am too weak and lazy to call a cab.



And then I went to sleep.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Meaningless Heroes of Yesteryear

Malaysia: Generations

From my outlook, the people my age will either destroy this country or leave it en masse.

Already, there is a mass, ongoing exodus. My dearest friends have left or are leaving for Canada, the UK, the States, New Zealand, Australia.

These people are people I respect and hang out with. The artists. Thinkers. Tinkers. The brains. And some muscle.

Yeah, people SPEAK of the brain drain. They TALK about the brain drain. I experience it. I live it.

The phrase 'ask not what the country can do for you blah blah blah' is an old one. And only old people believe in it anymore.

To the young, if you're a nationalist, it's either because you're not fucking cool, you want some UMNO free aid or you want to get into Anwar's pants.

Look at the number of bloggers. The ones who make the most noise about anything are the old ones. People over 50 years of age.

The young folk can't give a rat's ass about the country.

Even some old folk don't give a shit. I was told by an old guy a few weeks back, that "You shouldn't care about all these bad things. As long as you can make money and pay your bills, it's all right. Why SHOULD you care?"

And I'm not saying we should. Cause if I do say we need to think about solutions to the country's problem, then I won't be cool anymore. No one will worship me and sacrifice virgins in my name.

If I do care and try to do shit, people will laugh at me. And in the Malay world, having yourself laughed at is the worst thing ever. Worse than death. Worse than going to hell. Worse than being SEEN as unIslamic.

In the Malay world, being a victim is the highest honor one can achieve.

Well, actually, come to think of it, ALL the other races milk sympathy just as bad as us fucked up Malays.

"We were ethnically-cleansed! Boo fucking hoo! I wanna be a Brit! Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle! Boo hoo hoo!"

Though we do it with more drama.

Anyway, people my age were raised with hatred towards the country. We were taught to hate ALL politicians. We were taught to hate other races.

Racial polarization is a very real thing. I experienced it then, and I experience it now.

The past few weeks, I even got it from people of other races as well. They still think that it's easy for me cause I'm Malay. And my Malay special rights.

They seem to think that all I have to do is call up a Malay rights guy and I'd get RM10,000 in my mail the next day.

First of all, Pos Malaysia is so fucked up, you can't get mail the next day. Second, if it IS that easy, I won't be here now. I'll be in the UK. Or Thailand.

If it's so fucking easy to be Malay, I offer up my entire special rights to anyone who can pay me 2 million dollars.

Yeah, man. Take it. Only thing it was good to me was to get two free bags of manure.

In fact, how about this - I offer my Bumi special rights to anyone. For FREE. Take it. I don't want it.

And I got wise asses telling me, "Oh, you're doing it wrong."

Fuck you, bitch.

Malay rights got me into a fully-sponsored all-boys boarding school.

Ooooh. Big fucking deal, all-boys boarding school. I had to watch my ass for 5 years, for fear of getting raped.

Anyway, yeah, my generation will one day leave or destroy this country.

I don't give a shit. Cause I'm cool and shit.

In the next few months, I'm going to do some shit that may or may not destroy this country. Or solve some of the problems. And taking the advice of the old dudes, I'm going to make some money out of it.

Read it in the papers, bitch.

The Birth of Cobra

Today, I talked to some friends and we decided to start something that will shake the world of online gaming and loser basement dwellers the world over.

No one knows, but when the time comes, COOOOOOBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: White Men Can't Sing

I just got back from yet another fine night of erm...merrygandering at a Pub for Dead Men.

There, I stunned the white people with my singing voice, which is no doubt, as melodious as Orpheus'.

Thus, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that despite Sinatra and Josh Grope-your-mom, white men simply can't sing.

I mean, one of them, during my powerful rendition of whatever the fuck, tried to suck my dick. As an act of sabotage.

And then when I spurned his advances, he ran away. Not only was he gay, he also lost in singing. FAIL. LOSER.


Anyway, here's more proof that white men can't sing, since this next guy is a fucking Juwe:

I love Juwes.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Squirrelking - The Pinnacle of Human Evolution

But as God as my witness, no ONE, and I mean NO ONE, can write like Squirrelking - the undisputed God of fan-fiction.

I believe that he is much, much better than Peter Chimaera, as his stories have better texture and plot, as well as more brain damage.

Here, AGAIN, are movies by his worshippers, based on Squirrelking's sacred text.

Just know, that mankind was sent to earth to one day evolve and come up with shit like this. This is the pinnacle of human achievement. It's all downhill from here.

So enjoy THIS - mankind's greatest moment on earth:

And mankind's greatest moment on earth's sequel.

Doom: Repercussions of Evil

And yet one more movie starring that guy who is John Freeman who is Gordon Freeman's brother in that other epic - Half Life: Full Life Consequences.

I bring to you - Doom: Repercussions of Evil.

Original Text:

DOOM: Repercussions of evil
By: Peter Chimaera
John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There
were demons in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His
warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late
for now, anyway.
John was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the
spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY DEMONS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in
the space station base of the UAC he knew there were demons.
"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the demons!"
So John gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the demons
"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John
plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were
trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the demons" he shouted
The radio said "No, John. You are the demons"
And then John was a zombie.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008


The coughing has subdued due to me drinking half a bottle of cough syrup. The downside is, I can't work tonight cause I'm falling asleep.

ESPECIALLY after watching a copy of The Happening a friend lent me. I mean, what the fuck, man? Killer trees? And Marky Mark doing some 'acting'.

Here's an excerpt from the movie:

Oak: Hey, willow, I just farted and the hoo-mans started killing themselves.

Willow: Really? Let me try.

Willow: Hey, it works! Come on, guys! Let's all fart and get hoo-mans to kill themselves. It's better than Saw!

Oh, and if you haven't watched the movie, all I wrote up there were spoilers.

I can't get any work done tonight, cause my brain is turning to mush because of the cough medication.

See, there are two kinds of cough syrups. One is the normal, pansy-assed decongestant. Like Breacol. It dilutes phlegm, making it easier for you to cough 'em out.

The other type, with names such as Bernadryl or Dynadryl, targets specific areas of the brain to stop you from coughing. Unfortunately, it also puts you to sleep.

You can taste the difference between the two cough syrups cause dynadryl and bernadryl has an ammonia aftertaste from the ammonium chloride.

The Happening. My ass. Remember that movie Born in the East LA? With Cheech Martin or whoever that guy was?


Intermission: While You Were Coughing

Coughing up blood again. But I need to finish this thing.

Mmmmm.. Okay finished.

This DynaDryl is the shit, yo! I already chugged half a bottle today, and I want to take more, but am afraid of being addicted to it.

Plus, I also got some leftover bernadryl. Man, I wish I had pterodactyl.

This upcoming fasting month, I think I'm gonna do something I wanted to do for a long time, but never did.

But first, tomorrow, I artist! I artist, tau!

More updates on that later.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Noir Fever

I am slipping and sliding, in and out of consciousness. The cough medication keeping me at a nice buzz.

It's no longer bernadryl, but the Government's more powerful generic version - Dynadryl.

When I drink it, I become Ultraman Dyna. The world passes slower, like you just set your life DVD player to half-speed. And the monsters I battle are headache demons and headcrab zombies.

I can't seem to form a coherent paragraph. My eyes are drooping.

Time to sleep.

Semusim di Syurga: I Artis, Tau

I artis, tau.

Esok I ada photoshoot (mugshot) dengan interbiu.

I mulia. Mulia sangat-sangat. Pasal I artis.

Nak kawin dengan footballer lah! Nak beli spek itam besar lah!

I nak buat rambut, pasal I artis. ARTIS!

I nak buat ilmu hitam, pasal I artis. I nak nakalkan you, pasal I artis. ARTIS!

I nak baju pree, pasal I artis. ARTIS!

Artis, MULIA. Kentut I pun bau cam Hugo Boss XY. I makan kat Hard Rock cafe, pasal Hard Rock Cafe jelah satu-satunya restoran kat dalam dunia ni yang boleh menampung ke-artis-an I.

I artis, tau?

Monday, July 21, 2008

The Life of Amir

Oh well. What to do?


Been coughing up blood, man. And bernadryl just gets me sleepier and sleepier. In fact, I just took a very unsatisfactory 30-minute nap because of the damned cough syrup.

My brain feels like it's being wrapped by a very wet towel. And STILL, I smoke my third pack of the day.

Some days you feel like shit, you know? You feel like listening to My Chemical Romance and Dashboard Confessionals and shit like that.

Thank God I don't have any of their faggy MP3s on my computer. I am listening to some Japanese jazz right now. Cause it's cool.

Some days, you feel good, other days you don't feel like crapping sunshine much. What to do? That's the way it goes, man. And if you ain't cool wit dat, I got two words for you - SUCK IT!

I don't feel like making jokes or butt-jokes. It's all fucking boring, man. This whole fucking wag the dog shit is boring.

Oh well, there are always things to get excited about.

I am currently involved in a deal which could net me a cool billion dollars. The deal is not there yet, and the only start was talking to some drunk guy at a pub somewhere.

But...what have I got to lose, eh?

I mean, if you have to aim at something, might as well aim for the moon, right? And the only reason I'm talking about it is because I know that the chances of it happening is close to zero. If it was at least 40%, I wouldn't even be writing this shit.

So I'm imagining this non-media-related billion-dollar deal to come through. Then I'd go and fucking leave this country.

I'd go and stay in one country for six months to a year, and then I'd leave. I'd write a book or a movie in each country, and then I'd leave.

I'd stay at a chateau in France, a manor in England, a keep in Scotland, a mountain hut in Japan, a ranch in AMerica.

And everywhere I go, I'd ride horses. SO I don't have to fucking exercise. The horse would exercise me for me.

I'd go to the beer museum in AMsterdam and I'd go to Vegas and play the one-armed bandits.

And I'd retire in Phuket. I'd set-up a library there. Employing AIDS sufferers and shit like that for good karma and shit.

And then, one day, when I am old and ready to die, the villagers would come as a torch-wielding mob. And they would burn my library to the ground - along with me in it(though I would have died hours earlier from all the smoke).

And then, there would be nothing left of me other than a charred spot on the earth. A few years from that point, even the spot would be gone, and I would be forgotten.

Not bad, huh? Just a quiet death.

I got it all planned out. I always have a plan. And usually, the results are much better than I could even imagine.

Because I am, after all, Amadeus - loved by God.

Gone with the (Hot) Wind

A girl asked me today, "How can people be so cruel?"

And I said, "Well, fiddle-dee-dee!"

I don't know, really. I can use my enormous, bulbous intellect to justify anything. To intellectualize everything. To explain as to the science of, the whys and the whats of cruelty.

Hell, I can point a few fingers. Education. Society. Economic forces, race, religion, The Briggs Plan, Oprah, whatever.

But the truth is, I don't know.

Conceit, the desire for other people to see them as superior beings, without actually being superior beings, pretentiousness, schadenfreude, or just plain, normal evil-NESS.

I don't know. I don't have the answers. What do I look like, Buddha or something? I'm not that fat. I lost 14kg, foo!

Self-preservation is a popular one. But that's bullshit. How much do you need to preserve yourself anyway? Just a few gallons of embalming fluid.

And this was a serious question, from a very serious person.

Since I am the centre of the universe, I look back to myself to find answers.

Once, in my youth, I used to want to be a superhero. In my arrogance, I wanted to save everybody. Save the world. Wage war on crime. With the power of hope and spirit of truth and things with molecular structure and THIS. IS. MY. BOOMSTICK!

Then I discovered the awful truth. The world is on a slow suicide and doesn't want any help other than to hasten its pathetic demise.

Some people gave me the best advice they think they could give - just pretend as if nothing is wrong. Just join the ranks, the legions of people who decide to sleep in the fire. The smoke will get to them first, and they will die without ever feeling the flames touch their bodies.

Just live in denial, man. After all, it's none of your fucking business. I mean, if it's not YOUR daughter that's getting raped by vegetables, who the fuck cares, right?

If somebody is trying to manipulate other people into doing something bad to another bad person, then so be it. Everyone deserve each other. Politicians deserve each other. And the people and their Governments deserve each other.


More apathy! More apathy! Just keep your heads low and your tail between your legs.

Because while idealism and justice asks you to stand, conforming only asks that you kneel with the rest of the deadites. It's always easier to kneel.

And who am I to say anything? Who the fuck am I? Just leave it be, and take it up the ass. Like everyone else.

Even though I say I am 8 years old, I wish I have the conviction of an 8-year-old. I wish I can say things for sure. I wish that I am that kid again who wants to put right anything that's wrong, but there is no right or wrong. No black and white. There's only gray - made up of tiny little blacks and whites.

I wish...I wish I have a Ferrari. And then I'd sell it and buy a Tesla Roadster.

Oh well. Fiddle-dee-dee. I shall think about it tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day.

I...Have a Dream!

One day, when I grow up, I want to make movies like these:

I literally coughed up blood.

And for TV? I'd like to do something like this:

And here are two exclusive sneak peeks from Batman: The Dark Knight. Only available on The Malay Male...and YouTube:

Hindraf Should Shut Up and Make Moar Movies, Yo!

Bruce Lee who? Jet Li can kiss my ass.

They got nothing on this guy:

Mad tractor skillz, yo! Never mess with an Indian and his tractor, foo! I have a tractor, and I sure as hell is gonna practice trying to jump by shrugging my shoulders and shit.

And here is the CLASSIC (or SPASTIC):

Fear Itself

Come! Sing with me!





Sunday, July 20, 2008

Batman: The Dark Knight

Yeah! The Dark Knight!
(gambar curik dari sini)

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Delirium: Exclusive Photos of Anwar's Arrest

This morning, some idiot dropped some photos stolen from various websites on my front door.

I looked at them and saw that these were actually photos of Anwar's arrest, which no one has!

I present them to you, along with some excerpts from a mysterious tape also dropped in front of my apartment.

Anwar Ibrahim, was one day doing his political thing when suddenly...

A baclava-head officer stopped him.

"You must follow us and be arrested and shit like that," said the baclava-head officer.

"Why?" asked Anwar back to baclava-head officer.

"Because you are accuseed of butthurting that man, nyeee!"

And Anwar said, "Ek elehhhh. I Iz Not GAY! M'kaayyy? Has wifey!"

"Code 411. We need backup. Anwar is ...not cooperating."

The Robocop showed up. Things were quickly resolved after that.

"I'll get you back, Robobaclava!" Anwar yelled on top of LUNG!

Tune in next time to catch more fever-induced baclava nightmares. Same Baclava time, same baclava channel.

Fluxus Maximus

For all the bloody fucking RM55 I paid the doctor yesterday, I didn't get any advice from the asshole. He didn't even tell me what I might possibly have.

I was the one who had to ask him, "Is my throat inflamed?"


"I don't really have a temperature now, but will it get worse?"


"What happened, really? Did the smoking scratch my throat and opened a way for bacteria and/or viruses to ge through?"


"So should I cut down on smoking for now?"


"How much liquid should I drink per day? Would three litres be enough?"

"I think so."

"Should I stay out of air-conditioned rooms?"


Goddamnit, man. HE should have paid ME RM55.

So I decided to drink two litres of orange juice a day. Opened the windows of my apartment and is now on my third box of tissues.

Staring at a screen for extended periods of time is giving me a headache, so I'm switching to reading books and comics.

All the drowsy medication my doctor prescribed me are not really making me sleepy at all. I waltzed through two movies without even nodding off after I took 15ml of the once-oh-so-powerful Bernadryl.

I am not going out because I do not want people to be exposed to the virus.

Funny thing is, I read about rhinoviruses when I was 8 years old. In my father's Reader's Digest thing, published almost 5 decades ago.

I know that flu viruses should really kill. But for some reasons, after a few days or at most two weeks, they simply die out. No one knows why. At least, no one knew back in the 60s.

Things that kill rhinoviruses:

1. UV light. This is probably why my flu gets worse at night, but is more or less manageable during the day.

2. Swallowing lots of liquids. Since most of the virus is still centered around your throat, drinking stuff helps wash down millions of the thing. That's why chicken noodle soup and orange juice SEEM to do the trick, as you are forced to down more liquid.

Antibiotics merely help the immune system to fight off the thing. In this situation, your thymus is all-important. The thymus, situated on your chest, above the solar plexus and below your throat, is the general that dictates orders to your immune system. What kind of antibodies to produce, whether to raise or lower temperature.

The temperature of your body rises during a fever/flu because some antibodies work better in a warmer body. However, if it gets too hot, you might burn nerves in your brain, leading to blindness, KRAZINESS or even death.

That's why, if your temp increases by too many degrees, the nurses will give you an ice bath, to make sure you don't become a rambling vegetable.

Old wives tales such as not to bathe and keep under the covers is stupid, as a dirty, wet and warm environment may complicate your predicament.

I find that peeing and taking a dump as great ways to relieve heat as the excretions carry with them some of the heat.

"Feed a cold, starve a fever" is stupid. When you have a fever, your body would need more energy. And when you have a cold, force-feeding may induce vomiting.

Damn. I hope my flu disappears by Monday. I have a lot of meetings to go to, and some things to do at the office. Furthermore, if the flu doesn't go away after a week or so, I might have to consider the possibility of dengue.

Dengue is nothing. You just need platlets in plasma. Only thing is early detection and shit like that.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Flux Incapacitor

Man, this flu sucks.

It hovers just beyond a full-blown fever, but it didn't go down or anything like that.

I went to the clinic and the doctor gave me mucosolvan, some clarinase, cheapo antibiotics and, on my request, a bottle of bernadryl. I gave the doctor RM55. Fuck doctors, man.

Then, I withdrew some money and bought myself two cartons of orange juice and five packs of soupy instant noodles. I wanted some instant soup shit, but the store had none.

Then I went back home, and started nailing planks on the windows. I pushed the fridge against the door and loaded my AK-47, Desert Eagle and Barret M107 .50 calibre sniper rifle.

I planted land mines outside the door and explosives near the toilet. Turning on the gas stove, I started to distill glycerine from Protex Active soap. Add nitrates to it, and you get nitro-glycerin. Stabilize the nitro-glycerin with clay and sawdust, and you get dynamite.

After that, I put the gas canister against the door as well. One bullet, and the pressure would destroy it, turning the tank into a ball of flying shrapnel, 100metres across.

Last but not least, there's the chainsaw. Oiled and ready to go.

I'll be ready.

And in a few moments, I'll be watching Oprah.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Intermission: Flux

I am probably coming down with a flu.

If I recover, it means I do not have AIDS. If I don't recover, I will die.

Either way, I win.

Now fuck off and die.

In my absence, enjoy this again or suck my dick:

And this:

Anwar Arrested by Dessert-Wielding Police Officers

From Nurul Izzah's blog:

Dad was arrested by the cops whilst on his way to the IPK to give his statement. The cops gave till 2pm for dad to report but still arrested him before the deadline. Dad was on his way back home to have lunch in Bukit Segambut, and then head to the IPK but the cops blocked off the road and arrested him like a criminal. And the cops who arrested him were Special Squad cops with balaclavas!!! Is that necessary!!!

Caption: A baclava

So imagine this: some police officers wore this dessert on their heads -- as a disguise, maybe? -- and then arrested Anwar.

Does Anwar, like, has a weakness against dessert or something? Or was it used to lure him out?

Police Officer:
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-do
I have a perfect puzzle for you
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-dee
If you are wise, you'll listen to me

What do you get when you guzzle down sweets?
Eating as much as an elephant eats
What are you at getting terribly fat?
What do you think will come of that?

I don't like the look of it

Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-da
If you're not greedy, you will go far
You will live in happiness too
Like the Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do

Anwar: smells so gooood. I can't help myself.

NI: No, dad! Don't go there! It's a trap!



And yes, I KNOW.

Tales from the Drunk Side

I hate politics.

And yet, a lot of people have asked me, "What's your political alignment?"

And I usually say, "Chaotic Neutral."

"No, I mean, which political party do you support?"

The real, honest to goodness answer, is, "Anyone who is in power."

I support winners.

So if PKR manages to be numero uno, I will say, "Anwar is NOT GAY! Hapus ISA!"

If DAP? I'll be an advocate of abolishing Malay rights. And getting Malays to live on trees again, so we can properly position Visit Malaysia Year Whatever.

Hindraf? The Indians were ethnically-cleansed!

PIS-M? I'll start beating up women tomorrow. And wear some Arab clothing. And douse myself with Islamic flavour.

UMNO? Ketuhanan Melayu, yo! Dude, where's my keris? (and my USD400 million)

I don't give a shit, really. Who the fuck cares? I just want to make money. Loads of money. And I don't have any dignity. No maruah. Maruah is baruah.

Got money? Can talk.

Hell, for USD400 million, I'll kiss whoever's ass. On live national TV. And I'll personally put it on fucking YouTube.

Then spend the rest of my 100 years getting raped by hot women.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008


I am torn between the path of righteousness and the path of non-reaction.

I know that if I go down the way of the ego, I can prove everything I have said. EVERYTHING. I got proof in the form of documents. I got witnesses. I have photographs.

I can and will win in any court - public or legal.

I would have to concede some ground, lose some battles, but ultimately I will win the war.

I can prove that I am right. That I am not some crazy delusional maniac who have also lost his crazy, delusional mind.

There are some people who are trying very hard to convince me that I am crazy. That I'll turn into what they've always said I will turn into - a maniac, a psycho-killer.

It's blood for blood by the gallon. This is the old days. The bad days. The all-or-nothing days. They're BACK.

I can make sure that instead the hand of God, I will use the Hand of Nod.


I can just go into zen. And just let it be. I can let the natural order of things to reveal the truth and the true face of idiots.

And when they crumble, I will not even be there to clap my hands or anything. Because their stupid lives and their stupid considerations are NONE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS.

It's all beneath me.

I won't have to stand up to anyone because it is THEY who have to stand up to me. The bigger me. The ultimate me. The ultimate ego.

I can just not react and not let any of the stupidity get to me. And I can concentrate on my work. On myself. Instead of on other people.

I can just coast. Chill-lax. Be one with the Omniverse and shit like that.

In other words, I can be a reality demon or I can be Buddha.

As always, it is a choice.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Full Life Consequences

Sunder Raj, who is Mano Raj's brother and Keevan Raj's other brother and Logan Raj's other brother (inside joke, yo!), celebrated his 26th birthday today. Well, yesterday, actually.

After work, I immediately went to his so-called birthday dinner at this Brazillian barbecue place at Changkat Bukit Bintang.

I was totally expecting hordes of women, preferrably Brazillian-waxed, strutting around in their bikinis. Or at the very least topless or something.

What was there were basically Sunder's immediate family. I waited for OTHER friends to show up, like Chee or something, but it seemed like I was the only one. There were his brothers, his sister and his parents.

It was like Meet the Rajs or something.

I took Sunder to the side and told him, "You fucking idiot! Do you know the ramifications of asking a lone, single, hot, sexy male friend to a family function? They're gonna think we're gay, you fucking fucktard!"

And SUnder was like, "Thanks I could help, bro! Get some more Brazillian meat."

Previosuly, the night before, I went out with him and two of his brothers for a birthday drink which ended, strangely enough, with Sunder getting attacked by a horde of giant rats when he was pissing against a tree.

I'm not kidding you. Sunder went to a tree and pissed. While he was pissing, these giant rats started coming out and they were HUMPING his ass. True. The rats humped his ass. All true.

This is the kind of stuff Sunder gets into. And the lines he came up with!

To Zedeck Siew:

"Have you ever been propositioned by a man before?" said Sunder.


"I'm so manly, I'm gay."

Then the next day, when I ask him about it, he would say that he was just trying to mess with our minds.

As long as it's ONLY our minds you're messing with, it's okay, Sunder.

Because a gay SUnder just does not compute. He could not be anything other than a caveman.

Thing is, Sunder may be leaving us soon. To be a Canuck. He seems to belong more with the likes of weirdoes such as William Shatner and Stuttering Michael J Parkinson Fox than he does with us mortal Malaysians.

Oh well. Whereever you will end up, dude, happy birthday. And stay off the fucking rats this time, will ya?

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Dr M: STILL A Real Malaysian Hero

Dr M lovefest, yo! Don't get butthurt over this one.

Butt first, the theme song:


Teret tet tereee.

He'll fight for freedom wherever there's trouble. Dr M is there!

Dr M! (a real Malaysian hero) Dr M is there!

It's Dr M against Pak Lah the enemy, fighting to save the day.

He never gives up; he's always there, fighting for freedom over land and air!

Dr M! (a real Malaysian hero) Dr M is there!

[Narrator: Dr M is the code name for Malaysia's daring, highly trained special mission force.

Its purpose: to defend human freedom against Pak Lah, a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world.]

He never gives up; he'll stay 'til the fight's won. Dr M will dare.

Dr M! (a real Malaysian hero) Dr M!

Teret tet tereee...

Yes, Dr M is Malaysia's first superhero. Like Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, Dr M signals the advent of the golden age of superheroes. Unfortunately, the Comic (sic) Code has made it impossible for superheroes to exist anymore.

In fact, a new breed of superheroes is trying to replace Dr M. For instance, The Gay Singaporean Hero.

Theme song:


He'll fight for money wherever there's trouble. Kayyy-Jayyy* is there!

Kayyy-Jay! (a gay SIngaporean hero) Kaaay-Jay is there!

It's Kayyyy-Jayyy against Tun Dr M, fighting to save his ass.

He never gives up; he's always there, fighting for money over land and air!

Kayyy-Jay! (a gay SIngaporean hero) Kaaay-Jay is there!

[Narrator: Kayyy-Jayyy is the code name for Singapore's daring, highly trained special mission man.

Its purpose: to defend his money against Dr M, a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world.]

He never gives up; he'll stay 'til the fight's won. Kayy-Jayyy will dare.

Kayyy-Jay! (a gay SIngaporean hero) Kaaay-Jay is there!

*Kayy-Jayy - not to be confused with that ultimate champion of Malays - Khairy Jamaluddin, also known as KJ. KJ is definitely NOT gay. He's a manly-man. So manly, he's...ah, nevermind.

Never fear! And enjoy another batch of random facts about Malaysia's favourite superhero - Dr M.

1. When Dr M became Prime Minister, babies were born with the map of Malaysia on their backs. Three-headed calves were also delivered, and the blind miraculously recovered their sight.

2. B.C stands for Before CheDet.

3. Dr M was once the prince of Kapilavastu.

4. According to Pythagoras, Dr M's hypotenus squared is NOT equal to his sides squared.

5. Before going to bed, Chuck Norris checks his closet for Dr M.

6. Dr M is a rhombus.

7. Before Dr M, there were three stars closest to earth - The Father, The Sun and the Holy Ghost.

8. Dr M had a twin brother. He once bit Dr M at the arm. He died. Because every part of Dr M is poisonous.

9. Geiger created his radioactive counter to warn him if Dr M is near.

10. Once, Dr M farted. The world remembers this as Krakatoa. And the world had beatiful sunsets for decades after that.

11. A drop of blood from Dr M is enough to kill over 9,000 DAP members.

12. Vampires became extinct because they ran into Dr M.

13. The Statue of Collossus was modeled after Dr M. Life size.

14. Every time Dr M is hungry, his stomach growls. We call it an 'earthquake'.

15. After a journalist interviews Dr M, he or she immediately becomes Rocky.

16. When normal people touches electrical current, they get a shock. When Dr M touches an electrical current, the current gets a shock.

17. When Dr M speaks, everyone shuts up. Including himself.

18. An African money scammer once tried to scam Dr M. But the black paper actually turned to US dollars, when Dr M spit on it.

19. If you have 50 cents and Dr M has 50 cents, Dr M has more money than you.

20. You have three oranges. You give one to Dr M. You're dead.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Happy Birthday, Dr M

Today, or rather last night, I salute my Main Man. Dr M, yo! The Chronic. New World Order.

Mr NWO, straight out of Kubang Pasu, you better make way.

When I was in high school, I was not a Dr M fan or supporter. I was on the side of Soros. Because I wanted to be Super Soros.

My sympathies turned in 1998, when people were crucifying him on the streets. They were calling him MahaZalim, the called him a megalomaniac, they said he was senile, and power hungry and crazy. And they called him Baby CheDet.

See, Babyrina was Malaysia's pioneers in porn. Her naked pictures were distributed everywhere. So during the advent of the Reformasi movement, some of my friends photoshopped Babyrina's nude photos and pasted Dr M's face on them. They dubbed the new creation BabyCheDet.

Such was the hatred spewed on the man. So much so that I began to take his side. I was thoroughly supporting him, in my own small way, since that day till now.

I was especially proud when he tai-chi-mastered his way around a hostile CNBC interview.

CNBC: Why did you sack your deputy?

Dr M: I didn't sack him. The courts charged him with abuse of power and sodomy. Should I make an exception because he was my deputy? Is anyone above the law? Should there be?

CNBC: is Vision 2020?


Love him or hate him, Dr M is one in a billion generations. He was the best there was, and the best there ever will be.

When Bosnia got raped, Dr M mobilized NAM and kicked Serbia's ass. I was always pleasantly surprised by the old man.

I mean, sure, he had his faults. SOme of his decisions were and still are questionable. He might have done some cold-hearted shit now and then.

Honestly, though, he was not MahaZalim. I would have done worse. If I was the Prime Minister back then, I would have just killed anyone who stood in my way.

And then blame it on PIS-M.

THAT would have been MahaZalim. But the true test of power is in not using it. And where others have failed, Dr M has prevailed.

He was and still is the best leader for this country EVER.

He didn't give a shit about what people thought of him. He didn't give a fuck. He just did his job and he did it good.

Working in politics with Malays is NEVER a walk in the park. Malays are the most political creatures on the planet. But he showed the way, with a swagger and shit.

It is sad that at 83 years old, the old man still has to fight for the country. His move to get out of UMNO was a desperate one, designed to inspire urgency. Because he could sense the desperate times ahead. Something that ALL and sundry have failed to notice.

THERE IS A STORM COMING OUR WAY, FOO! And I'm not talking about a sodomy storm.

Bleargh. Whatever. Fuck all this shit.

Anyway, happy birthday, Dr M. I wish, selfishly, for another 83 years. And I wonder how much more you have to give.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Mein Kant: Introduction

So. I decided to write a non-fiction book. This book. Well, actually, all this is fiction.

I did it for the lulz.

I wish I could have said that. In ancient Internet jargon, say, circa 2004/2005, I did it for the lulz means doing it for the sheer pleasure of watching other people die and crumble before you. Schadenfreude.

But I am writing this because I am worried. Terribly worried.

There is an impending economic storm in the horizon. The 21st Century no longer looks like an Asian century. We all look like century eggs about to be raped by some fat Azn mouth.

The recent results of the elections(at the time this is written), last March 2008 seemed at first, to be a victory for democracy.

After a few months, it looks more like democracy's fugly stupid sister.

Not two weeks after the much-vaunted 'victory' of the opposition, I sat down with some opposition members and MPs who were already talking about infighting and whatever shit.

Then the double sodomy scandals hit.

I did a poll of DAP members and asked them, "What's your plan for the impending economic crisis?"

The answer was, more often than not, micro-scale bullshit. Like giving money to poor people. Yeah, that's a good thing, but how in the blue hell would that stem the impending economic crisis?

Okay, so some people are wagging the dog with the sodomy scandals. What are they going to do to make sure that the country focuses on important stuff like hetero porn, I mean, like fortifying our trades and shit? Like foreign investments and things with molecular structure and THIS. IS. MY. BOOM. STICK!?

They haven't a clue.

"We think it's an UMNO problem."

Na-ah! It's a PKR problem. AND it's diverting attention and energy ad resources away from the economy and the Government.

And then I asked a stupid fucking general question to these opposition people.

"What do you think of our fossil-fuel based economy?"

"Oh, it's bad."

And? Any ideas?

"We should emulate Singapore."

What the fuck, man? Do you mean to suggest that following Singapore's lead in allowing only half the vehicles on the road on any given day ill actually do anything?

Stop thinking like municipal councils la, dey!

I am sorry to say, but my ass can run the country better than these people. And I am not even saying that I can be a good leader for the nation. I would destroy the country, if I were ever in power.

What I AM saying is that MY ASS can run the country better than these people who say a lot but know jack shit.

I have not asked UMNO people about the impending economic crisis, but I am ASSUMING that their answers would be something like this:

"We will...make some studies...on...the price of...chicken. And...rice...and we will talk to the KSU to release more funds."

Or some shit like that.


Since MY ASS is the greatest economist left in this country, I am presenting this book as a guide on how to rule and how to run. Consider it a manifesto I expect politicians and normal people to embrace and shove it up their collective asses.

THIS, my peeps, is HOW you run a country. I know it's not the BEST way, but like I said, MY ASS can run this country better than you.

So, rather than follow your own myopic shit, just follow my ass.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: The Amazing Adventures of Amir Hafizi

Amir Hafizi woke up today and discovered that Amir Hafizi is a zombie goast.

"Oh no!" Amir Hafizi exclaimed, like a fag. "I now have to move to the countryside and become friends with John Freeman if I do not want John Freeman to shoot me in the head and it hurts to be shot there."

So Amir Hafizi went to the countryside like the speed of SPEED (ampethamines).

There Amir Hafizi saw many more zombie goasts. And headcrab zombies. And dead pants.

"Join us," said the zombie goasts to Amir Hafizi.

"NEVER!" said Amir Hafizi and shot something special at the zombie goasts. Then Amir Hafizi went on his motorcycl which was fast and had gas in it, though gas is expensive nowadays, and he went to a motel.

There, he met ego-bimbo-bitch final boss.

"I am headcrab zombie!" said Ego-Bimbo-Bitch Final Boss.

"No!" said Amir Hafizi. "You just have crabs."

And he found a wepon, yes a WEPON near a fountain and started shooting real fast at Ego-Bimbo-Bitch with crabs.

The bullets were fire bullets and burned all of Ego-Bimbo-Bitch's crabs.

"My crabs!" She screamed. But she was dead.

On the way out of the motel Amir Hafizi saw Milx, aka Mahathir Buang who STILL owes him RM11,700 and shoots WEPON at him.

"My crabs!" yelled Milx, but he was also dead.

"No you are not dead yet, Milx," said Amir Hafizi to Milx who was really just almost dead after being shot with WEPON.

"You have to move to the countryside and be friends with John Freeman and pay me my money first."

So Amir Hafizi brought Milx to the countryside and sold him as a bitch to the zombie goasts.

"Thank you, Amir Hafizi! For bringing us Milx which now has become our bitch. Here is RM11,700 for this kid's ass."

"Thank you," said Amir Hafizi. "This will help me pay my credit cards and my rent when some OTHER people have not paid me money yet which I thought would be good to give to the landlady who collects my rent."

And then Amir Hafizi went and started killing more zombie goasts even though he, himself, is a zombie goasts.

ThunderCunts, GO!

Today was such a blah day. Blah. Blah. Blah.

The world is ending. Everything's dying. Everything's becoming more expensive. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Minions are undermining everything.

"Though everyone lives above us, NOTHING is beneath us!" - The Underminer.

Gremlins, the lot of them.

In these times of trouble, I call upon the ancient spirits.

"ANCIENT SPIRITS OF EEEEEEVIL! Transform this decaying form to The Malay Male - the EVARRRRR LIVIIIIING!!!1!ONE!"

But I would then have to fight the ThunderCunts.






ThunderCunts are on the move
ThunderCunts are loose

Feel the magic
Hear the roar

ThunderCunts are loose.

Thunder, Thunder, Thunder Cunts!


I draw from the source of all evil. I call forth Lucifer Morningstar. I am selling my soul for USD400 million. Though you might only get a soul that is ALREADY damned to hell.

But this, too, shall pass. I will not let some stupid idiots get to me. I am Amadeus! I am Loved by God. Ramble ramble ramble.

I am not Emo Shit.

I will prevail. Suck it in!

The Malay Male will now take navigational control.

Acknowledge, April. Navigational control, ON. The Malay Male Challenge Phase - ONE.

Head 'em up,

Move 'em out.

Powerstrike, and ready to ride.


Season of Mists

A toast, for a better tomorrow:

To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due.

- From Season of Mists, The Sandman, Written by Lord Shaper Neil Gaiman

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I Miss You

I scratched my balls (edited. Previously misspelled as ballas) as I balanced the receiver on the side of my head.

Me: I don't think this is working.

She: What is not working?

Me: This long distance relationship thing. Tell me what you're wearing.

She: SHiny things.

Me: Are you wet?

She: Always.

Me: I miss you. I always do. Not a day goes by without me dreaming I'm inside you.

She: Fuck.

Me: Yes, please.

She: No, that was corny-

Me: I know.

She: - but I'm horny. More.

Me: Well, when I'm with you, I'm not paranoid anymore. I am at the source of power. I am safe and warm -

She: Hot.

Me: Hot. And nothing, absolutely nothing could hurt me.

She: So when you coming over?

Me: As soon as I can. Maybe during Ramadan.

She: Well, I gotta go. Lots of clients. Good night, Amir.

Me: Good night, Bangkok.

House of Mystery

When I found out, I can safely say that I was not entirely surprised.

I mean, I declare myself as the most righteous motherfucker the world has ever known. But deep down inside, I know that is not true. EVERYONE is a righteous motherfucker.
EVeryone wants to be right. No one wants to be wrong.

On occasion, I wanted so badly to be wrong. But I never was. And I would often try to tell people about the REAL truth behind things, but I later realize that for some people, the truth is some kind of poison.

And, in the words of Morpheus the Dream King, as written by the Great Neil Gaiman, "It is a fool's prerogative to utter truths that no one else would."

More often than not, I AM that fool. I WAS that fool. Right now, I am too old. too ANCIENT. Too long in the tooth to actually risk life and limb and force people to face reality.

There are those whom you are afraid to lie to, so you will always tell them the truth. Then there are those whom you are afraid to tell the truth to. And this batch is more varied. More common, though they think themselves as special.

Let us just, for the sake of false peace, agree to discard this truth I have discovered behind the mask of loyalty, obseiance and love. And let it be buried behind my cursed and gifted eyes and mind.

For if you want a fool, they're having a sale soon. I'm afraid, that I quit being that.

No more. This is done. Good luck.

Memories of Things to Come

People, especially the older generation, seem to think of the Internet as a series of tubes. I mean, they think that the internet as something magical.

Probably the same way that their fathers thought that the television as a magic box.

It's crazy, isn't it? They hear about stuff happening on the Internet and they smile with this oafish grin on their face, and probably give some small shakes to the head.

The internet is NOT magic. And neither are hydrogen fuel-cells or flying cars. Or protein-based microprocessors. Or fiber-optic processors that uses photons (light particles) travelling through prisms instead of current through copper wires/semiconductors.

Web 2.0, and now web 3.0 is a scam. Just like 3G phones and 4G phones. What does 3G or 3.0 mean? Nothing. It's an attempt by marketeers to put a name and box the progress of technology.

In the near future, we shall see electric cars on Malaysian roads. The APs for hybrids are already out. And hybrids are just a stupid, expensive intermediate level before we go full electric. Or hydrogen.

And please welcome the advent of Malaysian nuclear energy as well. There is nowhere else to go. Oil will be precious for the manufacturing of polymers - used everywhere from the plastic industry to paint to coatings, which affect ALL products.

The future, my friends, will be one of cotton and glass. And natural rubber.

Well, at least condoms will be safe.

The world is going to starve soon. 9 billion people by as close as 2012. Or 2020. Who gives a shit? One day, we will be eating mushrooms and fungi harvested from old oil rigs.

Moisture farms will be set up in Singapore. They will buy our nuclear energy for a cheap price in order to de-salinize sea water. In fact, sea water could be hooked up to homes in order for them to do general cleaning. Special detergent sans salt will be sold in Singapore.

Newspapers will one day have to be printed from vending machines, or downloaded into your laptop or universal readers.

I tell my father all these things, and he's STILL enamoured with the TV. TV is nothing. A TV is just a cathode ray tube firing electrons at a screen. Or more recently information translated across liquid crystal displays.

The duo-core processor is just two processors in one. The same technology with server arrays. Or synchronised computing like the one done by geeks as early as 1995.

No idea is new. You know what STILL amazes ME? Bread. How did people, from seeing something that looks like stupid weed, can harvest wheat, grind it up, mix it with water, later yeast and leave it for the leavening process, then poke the air out, and then bake it to make a baguette.

That process has to be perfected over hundreds, if not thousands of years. The next jump in technology will be in the next few years. Already, I feel old and obsolete.

Pretty soon, I will be on my death bed, praying that the euthanasia clause in my insurance policy holds out.

Prostatots, Religion and I Am an Old Man

"We need religion," said the guy.

"What for?" I asked, hypothetically, of course.

"So that we can make money. Capitalize on the whole shit."

"We need religion," said another, "As guidance on how to live our lives."

"Do not make John Lennon's words true," said the guy. "Otherwise, how can we make money? Religion causes division and terrorism and bigotry and misunderstandings. Do you really want to live in a world where the news is all about ponies and fairies?"

I live now, today, when there are such words as PROSTATOTS.

PROSTATOTS - (n) A preteen girl who dresses like a prostitute.

Clear heels and all, motherfucker! Just go and see how the kids below 12 today are dressing up. I saw some with vests, knee-high boots or Mary-Janes, short neon-green tutu skirts. And braces.

And kids below 12 usually have very little say about the way they dress. It's usually the parents' choice. So when the mother is repressed cause she didn't have the chance to dress up like a ho, she would impose the kind of dressing that would ensure her getting picked up at Brickfields for RM30, on her daughter.

"It's okay," they say. "She hasn't had her period yet. No aurat."

Yeah, but that doesn't stop sick pedos from raping them with vegetable.

Look, I'm no moralist. I don't even have any dignity, though I have honour. Dignity = maruah. Honour cannot be translated into Malay properly.

I mean, I LOVE Thai prostitutes. I find a kindred spirit in them and make connections with them all the time. More often than not, I consider that I am the same as the Thai hookers. We are in the same fucking predicament.

And I would freely give up my life if I could save the lives of the hos in Thailand.

Back to Prostatots.

It would have been fine if the parents actually made sure that the prostatots are under surveillance or are trained to deal with the big, bad world.

Most of the time, they just leave the kids, low-riding skirt and plunging neckline wandering alone at pasar malams. If I was a pervert, I could have just nabbed the prostatots and throw her in my as-yet non-existent SUV.

Then it's prepubescent raping time, motherfucker!

So I live in a world of prostatots. In a world where all the loopholes in the original religions are exploited for man's own bullshit.

So pardon me if I believe that something is wrong, somewhere.

My pimp senses have been tingling for 28 years. The only reprieve is when I get to Thailand and can finally relax.

So yeah, I am an old man. I look ten years older than I am, and I feel even older. Most of the interesting conversations I have are with people much, much older than I am. I am beginning to find people my age or within range as boring.

They are all caught up with stupid shit like high-school politics and BREEDING. BREEDING, BREEDING, BREEDING. Just apply pressure on your dick or vagina, and stop the fucking breeding already!

Or better yet, just cover your mouth and shut the fuck up about breeding. It's not even sexy. It's disgusting. You let a parasite rob you of nutrients and nine months later, you expel it from your vaginal canal, bloody, messy, stinky and full of crap.

Sometimes, I wish that I was never conceived. Wish that my father would have just shot his load elsewhere.

Looks like I have yet to find my tribe.

Semusim Di Syurga: Soalan Cepumas

Aku dengar, kalau kompeni yang listed kat Bursa Malaysia, tak bayar gaji staff seminggu, boleh kena suspend trading, kan?

Nak jimat ribu-ribu, rugi juta-juta.

Kan? KAN?! KANN?!


Banyak sangat member aku yang kerja buat website untuk kompeni-kompeni besar yang dah berbulan-bulan tak dapat gaji.

Taulah harga minyak dah naik. Jangan la buat camtu. Periuk nasi (atau kuali capati) orang tu, beb.

Dahlah Malaysia ni dia punya union tak sekata.

Aku cadangkan kat semua yang ada masalah sama supaya berhijrah je ke UK. Takpun Thailand.

Pasal negara ni bakal dilanda krisi ekonomi yang teruk, kalau tak ambik pot dan asyik fokus kat kes liwat dan memasukkan zakar ke dalam dubur je.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Move to the Countryside and You Will Be Friends of John Freeman

The Best on the Internet

by sqirrelking

John Freeman who was Gordon Freemans brother was one day in an office typing on a computer. He got an email from his brother that said that aliens and monsters were attacking his place and aksed him for help so he went.
John Freeman got his computer shut down and wet on the platform to go up to the roof of the building where he left his motorcycle and normal people close because he was in his office lab coat. John Freeman got on his motorcycl and said "its time for me to live up to my family name and face full life consequences" so he had to go.
John Freeman ramped off the building and did a backflip and landed. He kept driving down the road and made sure there was no zombies around because he ddint have weapon.
The contrysides were nice and the plants were singing and the birds and the sun was almost down from the top of the sky. the mood was set for John Freemans quest to help his brother where he was. John Freeman looked around the countrysides and said "its a good day to do what has to be done by me and help my brother to defeat the enemys".
John Freeman was late so he had to drive really fast. A cop car was hiden near by so when John Freeman went by the cops came and wanted to give him a ticket. Here John Freeman saw the first monster because the cop was posessed and had headcrabs.
"I cant give you my lisense officer" John Freeman said
"Why not?" said the headcrab oficer back to John Freeman.
"Because you are headcrab zombie" so John Freeman shot the oficer in the head and drove off thinking "my brother is in trouble there" and went faster.
John Freeman had to go faster like the speed of sound and got there fast because Gordon needed him where he was. John Freeman looked at road signs and saw "Ravenholm" with someons writing under it saying "u shudnt come here" so John Freeman almost turned around but heard screaming like Gordon so he went faster again.
John Freeman drove in and did another flip n jumped off his motorbike and the motor bike took out some headcrab zombies infront of John Freeman. John Freeman smiled and walked fast. John Freeman then looked on the ground and found wepon so he pickd it up and fired fast at zombie goasts in front of a house.
John Freeman said "Zombie goasts leave this place" and the zombie goasts said "but this is our house" and John Freeman felt sorry for them becaus they couldnt live there anymore because they were zombie goasts so he blew up the house and killed the zombie goasts so they were at piece.
Then John Freeman herd another scream from his brother so he kept walking really faster to get where he was. Ravenholdm was nothing like the countrysides there was no birds singing and the pants were dead and teh dirt was messy and bloody from headcrabs.
When John Freeman got to where the screaming was started from he found his brother Gorden Freeman fightin the final bosss and Gordon said "John Freeman! Over here!" so John Freeman went there to where Gordon Freeman was fighting. John Freeman fired his bullet from teh gun really fast and the bullets went and shot the final boss in the eyes and the final boss couldnt see.
Gordon Freeman said "its time to end this ones and for all!" and punched the final boss in the face and the final boss fell. John Freeman said "thanks i could help, bro" and Gordon Freeman said "you should come here earlier next time" and they laughed.
The laughed overed quickly though because John Freeman yelled "LOOK OUT BRO!" and pointed up to the top of the sky. Gordon Freeman looked up and said "NOO! John Freeman run out of here fast as you can!" and John Freeman walked real fast out.
John Freeman loked back and saw Gordon get steppd on by the next boss and he was mad and angry.
"I'll get you back evil boss!" John Freeman yelled at the top of lungs.
to be continued..?

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Strike My Ass

I will be busy for the next few days, maybe few weeks.

Since none of you made me a millionaire, I now have to take matters into my own hands.

Goddamn you rich motherfuckers. Just give me money la. Motherfucker.

Fiddlin' Wit Juwes

I like Juwes!

On the Bra-Burner

I have been accused of being a bra-burner.

I admit that sometimes, with some women, I'd love to burn their bras.

Some, for obvious reasons. I love nipples. Some, because they're lying.

I mean, come on, man, your tits aren't that big! You fucking stuffed some padding.

There are many types of padding. SOme are sponge, but advancement in polymers have made available silicon sacs.

In the industry, we call 'em chicken cutlets. These can increase women's sizes from A to DD. Or even F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N O or even P.

I'm not kidding you. There are manufacturers who come up with sizes up to P. I don't know if it is for a woman, or a gorilla.

The thing with silicon is that some people are alergic to it or something. Not the silicon, but the coating or the material around the sac. Then there's the temperature issue.

See, the advantage of silicon is that it feels and reacts almost the same way as adipose tissues.

They will get the body temperature and a lot of women say that it's like an extension of their titties.

However, seasoned experts can immediately tell whether or not silicon is used as padding. Use the Force.

Then there's sponge, which is a more traditional 'additive'. For some reason, most women still prefer this thing.

Some bras today have wire support. Their tits will sag, but the wires will support them like re-inforced concrete. Try punching a woman in the chest. Chances are, she will not feel any pain, if she is wearing underwire support.

Another advantage of underwires is the fact that if you are trapped in a room by mad men bent on taking over the world, you can use the underwire to pick the lock and save the day. This was illustrated in a Jefri Zain movie. Malaysia's very own James Bond.

So yes, for mad men bent on taking over the world like me, burning bras can ensure that spies cannot pick locks and have to face the wrath of my sharks with lasers on their foreheads.

The first time I catch a spy with an underwire bra, I'm burning her bra!

(This is way more interesting than writing about the Anwar sodomy case)


Sham-Pagan and Ctulhu Fthagn! And RM30 young-uns!

So tonight, I was at the Blog-House. I watched some auctions going on and participated at the RM10 level.

"These items are worth at least RM400!" said the auctioneer.

"RM10!" I bid.

The it went out of control and some people bid more than a few hundred for some of the whatever.

"This antique watch was said to be worth at least RM2,000!"


"This is a one of a kind poster with signatories from six different parties!"


None of the items went for under RM430.

But it was for the maintenance of the BlogHouse, so it was cool. The amount raised, announced at the end of the night, was sizeable, but not big enough to encourage embezzlement.

I notice that with more at stake, people tend to be more corrupt. I mean, in a bigger organisation handling billions of dollars, everyone will look to screw each other. In the ass.

Like, duh.

So All Blogs now have a place, and a war chest. A stash. Don't spend it all on beer.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Emancipation Proclamation

You know what this cunt-ry needs? A conscience. And more go go bars.

Nothing can be done about the latter, but there is something about the former.

This cunt-ry will have a conscience when the women are emancipated. I'm not talking about putting a few token female ministers or a woman Prime Minister in office. Ooooh. We have a female governor of Bank Negara. No offense to Zeti, but BIG FUCKING DEAL. What about the rest of the 13 million or so women all over the cunt-ry? I'm talking about releasing half of our workforce, half of our brains, and getting the cunt-ry to run at 100% efficiency.

Look, technically I'm a Malay, and I'm definitely a man. I am a lazy motherfucker. In my travels to Thailand, I have seen what can happen when women run some of the shows. Some of the deals. I don't have to do all the work! I can just sit back, relax and contribute whenever I can or whenever I want to.

I have lived in a world, a microcosm of a world where men rule everything - at an all-boys boarding school. The result is a society in which everyone wants to screw everyone. In the ass.

Except for me, cause I'm not everyone. I wrote about this a few weeks ago and sure enough, even our two prime candidates for the PM's office is now accused of preferring anal sex.

I'm not talking about letting women run rampant and become tyrants either, because that would be stupid. If women run the whole show, all we would see on TV are reruns of Desperate Housewives and Ugly Betty. And everything will be so dramatic.

Imagine these headlines, if women are in men's position right now:



It's not a question of who should be in charge. It's a question of who should be WORKING to make this stupid place great again.

What I AM talking about, friends, Romulans and cunt-rymen, is to get women out of their cages, off their asses, and do their share of the work.

Right now, most women are trapped into doing cooking, cleaning, (chores the maid can do) BREEDING or scenting their smelly vaginas to attract a male.

They bear what, 4, 6, 7 children? Then they get beat up. Rather than using them as baby factories, shouldn't we get them to run our factories for us?

All those women trapped all over the cunt-ry, to just sit there and wait for a man to sniff at her pussy and appoint her as his personal slave. When she can be everyone's slave. Don't be so selfish, foo!

Why are we wasting 60% of our most educated citizens on menial jobs like BREEDING and finding a mate? Shouldn't they shoulder some of this responsibility as well?

Cause I sure as hell don't want MORE responsibility. Hell, I'm eight years old, man! Forever! What the fuck you want me to do?

Imagine a world where the women make difficult studies and decisions. Where they go to work. Where a man can just stay at home and watch TV. And porn. Wouldn't you like to get picked up by a hot chick now and then at a club? This could only happen if women are liberated from their stupid domestic chores and start hauling their weight. And we should let them. ladies and gentleman and barbarians and fags and sodomites, we should let them!

I see a few things standing in the way of their emancipation:

1. Religion

No, not REAL religion. Not the TRUE religion, but a misguided interpretation of religion.

Women should just shut up, get married, get beaten up and just get their pussies ripped when a parasite exits the womb.

Fuck that, man.

I'm not telling you to drop religion and be agnostic or atheist.

You can be religious and excel at what you do, and take up more responsibility. Religion should never, EVER hold you back. If religion IS holding you back, then something is wrong somewhere.

A lot of the stupid interpretations say that men should lead and women should just follow and continue washing their vaginas with minyak atar.

I'll ask this question:

Is God a man?

The fact of the matter is, for the past few thousand years or so, the men won the battle for supremacy. In order for us to keep our winnings and our victories, we changed religion so that it should suit us and our needs. Like sex. And beating up women.

Well, our needs have changed, son!

Don't tell me we haven't evolved, primates!

Our problems are now multi-faceted and multi-dimensional. WHy should we solve it for everyone when the woman can do it for us?

2. Society

The current Malaysian society places women as lower than trash.

When trash gets dumped, we send it to a landfill. When a woman gets dumped, we rape them. Well, not really, but sometimes I wished that was true.

When a woman gets beaten up, she sometimes gets something worse than rape. Betrayal. By her fellow monkeys.

Society and our communities have forced women to think of themselves as nothing better than sperm banks. Incubators. Baby factories. Holes for dicks to fuck.

A woman is successful only if she is able to find a mate and after mating with the fucker, bear many children. Even though they won't have enough money and/or brains to raise the brats, they are still considered successful.

Why? Cause when the kids grow up, they will suck the life of the kids by turning them into living, breathing, insurance policies.

Bitch: Oh, it's easy la for me when I'm old. I'll just use my children to give me money cause I spent all of mine to buy a motorcycle for them so they can be Mat Rempits and take aramine 5.

Oooh. Real successful, bitches. Fucking vampires. Stupid.


I have seen women leaders, and NONE of them impress me. They suck. Why? Because we do not currently have a good batch to choose from. They still have their hang-ups from society, from religion, and from their desire to be SEEN AS successful. Successful as defined by their stupid community. See how stupid community is?

I know that writing this will not change anything. And tomorrow, I still have to haul my sorry ass to my computer and do some work instead of just staying in bed and let a woman rape me. But who gives a shit? I had a few Jaka Denials already.

Dr M gave the cunt-ry balls. And we have so many dicks and assholes already. Now it's time for somebody to give it a vagina.

EDIT: FINAL POINT - and if anything goes wrong, we can always BLAME IT ON THE WOMAN. I WIN!


There are too many anal jokes flying around. This whole thing has made Malaysia the butt of jokes around the world.

I am going to have a breather for a while before I continue the shit-stirring.

Meanwhile, three people gave me 9 million bucks. Well, 9 million bucks in virtual credit, that is. I have been playing this game - Cybernations - and it has taken a lot of my supposedly free time.

I was making alliances, talked to people, plotted and schemed and negotiated many, many things. So much so that they have been sending me money. 9 million so far, with another 1.5 million coming soon.

Man, I just wish they were real credits.

I also got attacked. My nation was thrown into anarchy. I bought some fighter planes including the legendary P-51 Mustang, over 1,000 soldiers and 73 tanks. I could have gotten more, but I think it will suffice as a deterrent. For now.

What the game teaches is basically to connect with other people on the net. And find ways to beat the system. My biggest ally right now is a Belgian girl. Together, we will set up a trade juggling scheme which will take the gameworld by storm.

Why aren't you millionaires sending me money? You son of a camel! I DESERVE to be a multi-millionaire, and a multi-millionaire soon.

I mean, you guys make ass-fuckers and bitches rich. Would it ruin some vast eternal plan. IF...I am a WEALTHY MANNNNNNN!!!

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Man of Tomorrow

In my travels, I have seen the future. And what a strange future it is.

Consider these headlines ten years from now:

















Indeed. A strange future. A queer one.

My Full Thoughts on the Fact That Both Frontrunners for the PM's Job are Charged with Having a Penchant for Anal Sex

Bugger this!

Tales from the Drunk Side: Statutory Rape

I, The Malay Male, Pimp Masta G, hereby declare that I am susceptible to being reliably informed that I am a good fuck.

1. Upon advice from a friend, I went and looked at myself in the mirror. What I see is a virile, sexy young man with a face carved from marble.

2. Then I turned my attention to the other people around me, in Malaysia, and all I see are flat-chested women with acne who look like men.

3. After being to Bangkok, this is HELL.

4. Anyway, when I was in Bangkok, all the women said I was Narak, which either means I am handsome or I will go to hell. Both statements are true. I was taking a flight back to Malaysia the next day.




25.2 Uhhhh...Uhhhhhh...uhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhh.......

25.3 "You good fuck," she said.


Wednesday, July 2, 2008

The Headline Game

One of the best things about working at a newspaper was to come up with stupid headlines and titles to articles.

I remember a story I did about William Hung - the terror of American Idol - and it was titled GOOD WILL HUNG-TING. I think. Or was it WHERE THERE'S A WILL...

But there were others which were not used.


1. William Hung Interview



- THIS AIN'T WILLIE NELSON MUSIC! - taken from a line in 8 Mile's freestyle battles.

2. V for Vendetta movie review





3. A TV page about several shows, including documentaries about rich girls, zebras and baboons



4. Anwar's latest scandal














- STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU - about Anwar's supporters

- GET ON TOP - when Anwar becomes PM
























People Unclear on the Concept

NOTE: This is an Anwar article. (Ini iklan racun perosak)

The best advice as a leader I ever got was from Black Bolt. See, Black Bolt is the leader of the Inhuman - a branch of humans which took a different path in evolution.

In short, every Inhuman has a special power. There's more to it, but let's just keep it simple. Black Bolt's super power is the sonic scream. With a mere whisper, he could level mountains. If he yelled at the top of his lungs, he could destroy worlds, maybe even universes.

Therefore, to prevent himself from destroying the world, Black Bolt remains mute. He would meditate an hour before going to sleep every single day so that he wouldn't unconciously utter a single word that could destroy his city.

With that kind of responsibility weighing over his head, what would he say to his people, if he had the chance?


Chill. Cool.

Because whether you push the panic button or not, whether there is drama or no, things still need to be done. In a calm and orderly manner.

There is a time for action, and a time for dialogue, and a time for quiet reflection as well.

People went crazy over the Saiful Bahari allegations. The young man (I'm a full five years older, foo!) lodged a police report saying that Anwar buggered him. Journalists would know that this is where the money is. The story of the day.


For some people, unclear on the concept, a police report is a ruling from a judge. For others, it's a document from the Government admitting conspiracy and such.

I have been a journalist for only a few years now. But I have seen my fair share of police reports. In fact, I was there when some of the biggest police reports in Malaysian history were lodged. I even helped two people - a friend and family member - to lodge their own police reports.

Big butt-fucking deal, a police report. It is only the first step to something bigger. And that could take years, if not decades, to resolve.

I mean, as soon as a police report is lodged, then there would be an investigation. A proper one. Then you can file for a case. Then there would be a prima facie hearing. Prima facie, according to some lawyer friends, means that the burden of proof lies on the plaintiff/accuser to show that he/she has a case.

THEN there will be a hearing. IF there is a case. In a civil case, if the original is thrown out because of lack of evidence or sheer stupidity, the other party can then counter-sue. If it's a criminal case, well, then that's different.

So this is a long ride and too soon to make any sort of judgement yet, which is the right and privilege of the judge.

It will take MONTHS at the very LEAST for things to get any semblance of being resolved.

Meantime, I myself can lodge a police report saying that Samy Vellu committed libel against me in his blog, which he has since deleted. All false, of course. And whose face would be on the papers then?

So to jump up and down now like an idiot in heat is ultimately stupid.

In Black Bolt's unspoken word - Relax.

Beat 'Em Up: How to Take Advantage of Women

So you're a man (or a lesbian). Want to feel even manlier?

Try (NEW AND IMPROVED!) spousal abuse!

Here, I provide the tips and tricks needed to be a successful abuser.

1. Cry Like a Bitch

If you have not abused your spouse before, this may come as a shock to her.

To make her ready for more 'free kicks', you can use the 'cry like a bitch' tactic.

After beating her up, simply cry like a bitch and blame everything that happened on her.

Here's an example:


Wife: Ouch! AAAAAARGHH!! My ovaries! My precious ovaries!

(now run to the corner and cry like a bitch)

Manly Man: Boo fucking hoo! You made me a dirty man! Dirty man! You made me beat you up! Boo hoo hoo!

Crying like a bitch works every time, because women think that men are emotionally crippled beings. They pity men. And when you open up and cry like a bitch, they would be so fucking sympathetic. Muahahahahahaha! Retards.


This is the most important step of being an abuser. ALways, ALWAYS blame the woman for everything. EVERYTHING!

Your shirt is crumpled because you sat on it? HER FAULT. Five across the eyes.

The rising price of oil? HER FAULT. A kick on her vagina.

The Tsunami? Because some women pierced their bellies. Yes. This was Malaysia's official stand during the Zouk haul. Keep 'em locked up in a cage and parade them out and stare at their tits. And then beat them up when they get home.

3. Hide behind religion.

I don't care what religion. Just hide behind the nearest one. You need not really know about the religion or believe in it at all in order for you to take advantage of the religion.


Manly Man: I was sent to earth as the caliph! Men are the caliph of the earth! Bow down before me and RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAA!

Wife: I think the correct translation is MANKIND. Mick Foley. Not You. Your name's Fakar.

Now is a good time to bust her in the kneecaps.

Manly Man: I don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die. RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAA!


Manly Man: Eve sinned! With a snake! Now you must pay for her sins!

Wife: But Jesus 'El Saviooooooooorrrrrr' Christ died on the cross for our sins, including mine!

Backhanded slap!

Manly Man: Who gives a shit? Dirtypillows! Dirtypillows! RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAA!

4. Trust Malaysian Society

Here's an open secret. When a woman reports of abuse, the idiots in Malaysia would probably either not believe her or start blaming her.

In one tragic case, one woman who is related to a friend of mine was laughed out of a police station when she reported the abuse.

Most Malaysian women would start blaming the woman for failing to keep a dick.

Here are excerpts from an ACTUAL conversation I heard a couple of weeks ago.

Bitch: What if I don't get married?

Cunt: Why won't you? Marriage = success. Breeding is our only role in life. We're like a virus. We need to infect the earth with calls of the prophet.

Bitch: But what if the husband beats me up?


Bitch: But what if he's just pure dang nasty evil?!

Cunt: Then IT'S YOUR FAULT cause you chose the wrong husband. Choose one that is very religious.


5. Always Make Her Feel Small

As long as a woman think her breasts are small. Erm. I mean, as long as a woman feels small, she would believe in all your bullshit.

Actually, this works in ALL relationships - gay, lesbian, hetero, work, whatever. As long as you highlight each and every fault of your spouse and emotionally abuse her by saying that everything that went wrong was their fault and they did wrong every time, you will be able to keep them under control.

Manly Man: Your small tits caused the war in Iraq!

Wife: Boo hoo hoo.

Manly Man: And by looking like a man, you made me gay and made me fuck my aide. Now, RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAA!!

6. Isolation

ALways control the perception held by the people around you. ESPECIALLY her friends. If possible, turn them against her.

As with everything else here, this also works for gay or work relationships as well.

When she has no support structure, then they will only look to you for affection. And dick. Like a dog.

Use these this simple guide and you'll feel like an Ultimate Fighting Championship World Champion. Or Zinedine Zidane.


Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Ask Uncle Agony

Today, I, The Malay Male, His Royal Highness The Ego, Man of Tomorrow, Pimp Masta G, National Pornographic Sexplorer, The Venerable (NOT Venereal) Count Clitoris will deign to answer some of the questions from the plebiean you.

Billions of you emailed me questions. I will answer only a select few.

Question 1:

Malay Male, ah? Why my road behind Balakong there got so many holes? Like woman liddat.

- Lee

Answer: Fuck you, bitch! First of all, it's NOT YOUR buttfucking road. It's KJ's. And you don't want to make KJ angry. Na-ah. You won't like KJ when he's angry.


Question 2:

O Lord, how do you cure cancer?

- Caleb Jehovah

Answer: Shoot the original cancer guy with a silver bullet.

Waitaminute. JEHOVAH?!

Quadra Magic Ultima, Quadra Magic Ultima, Quadra Magic Ultima, Quadra Magic Ultima! Summon! Knights of the Round! Mime!

Question 3:

I'm gay and I want to suck your dick! How much?

- Dan Perang

Answer: FUCK YOU, BITCH! USD400 million.

Question 4:

I am a 15 year old slut-ho whore-priestess. I want to fuck a goat. How?

Answer: Purchase a goat. RM400? Who gives a shit? Okay, steal a goat. Take the goat out to lunch (dinners are so passe and goats are diurnal, not nocturnal).

Then, after you got some chemistry going (crystal meth), propose to it and then douse yourself with gasoline and light yourself up with a wind-proof lighter. Then bang your head on the wall.

Then charge your funeral on the goat.

This is how you fuck a goat.

Alternatively, flash your smelly vagina to a PIS-M man.