Saturday, May 31, 2008


The past few weeks have been tough. It was only a week or two ago that I finally got my brain back. It was exposed to lethal doses of STUPID and I was scrambling like a drowning man.

I felt like running away to Germany again and blablabla. Cause I don't see any reason for me to be in this country.

It wasn't until I managed to get some rest a couple of days ago that I made a decision to go back to my whatever.

If there is nothing worth saving in Malaysia, maybe it's time I created some. Wherever I am, I decide what to stand for and what to fight for. Not anyone else, for the chance of that 'anyone else' being a monkey is 99.9999999999999999999999%.

I don't believe in predestination. Destiny. Fate. Fuck all of that. I believe that everyone is on a path they choose for themselves. And there is nothing I can do for other people, because even warning them that they are on the path to destruction and sadness and hypocrisy has never been good for me.

Some people do not like to see the truth, or even another version of the truth OR just another world view, deep as they are in their denial or in their own worlds.

I still do not speak monkey and do not plan on learning how to speak monkey. And don't come to me for bananas either.

I have seen worrying signs in myself that I am growing up. Fuck that, man. I have arranged for a trip to Thailand this June so that my inner adult will never take over. It is a scary thing seeing how un-evil I have become.

Thing is, in the past, I became a demon in order to see angels. Cause in my logic, angelic beings fight demons and devils and whatever the fuck. SO I became a demon. Expecting angels to come flying down and doing their shit and showing the truth and shit.

What I saw, what I've met so far are no fucking angels. Just other demons and devils and trash with human masks. Sometimes with angelic masks. Of course, the stupid ones will be fooled or willing to BE fooled. Because the alternative - the truth - is too hard for them to accept.

Again, as usual, I am disappointed with the human race. Ho-hum. Boo-fucking-hoo.

Oh well. That's the way it goes.

Dial M for Motherfucker

I am a fan of Dr M. He's no angel. He's not perfect. A lot of things he did for the country are fucking fantastic. Others, not so. But these were because of things he couldn't control.

Malaysia Boleh was a stupid slogan, because Malaysia Memang Tak Boleh Nak Hargai Benda Yang Baik. Macam beruk dapat bunga. Menjirus air ke daun keladi. Carrying coals to Newcastle.

Anyway, Dr M has an office at KLCC. He's bloody retired. What the fuck does a retired guy do with an office at fucking KLCC?

Well, from what I follow, he's been waging war against war. War against war. That's crazy! He's probably sitting in that office, writing letters and making phone calls to world leaders (probably faxing and e-mailing as well) to get them to jump on the bandwagon and sign a treaty or do a convention that would ultimately declare that anyone who goes to war, whether to rape and pillage another country, get oil or test out a new Hummer or even to defend themselves, is a criminal.

It won't matter who started it. If it was an attack or a retaliation. You are a fucking criminal if you go to war. Cause war is a crime and shit.

The rationale is, in a war, people suffer. Except for those fuckers who sell bombs to villagers in exchange for goats and sex with the headman's daughter.

This is bloody fucking huge, man. This is something so big that a mere mortal wouldn't fucking dare to go against Halliburton and the Israelis.

This is a man, attempting the impossible. An 80-plus-year-old man.

What does the mainstream media do about this? Ignore it. Why? Cause Malaysians don't care about shit like this, until one day when foreign armies come here and stick their fancy, shiny new Metal Storm guns with Corner Shot extensions up our asses.

When they rape our - I mean your - children and take your Honda Civics. When the Japanese come here and start riding bicycles and scare the beejezus out of the Brits in Bangsar into running to Singapore.

Malaysians don't think big. They think small stuff like how can Teresa Kok be in two constituencies at the same time. Answer: She has a STUNT KOK! And how the hemlines of Malaysia Airlines stewardesses shouldn't be too low cause the ministers need to cop a feel now and then.

And transparent school uniforms. Fucking transparent school uniforms. And a man who wants to get a fourth wife.


The focus on Dr M has been how he quits UMNO. Big fucking deal. I quit UMNO as well, the day Dr M quits UMNO. Will rejoin when somebody smart or my uncle is at the helm. There. Settled.

Now can we please move on to the big stuff like Criminalizing War?

Personally, I would like to Criminalize Peace. Without war, there would be no good video games.

Anyway, my point is, as long as this country focuses on the stupid things, we're going to be no better than some Extreme-Christian belt in the States. We constantly laugh at the Americans for suing McDonalds because their coffee is too hot or for their general lack of knowledge. But take a mirror and have a long good look.

The pot calling the kettle black. Our trivial pursuits have blinded us of the big picture. Big Ideas. Big things. Though I prefer small Thai women.

The problem with Dr M is his existence is like sending Dr M to a bunch of monkeys. And he ran out of bananas a long time ago.

De-Generation M

I was, and still am, at the National Press Club, when I made one of my sweeping statements.

Me: You know what I hate about this country?

Old Guy: What?

Me: I can't find anything or anyone here worth saving. I mean, first of all, I have a superhero complex. I need to be saving people, helping them or stand for a cause like in Boston Legal, or I'd be unhappy. This is my arrogance. This is my hubris. The problem is twofold - no one wants to be saved, and there is nothing and no one worth saving. It would be arrogant of me - and damn hell I am arrogant - to assume that people need saving, even though they tell you they need help. What they REALLY want is to use you for something.

Original Gangsta: I don't agree with your statement. Whatever the problem is, this is still home.

Me: For you. Not for me.

OG: True. You still got time, and I am talking like an old man here, but we have lots of things going for us. There are no volcanoes here. No earthquakes. No typhoon.

Me: Big fucking deal. That way, we can't kill a lot of people at one time.

OG: No, seriously, it's not that bad. You just have to make it work.

Me: For whom? If I bust my ass, make this country fucking fantastic - something which even Dr M failed to do and he was the fucking PM for 22 years - who the fuck benefits? Cui fucking bono? Idiots, that's who! And in a few years time, everything good I ever did, all the greatness I bring to this country will be destroyed by monkeys.

OG: You're talking about Malays?

Me: Always. I live with Malays, so I bitch about Malays. If I live with the Chinese, then I will bitch about the Chinese.

OG: The Malays are not so bad.

Me: Not so bad? Look, and I am saying this as a complete and total racist, the Chinese will stab you in the back for money, for position, for profit, right? The Malays, they do that for no reason. Just because they can, so they can feed their insecurities about not being good enough to be human. Cause they're monkeys. Most of them anyway.

OG: I have lots of Malay friends, and I like them as a race. Maybe it's a generational thing. They weren't so bad when I was growing up.

Me: Well, may be. See, one guy once told me he was proud of being Malay because of some shit somebody wrote in a book. "Kurang hajarnya bertempat, sindirannya beralas" or something like that. Well, just a few days ago, I saw a young Malay girl, in her 20s, treating an older Malay woman who was going to pray like shit. Bertempat kepala babi. And that is not the exception, but rather the rule. I mean, I'm no mufti, and chances are, I will go to hell when I die, if there is a hell, but you don't do that la, you fucking piece of shit. See, in some countries, what is right is right and what is wrong is wrong. In Malaysia, everything is grey. You can do whatever you want, as long as you can get away with it.

OG: That's why you write like that as well?

Me: As a writer, I am a mirror to society. If people are uncomfortable reading the things I write, it is simply because it hits close to home. It is true, they know that it is true, and they have a problem dealing with the truth. If they're convinced that what I write is crap, they wouldn't give a shit. But I am too good a mirror to the truth that they all are afraid. Because they're monkeys. And talking about generational thing, you know what generation I am in?

OG: Gen-X?

Me: No. Generation X is from 196X-1979. Generation Y is from 1990- whatever. My generation is the lost generation. The children of the 80s. We have no great war, no great cause to fight. In fact, I believe that the greatest enemy for the Children of the 80s is religion. Yeah, we might as well have a war on organised religion.

OG: Look, religion is a personal thing. You shouldn't let it affect you. As long as you know who and what you are. In fact, you shouldn't let the backstabbers or the monkeys affect you in any way. They will always be there anyway.

Me: As a baby boomber, (195x-196x), how did you handle the monkeys and backstabbers and all the politics, free or institutionalized?

OG: Well, having the advantage of years and a wider perspective on things, I must say that I just let it pass. Those things happen. And you know what? I believe in divine retribution. In karma. There. I said it.

Me: Well, I saw some of that shit happening already. Some of the backstabbers who backstabbed me were backstabbed in return. Like, royally backstabbed. And the monkeys who as the Malay saying goes, "Berpaut pada dahan yang kukuh" are all now on the path of destruction. There is no escape and each and every one of them will die horribly, get ass-raped or abused in some weird manner. SOme lost their jobs or will lose their jobs.

OG: See? And I am being an old man when I say this, but in the end, things will work out. Some things you have to work out for yourself. Others, they will even out as the years roll by. As an old man with experience and a longer, wider perspective, I say just be patient.

Me: Ah, but I am quite an unreasonable man. In fact, I am THE ancient spirit of EVIL. Right now, I can set a few things in motion that will cause endless suffering to those I deem as monkeys.

OG: But... do you want to?

Me: ...not really. As a creative writer, I am too lazy. Too lazy to even care.

OG: That's the spirit. Because when you get older, you will be able to take a lot more crap from the world.

Me: The thing is, I shouldn't have to. No one should.

OG: Look, I believe in destiny. If it is your destiny to achieve greatness by leaving the country, then so be it. As for me, I am content to just download books on my PDA and read. And drink. And smoke.

Me: God damn it, you old people have it easy. I'd like to retire tomorrow and just sit around and read books and comics and smoke and drink.

OG: Yes, and you will have more patience and less angst as well.

Me: Fuck that! I want to sit around and read books and comics and smoke and drink, but I do not want the patience.

OG: Well, that's just the way it goes.

And the drinking continues.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

The Church of England

I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am

Second verse same as the first

I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am

I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am

Henry (Henry)
Henry (Henry)
Henry the eighth I am, I am
Henry the eighth I am


Tuesday, May 27, 2008

The Malay Male Family Values

My family is weird. Which means they’re normal, as TV psychologists say that they believe more than 85% of families are dysfunctional.

I went back to Kuantan last Sunday and was reunited with all of them.

My father was recovering from his stroke. He no longer has to rely on the walker. And he still smokes four packs a day. As part of his recovery process, he ‘took care’ of half an acre of grass and weeds.

I went to meet him on the grounds and he was bitching about durian and rambutan trees.

“The fucked up neighbours didn’t keep their rambutan tree under control, and now the roots and branches are robbing nutrients from our durian tree. It’s half dead already,” he said.

“Why don’t you poison the motherfucking rambutan tree? Get lannate. That way, anyone eating the fruits will die as well,” I suggested, pumping water from an abandoned well.

“Nah. I don’t give a fuck about people. They can say and do whatever the fuck they want. End of the day, I’ll still be here. And so will that motherfucking durian tree.”

My father never did succumb to the temptations of winning friends and influencing people. He was a force of mechanical nature all on his own. He didn’t care for the nice praises of sweet-talkers and instead focuses on the end result. Always the results. Not what people say to him, but what they do, or are doing.

He, alone, understands the value of a man’s or a woman’s words – absolutely nothing. And God knows what kind of words were aimed at him throughout his life.

He was accused by the village Imam of getting money from all the developmental projects at the village. That’s why his children all could take care of themselves. Not because each and every one of us understood the folly of trusting and relying on other people, but because my father took dirty money.

Yeah, right. FUCK YOU.

“What if it dies? What then?”

“I’ll plant another one. It just takes 17 years to get a good one to bear fruit. The thing is, it’s useless to talk to those people. They won’t understand. They are a waste of my time. I much rather do something productive than think about idiots.”

So I climbed back up the hill and went inside, where my nephew was lying down cause he was just circumsized the day before. He was watching Totally Spies – colour-coordinated anime and Powerpuff rip-offs by Disney. The picture was getting darker as Alex, Clover and Samantha battle evil dolls and stuff.

“I had to pistol-whip the TV a few times just so that it would be okay again,” said my mother, in her usual dramatic fashion.

She’s never a direct person, which drives me crazy. What she meant was, “We need a new TV set.”

So I went to my brother and said to him, “Let’s go to town later today, after I finish some of my work, and buy a TV set. I also need to use your Internet to send my work to people.”

So we went – three of us, my brother, myself and my sister – and bought a new TV set.

This is the first time I ever did anything like this with my siblings. I mean, we are all strong individuals who value our privacy and our space. We are not like other families who like to do things together. We all move in very different circles and we have extremely differing values.

My brother, for instance, is the most street-smart person I know. He travels with his CB buddies, goes deep-sea fishing and off-road shit. I can always rely on him for the seedier, darker side of the world.

“Say,” I said, “How would you handle monkeys?”

“Real monkeys or human monkeys?” he asked.

“Human monkeys.”

“Destroy them. Kill them. Make their lives living hells.”

“No,” said my sister, “That’s a waste of time. Who gives a shit about other people? You got bigger fish to fry.”

My sisters are extremely strong women. In different ways. They never relied on men and never used them for anything. They rely only on themselves and have looked after their own shit since they were 12.

They repair their own cars, install their own shit in their homes, and managed to do everything they want on their own effort.

None of my siblings stayed at home. All left the first chance they get. I guess freedom and independence and a sense of self is the most important thing in our family.

It all started with my father. Since he was born, he had lived with other people. He was adopted and later sent to study all over Malaysia – living with strangers.

It was a hard life and I understood his desire for his own space when he built his first real home with his own hands. It was a crappy house, with Lovecraftian sensibilities, but it was home for more than 20 years.

Growing up, the four of us have seen the failings of the society and the community and we strive not to be entangled with dead weights and idiots. All around us, in the village, we have mothers who wake up early in the morning and start knocking on neighbours’ doors for last night’s leftovers in order to give her 7 children breakfast.

There is a man who can’t remember how many children he has had.

There is a family who bought a Kancil but rarely drive the damn thing because they don’t have enough money for fuel. They bought the car – a car they can’t afford – so that they can keep up with the rest of the people. To belong. To not lose face.

Fuck belonging. Fuck being one with the community. Fuck face.

My family believes in individuality and anyone or anything that has ever tried to change us have all been destroyed. Change comes from within. Not from outside forces pressuring us to conform to their stupid Kancil ideals. That’s why our family sticks out from the rest like a sore thumb. We are weird. We are dysfunctional. We do not belong, not even with each other. We are individualistic and we do not trust people.

Anyway, we managed to get the TV, splitting the price between us three and took it home.

My father, who never understood the saying never look a gift-horse in the mouth, said, “This must be an old model. They don’t make TVs this big anymore.”

Friday, May 23, 2008

Man of Tomorrow: Futurama

So I went to the Press Club. I walked in, and there were people talking about how Vitamin C caused World War 2 or some shit.

I was like, "What the fuck, man?"

So I went and sat down anyway and Rocky asked me, "Hey, did you lose weight?"

Me: Yeah. I'm gonna be an underwear model next year.

Rocky: Did you do it for a girl?

Me: Hell no. That would be stupid. All women ever respond to are money and a ticket to heaven.

Rocky: So did you do it for a guy then?

Me: ...

Rocky: ...

Me: Well, I did it for myself, and I'm a guy, so I guess so, I did it for a guy.

And there was more blablabla.

And some more blablabla.

And then I found myself talking to myself.

Me: Hey, Zen-Master Sexay! I thought you're dead already.

Zen-Master Sexay: Nah, I sensed a disturbace in the force. What gives?

Me: Nothing. I just finished something, so that feels like a large piece of shit out of my ass.

ZMS: No grungies?

Me: Well, same old shit about people not understanding what the fuck it was I was writing about.

ZMS: Ah, they do that all the time. Stupid people.

Me: Yeah, But I am in the communication business. Media and shit, yo! If people start getting the wrong messages, what difference is there between myself and a cheap-ass two-dollar flirt who thinks she's some kind of high-class prostitute?

ZMS: look, as the person you will be five years from now, I have to tell you that no one will EVER fully understand what the fuck you're talking or writing about.

Me: But it's all so simple!

ZMS: To you. But observe this. You are making references to obscure movies and cartoon series. And then all that stuff from Norse mythology and Greco-Roman shit and stuff. As well as shit you learned in school. NOBODY remembers what they learn in school! That's why they're stupid.

ZMS: And here's the clincher - everybody thinks everything is about them, so even when you qoute from the Old Testament, they're gonna think it's about them.

Me: Jesus on a dildo! That sucks, man. And they said I was paranoid.

ZMS: You should wait five years from now, when your own movies start to get shown. They'll study it in universities as if it's some sort of shit-ass cuneiform motherfucker without a Rosetta stone.

Me: Shit. Like RoboCop?

ZMS: Like RoboCop.

Me: Man, I like RoboCop. The first movie. It's all about the ads, man! Paul Ho-Heaven is a fucking genius!

ZMS: They're gonna compare you to Nit-Shit, though.

Me: Nit-Shit? God's in his heaven, all's right with the world? Or was that Goethe. Whatever.

ZMS: Instead of Nihilism, they're gonna say that you're an annihilist. The first. The original. You'll start a movement of avant-garde weapons of mass destruction. Malthusia will be your country.

Me: Malthusia? MY country?

ZMS: Yeah. Every third child is executed upon illegal birth.

Me: Yeah, that'd be cool. Say, tell m the truth. Why are you here?

ZMS: Well, it's too hot in the future. You - me - us - we managed to increase the temperature of the earth by six degrees Celsius, ending all life on earth.

Me: How'd I do that?

ZMS: Well, in 2010, the temperature rose by 3 degrees. You convinced everyone that the solution is to build gigantic air-conditioners. As big as Mount Kilimanjaro. Some idiot tripped the switch and a massive fire broke out, killing everyone.

Me: Right.

Then I took a barstool and clobbered Zen-Master Sexay to death.

The Oldest Game

Me: I am robot, metal skinned, dildo-wearing

Me2: I am rust, brown-coloured, robot-destroying.

Me: I am Didi Glo, Oxidization removing, Kudsia-Kahar-endorsed.

Me2: I am Smartshop, Didi Glo cancelling, midnight slot-time.

Me: I am satellite TV provider, 12 shopping channels, Smartshop crusher.

Me2: I am rain clouds, signal obscuring, satellite TV destroyer.

Me: I am North Wind, cloud blowing, snow-bringing.

Me2: I am a willow, wind-withstanding, aspirin-yielding.

Me: I am a woodchuck, willow-killing, big dicked

Me2: I am a woodchucker, woodchuck-killing, electric-powered.

Me: I am disgruntled-power-company-employee-man, suicide bombing, electricty killer.

Me2: I am wife of disgruntled-power-company-employee-man, emasculator, soap-opera watcher.

Me: I am Oprah, all things encompassing, all life embracing, housewife God.

Me2: I am David Letterman, Oprah-killer, funny man.

Me: I am Larry King, much older, serious hypocrite

Me2: I am Tom Cruise, better-lloking than Larry King, couch-jumper.

Me: I am Xenu, source of all things, God of Scientology

Me2: I am L Ron Hubbard, Xenu-creating, fraud-master

Me: I am Neil Gaiman, greatest of all writers, God of imagination, Lord of dreams. What will you be then, Me2?

Me2: I am Amir Hafizi.

Me: Errrr...errr...

Wanking: Paleo-Pathetic

People do everything in this world out of fear.

Religion understands that. That's why most religions - the successful trillion-dollar ones - scare the bejeezus of people with the threat of eternal suffering.

People are afraid of being irrelevant, of being pushed out of the evolutionary pool, so they do everything they can. They play games.

And "there are many ways to lose the oldest game," wrote Neil Gaiman, Chaos be Upon Him, "Failure of nerve, hesitation… Being unable to shift into a defensive shape. Lack of imagination."

And the main motivator, the prime mover, is fear.

In the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion, there is something called the Absolute Terror field. Although used by giant robots to fight giant beings, what this AT field is simply the boundaries which create individuality and personality and everything else. It is a tiny psionic membrane that keeps each others' thoughts and awareness from polluting one another.

It has been theorized that everything is connected. That we're just one big happy, sloppy organism/eXistanZ(capital X, capital Z). And it is this field, this membrance, this fence that keeps everyone from being one lump of ectoplasmic goo.

Notice that it is terror that repels each and every one of us from each other. We then stay in different caves, huts or duplex apartments. Then, we devise borders on lands on which there were none. We create countries and then continents and then the UEFA Champions League.

That's on a macro scale.

On a micro-level, people still do EVERYTHING out of fear.

They go to work on time out of fear. They backstab other people out of fear. They ridicule other people out of fear. They make snide remarks and attempt to plant seeds of duplicity, deceit, doubt and whatever else, in order to gain an advantage against this Absolute Terror.

Worse than any other animal, humans are and will always be afraid.

They are afraid of getting old, so they kill all the young ones. They are afraid of looking stupid, so they make stupid smart things.

They are afraid of losing their imaginary number one spot, so they try to push everyone down.

They are afraid of everything and as such, will look to the strongest branch to hold on to. The strongest person, to be used as a shield.

Some people become really fearsome and domineering, simply because they are afraid of losing some measly muesli bars or the feigned respect of peers/liars/ass-kissers or whatever it is they're protecting.

All this for one simple thing - fear. Terror. Absolute Terror. And it doesn't matter how much you deny it. I can see it in your eyes. I can sense it. The fear is always there. If you do not have fear, you are not human.

My primary aim in life is to break free from this reign of terror fear has on everyone. I aim to be better. Not so much as to gloat, which I will always do anyway, despite the facts being in my favour or not.

Nope. I believe that it is my duty to break the chokehold of fear and put something else as my primum mobile. My prime mover. My motivation.

I have always believed that if I face ALL my fears to its final, irreversible conclusions, I will one day run out of things to be afraid of.

Or maybe I could just die, which would work tremendously.

Yeah, that's it. The only cure for fear is Death. So take death, a few packs a day or a few tablets.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

You know what?

It's not worth it.

And they call ME paranoid.

Things Currently Inside My Head

Well, first of all, there's that latin saying:

Vi vagina veniversum vivus vici.

It means: I, by the power of the vagina, while living, have conquered the universe.

And then there's Robocop.

Robocop has these four directives, right:

1. Serve the public trust
2. Protect the innocent
3. Uphold the law
4. (Classified)

Let's not even go one by one. But let's just look at number 2.

Protect the innocent.

Man, this is stupid. I mean, how in the blue hell could a machine recognize who is 'innocent' and how do you protect them?

This would mean billions, if not trillions of lines of coding. I'm a computer programmer by training, and the programming lines could look something like this:

IF subject = VK Linggam


ELSE IF subject = Pak Lah


ELSE IF subject = KJ


ELSE IF subject = Dr M

Run away


And imagine all the includes and objects and classes and cross-references! It's crazy!

Maybe that's why they decided to use a human brain to carry out all the computations, hmm?

Which brings me to the question - why aren't we using fibre-optics-based processors?

I mean, the fastest thing ever is light. So it would make much more sense to construct processors using beams of light instead of current, which has to travel through semiconductors and lose speed as well as generate heat.

This is not a new opinion, but the scientists are so goddamned slow in coming up with a commercially viable model. Or they're probably trying to clear stocks first.

And then, inside my head right now is my need to crap. I believe that this would be a foot-long expulsion as I had a very satisfying dinner last night. Followed by a bottle of Pinot Noir.

And on that thought, I take my leave.

See you later.

Semusim Di Syurga: Amadeus

Aku sememangnya Amadeus - dikasihi Tuhan.

Semasa umur aku 23 tahun, aku membuat senarai apa yang aku inginkan dalam hidup. Lebih kurang macam ni:

1. Nak jadi penulis. Dalam erti kata lain, aku ingin dibayar untuk penulisan aku.

2. Aku nak buat komik.

3. Aku nak buat filem.

4. Aku nak buat siri TV.

5. AKu nak beromen dengan empat orang perempuan lawa sekaligus.

6. Aku nak tulis novel.

7. Aku nak naik kapalterbang (tak pernah sebelum tu. Aku teringin sangat nak rasa karipap MAS - dan ini bukan analogi untuk pantat, ya)

Semua yang aku nak, semua aku dapat - lima tahun lepas tu. Sesetengahnya senang. Yang lain, gila babi susah nak buat. Rasa cam nak nangis, keluar air mata darah pun ada.

Jadi, sekarang aku nak buat senarai baru pulak.

1. Aku nak RM2 juta dalam akaun bank aku pada penghujung 2009.

2. AKu nak RM30 juta dalam akaun bank aku pada penghujung 2010.

3. AKu nak menang Academy Awards sebelum 2015.

4. Aku nak berhijrah (Muhajirin dan Ansar bersatu!) ke negara lain sebelum 2015.

5. Natalie Portman.

6. Stewardess.

7. Aku nak jadi Underwear Model. Yang dibayar. Bukan yang kena upload kat YouTube atau XTube - youtube porno.

8. Aku nak Vertigo (DC) publish komik aku.

9. Aku nak beli apartment bernilai RM7 juta dekat KLCC. Ada swimming pool kat dalam, woo!

10. Aku nak Volkswagen Touareg. Dengan drebar perempuan yang hanya pakai bikini sahaja.

11. Aku nak bawak kapalterbang.

12. Aku nak belajar (dan lepas) Jujitsu, Muay Thai, Capoiera dan Gun-Fu (menembak. AKu boleh tembak shotgun dengan pistol sekarang. Nak pergi belajar assault rifle.)

13. Aku nak main piano, lagu Yoko Kanno.

14. Aku nak naik kuda.

15. Natalie Portman.

16. Aku nak makan Philly Cheesesteak, kat Philadelphia. Cheez Whiz, yo!

17. Aku nak jumpa Neil Gaiman.

18. Natalie Portman.

19. Aku nak masuk Oprah Winfrey Show, pastu lompat-lompat atas couch.

20. Aku nak siri Lost, Heroes, Boston Legal, House dan CSI: Crime Scene Investigations diberikan kepada aku untuk menulis skripnya.

21. Natalie Portman.

22. Aku nak ikan jerung dengan laser kat atas kepalanya.

23. Lima.

Semusim Di Syurga: Mustapha

Aku kena tukar gear sekejap. Kena tulis dalam Bahasa Malaysia. Nak warm-up.

Dalam dua tiga hari ni, ada dua orang yang tak kenal antara satu sama lain yang dengan selambanya buat ramalan yang aku akhirnya akan jadi pendakwah Islam macam Yusof whatever.

Kawan: Aku rasa nanti, bila ko dah tua, ko akan jadi religious.

Katanya. Sambil dia minum wain.

Aku: Bughit. Apasal pulak aku nak jadi religious?

Kawan: Entah. AKu rasa, bila kau tua nanti, kau akan berpaling ke agama.

Aku: Gila. Pasal apa? Pasal nak masuk syurga? Ko ingat aku nak bodek Tuhan la ya? Nak sembahyang, supaya Tuhan dapat energy boost? Dapat Manna? Dapat Gil?

Sebelum tu, ada seorang lagi cakap kat aku.

Orang: Sekarang kau mungkin tak terasa, tapi nanti bila kau dah masuk 40, mesti rasa macam nak mendekatkan diri pada Tuhan.

Aku: Apa pasal nak mendekatkan diri pada Tuhan pulak? Tuhan bukan Omnipresent ke? Dia wujud sekitar kita. Nak dekat camana? Kena naik PLUS highway ke? Naik kapalterbang? Kalau aku pergi Mekah, aku lagi dekat dengan Tuhan ke? Rembau? Kuala Lipis?

Suka hati je.

Sekurang-kurangnya, takdelah nak labelkan aku sebagai murtad.

Aku bukan tak percayakan Tuhan. Percaya. Hidup aku best gila dan bakal dapat beromen dengan stewardess ni pasal Tuhan la kasi kat aku.

Tapi aku tak percayakan Harussani. Dan orang-orang macam tu. Aku tak percayakan Sisters in Islam. Dan orang-orang yang lebih teruk dari tu.

Aku tak percaya langsung kat mamat-mamat dan minah-minah yang sanggup pisahkan Revathi dari anak dia, penjarakan perempuan tu, lepas tu aniaya laki dia. Islam kepala bapak ko macam tu? Tuhan suruh ke?

AKu tak percaya pada mamat-mamat yang cakap Tuhan suruh kita bawak kapalterbang lepas tu langgar KLCC. Aku tak percaya yang Tuhan suruh kita letak C-4 Explosives kat kereta lepas tu bunuh Yahudi.

Aku tak percaya yang Tuhan tak suka gila kat Yahudi lepas tu punyalah Maha Pemalas tak bunuh je semua Yahudi. Suruh orang lain pulak buat.

Aku tak percaya yang Tuhan tu racist.

AKu tak percaya yang Tuhan tu punyalah Maha Insecure, dia suruh bunuh orang yang sembah Tuhan lain yang entah betul entah tidak.

Aku tak percaya Tuhan ialah seorang peminat fesyen Arab.

Aku tak percaya yang pukul bini tu dapat pahala. Kalau dia pukimak atau memang suka dipukul pasal masochist, lain cerita la.

Banyak benda yang aku tak percaya. Lebih-lebih lagi dari orang yang cuba nak putarbelitkan agama untuk kepentingan diri sendiri. Yang sanggup fitnah Tuhan, cakap Tuhan suruh jahit puki perempuan supaya nanti bila kahwin dapat tutuh jubur fresh. Ko ingat Tuhan peduli ke jubur ko fresh ke tak?

Tuhan tak perlukan ko atau aku. Kita yang perlukan Tuhan. Ko ingat kalau ko tak puasa, Tuhan mati kering ke? Kalau ada Yahudi, Tuhan takleh bernafas? Rentikanlah nak bodek Tuhan dengan menyeksa orang lain.


Last Wesak Day, as Dr M was quitting UMNO, I was emulating Buddha.

Instead of sitting my ass under the Bodhi tree or Holy Fig or some shit, I sat my ass down under Yggdrasil - the World Tree.

The tree trembled and groaned as I was attempting some Zen shit. And then all these Norse Gods started killing each other. Even I had to bite and swallow Odin whole. Cause I'm Fenris and shit.

So I was like, "Holy shit, is it the end of times already?"

But then there was nothing, so I guess Armageddon came and passed.

Trying to get the taste of Odin from my mouth, I went into Sakae Sushi. I ate stuff like otako - baby octopi - and ebiko - shrimp roe and some other cheap-ass stuff.

Then I went into this stupid shit Zen state. And I karated the waiter.

Me: Karate-CHOP!


Me: Fag.

Waiter: My arms! You karated my arms!

Me: What a cry-baby. Bill, please?

Waiter: Four red, six pink and two green. Plus ocha. Please pay at the counter. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! It's bleeding and it won't stop!

Me: Judo-KICK! Jujitsu-THROW! ION Cannon! 64X Hit!

So I went back to the World Tree - Yggdrasil - and sat down again.

I felt a crazy calm. I see things as they were, as they are and how everything will be. And I am contented.

I can wait. Because I am Fenris the Wolf.

Thursday, May 22, 2008


I am feeling rather smug today. When I have figured everything out. When I have figured everyone out. When I have that ultimate explanation at hand and that final solution.

And when I know that all I have to do is wait for the truth to come out - probably two years later - I feel happy. Contented. Smug.

And most importantly, I need to keep my mouth shut. And let the chips fall where they may. I really don't have to do anything.

Some people will say that I'm just being paranoid. Well, I do get confused sometimes. Maybe I'll turn into what they always said I was going to turn into - a maniac, a psycho-killer.

Buuutttt...results have always been on my side. When I said this and that about this or that, lots of people try valiantly to convince me that I was just being an asshole. They try to convince me that their version of things is correct. And the liars would never admit to lying. No matter how much you confront them.

Well, it always took two years for the truth to come out. For the FINAL results. The final revelations.

I don't need people to tell me I'm right. I KNOW I'm right.

The Shadow

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men (and women)? The Shadow knows!


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Ezekiel 25:17

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.

Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and goodwill, sheperds the weak from the valley of darkness, for he is truly is his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children.

And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to destroy and poison my brothers.

And you will know my name as the LORD! - when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

Fag: Nnnnooooo!

Monkey: OOo-ooo-ooh! Aa-aaa-AAAHH!

Backstabbers: Me no backstab! Only in your he-


Monday, May 19, 2008

The Wolf Beneath the Tree

Today will be spent under the World Tree - Yggdrasil.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Amir Hafizi 2008

Not Marina, not Mukhriz, not Najib, not even KJ or Anwar or Ummi Hafilda or Sukma Darmawan Sasmitaat Madja. Not Pretty Soldier Sammy V, not Ku Li, not Muhyiddin, not Lim Kit Siang, Lim Guan Eng, Karpal or Gobindh Singh Deo.

Since no one has the balls to do it, I guess it's another job for me.

I now throw my name as a Presidential candidate for Malaysia.

If I am made President, this whole country will be saved (selamat).

First order of business, as President, I will demolish all houses of worship. No churches, no mosques, no temples, not even a Tua Pek Kong.

Instead, I'll construct worship centres which incorporates ALL major religions, with a Starbucks at the side.

Then, I'm going on a killing spree.

Anyone who ever did anything bad to me will be captured, tortured, released, captured again, tortured some more and then watch helplessly as their family members are tortured, maimed and killed.

I will ban drumsticks. And fax machines. Drumsticks and fax machines are the stupidest things in the world and should be destroyed.

Then I will find out who took the RM1.1 billion from Terengganu and shove 1.1 billion needles up his/her/their/its ass(es).

I will take an LG Chocolate and smash it in front of Jeff Ooi. Take that product placement and shove it where the sun don't shine.

I will legally change Teresa Kok's name, because I really can't take her seriously with a...nevermind. And she should be taken seriously.

Phuket will be the 15th state.

Prostitution will be legalized and controlled by the Ministry of Hos. The Minister in charge? Ermmm...Ho Kay Tat?

No more combustion engine vehicles. Everyone must use hydrogen fuel-cell cars. Anyone who fails to do so will be thrown in jail until his/her beard is long enough to be held in one's hand.

Polygamy will be allowed for everyone, with the added stipulation that women can marry 5 men. This comes from the reasoning that women can have sex with 5 men at the same time. Vaginal, anal, oral and two handjobs.

Liberal lesbians will be shot and killed, drawn and quartered. This will be the end of their plot to emasculate real men.

The punishment for rapists would also be rape. With a dog. Or a pig.

Parliament will be a reality show on TV, 24 hours a day. Citizens get to vote out, via registered SMS, which idiot they want.

The MP who gets eliminated will have the trapdoor under him open and he will be transported directly to hell, where my ol' buddy Azazel will take care of him.

People who lose elections will be sterilized.

Mat Rempits and Minah Rempits will also be sterilized.

In fact, if I am made President, everyone in Malaysia will either be neutered or spayed.

I am the future of this country. So take a good look. Take a good long look.


The past few weeks have been the worst few weeks of my life.

I lost all drive. One of my hard-drives crashed. I have no desire. Passion at work was gone. Bla bla bla.

Some people close to me may have been wondering whether they did something to cause it.

As a rule, I do not concern myself with the who. As in, the real who, not The Who, the band. I don't like people. So I distance myself from them. And may God strike me down if I ever give anyone power over me ever again in my life.

No. What concerns me are the whats and the hows. Because I am a machine. Machine Man! People be damned.

I know it's a process. I'm a pattern-recognizer, and I know very well my own patterns.

So I let the depression run its course. I followed it to the pits of despair. I explored notions of destruction that I never explored before. I went to the end of the universe and I jumped down.

Last night was rock bottom. I went down, down, down and I touched the floor of base existence.

And then, I knew what to do. And when I have the what, everything else will fall into place.

And may God have mercy to those who stand in my way.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Emo Shit: De La Mancha

Sometimes, I feel like charging at windmills.

Just go and stick a lance through a propeller and hanging on for dear life as the whole bloody motherfucking thing does a rotation and slamming me 50 feet to the ground.

Sometimes, I really do feel like an old man in a suit of armour, fuzzy in the head, charging at nothing. All for chivalry. The books of chivalry. All in the name of the illusion that is Dulcinella del Toboso. Who is no fine lady, but a whore. Or probably just a very loud bar girl.

What would you be, then? Sancho Panza? Or the Kinght of Mirrors? Maybe Knight of the Moon?

I really do feel like him, sometimes. A knight-errant. Or an errant knight. Hundreds of years after our time. Our expiry date.


All my reserve and auxillary power supplies are exhausted beyond belief.

I got nothing left in the tank. Absolutely nothing.

I am tired.


But I can't let something like this get in the way. And the backstabbers - the monkeys - can smell an exhausted, wounded lone wolf like me.

I need to keep going. I need to hold aloft my magic dick and say, BY THE POWER OF PHUKET!

I need to be a robot.

Autobots! Transform! And merge to become Superion!

I need to open the Autobot Matrix of Leadership. And suck all its power dry.

Semusim di Syurga: Menanam Hatiku Yang Luka

Tadi, aku pergi ke Bangsar.

Aku cari dan terus mencari. Tapi tak jumpa.

"Minum, boss?" sapa si mamak.

Aku geleng.

"Minum arak, boss?" sapa si mamak kat kedai sebelah.

Aku mengeluh dan menggeleng lagi.

"Arak haram," aku kata. Hihihi.

Lepas tu, aku pergi naik teksi ke Midvalley Megamall. AKu pergi ke spa di Cititel Hotel, dipenuhi dengan perempuan-perempuan seksi yang sanggup melakukan apa saja yang aku pinta. Asalkan dibayar dengan sesuatu. Sama macam perempuan lain juga.

Aku pergi ke arah bapak ayam, eh, maksud aku pekerja spa tersebut.

"Boss, apa mau? Kadazan ada, Cina ada, Melayu ada."

"Kayan ada, Kayan?"


"Alaaa...duduk kat bukit. Pekerjaan utama menanam padi dan mengumpul hasil hutan. Kulit putih. Rambut hitam. Muka macam Cina."

"Bidayuh ada. Itu Jessica Alba Bidayuh la, dalam itu filem."

"Bukan Iban ke? Kelabit? Kelabit takde?"

"Tak adalah... mau tengok dulu?"

"Mmm... pinjam towel dulu boleh ke?"

"Apa mau buat?"

Aku ambil tuala yang diunjukkan pada aku. Kemudian aku berjalan ke arah tandas.

"Eh, lu mau pergi mana?"

AKu melangkah tiga tapak, kemudian aku memalingkan muka ke arah ba...pekerja spa tersebut dan memakukan renunganku yang penuh sayu.

"Aku pergi...menanam hatiku yang luka."

Aku pun masuk tandas dan berak.

Habis berak, aku keluar, pulangkan tuala dan ambik teksi pergi balik opis. Banyak kerja la.

Komedi Muzikal Mungkar dan Nangkir

Mamat dua orang pakai sut Hugo Boss putih tu tak habis-habis lagi menyoal si sesat.

M: Siapa Tuhan kamu?

Si Sesat: Um...jap...jap. Boleh dapat klu tak?

N: ...

M: ...

N: Nah. Majalah KLue.

SS: Wah, kat sini pun dapat majalah?

N: Ini sebahagian dari hukuman.

M: BACA! Dengan nama Tuhan kamu!

SS: Macibai.

M: SALAH! Scorpion Leglock!

SS: AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!

Semusim Di Syurga: Karangan Autobiografi - Aku Sebiji/Sekaki/Sebuah/Sepasang Kondom

Aku hanya ingat samar-samar zaman kanak-kanak aku. AKu ingat pokok yang besar, dan sebuah cawan hitam. Dan aku dapat rasakan diri aku mengalir deras.

Kemudian, aku ingat suhu yang tinggi. Kemudian, aku dibentuk menjadi diri aku sekarang.

AKu sedar saja, satu hari, aku sudah disuntik pelincir dan dimasukkan ke dalam paket.

Kalau di Indonesia, aku mungkin dipanggil Jaket Karet. Di Malaysia, tanah tumpah...errr...Di Malaysia aku dipanggil kondom saja.

Aku duduk di Guardian selama 6 bulan sebelum seorang budak lelaki membeli aku dan rakan-rakanku dalam kotak kondom kami.

Aku menanti penuh debar apabila seorang/sebiji/sebuah demi seorang/sebiji/sebuah rakan/adik-beradikku dikeluarkan dari kotak.

Satu hari, sampai giliran aku.

Aku disarungkan ke konek dan dengan pertahanan yang aku berikan, konek itu menerjah masuk ke dalam pantat.

Pantat busuk. Macibai.

Lepas tu pancut. Habis berlengas. Pukimak betul.

Lepas itu, aku ditanggalkan dan dibuang masuk ke dalam mangkuk tandas. Kemudian aku diflush dan pergi lepak bersama taik.

Celaka betul. Selepas habis digunakan, aku dibuang begitu sahaja. Demi mencapai Wawasan 2020. Inilah nasibku. A ming aling aling kang mengamal-mengamal.


Thursday, May 15, 2008

Semusim di Syurga: Syurga Nan Ado

Semua tak paham. Pasal diorang bodoh. Nak buat macamana? Yang aku dok menghabiskan masa dengan orang bodoh buat apa?

Masa-masa aku tertekan atau ditekan, aku fikir balik pasal go-go girl kat Thailand. Diorang semua tak paham bila aku cakap yang aku boleh relate dengan go-go girls kat sana.

"So you went to the papaya farm?" tanya sorang minah yang takkan dalam seribu tahun pun dibenarkan jadi go-go girl melainkan untuk menjadi hukuman Tuhan pada manusia.

"Tak geli ke, lubang yang dijolok oleh beribu-ribu konek?" tanya seorang lagi.

Lantaklah. Perempuan memang tak suka perempuan lain, lebih-lebih lagi kalau dia seksi, atau lawa sikit. Setakat dahi licin sikit, memang kena tikam punya lah dengan perempuan lain. Itu belum go-go girl lagi. Nak buat camana. Jeles.

Aku kenal beberapa go-go girl atau senang cakap la, pedagang pantat atau pelacur. Kat Thailand.

Macam-macam cerita aku dapat.

Aku lepak dengan seorang ni, dia pernah kahwin, lepas tu laki dia jadi gay. Lepas tu pergi pukul dia. Lepas tu, pergi bawak lari anak diorang - dua budak lelaki.

Bila dia telefon anak-anak dia, laki dia jawab lepas tu maki dia. Lepas tu terus letak telefon. Dah 5 tahun tak dapat bercakap dengan anak dia.

Masa dia lepak dengan aku, dia mabuk. Lepas tu asyik tanya aku:

Go Go Girl: You not boxing lady me? (Ko tak pukul aku, kan, wahai Sang Elektron?)

Me: No, no, no. That's not my thing. (Akulah jaguh di air gemuruh.)

Lepas tu dia mabuk gila, start nangis.

Sorang lagi minah, aku masuk kelab dia, lepas tu boyfriend dia masuk. Dia ada cakap kat aku, masa kitorang sembang-sembang, dia ada 3 boyfriend kat Malaysia. Seorang kat Sweden, sorang kat Switzerland, sorang kat England. Kiranya dia ni UEFA Champions League la. Lebih kurang. ATaupun Club World Cup.

Mamat Switzerland tu datang ari tu. Dia start emo. Tuduh dia macam-macam. Maki dia macam-macam. Pakai bahasa Jerman.

Ko tau apa dia cakap? Dia maki hamun minah tu, cakap dia tak setia.

Pukimak betul! Dah kerja dia pelacur. Tu kerja dia la, bangsat! Ko nak apa lagi? Setakat 2,000 Euro ko bayar setiap empat bulan, ko ingat itu boleh maintain kerbau dia ke?

Aku dengan bouncer kelab yang kurus keding macam cicak kubing pergi handle. AKu cuma bawak perempuan tu keluar je la. Malas nak makan penampar Switzerland. Macam la sebest coklat dia.

Jadi aku bayar barfine, aku bawak dia keluar, aku dengar cerita dia. Belanja dia makan green curry chicken. Pasal aku nak makan. Dia mesti dah nak muntah makan makanan Siam.

Dia ibu tunggal. Anak dia gemuk, asyik nak makan McDonalds' je hari-hari. Dia dapat dalam RM13,000 sebulan, jadi go-go girl. Tapi dia pilih bulu. Dia racist. Mengaku. Taknak keluar dengan orang India atau sesapa yang berkulit hitam.

Go Go Girl 2: Too big for me!


Aku pergi Bali, aku jumpa jugak sex worker. Aku tanya dia, kenapa jadi pelacur?

Pelacur: Pasal nak duit.

Aku: Best ke kerja ni?

Pelacur: Om ada pekerjaan?

Dia panggil aku Om, pasal aku nampak tua.

Aku: Ada.

P: Bagus ke kerjanya?

A: Kadang-kadang bagus, kadang-kadang rasa seperti ingin masukkan zakar ke dalam dubur lepas tu menari-nari atas kubur sendiri.

P: Sama.

A: Jadi, ingin masukkan zakar dalam dubur?

P: Hahaha. Kadang-kadang.

A: Dulu kerjanya apa, ya?

P: Tanam padi.

A: Ada orang paksa jadi...

P: Nggak. Saya mahu sendiri.

A: Kenapa?

P: Om kerja untuk apa, ya?

A: Duit.

P: Sama.

Masa itulah aku mula paham yang aku pun tak ada bezanya dengan pelacur. Semua orang pun tak ada beza dengan pelacur. Selagi kau buat kerja yang kau tak suka demi mencari sesuap nasi, ko samalah dengan pelacur.

Tak kiralah pelacur seni ke, pelacur PR ke, pelacur pengurusan ke, pelacur perhatian ke. Semua orang adalah pelacur.

Bezanya, aku jauh lebih bernasib baik dari pelacur-pelacur yang aku jumpa. Aku tak pernah kena pukul dengan laki. Aku tak pernah kena maki dengan orang Switzerland. Dan aku tak pernah tanam padi. Tanam jagung ada la. Bapak aku paksa.

Jadi, walau macam mana pun aku rasa macam nak masukkan zakar dalam lubang jubur sendiri, lepas tu nari-nari bogel atas kubur, aku fikir balik pada pelacur-pelacur yang aku kenal, dan aku akan hela nafas lega.

Tapi gaji RM13,000 woo!

Komm, Susser Tod

When my father was around 40 years old, the doctors told him he had 6 months to live. He had arhythmic beating of the heart. Parts of his heart had died – heart infarction - and he needed a cure that wasn’t invented yet. I’m not sure if they did invent it.

He also has diabetes. It started with a dose of incontinence. He started peeing regularly. And then there was the craving for sweet, sweet fruit juices. He’d throw the contents of a whole jackfruit, mangoes, rambutans into the blender and then mix it up with ice cream soda. And then he’d chill it with a few ice cubes. And then he would drink it.

When he was diagnosed with diabetes, the doctors told him he had to be warded, so he went to his room. Upon reaching there and having the nurse read his charts, he was scolded, then the nurse who took him was scolded. Because at his blood sugar levels, he was supposed to be on a wheelchair.

Then there were the strokes. He had his first after prayers. The left side of his body just went limp and he lost feeling in his left arm and leg. He just sat down for a while, and it went away. My mother rubbed vinegar on him – a folk remedy.

There was a second one, and I wasn’t there to see how it was. The third time he had a stroke, he was hospitalized.

The last time I saw him, he walked around on a walker, with a pouch in front. In it were four packs of cigarettes. He never quit. And this was more than 20 years after the doctors gave up on him.

The men of my family, especially on my father’s side, lived very long lives. His father, my grandfather, lived up to 98 years old. Working till the day he died.

When I was 26, the doctors told me that I will die before I’m 40. I just went in for a stupid kidney stone thing. They tested my uric acid levels and it was normal. Then they asked me questions and listened to my heart and my lungs. Arhythmic.

Their verdict: stress. And the smoking. And the drinking. And my love for food.

AT the time, I was doing the work of five men. Some people just upped and left and guess who had to hold the bag?

I’m a runner. I run away from things. When I discovered that my mother was trying to manipulate me, WAS manipulating me for years and years, I hatched a scheme that would take me away from home. That was when I was 12. I never went back since. I never came home for good, to stay. It’s been 16 years, and I’ve been living away from them. All for my pride. I will never, ever, let anyone control me. I would rather be right than be happy. My pride is more important than anyone in this world.

The doctors, they said that if I continued my way of life, I’ll have a cardiac arrest before I’m 40, and then I’d die. By then I already had to go to the hospital every 6 months for Nebulizer treatments. I get recurring bronchitis. My blood vessels were getting thicker and narrower. And I was coughing blood every morning.

So when I could afford it, I got myself a gym membership. It will be nice to have six pack abs, but my real goal is to bury my parents. I owe them that, at least.

I mean, they were not the best parents in the world. Far from it. My father is a robot who believes in hard work. My mother is an emotional hurricane.

But they did the best they could. I don’t hold it against them. They never had the answer to the questions I always had with me. They’re not perfect, they’re human. And for a lot of those 16 years I am away, I held that against them. Not anymore.

No matter. I took care of myself. I nurtured myself. My brain. I am a genius. I am smarter than most. People could backstab me all they want, but I have survived each and every dagger they stuck between my shoulder blades. I could train myself, feed myself, and survive on my own.

But never was my survival that important. I need to be the one who lives and bury my parents. Because I don’t have the heart to let them bury me. That’s not fair. Parents shouldn’t be responsible for their children’s funerals. It would break them. They’re not strong enough. I am.

I need to make sure that I handle their funerals. THAT’S responsibility. THAT’S something I’m not running away from.

When the doctors told me their verdict, I really didn’t give a shit. Whether I live or die, this will stay a shitty world. People will still use and abuse other people. They will still backstab each other. They will still lie and then live in denial all their lives. There will still be idiots.

But I decided to live if not for me, then for my family. My life is my own, my death likewise. I will use it as I see fit. This is one thing no one else will ever control. Or manipulate. Or take credit for. As others have seemed so fond of doing before.

You fuckers can backstab me, try to use me all you want. I will not die. I will exist. You will fail. And there is nothing you can do about it. I have trained myself well. I do not need other people. When push comes to shove, you’re all gonna die, motherfuckers! Your lies will be exposed and your true face will greet the world with a twist of shame and guilt and remorse. And fear.

Because I don’t need people to tell me that I’m right. I KNOW I’m right.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008


I have been running on empty for the past 9 months. I need to replenish my energy. I need to go to the source.

Thailand. Motherland. The nexus of all super-powers. I need to soak myself in the sound and the fury of Thailand. I need to recharge.

And then...and shall know fear...

Pimp Masta G: COUNTDOWN!


Today's Theme

To the sweeeeaaaaat! To the sweeeeeeaaaatt!

To the sweat drip from my balls! To the sweat drip from my balls!

To the sweeeeaaaaat! To the sweeeeeeaaaatt!

To the sweat drip from my balls! To the sweat drip from my balls!

Smack her wit a dick! Smack her wit a dick!

Fuck her in the ear! Fuck her in the ear!

Fuck her in the eye! Fuck her in the eye!

Bliiiiind the bitch! Bliiiiind the bitch!

The Balance in the Force

There shall be balance.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Semusim di Syurga: Hipotesis Hipokrit

Aku lepak dengan Angkatan Belia Neraka Jumaat lepas, dan kami membincangkan hipotesis:

Malaysia jadi jahanam lepas ABIM.

ABIM menukarkan Melayu-Melayu Proto yang minum arak pada Hari Raya, dan memakai corset di bawah kebaya yang ketat, kepada Melayu-Melayu Hipokrit yang mimum minyak atar dan memakai baju arab (pasal Arab=Islam). Melayu-Melayu Hipokrit yang ingin KELIHATAN Islam, yang ingin NAMPAK SEOLAH-OLAH akan masuk syurga. Jadi kalau nak minum arak, tak boleh terang-terangan sangat.

ABIM juga bersalah dengan membuatkan perempuan-perempuan yang sama ada buruk, hodoh, atau mengesyaki diri sendiri buruk/tua, untuk memakai tudung. Kerana sekurang-kurangnya, kalau dah tak lawa tu, nanti masuk syurga. Katanya.

ABIM bertanggungjawab membuat ramai orang menjadi munafik, yang bagi mereka lagi bagus dari jadi kafir atau murtad. Katanya. Walaupun dosa untuk semua tu sama saja. Masuk Neraka Tingkat 9 gak.


Jadi aku pun melihat ke Ahmad Kamal Abu Bakar, Presiden Pro-Tem Angkatan Belia Neraka Malaysia, dan aku cakap kat dia.

"Somebody has to do something. Take back the sin! We must get the Malays back on the path of wanton, open hedonism."

Or something of that sort. Whatever.

And he nodded. And that was that.

Ya. Kami setuju. Ada sesapa nak tubuhkan anti-ABIM? Ada sesapa takde kerja, takde duit, pastu nak makan free kat Kamunting (aku dengar roti dia best. Keras, dan kalau bernasib baik, ada fresh mushroom kat atas roti)? Ada sesapa nak berenti isap dadah?

Pasal aku malas. Aku sibuk. Aku ada banyak kerja. Pergi mampuslah korang nak buat apa pun. Aku peduli hapa? Yang penting, dua-tiga minggu lagi, aku balik ke tanah tumpah darah.

Kap kung kraap!


I'm older than Methuselah. Older than sin.

Man. In the past, I've often wished that I am already 40, waiting to die while reading newspapers at a pub. Wish I could have fast-forwarded my life to an early retirement.

Unfortunately, that's not all growing old is about.

I mean, when I was younger, I travelled the path of vengeance many, many times. I took my revenge on anything and anyone that crossed me, and I enjoyed it so. It doesn't take much, really.

I am in the business of information, in communication. I'm a trained journalist. I read people's perceptions and general trends. I see the nodes, and I see what happens when certain things are put through certain points and where they will end up. I can be a political assassin when I want to be one.

And if I did my job REALLY well, no one would know that I've done anything at all. The perfect murder.

I have seen people's lives crumble before me. Their dreams shattered. Unable to find true happiness, they scour for a fascimile of a happy existence. Usually, they go back to religion or into the arms of the hypocritical community they live in.

For the rest of their natural lives, they will be fake, pretentious and never know the real meaning of happiness.

It didn't take much to do, what I did. A small push here, a light pull there, and voila. The motherfuckers wilt and die. And none of them didn't deserve what they got.

But now, looking back, old as I am, ancient as I am, I'm beginning to wonder two things:

1. Did I really do anything, or was I just wasting my time?

2. What good have that ever done for me?

Number one, most people I destroyed were already on the path of destruction. They're usually stupid, ingenuine, fake, petty, self-sabotaging, self-proclaimed victims and stupid. I mentioned that they are stupid.

I mean, consider this: A man who demands that he be loved and respected, that he be given the time of day from other people, that he be given attention, will eventually destroy himself. I didn't have to do anything.

And a backstabber will backstab everyone (especially if he/she is a Malay) and no matter who he/she is in cahoots with, they will eventually either avoid him/her like the plague or they in turn will backstab him/her, before he/she could backstab them.

I saw this happen with my own eyes.

Many years ago, one guy kept backstabbing me. After I was gone from his world, and he didn't have anyone to backstab, everyone he worked with backstabbed him. Now he has to crawl back to his family and ask them to give him food. Possibly tampons as well.

That was fine, but the question is, did I really do anything? Looking back, I must say that no, I didn't. He managed to do that all by himself. But I kept on and on, focusing my energy on cursing him. And I don't even believe in magic.

People whom I hate usually share one thing in common - they're dicks. Motherfuckers. They're already on a self-destruct sequence. I really didn't have to do anything, and they would crumble and fall. So soft, so young, so lost and oh-so bloody fooooolll!

So it WAS a waste of time. My father was right. He used to say, "Don't do anything evil to evil people. They will get what they deserve - they will die."

Well, that's his simplistic way of putting it. The way I see it, people who are committed to doing stupid and evil things to other people are probably the saddest, most pathetic creatures on earth.

They might say that they're happy raping a 12-year-old, or molesting a 14-year-old, but is that real joy? So for fucktards, their punishment is not death, but life. As a fucktard. They're already serving pennance for their stupidity, by being stupid.

And I don't really have to do anything. It was all just a waste of my time.

Which brings me to item number two - what good has that ever done for me?

Well, I used to enjoy setting things up and watching them come together or fall apart around a person I don't like. It brought such laughter to me. Some of that I shared with you already, in the past.

But then again, my dream is to get millions of Euros and get the hell out of this country. What the fuck does punishing fucktards and monkeys and destroying their lives have to do with that? There are too many of them, and it would be better for me to arrange plots and scenes in a movie rather than tweak certain things in real life so that their lives would be destroyed. Cause it's already destroyed anyway.

Man, I AM getting old. And this world is getting old on me, too. Maybe the only thing worth plotting is for the end of the world. That way, I can take out fucktards wholsesale.


I hate Ahmadinejad! FUCKING PERSIANS! Come and do a nuclear test here, in KL, you fucking fucktard!


Kim Jong Il is a fag! Hilary Clinton is a MAN! Chairman Mao raped all his pigs before he ate them.

Send all your nuclear bombs to Malaysia, foo! I dare ya! I double dare ya!

Yeah. That takes care of Malaysia. And now, for the world. I will contribute to global warming as much as I can, because I believe that Everyone Should Die.

I pledge to help raise the temperature of the world by, say, 3 degrees? Thus, burning all the oxygen and suffocating all living things. Even the roaches will die.

Friday, May 9, 2008



If you were to ask for my opinion on what transpired today, I can only say one thing - I don't speak monkey.

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Pattaya Pantats

Man, glad that's out of the way.


SUPPLIES! The Knights of Bukkake ride again!

Anyway, I am going to a different part of Thailand this year. After years of planning with the Earl of Cunt, I, Count Clitoris, am going to a Bangkok-Pattaya trip this June.

Usually, we'd plan to go to Bangkok or Pattaya and eventually end up in Phuket. Not anymore. Our sexploring comes first. And this is another notch to get.

We are calling ourselves the Pattaya Pantats because this is the first time we'll be in Pattaya.

I mean, I've been to Phuket 10 times and Bangkok three, but I've never been to Pattaya.

People say it's not as nice as Phuket. It's more Vegas than anything. Just cheaper.

Well, as far as I'm concerned:

Bangkok = outer beauty (Zhang Ziyi can kiss my ass!)
Phuket = inner beauty (you have to see it to believe it. And not be an ass, cause Thais can sense an ass from a mile away, foo!)

Pattaya = pantat beauty?

I don't give a shit. If Pattaya blows - and I'm sure they do - I'm gonna go back to Bangkok.

I'll be goin' soon. Very soon.

So all-a-you Malaysian women can all FUCK OFF AND DIE! Goodbye, Malaysian hos! Hello, Thai beauties!

Yeah. Uh. Uh. Pop that pussy, cause me so horny!

Man of Tomorrow: Fight the Future

And so it began. The final battle. Underwear-Model-Man, Man of Tomorrow, Pimp Masta G, The Malay Male, Prince of Phuket, versus that ass Zen-Master Sexay.

Me: Fuck you, bitch! Una-beam! Repulsor ray! Optic Blast!

Zen-Master Sexay: You goin' Cyclops on me, bitch? I go GRANDIZER on yo ass! Space Thunder! Double Sickle!

Me: You broke fourth wall last time, you fucking Mongolian!

ZMS: Oh, that. You can't stand that, can't you? Nothing's gonna harm you...not while I'm around...

Me: Stop singing and fight me, asshole!

ZMS: We're only fighting ourselves. I'm just you a few years from now.

Me: I'll fight the fucking future. If the future looks like you, no one wants to live in it.

ZMS: Funny. Last time I checked, there were 6 billion people from my time.

Me: Only 6 billion? I thought they'd be more?

ZMS: Well, 4 billion got killed by global warming, nuclear winter and some got raped by giant robots.

Me: Oh, yeah, I forgot. Anyway, I'mma kill yo ass, motherfucker, same like last time. You fucking inner-adult.

ZMS: Hold up, bitch! Don't you remember what this was all about?

Me: Yeah, me kickin' yo punk ass motherfucka, motherfucka!

ZMS: No. You. Remember what this was all about? You became the devil so you could fight angels. So there would BE angels. Where are the angels now, bitch?

Me: Who the fuck gives a shit about winged fags? Gekigan! FLARE!

ZMS: Open the gates! Reverse Lotus! Truth be told, no one got your message. No one understood. No one understands. You want to spend the rest of your life preaching to idiots?

Me: So?

ZMS: Truth is, there are no angels. By becoming Lucifer, you only become Lucifer. Get my shrift?

Me: Fuck all, broseph! I'mma STILL kickin' yo ass!

ZMS: Here's the thing. You got lost in all that posturing, hoping for the world to hit you back cause you were some form of negative energy -

Me: I am a creature of despair! I am DESTRUCTION! I am Fenris the Wolf! Anger, Sadness, Hate!

ZMS: Ashes to ashes. You resisted because you wanted to see more of the good shit. But people are stupid. They didn't come up with good shit. They didn't come up with anything. People are sheep. You WERE their sheperd. Now they're all going to hell.

Me: There is no such thing as hell. Ahmad Kamal Abu Bakar stopped blogging already. Again.

ZMS: Fuck, man. How do I get through to you? Your efforts will come to naught cause it's like downloading the entire knowledge of humanity into an ant. It's like preaching to roaches. They're resilient as shit, but will never write comics.

Me: Fuck you and your zen bullshit. I am what I am. A barbarian. Barbarian X!

ZMS: WHatever. But you have to grow up some day. You inherit the earth. You have to take care of it.

Me: No. I refuse that responsibility.

ZMS: But you took on an even bigger responsibility before this. Your existence deformed the universe. Remember your training.

Me: Fuck my training. This isn't about my training.

ZMS: No. It's about you and where do you go from here. You can stay as you are, or you can simply be whatever you want to be.

Me: The king of dreams learns he must either change or die.

ZMS: Exactly.

Me: I will stay as I am. Pain, anger, despair, hate - all this makes great art.

ZMS: No. Let me put it this way - sum up Neil Gaiman in one word.

Me: ...sensible.

ZMS: Alan Moore.

Me: Madness. Majestic. No. Madness.

ZMS: Brian Michael Bendis?

Me: Empathic.

ZMS: Are any of them Destruction?

Me: I am Destruction.

ZMS: No. You, me, us - we're -

Me: Madness? Cause I am talking to my inner-adult who just broke the fourth wall, which is invisible. At 4am.

ZMS: Nah. You, we, are perfectly sane.

Me: So?

ZMS: Well, we're -

And then a rift opened in the time-stream. Out popped an old man with 108 packs on his abs. And TWO giant laser cannons on his shoulders.

ZMS: WHo the fuck are you, bitch?

Old Man: I am called Pimp Masta Dragon. I am the leader of the 108 dragons. I come from your future. And get this - I'm you.

Me: When the fuck did this become and Arnold Schwarzenegger movie?

Pimp-Masta-Dragon: Well, it's true. In the future, China is dope.

ZMS: WHoa. They took over the world?

PMD: They took over the dope business. So yeah. They rule the world. Cheap ass crack made by slave labour. Oh, by the way, the politicians in this time got their wish. All the Chinese went back to China. All the Indians went back to India - some got lost and went to the UK.

ZMS: And the Malays?

PMD: They migrated to Saudi Arabia. Chasing heaven under robes and the hot desert sun. All they got was skin cancer.

Me: SO who the fuck stays here?

PMD: You. Me. Well, you. Us. We wanted to migrate, but it proved too difficult, so we drove everyone out with giant robots. If migration won't come to Mohamed...

Me: To build my kingdom with my own two hands.

PMD: Exactly.

ZMS: SO who else is there?

PMD: Thais, mostly. And some lesbians. I don't remember. I mean, I am 108 years old.

Me: Fuck that. I'm not living past 45. I'll kill myself before I reach that stage.

PMD: Well, stuff happens.

ZMS: SO why did you come to this time?

PMD: Um...I forgot. 108 years old, you know.

Me: get on with it, old man!

PMD: All right, all right. I'm supposed to tell you guys that...

ZMS: Yes?

PMD: If Anwar Ibrahim ever gets into power, everyone is fucked.

Me: Fucking hell?! Everybody knows that!

ZMS: Yeah, man.

PMD: A period of 50 years of darkness follows the reign of ANwar, where humans will be enslaved by aliens in cahoots with that turncoat Anwar and put into a virtual reality world. Man is no longer born, but harvested. To power giant batteries. That's why I built the giant robots - to fight Anwar.

Me: Ah! I'm still kickin ALL your asses. PLANNING SUICIDE A FEW YEARS FROM NOW.

ZMS: No! No! Noooooooooooo!!!

PMD: Fuck yeah, man. I should have died years ago. But my dick kept on fucking.

And they all died and all the worlds of the future were destroyed. Take THAT, ANwar Ibrahim!

Zen-Master Sexay: Don't Worry

This is Zen-Master Sexay. I drank myself quite a few pints of Pirelli's Miracle Elixir.

I still remember my younger self - Pimp Masta G's - passwords. I bring to you a message of love and hope.

Hahahaha. While others are haunted by their past, Pimp Masta G, The Malay Male, Underwear-Model-Man, Amir Hafizi, is haunted by the future. I know he will not approve of this. As it's not his. And he's needy and greedy and extremely possessive.

Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around.
Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around.

Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays,
I'll send 'em howling,
I don't care, I got ways.

No one's gonna hurt you,
No one's gonna dare.
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there.

Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while,
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...

Not to worry, not to worry
I may not be smart but I ain't dumb
I can do it, put me to it
Show me something I can overcome
Not to worry, Mum

Being close and being clever
Ain't like being true
I don't need to,
I would never hide a thing from you,
Like some...

No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there!
Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...

Thursday, May 8, 2008

The Loneliness of Command



Man, sometimes I wish I was a kid again. I wish I could crap my pants and not feel guilty about it. I wish I could smear brown streaks on the walls and not give a fuck. I wish I could dump shit on people and feel nothing but joy and fun. Bliss.

Ah, youth is wasted on the young. Life is wasted on the living.

I am currently responsible for a lot more than just myself. I sometimes feel like, if I crap out the wrong shape, somebody's life will be destroyed.

The Sword of Damocles is laced with a poison called guilt and responsibility.

It was so much easier when all I had to worry about, all I had to focus on, was my OWN work. Not other people's. Now I have to take care of both. Shit.

I also have to uphold justice, truth, and the way of the magic. What the fuck do I look like? The fucking Justice League?

It has its rewards, though.

I've always hated it when hardworking people, smart people, let themselves be victimized by stupid shit motherfuckers who play the victim game.

Fuck that, motherfucker.

So anytime anyone wants to play the blame game and start pointing fingers, I'll be there with a giant axe, cause I'm the fucking hatchet man.

You point fingers, motherfucker, I'll point one back at you. And in the words of Eminem, "It's not the ring, the index, the pinky or the thumb - it's the one you put up when you don't give a fuck"

And then I'll hack off all your fucking digits, motherfucker.

Some people, it is ingrained in them to make sure that accountability is not with them. They will have failsafes and whatever shit so that no blame can come to them. That's why in many organisations, lots of people don't want to make decisions. They don't have the balls to shoulder the burden of responsibility should something fail and they don't get any increment in their pay.

I've always operated from the belief that I can be fired tomorrow. That I got nothing to lose because I have thought of all worst-case scenarios.

If I really get screwed in KL, I'm packing and hauling my ass back to my village. Where I will plant fucking vegetables and eat that for the rest of my natural life.

Or, if I get really bored, I'll go and kill myself. Cause for me, there are only two possible outcomes for my life - either I become the greatest or I die.

So if I fail, I'll go and kill myself. No use living if I am not the best at what I do.

But I haven't failed, have I? In fact, I'm kicking ass.

Despite all the shitty things that happened - the betrayals, the lies, the manipulations, the paranoia, the slips, the mistakes, the rejections, the sabotage, the whatever shit - I am still alive. And well. I am still the undisputed champion.

And there is nothing in this universe that can stop me now.

Dajjal Mata Dua

Mari makan babi.

Mari mengamalkan seks luar nikah.

Mari minum arak.

Mari sembah setan (aku).

Lagipun, ko masuk neraka gak.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Man of Tomorrow: Zen-Master Sexay

"Why are you still here?" I asked.

"Well," he said. "Two reasons. One, there is nothing to bitch about in the future. It's like having BN lose the 12th general elections. They lost. There's no more fight. Nothing to struggle against. No giant well-oiled machine to go up against. In the future, you, me, us, we will not face anything anymore. So I guess the best and worst for I could ever encounter is myself - you."

"What's the second one?"

"It's time you grow up and reach maturity."

"I don't want to be mature. Mature is so...not me. And as the anthropomorphic personification of my own maturity, I fucking hate you."

"I'm more than just that, you know."

"So what are you going to do to me now? Shackle me to the ground again and try to manipulate my brain?"

"Obviously...that was a mistake."

"Hell yeah. I've always resisted manipulation of any sort. Why, just last night-"

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"The whining. Stop it. Here's the thing, man, people will do shit. That's a fact of life. They will lie and manipulate - try to manipulate - and do all sort of stupid things to you -"

"Because they disrespect my intelligence."

"Yes. That's one reason. Another, more prominent, primary reason is that they don't know any other way. In their sad, pathetic little lives, this is the only way they have ever experienced success. It's like dung bettles eat shit because that's the only food they know of. For millions of years."

"These people are not dung beetles."

"Yes. They're Malays."

"Point. So. What do I do?"

"You want to listen to me now?"

"Hey, I keep an open mind. I mean, I am the most righteous motherfucker in the history of mankind, but I do listen. I'm not an idiot."

"Fine. Learn to be still. You know the deal. You see it. You see their thoughts and future actions. You can feel their fear. Their insecurities. If I know myself - if I know you - we have always been able to sense the bad things in people's heads, whether they really exist or not. We're like the Malaysian police. We catch ALL the bad guys. Whether they're guilty or not. As long as they're not VIPs."

"Learn to be still? What kind of crap is that?"

"Accept the fact that these people are idiots who will try to manipulate you. If you react, then you have given them power over you. Just let it be. Let it go. And help those whom you want to help. Think about it, decide, and then help them. If they backstab you one day, be okay with it. Accept it. Embrace it. If they backstab you, it's because they're pathetic. And scared. And will never ever know true happiness."

"And what do I get?"

"Well, as the smartest man in all of Creation, you have the potential to find true happiness. And you will be happy. Simply accept things as they are, and then move on. To dwell on backstabbers and idiots is a waste of time. People DO NOT change. What are you hoping for, thinking, focusing your energy on them? Just leave them be. If they have backstabbed you in the past, chances are, they will backstab other people and they in turn will be backstabbed themselves. It's a cycle and only those with the right perspective will see it."

"So you're telling me to forgive and forget? I will never forget Milx owing me RM11,700!"

"No. Forgiveness is not the theme here. It's about serenity in the face of idiocy and adversity. If you can just not care about all the things other people are doing or saying or thinking, you can eventually focus on your great work."

"My Great Work."

"Yes. The only thing that's keeping you alive, and sane at the moment. People will be people. They are all idiots. Don't focus on them. Focus on yourself."

"But they're so...stupid."

"Yes, them and their little games. Sickening, isn't it? Those who want to be number one. Those who set you up to look bad in front of others so that they may look good. Forget about them. Be aware of where they are and what they are doing, be careful with those fuckers, but just leave them be. Focus on the things you like. You are not here to impose your will and your reality upon the reality of others. You are here to create your own universe while allowing the universe of others to exist alongside it. You must let go."

"It would have been easier to let go if I have a nuclear bomb."

"Well, just try it. You might like the results."

"What kind of results?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, I want two million ringgits in my bank account by the end of 2009."



Then I kidney-punched Zen-Master Sexay and killed him again. What an ass.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Man of Tomorrow: For the Man Who Has Everything

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

The most terrifying element, though, was meeting my future self.

I was minding my own business in the timestream, in the nothingness, when suddenly somebody knowcked me to the newly-created ground and bound me with shackles and entrails.

Over me stood a man with twelve-pack abs and a giant laser cannon on his right shoulder.

Me: Who the fuck are you?

Zen-Master Sexay: I am you. From the future. I am Conan the Librarian, I am Zen-Master Sexay.

Me: Fuckin' A. I am Pimp Masta G, Underwear-Model-Man - Man of Tomorrow.

ZMS: Well, I come from an even more distant tomorrow. A more distant future. Like, twelve years from now, when you're 40. I mean, when we're 40.

Me: That's bullshit...

ZMS: Remember the time when the four Thai girls did a circular hurricanrana and you were the eye of the storm?

Me: Holy shit! So what's up with the shackles and all?

ZMS: Well, I am still as impatient as I was 12 years ago. And I want you to understand something that took me, I mean us, 5 more years to master from your current point in life.

Me: And what could that be?

ZMS: Zen-Mastery.

Me: Fuck Zen!

ZMS: I mean, seriously, dude. You're so fucking angry right now. Full of hate and despair. You should be like me. Well, you will be, it's just a matter of time. And I want to speed up that process. First, you need to learn to let go of shit.

Me: Fuck that shit, man! That motherfucker Milx aka Mahathir Buang owes me - US - RM11,700. I'm not letting THAt go.

ZMS: Well, this is a spoiler, but 12 years from now, Milx will be gang-raped by career-dog-rapists with mutant erections.

Me: Whoah.

ZMS: In public. Live coverage. On ESPN.

Me: What kind of sport is that?

ZMS: Well, in the future, Milx owes everyone so much money that ESPN came up with a new reality sport called Let's Rape That Asshole's Asshole or LRTAA. In some countries, it's called Goat Milx?

Me: Sweet! Finally! Revenge!

ZMS: That's the thing I wanted to talk to you about. This revenge thing. Stop it.

Me: No. I am the Spirit of Vengeance. I take revenge.

ZMS: Pfft. You've been the Spirit of Vengeance before. You took revenge for the bad things people do to you. And they all suffered and shit.

Me: Yeah, those were fun times, watching them squirm and suffer and shit.

ZMS: Fun? But what has that ever done for you? You just wasted your time. Instead of using it to make money and form an armour of success no one can penetrate, you simply wasted precious resources, setting up traps that destroy lives.

Me: So what do you expect me to do? Just LET people walk all over me. People are stupid. They need to learn, like that Pavlovian dog, that every time they cross me or backstab me or manipulate me, they will either live an excruciating existence or die a painful death. That's it, man. Otherwise, they'll keep stabbing me in the back.

ZMS: Well, they won't stab you in the back if you don't let them stab you in the back. The problem is that you TRUST people too much.

Me: I don't trust people. People are idiots.

ZMS: Results show otherwise. If you didn't let them close enough, or turned your back to them, or showed any form of weakness, they wouldn't even be able to find an opening. It was your fault.

Me: Mmmmm...point. But...

ZMS: And the women who betrayed you, man, you have to let them go.

Me: Why?

ZMS: Well, 12 years from now, they will all die, raped by giant robots. In fact, ALL your friends and enemies and mentors and whatever shit would have died by then - either of global warming, nuclear winter or raped by giant robots.

Me: Okay, that's fine. But why should I let it be now?

ZMS: Because it's killing you, and because it's not cool. You see, you go around, demanding to be loved -

Me: Fuck love! You can't be me! I don't talk about all this shit. I don't use the L word!

ZMS: Look, I'm you from the future, and here's the truth: no matter what they do to you, real or imagined - cause you are fucking paranoid and shit - you'll still love them. So just let all that hate and whatever else go and accept that. And move on. Cause they're not worth it.

ZMS: And whatever other people do to you, or say about you, it won't have any effect on you whatsoever, as long as the voice inside your brain is louder than the one outside your head.

ZMS: And more, you need to start manipulating people.

Me: I do not manipulate people. I do not want control over other people's lives. It's too much responsibility. All the other motherfuckers do that already. I don't play their games. I see it, but I won't play it. Cause it's stupid. And irresponsible.

ZMS: But you would manipulate them for the greater good.

Me: Nope. I will not lower myself to their level.

At that point, I managed to break free from my shackles and started to fight Zen-Master Sexay.

Me: I've had enough of your crap! I'll kill you, motherfucker! Shin! SHINE! SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRKKK!

ZMS: You forget that I know of all your attacks. I am, after all, YOU. STONER! SUN! SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!

Me: Urgh.

ZMS: Now, I shall cleanse your mind and manipulate you - myself - to my own will. I will enter your-our- mind and we shall become one.

ZMS: Wait...what's this? You knew about all this already?

Me: urgh...what is my - your - our - favourite sin?

ZMS: Pride...vanity.

Me: You came here, thinking that you have an advantage by being from the future. The Zen bullshit ruined your mind. You didn't count on one thing from the past that you no longer have - the power of DESTRUCTION!


Me: Can you dig it, sucka?! Now, I blow up your head!

ZMS: But...destruction is Creation. When you create, you destroy, and when you destroy, you create.

Me: I've had enough of your bullshit. DIE - ME! DIE!

ZMS: This...will create a paradox...

Me: Not if I intended to go back in time and have the old me kill myself in the future.

ZMS: We shall see.

And I burned the body of Zen-Master Sexay. What an ass. Peace-loving motherfucker. Manipulative asshole. I hate that fuck.

So I walked from that place and found somebody who looked exactly like Zen-Master Sexay, alive and well, sitting on a rock.

Me: So?

ZMS: I just came to say hi.

Me: I'll fight the future, bitch!

ZMS: What you resist, persists.

Me: Don't throw that Jungian crap on me, motherfucker! I swear to fulfill my vengeance! For I am the Vengeance of the Lord!

ZMS: In time, you shall grow up.

Me: Iiiiiiiii dont want to grow up! Iiiii'm an Ann Summers kid!

ZMS: No one understands that what you're singing is a parody of the Toys R Us jingle, and they don't know that Ann Summers is a sex toy maker/dealer.

Me: Who the fuck gives a shit. So, are we going to fight?

ZMS: Nah. I just came by to say hi. I'm older than that freak you killed. I have more experience.

Me: Fuck you, me. I mean, fuck me.

ZMS: Gotta go.

And he flew off into the night sky.

Underwear-Model-Man Vs The Dangler

The Dangler dangled sex in front of me - Underwear-Model-Man.

The Dangler: Sex. Sex. Sex. Dangle-dangle-dangle.

Me: Stupid. I went to Thailand to train myself to have a mindset that sex with a pretty girl whose cunt doesn't smell is only worth RM50. So right now you are only offering me RM50...with a possibility of a RM20 discount cause...


Me: Stupid.

For Dennis Chua: Chaos and Destruction

NST entertainment reporter and my friend, Dennis Chua came to me today and said, "Amir, I like your blog because it doesn't have so much profanities in them anymore, and are safer for kids out there."

I would like to dedicate this post to Mr Dennis Chua:

Ehem, quiet please, I shall swear -


I got out of the office today and I immediately fucked a passing truck.

Me: Anything that moves, motherfucker! Muahahahahahahaha!

Then I went to a spaceship nearby and raped an alien's mouth. Well, I think it was her mouth.

Then the EVIL IMAM's daughter came by and her father fucked her with a refrigerator. Then a goat came by and had hot anal sex with the old man.

Suddenly, Romario came out of nowhere and started scoring goals.

Romario: 1097! 1098! 1099! 1100! I rule!

Then I grabbed his neck and broke it in half. I grabbed his leg and shoved it up his ass.

Me: Fuck you, cheater! Training goals don't count.

Then Alex Ferguson crossed the road. I grabbed his Y-fronts and gave him a giant wedgie.

Ferguson: Ow. But I like that.

Me: Fag!

Then I killed him with my brain.

I flexed my triceps and a nuclear explosion occured. Everyone died. While fucking goats. Including you.

Monday, May 5, 2008


And so the Sorceress said, "Blablabla."

And I said, "Blablabla."

And the trip to Mount Olympia was not a total waste.

And then I got a call and had to go back to the office. Damn.

Days of Blunder

This has got to be one of the suckiest days every in my entire life.

I woke up to a mist laced with Pimptonite - a stuff deadly to us pimps.

Then there was the heat wave, and everyone else was affected as well, I guess. I got several fishing or fishy e-mails from lots of people out there. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the Pimptonite, heightening my fatigue and paranoia.

So you know what I did? I looked for something Thai.

I found a small bottle of black barley tea with Thai writings on them, and I drank it all up - the last remnant of energy from a once-glorious world.

Then I turned to Pimp Masta G! I found my passport last night, so today I checked for the cheapest tickets to go to Phuket or Bangkok.

I must fight this suckiness and all this shit and emerge as Underwear-Model-Man, Man of Tomorrow, the greatest man to have ever lived on this planet, and beyond.

Fabulous secret powers were revealed to me the day I held aloft my magic dick and said, BY THE POWER OF DUREX EXTRA SAFE!

And this evening, I'm meeting up with The Sorceress. I always feel better when I meet the Sorceress.

All will be well.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Semusim di Syurga: Hari Buruh

Edited: buang yang burit, ambil yang jernih

Dua hari lepas, aku masuk balik opis pukul 10 malam. Tunggu orang habis kerja sampai pukul 2.30 pagi. Lepas tu aku sambung kerja aku, based on diorang punya kerja sampai pukul 5.30 pagi. Lepas tu aku balik.

Pukul 10 pagi, aku dapat phone call. Suruh datang opis. Aku pergi. Pukul 1.30 tengahari, aku pergi Desa Sri Hartamas pulak pasal ada kerja kat situ. Abis pukul 4.

Lepas tu, aku pergi pulak meeting pukul 5. Lepas tu, aku balik opis pasal nak buat benda untuk pukul 9.30 malam punya.

Masa dalam cab, aku asyik nanyi lagu Hari Buruh.


Hari yaaaaaang BUSY!


Tak tidooooo LAGI!

Bla bla bla bla bla - Le-TIH weeeeeiiiiii!!!

Aku balik pukul 10.30 malam.

Memang Hari Buruh gila babi anak anjing betul.

Tapi hasilnya? Akulah makhluk paling sempurna ciptaan Tuhan. Aku sekarang kat Kelab Tekan Kebangsaan, tengah minum Jaka Denial - minuman orang Jawa. Walaupun aku Bugis-Arab-Cina.

Esok aku ada appointment dengan dentist pukul 11 pagi. Lepas tu terus ke projek aku nak jadi Conan the Librarian. Lepas tu ada assignment malam.

Kalau ada sesapa cari aku, suruh diorang print kan apa yang aku tulis ni, gulung ketat-ketat, lepas tu sumbat dalam jubur taik.

Man of Tomorrow: Man of Yesterday

When I was younger, I had a dream of saving the world.

Helping people, you know. All that shit.

Then it turned out that most people I helped backstabbed me and shit. I wasn't even looking for a thank you or some other form of whatever. But I as hell didn't expect them to stab me in the back.

Well, today - an extremely long day following two sleepless nights - I managed to help three people. I helped two of them to get paid employment at least till August. And I helped reduce the work of another by 60%.

The latter I accomplished simply by talking to the right people, and having the right people meet each other.

The first statement made by one of them took away 1/3 of the work already. After a few more questions from the person I helped - translated by me cause she was insecure with her Engrish - reduced the work even further.

This took me back to a time when I believed in people. In communication.

Once upon a time, I believed that the only thing you need to do to accomplish anything is simply to find the right path in which information travels.

Every time I enter into a new place, I watch the information flow. I know already that people will backstab me, so I decided to make it controlled backstabbing. Anything I say in the strictest of confidence to someone will eventually find its way somewhere. No matter if I told them that under no circumstances should the information be relayed.

So I put little nuggets here and there and see where they end up. How viruses spread. Brown movement. Bromin shit.

The observation is a skeletal diagram of the bloodflow of any organisation. I am a natural pattern recognizer. I see patterns in everything. The first three digits of my phone number adds up to 21. The last four digits also add up to 21.

So when you see how information flows, you can keep track of, and make use of the human engineering at play.

You can immediately see who talks to whom, about what. Is it about work? Personal shit? Who will conspire with whom about what, and how will they use the information.

I see myself as a white-coat-wearing lab technician with rats running a maze under my watchful gaze. Cause I'm the most arrogant motherfucker ever.

What I can never stand is information block. It's like clogged arteries. Sometimes, it's a language barrier. Some times, it's generation gap. Some times, it's an intelligence gap. Other times, some people are just fucktards.

You shouldn't work with fucktards because it will sap your energy and start the finger-pointing and blame game and whatever shit other than the most important thing - work.

Well, that was then. When I still believed in helping people and saving the world.

Nowadays, I just don't give a flying fuck. I'd club a baby seal for five bucks. I'd kill the children of fucktards in front of them. And smile.

But it felt good. Helping those three. I went out of the office today, looked up to the sky, and there wasn't a rain cloud in sight. Comulo-Nimbus, yo!

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Semusim di Syurga: Tari Cinta Rimba Mistikal

Aku pergi ke sebuah rumah kopi.

"Penunggu!" AKu panggil.

Semua buat tak paham.



"Budak lelaki dalam Bahasa Perancis!"

Takde balasan.


"Aku nak susunatur!"

"Ya, encik?" Kata seorang penunggu. "Nak ketenteraman?"

"Ha ah. Saya nak makan diri goreng."

"Minum, encik?"


"Itu saja?"


Dah. Tu je.