Sunday, June 29, 2008

Butt-Man and Rubbin


Honestly, I do not like the idea of Anwar Ibrahim being the next PM. I do not trust the man. But I don't hate him or anything, because that would be a waste of my time.

And I especially DO NOT hate him EVEN IF he is a buttfucker.

I mean, big butt-fucking deal, man.

What's so wrong with butt-fucking? People who butt-fuck other men takes themselves and the butt-fuckees out of the market. MY heterosexual market. Means more pussy for me.

Who Anwar butt-fucks, IF he did butt-fuck, is none of my fucking business. It is only the business of Wan Azizah and their daughter Nurul Izzah and their families, if they are buggered by all this. And the Law, I guess, cause I think it's illegal or something.

Same argument for Datuk Chua Soi Lek. I got no beef with him for having sex with a younger woman. Or for being a porn star. The more the merrier.

The only people he has to answer to were his wife and family members. Not the motherfucking public.

So IF Anwar is indeed a Butt-Man and this guy is his new Rubbin', then go. Butt-fuck off and die. Who gives a shit? Huh? WHo gives a butt-fuck?

Well, to be anal about it, he DOES look like Sukma (Dick Grayson), somwewhat, keeping with the conti of the type of men Anwar likes, IF he was and still is a butt-fucker.

Leave the man to butt-fuck in peace. IF he is butt-fucking. was butt-rape.

Stop Rape! Stop Butt-Rape!

Butt-rape is NOT COOL. Surprise Buttsex might be cute, but Butt-rape is a NO, even if your girl/boyfriend is a retard.

ButtMan: Hey, Rubbin'!

Rubbin': Hey. Nice Islamic front.

BM: Full Frontal, yo!

Rubbin': I wanna go to Heaven.

BM: Turn around...

Rubbin': Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and youre never cumming round

BM: Turn around...

Rubbin': Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my farts

BM: Turn around...

Rubbin': Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by

BM: Turn around...

Rubbin': Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes

BM: Turn around, bright ass..

Rubbin': Every now and then I fall apart.

BM: Turn around... bright ass

Rubbin': Every now and then I fall apart

Rubbin': And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if youll only hold me tight
Well be holding on forever
And we'll only be making it right
Cause well never be wrong together
We can take it to the end of the line
Your dick is like a shadow on me all of the time
I dont know what to do and I'm always in the dark
Were living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
I really need you tonight
Forevers gonna start tonight
Forevers gonna start tonight

Once upon a time I was falling in love
But now Im only in a fucking mess
Theres nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the ass
Once upon a time there was light in my life
But now theres only love in the dark
Nothing I can say
A total eclipse of the ass


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Saturday, June 28, 2008

Stop Rape!

I was driving with a friend of mine around town when I saw this huge billboard.

The billboard had these humorous, I mean, humongous letters on them spelling STOP RAPE!

Upon seeing that billboard, I immediately turned to my friend, who was driving, and said, "Yep, I is gonna stop rape."

And he was like, "Yeah, man. We is gonna stop rape."

"But first," I said, "lunch."

So we pulled over at a rat-infested stall and started eating.

There were fried lungs, tongue, liver, heart and for some reason, my friend had some intestines as well. I FUCKING HATE intestines. I don't see any reason why I should enjoy eating shit-tubes.


"So," I said. "Stop rape. It's so fucking catchy, man."

Friend: True, true.

Me: I mean, as soon as I saw the RM50,000 billboard, I immediately want to stop rape.

F: Wait. Are you going to stop raping people or are you going to stop rape itself?

Me: Gee. That's a tough one. Lemme think.

To facilitate my thinking, I went to a cafe nearby and used their toilet to take a shit.

After I finished, I found my friend outside, browsing through a RM2 shop.

"Let's go," I said.

Friend: Where? To stop rape?

Me: Nah. I want to take a nap. Maybe jack off to some porn. Where do you go anyway, if you want to stop rape?

F: Rape centers or some shit?

Me: Hmmm. Okay. Let's go to one of them rape centres. You got money?

F: Some.

So we went to the rape center and we stopped rape.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Jaka Denial and Coke

There's nothing else for me to do now other than wait for the millions to come rolling in.

You politicians always like to stall things. And then, four years later, have to pay ten times the cost. Stupid.

Like the monorail/LRT project to Putrajaya. When Dr M got it rolling, it was worth a billion-kajillion dollars. Then They cancelled it. Now they want to resurrect the project due to public pressure. I guess people are pissed off that they can't afford to put petrol in their tanks. Oh. Gee. Smack my ass and call me a bitch. That was a surprise.

Now, the bloody thing will cost ten bllion-kajillion dollars. Plus bribes, it's about 30 billion-kajillion dollars. As all bribes are roughly 200% of the actual cost.

Oh well. I hope they give me a few billion-kajillion dollars before they run out. It's not infinite, you know, the amount you can embezzle before you are put in the same category as wossisname - Mugabe? I don't know.

I just want to make enough money to open a chain of go go bars in Thailand before everything is robbed from this country. Is that not a reasonable thing to ask?

Tales from the Drunk Side: ...Along Comes a Candle

Erasmus Fry said, "Writers are liars, my dear."

Well, he said it in Sandman - Neil Gaiman's masterpiece, his Opus - as a comic character.

I honestly don't know why I wrote that. I am quite lugubrious at the moment. Quite high. Spent the whole night talking about conspiracy theories with Rocky and some spies and agents of Dr M and Najib.

Now I know all your fucking secrets. All you motherfucking politicians better give me money soon. Or I'll expose you. And for USD400 million, I'll give you Rocky.

C'mon. man. It's chump change for all a you fuckers. Just give me the fucking money.

Anyway, Erasmus Fry. He was a motherfucker. He kept a muse in his attic. Her name was Calliope. Kall-ee-o-pee. Or some shit. The youngest of the Pleidas.

Oh, how I wish I was raped and killed by the Baccae - the sisters of the Frenzy. The spurned lovers of the God Dyonisus or was it Dionysius. Goddamn stupid Greek names.

I wish I had a muse I could rape.


I'd capture her on a mountain somewhere. Using the old secrets. Burning her scroll and a garlic-rose or some shit.

One girl asked me the other night, "I thought you wanted a girlfriend?"

My response? "People hear what they want to hear."

I am already in love - with a city.

"A SITI?" Idiots would ask.

"No," I said, "A city. Bangkok."

I love Bangkok. Bangkok is my mecca.

Bangkok is my reason for living. So send me to fucking Bangkok. There exists nothing else other than Bangkok.


My madness, my madness keeps me sane.

Say, Freud said that when you dream of flying, you're actually dreaming of sex, then what does it mean when you dream of having sex?

Random, random, random bullshit we will go.

You want to know what's going on inside my head?

Sure you do!

How come Thai pussies have no smell?

I was reliably informed that I am a good fuck.

I was reliably informed that women will stay beaten up for nothing.

I think that getting beaten up is stupid. I tried to assert that getting beaten up physically, emotional or mentally is stupid, so that women can go on with their emancipation, but all they want is to be a victim.

Hey, I TRIED to make abuse uncool, but all women want to do is to protect their victim stories. What gives?

You think I don't know what it's like to be emotionally abused? Fuck you.

I am the greatest.

Worship me and we can all go to hell together. That's what you want, right? To go to hell.

Well, hell is other people. Rimbaud? Rambo? Robocop?


Tales from the Drunk Side: Internet Blackmail

For those of you who didn't know, be reliably informed that I am Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak's nephew.

Seriously. Tun Razak and my grandfather were cousins. When Tun Razak went to KL to become the Minister of Education or whatever, the person he consulted was my grandfather. He asked my grandfather to join him in governing the country, but the old man was more interested in his durian trees.\

I am not so agriculturally inclined.

Therefore, when Najib becomes the Prime Minister, I will be the next KJ. Despite Raja Petra Kamarudin's supposedly reliably informed allegations that Aunt Rosmah was involved with some huge crime, I hereby stand by my family and say that that is bollocks.

In return, I would like to ask for 40 APs. Not 1,200, but just 40. C'mon, man. I need that money. QAnd always be reliably informed that I am not someone you want to go against.

I have seen my enemies die or kneel in despair after slighting me.

And you don't want to be associated with the likes of me either, because I can bring down your political career with a snap of my fingers.

So, just give me the fucking APs la. Then I will leave the country and everyone will be happy.

Better yet, just give me USD 400 million and we'll call it evens.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: The Sacred Feminine

Vi vagina veniversum vivus vici.

Translation: By the power of the vagina, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

I stole that from Dr Faust. Okay, I stole it from V for Vendetta (comics. not the stupid movie. They should have re-titled the movie S for Stupid for its sheer stupidity) which stole it from Faust.

You'll never believe me, but I am some sort of feminist.

I really am.

In the past, I thought that women hold the key to a better tomorrow. And not because of that John Woo movie.

This thought arose from my time spent in an all-male world - high school. I went to an all-boys boarding school, paid for by the Government. I would have said thank you and brandished my keris once or twice except for the fact that at this school, I had to watch my ass.

See, rampant child molestation and rape was happening all the time. Kids got beaten up for sleeping together by child-raping seniors. Or for walking in a certain way. Or for having too many buckles on their pants.

One kid got beaten up by a prefect because the prefect was too stressed from studying.

I saw one kid got beaten up so bad, he shat his pants.

Ever saw the movie Sleepers? Something like that.

So this, I realized, is a world controlled entirely by men. We were cowered into almost superstitious bullshit of 'outside' boys beating us up. And the eternal myth of strength in numbers.

The greatest fear was losing one's cool, one's street-rep. This was the beginning of my distrust with society and community as well as being 'of one mind'. The hive-mind.

As I slept away my teenage years, as I was forced to do 400 squats before I could eat, as I blew on the flourescent lights before I could go to sleep, as I participated in the endless cycle of violence and caste-making when I myself was a senior, I yearned for a more reasonable world. Because men, I thought at the time, are all boys. And boys will fuck each other up the ass if they thought it could make themselves look cool.

High school made me feel dirty, because I lived with no honor. I did not sstand up for what I believed in. I did not fight the good fight. I just slept and read books.

My only hope, then, was women.

Alas, when I left high-school, I discovered that one crushing truth. Women are stupid. Women are just as stupid as men are. In fact, it was not a matter of gender, but of society. Of community.

ALL societies, ALL communities are evil. The individual can only hope to lurk between its great shadows, and merely survive.

And thus I began my one-man war on society.

It wasn't until I discovered Thailand that I saw again the angelic vision of a world ruled by women. As I had seen it in my youth. In some parts of Thailand's bustling sex-trade, some women have managed to group together with a camaraderie I have only seen in comics and anime - like Frabnk Miller's Sin City's Old Town prostitutes and the planet ruled entirely by women in Gonzo Studio's Vandread.

The sisterhood was in place, but it was a fair one for men to co-exist as well. As punters. As motherfuckers.

My faith was restored.

A world ruled entirely by men would be something like Lordof the Flies. Fed with superstition and the illusion of the Macho Man Randy Savage, a world ruled entirely by men would be all about fucking each other in the ass.

At least, in a world ruled primarily by women, if you get raped, it would be a pleasurable experience.

Alas, I had to come back to Malaysia and face again the realities of THIS world.

So I joined the Oprah Book Club. If there is one sensible woman in this world, sans the self-promotion and theatrics, it would be that black priestess of power.

In fact, you combine the good attributes of Barrack Obama (black) and Hillary Rodham Clinton (woman), you get Oprah Winfrey (black woman).

In other words, to all the hot women out there, RAPE ME.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Public Service Announcement: It's the Blog Signal, Let's Go!

A number of weeks ago, I went into the National Press Club and saw Rocky, Nuraina, Bernard Khoo (Zorro) and a number of other people sitting at a table.

I was like, "What's happenin' here, pilgrims?"

And Rocky said, "Pull up a chair, youngblood."

And before I knew it, I was roped in to help set up a do, a thing, a party of sorts for bloggers to come and have wanton, rampant se - er- to celebrate 100 days after the elections.

I was supposed to help, but after giving some ideas, I have managed to be completely and utterly useless to the cause. Perhaps because my only real cause is for myself, and not other people.

I was supposed to invite some celebrities, but most I approached told me that they either have other things scheduled.

Fortunately, they were not relying on me at all and my failures will not reflect the failures of the event. If it were to fail.

Anyway, if you do not want it to fail, simply go to Rocky's and Zorro's blogs for more details.

National Pornographic Sexplorer: tranCenDenz (Capital C, Capital D)

So Cheepork, the Earl of Cunt, took me to Angel Massage, which is just a short five minutes walk from the Phrom Pong skytrain station.

And he opened the door and he stepped inside.

Cheepork: Good morning, angels!

Angels: Good morning, Cheepork!

And you people ask me why I go to Bangkok.

I mean, seriously, going to Bangkok is a spiritual journey for me. It is the source of all power. It is the one place in the universe that makes perfect sense to me.

So by shifting my focus from all that I hate – the idiots in Malaysia - to what I love – the Thai girls – my whole life changes. My viewpoints, my stories, my negativity, my dreams and desire and despair – all shifts when I go to Bangkok.

The first girl I took to my hotel room in Pattaya was Mae.

After an initial conversation that included the future of the Thai agricultural sector, I started laying the smackdown – my victim stories.

Me: Everyone I ever helped backstabbed me in some way. Blah blah blah.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: You see, I hate lying. So people take advantage of my honesty. I want a world where I can be as honest as I want to be and no one would heckle me. A world where I can be pure id. No ego. No superego. Just pure, free id. Like an animal. Like a beast.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: Everyone judges everyone else. Show me a person who has never judged another human being and I will show you a spastic brain-dead half-chipmunk in a coma.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: There is a giant conspiracy against me. There are people conspiring behind my back to get me to do things I don’t want or to change into something I’m not. So that they would have complete control over me. So that they can feel superior and feed their own stupid insecurities.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: See, it’s because of their stupid low self-worth. They need to put other people down or get them under their control so that they can feel big. Most have been victimised their entire lives, so they want to inflict the same kind of pain to other people. They want other people to be like them. To suffer like them. Because misery loves company.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: They feed their own ego with other people’s sufferings. They laugh and make fun of and put down other people. “Putting them in their place” because they are afraid that other people might be experiencing a better life. A better truth.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: Some are just plain downright righteous. I know, because I am the most righteous motherfucker ever. Some just want to use people. Others want to laugh at people, because laughing at other people somehow convinces their ego-selves that they are superior.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: These people will never know true happiness. Because they’re idiots.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: I hate people.

Mae: Nut?

Me: What?

Mae: You want nuts?

Me: Ah. Pistachio. Nah. Trying to keep cholesterol levels down. You go ahead.

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: Say, that’s TRUE!

Mae: Mmph?

Me: What you said. It’s absolutely true!

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Me: See, it’s their egos talking. Doing the shit they do. Trying to pull me down to their level. Misery loves company. If I fall to their level, then I will also be pure ego. I will be like them. Goddamn!

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. I finish first?

Me: What?

Mae: You finish? I finish first?

Me: Yes! YES! Everything will be finished! The impermanence of everything! This, too, shall pass. Nothing is forever so who the fuck gives a shit? I…DON’T…GIVE …A…FUCK…ANYMORE!

Mae: Mmmph. Mmph. Mmmmmph.

Easier said than done. It took two go go girls and another massage girl later that I began to lose interest in my victim stories. That I finally started my ascent beyond ego and paranoia – justified or not – and went ever closer to transcendence.

At Angel Massage, I met a girl who manhandled me in every which way and forced me to look into the mirror.

Ann: Narak.

Me: What?

Ann: Narak. It means ‘handsome guy’.

Me: Ah. You’re just saying that so I would give you more money. Well, I won’t.

Ann: I don’t want more money. Just look in the mirror. Narak.

Me: Bah. Handsome. Ugly. Just another label.

Ann: What you do? Your work?

Me: I’m a writer.

Ann: Label.

Me: Holy shit! You mean, all the things I see myself in – my work, my apartment, my phone, my computer, my whatever - are all just labels I attached to myself in fear of losing my identity? My identity…my self…my…ego?

Ann: Look. Narak.

Me: And to you, I’m just what I am right now? A handsome guy? This is the me, the only me that you recognize? The me of the moment? Free of all the other bullshit. All the other…STUFF?

The movie Star Trek: Insurrection has characters who talk of living in one perfect moment after another as the key to longevity. Of immortality.

Neon Genesis Evangelion explores the concept of Absolute Terror field (AT field) – a thin psionic membrane that keeps every one and every thing separated. Call the AT field what you will – ego, a sense of self, identity – it is the one thing that keeps everyone from being one with each other and with the universe.

It is the abject fear of losing one’s self. Though past holy men and philosophers and drug addicts alike strived to break this barrier down and tell people that they are part of each other and part of the universe itself. Buddha, Jesus, Mohamed, Hideaki Anno, Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, Nit-Shit, Moliere, Jung, Freud. Plato’s ideas. And that stupid heretic Aristotle’s bullshit as well as others try to dismantle the oneness with the universe with stupid things like caste and species and genus and what have you.

The easiest way to break through the AT field is through sex. Meditation works for some people, but sex has always proven to be extremely potent and easy to induce a thinning of AT fields.

Some people allow for limited opening and expansion of the AT field to include a group. This is even worse. This is when we have racism, bullying at school, workplace, and on national levels, it leads to war.

The modern Malays seek each other for those who are ‘sekepala’. Literally, “those of one head”. And we all know when a group of people share only one head, only one brain, we become stupid. It is only through the diversity of ideas and differing viewpoints and arguments that anything will grow.

The Japanese version of sekepala is ‘kangke’ and I saw a lot of Malay children follow this ‘kangke’ at UM while watching them capture one of their own and rubbing his genitals to a pillar or a wall. In Nazi Germany, it manifested in Aryan supremacy.

Me: I like to combine things that seem unrelated, like prostitution and philosophy, anime and self-awareness, comics and literature and just prove that they’re very similar. See, prostitution used to be the cornerstone of some civilisations. In ancient Babylon, they worshipped the Goddess Astarte. Ishtar. The goddess of love and sexual desire. And all priestesses have to become a prostitute for one day before they can ascend to become Ishtar’s holy-woman. Whore-priestesses. Animes such as NGE and Serial Experiment Lain and FLCL explore the dimension of awareness as the most vital part of existence. Quantum physics in the sense that no universe can exist without the mind entering into it. Comics, well, if you think about it, comics are the earliest forms of literature, of art. The cavemen drew comics on their walls. Sequential art. To convey a message. Comics exist in ideograms and further creep into cuneiform and symbolic alphabets, which is all alphabet. And some comics today are the most important works of literature ever done by mankind.

Ann: Narak.

Me: What-what-WHAT?

Ann: Narak.

Me: You mean to say that all this thinking, all this whatever shit, even parts of my GREAT WORK, are also just the egoistic me putting myself in other things in trying to define myself? That I should just enjoy myself as I am? I…am. I…AM. I AM!

Ann: Mmmphh. Mmpph. Mmmmmph.

Me: That there is no reason for me to become a mirror to society, unless I wish it? That I do not have to be burdened with the responsibility of the human race because if they’re meant to die or be stupid or be ‘sekepala’ then I should just let it be?

Ann: Mmmphh. Mmpph. Mmmmmph.

Me: That my job, my only role in this universe, in this life, is to not give a fuck? And also to give a fuck?

Ann: Mmmphh. Mmpph. Mmmmmph.


No wonder this is called Angel Massage.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Coming from the Ego

I woke up today and started looking at online pictures of old flames, absent friends, dead gods and blah blah blah.

I noticed one thing. ALL the women I considered fuckable five years ago are getting fat. I guess their hormones are winning the battle. And their thyroids must be whooped.

They're all getting fatter. While I become thinner. Muscular-er.


Semusim Di Syurga: Fitna

Aku dah cakap. Mana-mana team yang awal-awal dah masuk fifth gear mesti takleh menang punya. Tengok la Euro 2004 dulu.

First Portugal, sekarang Holland la pulak keluar. Aku sungguh bahagia. Tu la. Sapa suruh jatuhkan Kesultanan Melayu Melaka? England dah awal-awal bungkus.

Aku sokong Turki dengan Rusia - Turki pasal diorang 'negara Islam' yang akan didiskriminasi sebagai orang gasar (barbarian) Eropah, dan Rusia pasal vodka.

Russian Vodka!

Russian Vodka!

Russian Vodka!

Russian philosophy: Big is always better.

Kepada peminat poyo Malaysia yang perasan Belanda:

Ko ambiklah t-shirt oren ko tuh, basuh elok-elok, lipat, lepas tu gulung, kemudian sumbat kat lubang jubur ko.

Kepada peminat poyo Cristiano Ronaldo pasal dia hensem:

Ko ambiklah gambar dia kat internet, print besar-besar, masuk dalam tandas, lepas tu lancaplah sesuka hati.

Hari yang bahagia. Bahagianyaaaaaa...

Intermission: My Message to the World

I was going to write about the secret to life furnished by Neon Genesis Evangelion - a Japanese anime - the writer Eckhart Tolle and Thai prostitutes.

But I was distracted with two documentaries about paleontology and the C-grade movie Dead or Alive.

I am also not in the mood to detail my fantastic journey to the center of Bangkok. Not yet. That would be for next week.

I am feeling rather smug and contented right now. And calm. Also got loads of stuff to do.

So, for now, I just have this message to the world:


Friday, June 20, 2008

Fucking the Light Fuck-tastic

I interrupt our regular programme for this important message.

As the world's greatest economist, I must say that we are all fucked.

For the past few years, we have had our asses kicked by Thailand, Indonesia, Myanmar, Laos and Vietnam. And I'm not even talking football here. I'm talking about business.

Nikon opened their plants in Thailand. Toyota and Honda as well. Some companies are opting for Vietnam, Myanmar and even Indonesia. Because they have cheap labour. Meanwhile, for the past several years, Temasek, Singapore's company, have been making strategic investments and now the island nation is poised to become a financial hub for SOutheast Asia. Something like being the Switzerland of SEA or even Asia.

We do not have cheap labour because our grunts want more money than their counterparts in other SEA countries. We do not have skilled labourers because we keep treating some of our best minds badly and chase them out of the country with low pay and general stupidity.

The only edge we HAD against everyone else was our oil. With the subsidy in place, we COULD HAVE kept operating expenses low, attracted ships here to refuel, or keeping electricity bills down and manage to keep fleets of diesel-fueled lorries on the roads.

THAT would have been the attraction for foreign investors to come here as the rest of the world jumps from one foot to another with soaring fuel prices.

Sure, the Thais would have taken advantage of this, but it's only losing a few billion and they're quite nice people. Imagine all the billions we COULD HAVE been making with the attraction of low operating expenses.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Somebody's children and SOMEBODY'S son-in-law and their friends need some quick cash before the Government change hands. Some people need to make billions while the sun shines.

Thousands of APs for hybrid cars have been distributed, showing exactly where this is going. In this time of manufactured crisis, somebody is going to make money, and it won't be you and me.

Man. These monkeys can only think two or three steps ahead while geniuses like me think 5,000 years to the future.

In 5,000 years, the only living things would be giant cockroaches. And I bet they would not have any problems with oil, as they would be relying on nuclear energy. See, roaches are immune to some forms of radiation.

Anyway, I'm getting too far ahead of myself. We are all FUCKED. Recession is coming and our strategy is deflation. That is worse than inflation. In fact, Dr M adopted a different strategy - something totally opposite to what the people in power are doing.

The current whatever is now cutting expenses, in the hopes of having enough funds to embezzle when they get out of office. What they are doing is basically cutting of circulation, impeding the bloodflow of the country by cutting all expenses.

Dr M went for the opposite. He spent even MORE money because he understood that in order to make money, you have to spend money.

But who cares right? Who gives a shit? As long as you have enough money to pay for a plate of ubiquituous rice and pay for fuel and have sex on the side with a hooker, everything is all right, right?

Fuck everything else. Who the fuck gives a shit about the country? We're all fucked. We're all doomed. Ho-hum.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get high.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Semusim di Syurga: Semusim di Syurga Bersama Sasterawan Negara


Aku di syurga

Aku kena rogol, tapi aku suka

Jadi esoknya aku kembali ke sana

Mencari imbasan apa yang aku rasa

Masa berjalan pantat, eh maksud aku pantas

Di Bangkok- bandar yang sukar melintas

jalan. Pasal banyak kereta dan bas.

Tapi takpe, pasal ribuan tetek yang senang diramas

Ada tiga sungai, kat syurga

Kata mereka

Mungkin salah satu ialah Chao Phraya

Ataupun terusan konkrit lebuhraya Rama

Aku tak mau hidup dalam dunia tanpa Bangkok

Tanpa gadis-gadis siam yang sanggup membengkok-

kan badan dengan kepala lentok

sibuk sebab they like to suck my ... erm...Ragnarok

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Under the Yggdrasil Tree

I went to work today and some people were puzzled by my lack of giving a fuck. It's just a side effect of having been in Bangkok. I just don't give a fuck anymore.

You can say that I have reached the pinnacle of Nirvana.

This is me in Bangkok, summed up in this song:

And what the hell:

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku




Doong doong!

After seeing the pimp signal in the sky for the past few weeks, The Earl of Cunt and I - Count Clitoris - booked a flight to Bangkok.

The original plan was to spend two nights in Pattaya and then one night in Bangkok. We have never been to Pattaya before, despite making a combined 26 trips to Thailand between the both of us.

So we arrived at Suvarnabhumi airport at around 10.30am on Thursday. Already, I could feel my cells receiving the energy of Thailand. I could finally remember what it felt like to have superpowers.

Then we went to Level 1 of the airport to board a bus. It's an express bus by Bell Travel Services. They will take you to Pattaya in around 1 hour and 40 minutes without stopping. The cost is a measly RM15 or THB150 per person. As opposed to going there by cab, which would set you back by RM150 or THB1500. From no on, everything in Thai Baht.

There is another alternative - the BangBus. This is basically a bus with two hookers in it. Just for you. So you can fuck while on your way to Pattaya. No point wasting the hour and a half, right? Well, the BangBus costs around THB10,000. Because of the extra service.

So we didn't take it.

We took the normal express buss. And it took us right to the Pattaya bus terminal. After that, as part of the THB15 we paid, they have a van service to take us to anywhere we want in Pattaya.

The first thing we noticed with Pattaya is the fact that it's not user friendly and definitely not for beginners. Even us, the two Knights of Bukkake, the town was a maze of sex and more sex. And it was fairly hard to get around.

And Cheepork, the Earl of Cunt, had this thing for walking around and finding the perfect place to stay before committing any precious Thai baht.

So we walked. And walked. And walked. Without getting a proper feel for the place. SO I suggested we hail one of the pickup-trucks they transformed as cabs and take us on a Pattaya tour. They driver quoted THB200 for a 30 minute ride.

The insight we got from riding the truck was priceless. We finally figured out where things were. And then, we went and stayed at Secrets, at Walking Street, because it is close to all the places we wanted to go - Living Dollhouse Showcase, Living Dollhouse 1, Angelwitch, Lucifer Disco, Baby Dolls, et cetera.

Secrets is basically the best thing in Pattaya. It has nice, comfortable rooms, a well-stocked mini bar complete with condoms, an electronic safe deposit box and a decent menu. It is also connected to a restaurant as well as a bar. You can even order girls up to your room, if that is your fancy.

And finally, the TV set. Secrets boasts of more than 60 channels and the first thing Cheepork and I did was to watch an old episode of Superfriends.

The episode had Samurai, the only Asian character in the series, spinning around in a green leotard thingy.

Yeah, he looks like that.

So we decided to adopt the Samurai's catchphrase. Whenever we want to get out of a place, or if we ever encounter a 'monster' or a 'weapon' or a ladyboy, it is best to make our getaway while yelling KAZE NO YOOOOOOO NI HAYAKU!

And that's what we did. The Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku maneuver is vital for us to experience all of Pattaya in just one night. Cause there are simply too many A Go Gos and places to visit.

And that's what we did. We would go to a go go bar and order one drink each. And then yell Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku! and off we go.

Using this technique, wewent to X-Zone, Club Boesche (pronounced Bush. Geddit?), Lucifer Disco, Living Dollhouse Showcase and Living Dollhouse 1. Unble to find Hell Club, we went to Heaven's Above, where Cheepork met Bam.

Then I Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku-ed on my own to What's Up and Angelwitch. Then I found Mae in one of the earlier clubs and I barfined her. Apparently, barfines in Pattaya have increased this time of year.

No matter. We won't be going there again as Bangkok is so much better.

After spending one night in Pattaya, Cheepork and I decided to go to Bangkok and spend the rest of our time in Thailand there. Cause Cheepork was whining that the girsl are not as beautiful as the ones in Bangkok.

Even though Secrets is a fantastic guesthouse. And Mae is an amazing conversationist.

Anyway, we Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku-ed to Bangkok in a cab which cost us THB800 plus THB100 for toll.

Tips and full review of Pattaya later. But for now, Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku!




Doong doong!

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Lord of the G-Strings

A few days before I went to Thailand, a girl asked me a question.

“Are they stupid?” she asked.

And by ‘they’ she meant the Thai girls. The Thai bar girls. The prostitutes. The hookers. The farm girls from Issan and Ayutthya and whatever, jiggling their booty for money.

“No,” I said. Indignant as hell. Offended. “They’re people. And people are smart and people are stupid. Plus, they could con a white man out of his pay.”

“Who did YOU con?” I asked, inside my head. “Some poor Malay boy? A farmer’s son? Just cause some people are better at this prostitution thing doesn’t mean that they’re stupid.”

So I do what I know best. I started interviewing the bar girls. Again. Not for them to prove to me or to the world that they’re not stupid. But I believe that I owe it to them. That at the very least.

I believe that I owe it to them to talk to them and find out their stories. And they were fantastic stories. And beautiful minds. In beautiful bodies.

The first girl I talked to, her name was Mae. She was from Ayutthya. Her parents were farmers somewhere in Thailand. Were. They then became cooks. At a restaurant they do not own.

Me: Do they make better money as cooks than as farmers?

Mae: Yes. That’s why…I don’t know how to say…I know if I can tell you…properly…it will make sense. You will understand. I think if Thailand can make better farming like in France or in Germany, in Europe.

Me: Or in Canada or the States…

Mae: Yes. Then farmer will get more money. No more poor.

I think I understand. See, if farming in Thailand is a viable source of income, a proper one, one that could get Thai farmers better pay, then there would be no need for girls like Mae to take of her clothes in the seedy bars of Pattaya.

She wouldn’t have to make the choice of sleeping with whoever has enough cash to blow. She would have just been content being a farmer’s daughter, a farmer herself or a farmer’s wife.

And it is quite hard to understand at first. At least to me. Thailand has so many good things. Their rice is addictive. I have been eating rice and Thai natural produce every time I go to Thailand, and it has been many trips. I never ever, eat western food there, except for breakfast, because I just love Thai food, especially that ubiquituous Thai resource – rice.

The rice grown in Thailand is the kind that smells good and has the perfect texture. I can just eat their fried rice every day, for every meal, for the rest of my natural life, and I would be content. It tastes so bloody fucking good.

And steps are being taken to improve the Thai agricultural sector. To make it fairer. I talked to Ann, a massage girl in Bangkok, about this.

Me: Thai King very good.

Ann: Yes. Thai King do a lot of projects that will make money for people.

Me: Like what?

Ann: Like agriculture.

Me: Ah.

And there are obstacles.

Ann: But problem is marketing.

Me: Really?

Ann: Problem is big supermarkets. People who buy rice and fruit.

Me: You mean the middlemen and departmental stores?

Ann: You know rambutan?

Me: I know rambutan.

Ann: We sell rambutan, 5 baht. Then go to supermarket, they sell 50 baht. They packing-packing and they do brand, and sell more expensive. Farmer no make money. Supermarket make money.

The girls know the deal. They see the problem. They understand. There is a lot of money to be made from the Thai agricultural sector, especially with 9 billion mouths to feed by 2010 and the increasing price of food and oil as well as the eternal land shortage. But fairer distribution is needed. A new system should be in place.

They understand that to have a better choice than just taking off their g-strings for 20 baht tips, they don’t need just money. They need to tackle the source of the problem, and not just treat the delightful symptoms. They need to take care of their farming. They need to take care of their country.

Me: Why don’t you just find a rich farang (foreigner/white man) and take all his money?

Ning aka An American Crime (Bangkok): I don’t want to find just rich farang and marry, and get money. I have five brother sister. I don’t know if farang want to take care them. And I don’t love ALL farang. Have money don’t mean have big heart. Some are good, some are bad.

Which is more than I can say for some girls here who only think of themselves. And how better off they are from other girls.

The Thai girls I talked to all have some amazing insights to share. And they are real people. They have dreams.

Mae: What you do in Malaysia?

Me: I’m a writer. I write.

Mae: Books?

Me: That too. I wrote for a newspaper. Now TV and movies. Films.

Mae: I wanted to be writer.

Me: Really?

Mae: Yes. When I in school, I was always top of class.

Me: What were your favourite subjects? English?

Mae: Hahaha. Little bit. I like Thai language. I get A. Hahaha.

Me: Well, many newspapers in Bangkok and Pattaya. Maybe you go try.

Mae: But have no university, you see?

Me: Most of my bosses don’t go to university. You go train yourself.

It’s not that simple. And it IS that simple.

Ann likes Lord of the Rings, but mostly prefers Thai movies.

Me: I saw Nang Nak.

Ann: Nang Nak very good, ne? I think lot of Thai story can be made movie, ne?

Me: Yes, of course. I also saw Ong Bak and Tom Yum Koong and Beautiful Boxer. Beautiful Boxer one of the best movies I saw last year. But on TV. Should have won Oscar, when it came out.

Ann: I from Issan. Tony Jaa also from Issan. Movie Ong Bak in Issan language. Not Thai. Not Bangkok. Bangkok people not understand. You like Beautiful Boxer? Ladyboy?

Me: No, I don’t like ladyboy. I like real lady.

Ann: But ladyboy so very beautiful. Our ladyboy ___ became Miss Universe ladyboy.

Me: Yyyyyyyeah…what you do before massage?

Ann: I work sell cosmetics.

Me: What brand?

Ann: Shiseido.

Me: Is that Japanese or Korean?

Ann: Japanese. Oh, Japanese and Korean don’t be friend with each other. They don’t like each other.

Me: I can imagine. What do you think of Malaysian girls?

Ann: Malaysian girls can be very beautiful, ne? They have big eyes. Very beautiful. But they don’t take care their clothing. Their fashion. Their make-up. Some have dark skin, like me…

Me: You don’t have dark skin.

Ann: I do. Same Malaysian girls. But they wear farang make-up. Face is white. Body is dark.

Me: Like a monkey?

Ann: Hahahaha. But they very beautiful. Can be. Have to wear beautiful clothes, not just t-shirt and jeans. And no cheap night market dress.

Hear that? Judge ye not, lest ye be judged. Yesus Kristus, yo!

Me: So, you Christian, Buddhist of Muslim?

An American Crime: I’m a Bood.

Me: Buddhist?

AAC: Yes. That. I am Bood in my heart. But…(blabberblabberblabber)

Me: Ah, are you saying that you’re not really practicing Buddhism, but is really a Buddhist at heart?

AAC: Yes. Buddha tell us that everyone same inside. No need to fight for anything. End of everything, everyone die and be part of life.

True. True.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Rules of Fuck Club




Doong doong!

This is your life, good to the last drop (and really, it IS!). This is your life, and you're fucking one woman at a time (if you want to. There are many alternatives).

Anyway, I just got back from the Bangkok-Pattaya trip and am too tired to record everything as well as list out all the lessons learned tonight.

So just for starters, I am putting together a list of basic and simple rules for traveling in Thailand. Based on Fight Club's rules, for those idiots who never saw the movie. Idiot.

The First Rule of Fuck Club is: You DO NOT fall in love with anyone.

- While it is easy to fall in love with a girl in Thailand, especially the bar girls and go go girls and masseuses, masseese, mastodon, whatever, just DON'T.

- Thais are very very good people, very polite people - most of them anyway - and the Thai girls have an amazing demeanour. But always, always remember that for girls who work in such places as a go go are doing it for a living. They're working there.

- Do not complicate their lives by being an asshole. I mean, by being an asshole who doesn't know your role in the whole scheme of things. Always know where the asshole boundaries are.

The Second Rule of Fuck Club is: You DO NOT fall in love with anyone.

- Seriously. This is for your own as well as for the bargirls' protection. You would not believe the kind of bullshit I hear spewing forth from the mouths of idiots who think that ALL these girls are up for a long-term relationship. And could be manipulated to be jealous in a non-monetary, purely-emotional sense.

- Case in point - Cheepork. Cheepork broke the first and second rule when he fell in love with Ann. Fuck you dude. The idiot even proposed to the girl, and uttered profestations of eternal devotion to she who could have been the best go go girl in Phuket.

- Fortunately, Ann saved everyone involved when she left her life of vice in Phuket to probably start a life of vice somewhere else. Status: still missing. And Cheepork still pines for his one true love. Good luck, dude.

Third Rule - NEVER ring the bell. Unless you can REALLY afford it.

(Ringing the bell at a bar in Thailand usually means you're buying everyone a drink. This could cost anything between RM100 - RM1000 or THB1000-THB10,000)

- This applies to everything else as well. If you can't afford something, or if you're not sure you want to tip or pay that kind of money for something you have no knowledge about, don't.

- Nothing spoils a trip more when you realize that you can't get a massage on the last day of your trip because you spent all your cash the night before by ringing a bell and buying everyone a drink.

- Case in point: Cheepork. Cheepork used to complain about not having enough money cause he always buys the girls drinks. He rang the bell a few times as well. Now, with the law in place, he has loads of cash to spare.

Fourth Rule: Chill

- Going to Thailand is like a spiritual journey, a pilgrimage. So learn to let go of everything and embrace the culture, the lifestyle, or a go go girl or two.

- Case in Point: Me. I was so worried about work back home that it nearly spoiled my trip. Plus the fact that everything was rushed in Bangkok, and time seems to travel faster in the Thai capital almost made me lose it and attack an innocent elephant at Soi Cowboy. It was only when I started talking to some of the girls - Mae the Thai economist and another whom I shall call 'An American Crime' - that I let go of everything and started embracing whatever I could get my hands on. Except for guys, of course.

Fifth Rule: DO NOT travel in packs.

- I know this is what you Malaysians like to do. Travel in packs. Hell, a lot of people like to do it too. Why? Well, maybe cause when humans were monkeys, they liked to stay together just in case a saber-tooth tiger starts raping someone in the ass.

- Well, don't. You will enjoy the trip better if you travel alone or have one companion only. Three is a crowd. You don't know when some idiot is going to say, "Hey, I want to watch ladyboy show!" and you're too nice to tell him to fuck off and die.

Sixth Rule: DO NOT eat at Planet Hollywood or Hard Rock Cafe in Thailand. Or McDonalds. Or Starbucks. Or any major chains.

- Not because their food is bad - it's great. It's just this - you travel hundreds, maybe thousands of miles to another country and then you go to a restaurant that you already have in your country. How stupid is that?

- I mean, it's a franchise thing, so they usually serve exactly the same-tasting shit. You think a Big Mac in Jakarta is going to taste different than a Big Mac in, say, Antartica? Fuck no!

- Cheepork and I would often go to the most rat-infested, cockroach strewn stalls in Bangkok. Cause it's gritty. Cause it's real. Cause we hardcore, bitch! We also go to cafes and shit, but always, always make it a point to eat what the locals are eating. Especially what the go go girls are eating, cause I also want perfect skin, voluminous hair, a pussy that doesn't smell and perky nipples. Unless it's pork. Pork sucks. Pork is the stupidest thing in the world, along with fax machines. I HATE fax machines. I HATE pork.

Seventh Rule: You are a whorist, so no fucking tourist activity, foo!

- This means no going to tourist attractions like temples and shit. No boat markets, no weekend markets, no taking pictures with a fucking stupid elephant. I FUCKING HATE ELEPHANTS. No cam-whoring, unless you're a whore. No sight-seeing.

- Whorism or Sexploring is an art unto itself, and takes years of mastery. Do not contaminate your way of the Samurai with the ways of the fucking tourists. Know your role.

- Case in point: Cheepork. He went and took all sorts of pictures. Invested a lot of time in it, too. But get this: his camera can take up to 2000 high-res pics, and maybe more if he were to trnasfer everything into CDs at the many camera shops in Thailand. You know how many pix he took? just a bit over 100. Why? Cause when life is happening around you, you don't take pictures, yo go and live, motherfucker.

- Been there, done that, fool. I could never get what I enjoy most in Thailand on camera cause I want to store it in my head, for me, not in a server for the whole world to see.

- Always leave picture-taking-during-holidays to the Japanese. If you want proof of your trip so you can brag to your friends and family that you've been to places, simply slit your wrists and die. Who gives a shit?

And the Eight and final rule: If this is your first night at FUCK CLUB, you HAVE to fuck.




Doong doong!

Last Warning

To those who took my shit without crediting me to my own work, and to those who still haven't paid me what you owe me (this means YOU, Milx).

I give you 24 hours to remove any stolen property or to give me back my money.

Otherwise, I'm going to make you look so much like a fool, your mother is going to masturbate with a cucumber.

Scratch that. I give you 24 minutes before your mother starts trying to get off.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

national Pornographic Sexplorer: LIVE from Bangkok

I am now in Bangkok and as usual, the trip has been a blast.

In the past few days, I have talked to two girls (one go go and one massage) on how to improve the circumstances of farmers and the general agricultural industry of Thailand.

I almost got thrown into Thai prison. I rediscovered the Seven Positions of Buddha. I was also warned by massage girls to stay away from certain places in Bangkok because there might or will be demonstrations soon.

There's also the new discoveries: Go Go Marketplace and the BEST A GO GO IN ALL OF THAILAND. As well as a new catchphrase Cheepork and I have been using - Kaze no Yoooooooooooooooooooo ni Hayaku!

These are possible titles of the Bangkok-Pattaya Trip in the upcoming weeks:

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Kaze no Yo ni Hayaku

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Future of Thai Agriculture

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Green Chocobo

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Seven Positions of Buddha

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Cheepork the Fucking Tourist

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Secrets of Pattaya Revealed

National Pornographic Sexplorer: To Bang Sue and Back - the Search for the Ultimate Massage Parlour Within Walking Distance to the LRT

National Pornographic Sexplorer: CAUGHT! I am a Criminal

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Marketplace of the Gods

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Picking Up Japanese Men

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Those Things They Sell in Thai 7-Elevens

For now, I am going back to my room to watch somebody who looks and sounds like Sir Ian McKellen play Heidi's grandfather. My room has 56 channels. Free.

I will have a communications blackout for a few days. If anything big goes down in Bangkok, I might just stay here and submit reports to whatever news agency/newspaper that wants it.

For now, I am safe.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to listen to Ian McKellen.


Kaze no yoooooooooooooooo ni HAYAKU!

(and tonight, Soi Cowboy)

Thursday, June 12, 2008

The Voice of God

My brother called me the other day, saying that he found some African black money scammers.

Yup. The ones that claim they can turn a pile of black paper using a 'certain chemical' into US dollars.

He finally got a hold of them, not because he believes in scams, but because he is curious as to how these conmen work. It's a hobby. Safer than heroin addiction.

So he got the name of the 'certain chemical' and wanted to run the damn thing through me.

Me: So what is it? What do they use?

Brother: Tetragrammaton. I've been looking all over the net for the chemical and couldn't find any reference to the thing.

Me: That's because Tetragrammaton is the Voice of God. According to Judaism. So the chemical they're using is actually the Voice of God. Holy Shit! That could be more valuable than the bloody fucking US dollars. Screw foreign currency, you have the Voice of God there!

B: Yup.

Me: Give me some Voice of God, broseph.

B: Comin' right up, homes.

I can't believe people fell for this shit. Goes to show, that when greed clouds your brains, you will have the IQ of a bonobo with Down Syndrome.

The Man from U*N*C*L*E

For those of you who didn't know, Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak is my uncle. Technically. Tun Razak and my grandfather were cousins. So that makes Najib my uncle, twice removed or something.

If Najib and AUNT Rosmah ever gets into power, I am going to be the next motherfucker of the cuntry.

First, I will put my friend Cheepox as the boss of major media companies. Page 3 all the way, homes!

Then, I am going to sell sand to Singapore. Hell, why stop there? Why not just sell states which are a threat to me, to SIngapore.

And instead of selling Pantai Medical, which has the Fomema concession - the only organisation in Malaysia with the authority to decide who can come here and work and who can't, based on the medical certificates they hand out, why not just hand over the Malaysian immigration to the Singaporeans? I mean, why pretend? What the fuck for?

Then, I am going to blow up Penang bridge and construct a monorail there, as part of PHWOAR - Penang Hos Want Oily Amir Rectum. I won't be handling the shit. I'll just manufacture trains which they HAVE to use for the monorail project.

Then, I'll ground all the buses and cabs, and manufacture my own buses and cabs, that the transportation industry HAVE to use.

Then I'm going to hold a concert for the benefit of whoever is in need at the moment and grab 70% of the profits. Who are going to ask the questions, when Ted Turner Cheepork is my bitch?

Then, just to screw around with Malaysiakini which have by then snooped around me, I will get another online news portal up and compete directly with it. Ruining Malaysiakini's arrogant shit.

Then I'll raise oil prices. Just for the hell of it. And compare the price with Singapore, which has no oil but has Pulau Batu Putih as well as F-22 Raptors. Sucks to be you, Singapore.

And then I'm going to brandish a keris, while wearing a too-tight Barisan shirt that shows my nipples. Sex-appeal, yo!

I will harness the power of the poor, misunderstood Mat Rempits and lose an election all by myself.

Boo fucking hoo.

I am the future. The Man of Tomorrow. Take a long good look, Malaysia. Take a long good look.

National Pornographic Sexplorer: At The Mountains of Madness

It is a few hours before I touch down on Thai soil. And already, I could feel the madness I have been carrying around for the past several months begin to fall away from me.

I can feel the power. I can sense the source energy. I can taste the vibrations of the earth. I am close to Hell.

Right now, I am tying up some loose ends at work. Got a few quick proposals to do. I can already see myself coming back from this Bangkok-Pattaya trip and being so motherfucking energized and ready to do more.

I can no longer feel the negativity from idiots, or even hear the voice of the monkeys. All the bad things people have done to me, real or imagined, will not matter anymore. Soon, the only thing that matters would be my dick.

At last, my dick is complete again.

I will again be the alpha and the omega. The king of kings. Underwear-Model-Samurai-Man. Man of Tomorrow. The Malay Male. Count Clitoris. The best and the greatest. I will again be Amir Hafizi. 8 Years Old. And proud of it.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Pimp Signal

It's the Pimp signal, let's go!

Atomic batteries full power! Turbines full speed!

As I lay me down to fuck, pray the Lord my soul to pluck.

If I die, while sleeping with four girls, pray the Lord my soul to twirl.

I pity those who believe that life is all about sex. It's more than that. There are things that are far more powerful than sex. Anal-sex, for instance. And threesomes.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Noir

I walked into the Press Club with her words ringing in my head.

The Witch: Why did you come here to see me?

That was a few hours ago. Before I met Glen and Jack.

Me: I want you to ask questions I can't.

TW: Why? Why can't you?

Me: Because I can no longer remain impartial. Logical. I'm involved too deep. I am biased.

TW: Gee. You think?

Me: I am about to do something great and terrible...

And I told her all the options that lay before me. And she said this and that. And my face changed. And then I got up and she got up, and she left and I left as well.

Then I'm here. Surrounded by old people. But I think I'll be going first. To Hell. Hell Club. In Pattaya.

Lucifer Disco. Where lithe little demons dance and prance around. Where I can be a kid again. Forever. Thailand is the one place in the world where I show my true face. And they accept you, without judgment. As long as you pay your tabs.

Earlier, I sent a letter to Dr M. Felt like it. Though it could just be academic. Word on the street is that the APs for alternative fuel cars have already been distributed. Pretty soon, we will see electric cars and hydrogen fuel-cell cars on Malaysian roads. If they followed my plans, it could also solve the Independent Power Producers problem as well. Currently, the Government is spending over 26 billion ringgits on subsidies for them. Or so they say.

With hydrogen fuel-cell, every single vehicle-owner is an IPP. Maybe you can get a piece of the pie. RM26 billion divided by 26 million Malaysians is a thousand bucks a piece. Per year.

I used to think, in my youth, that politics and policies do not affect me, as long as I stay out of politics. It took a costly lesson in 2006 to show me that politics and policies affect everyone. And people who feel safe and would feel no risk of looking bad by avoiding the stupid politics of the cuntry and continue to look cool by letting idiots run rampant all over the cuntry will ultimately pay the price.

And how they are paying the price now. Stupid. Go forth and look cool. Go on and try to look good. End of the day, you're the fucking buffoon.

"I don't vote. Hihi."

"I don't care who sets the price for my next meal. Hihi."

What a bunch of retards.

These days, while waiting for Pattaya, I am trying to find something or someone worth saving in this godforsaken cuntry.

My parents are dying. The people I see are backstabbing monkeys. I see no hope. This is why I need to go to Pattaya. I need to see that there is hope for the human race. Otherwise, I might jkust decide to start killing people. For fun.

I found one - myself, but I am too busy fighting with my inner-adult to actually give a fuck about anything else. I don't want to grow up. I always want to be eight years old. And be honest about everything.

But that's not the way the world works. If I start playing their games, going about their rules, I will destroy this world and kill everyone in it. Thank God I am not that mature yet. Thank God I haven't grown up to be one of them.

The Village Madman

I have regressed to being the village madman.

There was a woman in my village years ago who would write letters to Dr M. She would start using normal ABCs and then switch to jawi and then back to rumi.

She would then send it to my father, the headman, so that he would send it to Dr M. I remember laughing till my sides split while reading her letters.

They were the funniest things I ever read in my life. The contents never made any sense and was all the product of a sick mind. She would write stuff about ASB, Vision 2020, CHOGM, Commonwealth Games, ASEAN and whatever words she can find in the newspaper. She even had bush-jacket and whatever else thrown in.

But I never could remember exactly what she wrote, just that she was expecting Dr M to send her money so she can buy more tobacco.

One day, she died. For a lifetime, I forgot about her.

Today, during lunchtime, I felt an urge, a compulsion, to write to the good doctor. I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't care what people say about me. Hell, it could be karma. I mean, I did laugh at the madwoman.

So I wrote to him, during lunchtime, and sent it to one of his aides. Now, I am no longer responsible for the destruction of the world. The ball is in his court.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Underwear-Model-Samurai

In a year's time, I will be an Underwear-Model-Samurai.

After buffing up my body, I am going to learn jujitsu - Samurai hand-to-hand martial arts. And then, I am going to dress up like a bat. And patrol the rooftops of Bangsar Village. Possibly starting with Starbucks and on some nights - Sakae Sushi. Cause I'm a samurai and shit.

See, the romanticised notion of Samurai who would die before dishonour and loyal to their daimyos are actually a fabrication, an illusion. A lie.

It was concocted during the non-warring era of the Tokugawa rule.

See, the Samurais were the soldiers and warriors, employed during war. When there are no battles, they still enjoy payments and fucking the odd farmer's daughter or two, occupying a special place in society.

However, they realize that this will all change if the people realize that they have no use for them, especially in a time of peace.

So these samurais, they're usually very literate and learned, because a good education is important to being a samurai. They could read and write.

So these samurais started writing about themselves, giving themselves a code of honour, Bushido. Books like Three Rings or was it Five Rings detailed this code.

In the past, there are records of samurai running away and retreating after they found out that they could not win a battle.

"We stormed Edo stronghold for three weeks, and lost 300 men," wrote one ancient samurai. "You sem people gonna die? Shittt doggg! We're gettin' the hell outta here. See you later, broseph!"

But in the books, the samurais would fight to the death and commit seppuku if they ever lose.

This is the romanticised notion of the samurai. The way. The kata.

And all samurai following the peaceful period in Japan's history follows this romanticised version.

And it is THIS version that I embody. Carving for myself my own code of honour - the Code of Bukkake.

As with any religion, based on a lie.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Tales from the Drunk Side: Twilight of the Superhero

I grew up to be eight years old, and truth is, I never went past that.

Things that happened to me, things that made me what I am up till I was eight, stayed with me forever.

As a 28-year-old 8-year-old, and a pompous, megalomaniac one at that, I have always believed that the world rests on my shoulders. That everything is up to me. Everything.

To forward the race of the Malays? Me. Racial segregation and intolerance and finally people killing each other because of what they eat? My fault.

I have always believed that by being alive, I am responsible for everything. That the burden falls on me to make things better. This is called a superhero complex. And I live with it every single day.

I wake up each morning, and I start to think about how things could be so much better if people stopped living in denial, if people stopped lying and tried to manipulate each other so much. If there was no spite and no backstabbing.

If we could go to work in flying cars powered by air. If people just dropped the religious fighting bullshit and just calm the fuck down.

My intentions have always been good, but intent and outcome are rarely coincident. Neil Gaiman wrote that.

I was 17 when I finally realized that I cannot save the world. Not because I really can't, cause I can, but because the world does not want to be saved. And for me to think that anyone wants saving is extremely arrogant, even for me.

Wandering through the pyramids of Nyalarhotep and the tomb of Shub Nigurrath, I realized that the world is on a suicidal course to destruction.

Realizing my powers of observation, I decided to be a dark mirror to society and the world. Because everything is a joke. And I need you to see that joke. Desperately. Before we come to the punchline. The final, ultimate irony.

So I became one. A mirror. A joke. That took on nightmare turns.

I became a demon, simply because I was hoping that angels would come out from the woodwork, swoop down from the skies and smite me with their flaming swords.

Then I realized that there are no angels. There is no heaven. And the only hell that exists is the one we create right here on earth.

All I found were other demons, wearing human and sometimes angelic masks. Sometimes without even them realizing that they have a mask on.

But even a demon wearing angel-skin will set fire to temples and mosques if they walk inside.

I come again to the realization that the burden of responsibility falls on my shoulders and to similar shoulders of people like me. And I don't have long before that becomes even heavier.

See, right now, Generation X is killing the Baby Boomers. After Generation X takes over completely, there will be a brief respite before the Children of the 80s, my generation, takes over before the era of Generation Y starts.

So my generation has the unique opportunity of swinging the world on an axis towards the direction we would like to take it before our younger, more tech-savvy brothers and sisters take it from us.

We're like a snowflake that can determine the shape and direction of an avalanche.

All that is and will be, are up to us, as it was to others before us. Up to me.

But...I do not want that responsibility. It's too much. For an 8-year-old like me. I mean, I am blessed with many things other people do not have. The kind of opportunity and doors which are open to me, the skill sets, are all things that my predecessors could only dream of.

I take advantage of their glory, and their mistakes. And one day they will give me the keys to the family car.

Fuck, man. I'd rather be in a cab. Or a hearse.

I do not want to be responsible for this world. And yet by being born, I am automatically responsible for it. I do not want to be responsible for other people's happiness, and I am not. No. I am not. But it doesn't feel that way.

That's why I wish I am a machine. Like my father, who does not have any emotions of guilt or any other shit to bog him down. I wish I could be a machine.

In fact, the only thing I want in life is to be able to afford a lifestyle that allows me to read and write. And fuck. Till I die. And that's it. Not to save the world. Not anymore.


I hate this shit.

Oh well. Whatever.

My name is Amir. I am a superhero.

National Pornographic Sexplorer: The Dream

I...have a DREAM!

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Welcome to the Jungle

If you're wondering what my dreams look like, some of the scenes can be found in this video.

National Pornographic Sexplorer: Oh Won't You Please Take Me Home

I was sitting a home, last night, homesick for Thailand as hell, when suddenly I saw the Bukkake Signal.

Me: It's the Bukkake Signal! Let's Go!

So I went to a bust of Maria Ozawa and flipped a switch. A chrome pole went out from my wardrobe and I slid down into the Pimp Cave.

I went into the Pimp Mobile in full Pimp Gear. The Earl of Cunt - Cheepox, was already there.

Cheepox: Atomic batteries full power...turbines full speed...

Me: Roger. Ready to move out.

Using the full speed of the PimpMobile, we safely went to a stall near my apartment complex.

Me: So. What's the plan?

Cheepox: 4 days, three nights of unadulterated, pure Thailand. Did my research. We MUST go to Living Dolls Showcase. And Living Dolls 1 in Pattaya. And one night in Bangkok - Angel Massage.

Me: I did some research too, and will be emailing you the relevant maps. For obvious reasons, we MUST check out Hell Club and Lucifer Disco.

C: Why, Count Clitoris?

Me: Easy, Earl of Cunt. I need to stick to my theme of wanton eternal damnation and religion-busting. Man, if only there was a club called Metatron.

C: What's that?

Me: The Voice of God.

C: We really doing this, right? After three years, we're finally hitting the original Sin City?

Me: Yes! What about your girlfriend?

C: She knows I'm going and what I'm going to do and she's okay with it.

Me: Sweet baby Jesus 'El Savioooooooorrrrrrrrrr' CHRIST!

Thinking about Pattaya these past few days have kept me going. The past few months, I've been exposed to lethal doses of STUPIDINITE, and I need this trip to find my center and replenish my empty tank.

I've been emo-ing like a menstruating bitch these past few weeks cause all that bliss from Thailand ran out a long time ago. And I was faced with STUPIDINITE all this while. Now is time for me to reabsorb Pimp Masta's light.

In brightest day, in blackest night,
No nipple shall escape my sight
Let those who worship stupidity's might,
Beware my power...Pimp Masta's light!

In Pattaya, there are around 20,000 registered sex workers in the low season (estimate) and between the two of us, we get 10,000 each. Hope that would be enough.

This video is not bad in showing the true cross-section of girls you can find in Pattaya or Phuket (it was shot in Pattaya), though some of the girls here are not girls. I can sense them using my highly developed gay-dar. A lot are mingers, cause Western tastes are not the same as Asian tastes.

Oh won't you please take me home!

Call Me Ben. Benjamin Linus

I pray to the ancient spirits.



There is no turning back now.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Fuck Off and Die

And the piles of meat whistled on.


Wednesday, June 4, 2008

I am Such a Fucking Genius

I told you so.

The future is now. Today.

I told you motherfuckers that fossil fuel is history. Petroleum is history. Petroleum is a fossil.

Market forces will drive the adoption of hydrogen fuel-cells or any other infinitely renewable sources of energy. Like nuclear or some shit.

Here's the thing. Petrol prices just went up 78 cents just now. On my way to the Press Club, I saw hundreds, maybe thousands of cars lining up for that final cheap tank-full of gas.

And that's only today. In the future, we will see petrol prices like that in Indonesia, with the daily, maybe even hourly price displayed outside a gas station. Imagine one day waking up and having to pay RM50 for a litre.

Hahahaha. Suckers.

The smart question to ask would be, with savings exceeding RM45 billion with the abolishment of the subsidy, what the fuck would the Government do with the money? Buy more private jets? How about a yacht? A mansion in Perth? Hell, why not throw in a Nasi Kandar restaurant or two. It's RM45 billion. Maybe more. Who gives a shit?

Do we still have to sell Johor to Singapore with this new saving? How about selling it to the States, if Anwar ever gets into power?

With RM45 billion, will we finally have enough to pay doctors competitive wages? Or are we just going to try to guilt them into coming back to Malaysia? Oh yeah, manipulation always work better than money. NOT. Hahahaha. What about other professionals?

Will the powers that be finally have the RM400 million I asked for in order to stab Rocky in the back and scratch his car? I know his password and I can access his email and his blog under the pretext of putting up a poster when BAM! I put some pictures of my dick there, opening Rocky up for felony charges involving distribution of pornography.

Then I'll give him 10% of my earnings, when he gets out of jail, and we're all square. I win. Rocky wins. You lose RM400 million. But hey, there're still RM44.6 billion to go, right?

How about this: Spend 15 billion to bring in hydrogen fuel-cell cars to this country. We even have FLYING CARS. Yeah. CARS THAT FUCKING FLY. Why not have that car?

Just pay Ole Gunnar Solksjaer and his Norweigan friends some money for the hydrogen fuel-cell technology they've had since the 1920s. And then pay some French hippies to design the bloody motherfcuking thing. And poof!I just solved the Malaysian energy crisis.

Since you may hate Proton, this new car manufacturer can be called Quark, Neutrino or Gluon. Quantum physics, yo!

With hydrogen fuel-cell cars, you can fucking generate enough electricity to power your homes. And then sell the excess to a grid managed by TNB. That way, instead of getting a bill from TNB, you get a cheque from them.

Meanwhile, TNB can cut losses managing inefficient power plants and divulge into this new technology to send information through power lines. Replacing TM's stupid Streamyx. Probably opening up a new possibility in IPTV.

Man, I am such a fucking genius.

I mean, rather than giving your son and son-in-law the fucking RM45 billion, give me the fucking money and I know what to do with it. For the country. For the future. For all mankind.

But alas, I have a vision that we are going to have a Disneyland Nasi kandar somewhere in the future, maybe at Gold Coast this time, just a stone's throw away from an Anglican Girl's School. Or maybe Prebysterian, or Epascopalian.

Zen Mastery (Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Not Give a Fuck)

These past two weeks have been good.

I have been imagining everyone as walking pieces of meat or pieces of shit with air holes in them, making sounds that other meat might consider as speech.

Sartre said, "Hell is other people." So when there are no other people, just walking, talking pieces of meat, there is no hell.

Look at it this way. If you're a misanthrope like me and hate people, then you must stop thinking about them. If you love people, then you have to let them go.

So with my revisited motto - I DO NOT GIVE A FLYING FUCK - I have re-learned how not to care.

Meat can die for all I care. Who gives a shit?

Now, I'm focusing on my Great Works. Only that. I have become a machine. A robot. Robotic. RoboCop.

I got this great revelation while sitting under the Tree of Sefirot - the Tree of Life, according to Jewish traditions.

Only I exist in my universe. Other people are just there because I believe they're there. They can all just fuck off and die.

And now, for the Daily Porn.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Through the Looking Glass Darkly

Tonight, I made a big, BIG mistake.

It all started when I went to Sunder's house to have dinner.

His mother sent him and his brothers some home-cooked dishes.

Sunder: Peranakan dishes!

Me: Yeah, yeah.

See, Sunder's a half-breed, like me. He's half Chinese and half Indian. Though he's actually mostly Indian.

Anyway, I helped him unpack stuff his mother sent him, and it was all good in the beginning.

Me: Sambal Udang!

Sunder: Peranakan-style!

Me: Crab Curry!

Sunder: Peranakan-style!

Then, I saw something which wasn't right. It was as if I had just stepped into a Twilight Zone edition of Sesame Street.

Me: What the fuck is this?

I was holding up and inspecting a jar of semi-transparent liquid.

Sunder: That's Rassam.


But that wasn't MY big mistake. That was Sunder's, who grew up not knowing that Rassam is NOT a Peranakan dish.

NO. MY big mistake was when I took BOTH the Crab Curry AND Shrimp Sambal together.

As soon as the two dishes, mixed with rice, entered my mouth, it was like having Ghee Hin and Hai San together at the same wedding. It was like having Kalimullah and Rocky at the Press Club at the same time. It was like KJ and everyone else, anywhere.

I could feel the crab fighting with the shrimps. The sweet taste of the prawns battled the slightly tangy salty aftertaste of the crab. The chilli in the sambal fought unharmoniously with the curry.

It was like having a seafood brawl inside my mouth. They fought for the palate.

THAT, my friends, was my BIG MISTAKE OF THE NIGHT.