Years and years and years and years and years ago (makes it five years, right-right?), I got together some of my closest friends, and I told them, in my capacity of Zenmaster of the Fleemasons.
Me: Verily, this country is fucked! Pak Lah - that's YOUR uncle, T!
T: Boo hoo hoo!
Me: He carries with him the seeds of destruction. Furthermore, we have these politicians running around. And PTPTN. And DAP and MACC and PKR and BABI and Things With Molecular Structure and THIS. IS. MY...dick.
T: Uwaaaaahhh! Uwaaahhhh!
Me: And so, yes. This country is doomed. Doomed, I tell ya! In my capacity as Zenmaster, that it is time for us to flee!
Crowd: To Flee!
And so they packed their bags and sent in requests to the UN and various other places and whatever. And then they left. Leaving me behind. To mind the Fleemasons gift shop.
Me: O, woe is me! They have all left! And now I have to get a Facebook account just to keep in touch.
And then...something happened. A little something called the Global Economic Fucking Crisis on Infinite Earths.
Some of my friends spent months, years, trying to find jobs in Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Dubai, Canada, China...and they failed. Some, were conned. Others, suffered racist treatments they only saw in the first and second acts of Hallmark TV specials.
Little did they know that being in another country actually opens up more doors for racism and hatred than sheltered ol' Malaysia. They - we - forgot, that this is our land, and no one can take that away from us. And in other countries, it is THEIR land. The land belongs to the natives. ALways. And any and all intruders and immigrants will be met with the same derisive subconscious as in District 9.
Me? I decided to stay in Malaysia. My instincts, which have never failed me, sensed imminent danger. An unforeseen one. I had opportunities to work in Germany, Switzerland and somewhere in the Middle East. For some reason, I could not bring myself to get up and leave.
I've always been a lucky bastard. And I have never regretted any decision I made. A genius, yes, but lucky all the same.
It was like dodging a bullet, listening to the horror stories.
An accountant friend who went to Australia just came back two weeks ago. He couldn't find a job there, after trying for six months. And for some reason, he was seen as a Vietnamese. And though his name was something else, they kept calling him Charlie.
Charlie Chan? Victor Charlie? I dunno. All he got from the attempt, the Escape from Malaysia, was halving his savings. Them countries are not cheap.
We very often do not see what we have, until we are miles away from it.
Same reason why a guy in KLCC can't see Malaysia.
I guess, that when the shit hits the fan, the people who get the umbrellas are family, kin and friends. Who the fuck are you, that they would help you?
Oh well. SUnder and Adijin are doing well. But theirs is a skill set that cannot be replaced. They're fucking artists. Without the 'e'. Real fucking artists.
Anyway, my point.
My points is, as Zenmaster of the Fleemasons, I advise all members to FLEE! Flee from the Whole Year Inn and the hole you're in. And go someplace else.