Buddha the Barbarian: My Arse

I was on a horse. On special request from Ernie Hudson.


Ernie Hudson (right) with Burt Bacarach.

There was an angry mob of motherfuckers, waiting to fight. I rode up to them.

Me: I, am The Malay Male.

Guy 1: You're not The Malay Male! The Malay Male is eight feet tall!

Guy 2: The Malay Male has four arms! ANd four dicks!

Me: Yes. Yes. And I can also shoot lightning bolt from my arse. I AM The Malay Male! This is MAH house!

Guy 3: So what do we do?

To be continued...

*HATE* Lipstick Liberals *HATE*

I spoke to some lipstick liberals, and they condemn this and that about the Government, about the country, about the bullshit they pull, blablabla.

So I asked them, what would they have done?

THE EXACT SAME THING!

Except that it's their bullshit, their racism, their message and their hate that they want spewing forth from the whatever.

"Oh, we hate how the media is covering only BN propaganda. That's not right!"

Me: Okay, what would you do, if you were in power?

Lipstick Liberal: Give that treatment to anything other than BN.

Me: But... that's just the same as what you are accusing them of doing. That's still imbalance.

Lipstick Liberal: Well, duhhhhhh, since I'm a fucking hypocrite, it's all right.

Me: Right...

LL: Hey, like, you're a journalist, right? I think all journalists should be able to print whatever they like! Freedom of the Press! Without fear not favour! I don't like how the Governbment always terrorises journalists and use fear to keep them in line. Freedom of speech at ALL costs!

Me: Oh, great, thanks. By the way, this journalist just said some bad things about you.

LL: What? I'll sue the motherfucker! That'll scare anyone from saying bad things about me! This lawsuit will keep them in line! Motherfuckers!

Me: But...

LL: I'm a hypocrite!

Me: Ah, yes.

This is why I hate lipstick liberals and I would kill them all, if I actually cared enough.

Since I'm writing this in a blog, the world will change today. Muahahaha!

Anyway, I urge any and all Malaysians to keep our Government in check, and at the same time, to kill and maim ALL lipstick liberals. Kill them all. Let none survive.

Cause the Government may be evil, but lipstick liberals annoy me. And things that annoy ME should be destroyed today.

Final Solution to the Bumiputera Issue

Racism is rearing its head again. My oh my.

Fuck the racists. Here's my solution to racism in this country.

So, a lot of non-Bumis think it's so fucking unfair that they 'don't have the same edge' as Bumis.

Okay, I am now offering to Bumiputeralise four hot non-Bumi chicks. In fact, I think I can Bumiputeralise 208 hot non-Bumi chicks in a year.

For the small fee of RM2 million a pop.

C'mon! As a Bumi, you are entitled to free money, free education, free healthcare, free housing and exempt from paying tolls. Look at me. I'm so fucking rich, I'm sitting down without my pants. On a Friday!

Now call this number: 1-800-SUCKMYDICK and be a Bumi TODAY (or maybe next week).

Pantat Prowler

Sexplorers and Whorists often belong to some online communities. In these forums, there is a lot of exchange of information going on.

Concerning brothels, massage parlours, girls, ratings, etc.

I am eternally amused with the kind of semi-secret language they use. Here, I will attempt to emulate their style in a TR (Trip Report) or in some forums, FR (Fuck Report?):

Wah. I kenot tahan adi, so I went to Hotel X and went up to OKT.
He asked me, want massag or pleasure? I said of coz la pleasure. WHy massag only? Different only 30 ringgit lorhs.

The girl I chose was Jumanji. Big boobs. Nice CFM face.

We went to room. JUmanji took off her cloths and took mine cloths off as well. Then she bathed me, washing my asshole and didi. Then she gave me hot-water BJ. Wah! Damn shiok!

Then we got out. The bed was Japanese style on floor one. But everything on like platform and had mirrors around.

She started to give me catbath and asked me to be on all fours. Then she licked my shoulder, my back and then my ass. Wah! Damn shiok!

Then I turned over, and she gave me a BBBJ. All time, she look up to me with CFM look. So I CFH la! Hahaha!

We did cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy and that thing where she climb me like tree one. Wah! Damn shiok!

Hard to cum, so I asked whether she does CIM. She said yes, and I blew some in mouth, some in face.

I fell asleep for five minutes. Tired adi.

Then, when I wake up, she asked for RM100 more for CIM and RJ. Wah! Damn NOT shiok!

Man. I am reading these things just for the sheer humour of it all. Muahahahaha! Wah! Damn shiok!

Tales from the Drunk Side:Thursday Temporal Displacement

I missed a special screening of Ip Man 2 yesterday, as I was working from home till midnight.

The funny thing was that I thought it was today, and rushed till 3pm, when I found out there was no special screening tonight.

AFter work, I went to Sid's Pub in Bangsar South. Nice place. The Lord of Chaos took me there, and I had a grand old time. The music was cool, if a bit young. The chicken wings were decent, and the cat that prowled there seemed to have agreed.

It was a place that made it possible to have a conversation even while the music was on, so it was cool.

I do entertainment and lifestyle all day long, so on my own time, I talk politics.

Anyway, nice ambiance, nice people. Will go again, but not this week. I have some stuff I need to do tomorrow.

Oh well. Time to go to sleep.

The Wake

I woke up to a knocking at the door.

Got a letter with some news. Mmm... why? Whatever.

Man, I'm sleepy. Will try to make it an early day. Go watch a movie, and sleep till tomorrow.

Or maybe I'll just have coffee. Lots of coffee.

Man.

Bapak Angkat Itu, Bahagian Ketiga

Ada member aku nama dia Isykasterya. Satu lagi, nama dia Ebbythency. Gila glamour. Aku pun nak namakan anak orang lah.

Aku takkan ada anak, tapi boleh tak aku jadi Godfather anak korang?

Aku nak kasi nama-nama yang best gila. Takde orang pakai. Jadi, bayangkan masa budak tu nak graduate dari universiti. Panggil nama sorang-sorang:

1. NurKalsium Klorida

2. Muhammad Medula Oblongata

3. Siti Injap Trikuspid

4. Encik Ozon

5. Pelawak Tulang (dah ada orang pakai)

6. Encik Otot (pun dah ada)

7. Ahmad Mesingan (ada)

9. Muhammad Kereta Perisai Gaban

10. Siti Juara Akademi Fantasia Musim 30

11. Kambing (confuse. kambing betul ke?)

12. Aku Suka Main Belakang (masa graduate, ada la sorang hamba Allah kena umumkan orang dengan cakap kuat-kuat kat loudspeaker, "Aku Suka Main Belakang Bin Depan Belakang Sama Sahaja!")

13. Aku Mabuk Ni.

14. Mak Aku Tak Sunat. (Dipersilakan, Yang Berhormat, Mak AKu Tak Sunat!)

Racist! Racist! Racist! Duduk! Duduk! Duduk!

Today, on Twitter, someone made a Malay joke. And by Malay joke, I mean a joke at the expense of Malays.

He got SOME reactions. ANd then I get this feeling that he doesn't want to play anymore.

Here's the thing, man. There are a few simple rules about jokes concerning race.

1. If you can't take the heat, forget it.

2. If you are Malay, you can make fun of Malays. If you are Chinese, you can make fun of Chinese. And so on and so forth.

3. Fuck the rules.

I am half-Malay and half-Chinese. I thought that gives me privilege to make fun of Malays AND Chinese. No.

First of all, Malays were quite upset when I make fun of them. The Chinese, some of them, stopped being my friends when I make jokes about the Chinese.

So the only safe race I can make fun of, are the Chinese-Malays (Chi-Lays) or Malay-Chinese (Manese or MaChiBai).

So here goes.

Ehem.

Why did the Chi-Lay cross the road?

- Cause the halal pork shop was on the other side.

Chi-Lays are both lazy and greedy at the same time.

Chi-Lays own 90% of the Malaysian economy.

A Chi-Lay, a Chris-Hindu and Sunder were on a hiking trip. It was late, and they found a farmhouse. The farmer told them two of them can sleep inside, but the third has to go and sleep in the barn, where he kept his animals.

So the Chi-Lay and Sunder slept inside and the ChrisHindu slept in the barn. An hour later, the farmer heard a knock on the door. It was the ChrisHindu.

CH: Man, I can't sleep there. There's a cow, and my non-existent religious sect forbids me from sleeping in a room with cows.

So the farmer told the guy to sleep inside and sent the CHi-Lay into the barn.

An hour later, the farmer heard a knock on the door. It was the Chi-Lay.

CL: Man, my IC says I'm a Muslim, and there's a pig in the barn. I can't sleep there, or I will take up a life-insurance, suicide-bomb you, and make it look like an accident.

So the farmer sent Sunder to sleep in the barn.

Two minutes later, the farmer heard a knock on the door. It was the cow and the pig.

Roll on snare drum?

Tony Tony Chopper

A lot of people working I know working or who worked in the media are called Tony.

There's Tony Mariadass, Tony Yee, Tony Francis, Tony Gayodanto, Tony Fernandez. It's endless.

So maybe, to be a better journalist, I shoud have a Tony name as well.

I choose, Tony Tony Chopper.

From now on, you all must address me as "My Liege, he who is Greatest Under Heaven, Tony Tony Chopper."

Generation Mee

I'm not Generation Me. I am part of Generation Mee. We eat mee goreng and mee maggi.

In fact, I am Degeneration M - people who grew up under the rule of Dr M as Prime Minister.

Dr M has been very influential to a lot of Malaysians.

Some people say that he was cruel. Not here to debate, cause I know jack shit about your plight. I just don't think he was cruel.

If I was PM, I would show you cruel.

Under my PM administration, you are either happy and prosperous or dead. I give you no other choice. Repent, or die. Hmmm... where have I heard that before?

Every day, I would kill at least a dozen people. And then blame it on PAS. And Anwar.

Porn would be a compulsory subject for everyone. Failing porn would be punishable by death. Idiots will be spayed and/or neutered.

I will also make it compulsory for all hot chicks to suck my dick. And play with my balls. In fact, playing with my balls will be a national sport.

Religious texts would be comic books, especially those written by Neil Gaiman, Alan Moore, Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis and Garth Ennis.

Rebellion is encouraged, but failure to overcome the bloated military will result in a death sentence for your entire family.

Just for fucks, I will capture some people and crucify them. Then, I will ensure they get gangrene on their arms or legs. Then, I will amputate that arm or leg and have the meat cooked and fed to the prisoners.

Parents who could not care for their children will see their entire family executed before their very eyes.

Marriages that cost more than 20K will be annulled and the bride as well as the groom spayed, neutered and raped.

Cruel, you say? Maybe. But people will always complain anyway. Ho-hum.

Early Burt

I need to wake up early tomorrow, so I downed three times the reccomended dosage for cough syrups.

Now, everything's so smooth and nirvana and shit.

I lay under a hooker and achieved enlightenment. Under the Body Tree. Muahahaha.

I believe in the gospel of Neon Genesis Evangelion. That everyone is separated by an AT Field. An Absolute Terror Field. The fear to allow your infinite self to mingle and combine.

Sex, way I see it, is transcendental in the sense that it connects essences of two or more beings.

That's why, when you orgasm, you see only white, empty space. Your ears ring. You get a tingling sensation all over. Nothing exists. Everything is static. Everything falls apart.

This is heaven. That's why drug addicts get addicted to drugs. The loss of the AT field causes them to glimpse flashes of it. Satori - flashes of enlightenment.

I have only been alive for 30 years. If there's only one thing I've learned in the past three decades, it is simply this:

Be happy.

Happiness is a choice. So is misery. Everyday, I wake up, and I decide.

Happiness, is not about jumping up and down or drinking Kool-Aid. It's just a state of being where there is no desire.

No esire for money. For pain. For glory. For being right. For being SEEN AS right. For approval.

All that bullshit just makes you shallow. You can get it, but you need not be in a position where you FEEL and THINK you need it.

When you want for nothing, no one can control you. There is no way anyone can deny you freedom.

And freedom, freedom is the ultimate happiness.

Fuck Homeopathy!

Homeopathy is officially FUCKED!

Blahblahblahblah Blah.

Warren Ellis said that "genericism is death" and yet so many creative people I work with wanted to do something like this, or that. Always, always something that has been done before - excellently - by other people.

Robert J Sawyer, a Canadian sci-fi author said in an interview that he only lasted this long in fiction because he sought to define himself as different than others. While almost all Canadian sci-fi writers tried to pass off as American - even moving there - to break into the American market, he was proudly flying the Canadian banner of sci-fi.

The result? He was one of only five or six Canadian sci-fi writers. SO when people looked up Canadian sci-fi, they found his name again and again. That's great positioning.

It is one thing to copy a style or a method that has worked before, but the entire thing? Not only does it border on plagiarism, it is just. Simply. Not. Cool.

One guy I knew said, "If people say my comics look like they were drawn by a Japanese, I'd be proud."

Others, want to copy, ape and imitate successful formulas. They want to do genre work.

I believe that if you are not bringing something new or a fresh perspective into a genre, then why bother?

And there are many stories. There are many formats. There is an infinte number of ideas.

Malaysians are a creative bunch. What we lack is perhaps self-discipline, pure intentions and organisational skills.

I believe that a pure heart, laden with good intentions, will bring forward good craftsmanship in whatever it is you do.

I hate cliches.

I turned down many projects, because I could see nothing new in them. There is nothing fresh I could bring to the table, so I dropped out. I don't give a shit, man. If I counted only the money, I'd be crying my eyes out right now. This is why I may never be a millionaire.

Oh well. I may have to say no to many more projects this year. I will only take those I am comfortable with, creatively. Ones that pay me my rates. WIth people I trust.

Other than that, oh well.

State of Self-Actualisation

Oh. My. Science!

Back to the Future was... 25 years ago?

What People Want

As the world's greatest marketeer, I understand one thing. In order for you to market or sell anything - an idea, a service, a product - you need to understand people and what they want.

I don't know what people want. I can lie, or trick you into thinking I do know, which would be much better than the fucktards who claim to know, without knowing anything at all.

What I do know is perhaps what people don't want. People react to what they don't want more fiercely and openly than they do to things they do want. I attribute this to a culture of pain-worship that has been established by whatever.

The culture where if you can prove how in pain you are, the more points you score. That's their world. Not mine.

ANyway, yes. What people want. People don't want to know anything that doesn't relate to them. People don't appreciate being boxed in neat little segments. People, in general, hate confinement and restrictions.

I believe that the best service or product that one can sell is freedom. And independence.

If your product or service or idea liberates people from something, they will buy it. It may be financial freedom - no, not the stupid MLM bullshit - freedom from hunger (albeit temporarily) or freedom from tying shoelaces. It's all the same.

ANy product, service or idea is selling freedom. If I can buy freedom from lipstick liberals by buying, say, an H-bomb for RM3.50, I'd do it right now.

If I can kill hypocritical racists for RM1.70, I'd do it. I'll be free from them! Yes!

Freedom is the only product that sells. I believe that people want to be free. They want to streak naked in the streets and be free from the worries of tomorrow and the sorrows of yesterday.

Unfortunately, in reality, almost everything they buy, everything the own, end up owning them. - Tyler Durden.

If I can bottle freedom, I'd give it away for free.

Nahhh... too high concept. Fart jokes later!

My favourite Muslim hero was Zubair Ibnu Awam. Simply because I read a comic book about him as a child.

He was in a number of successful campaigns and displayed intelligence in Badar, Uhud and the siege of a Byzantine fortress.

The tactics he used in the siege was quite good - according to the comic book. A war of attrition had started between Muslim forces and the Byzantine army holed up in the fortress.

So he ordered the siege to focus on one side of the fortress, crumbling the walls to make it easier to climb. And then, he made the soldiers march in a systematic retreat, so as to allay the fears of the Byzantine.

After the people celebrated, he then went on a commando raid one night on the crumbled walls, with the remaining Muslim forces charging in when the gates were opened.

It's simple, pretty straightforward and quite effective. I was surprised that it worked. Then again, this was like, 1,400 years ago. Of course it worked. Back then, if David Blaine existed, he would have been worshipped as a God.

War! The Animated Series

I have spent several weeks reading up on the Three Kingdoms period in China, as well as the American Civil War.

This is in preparation to propose an animated series about wars fought by Muhammad and his friends. In space!

I was always intrigued by claims that Muhammad was a master war tactician. When I was a kid, I searched for any and all information I could find on war tactics employed by the Muslim prophet.

In Badar, the first major war between Muhammad and the Meccan Quraisy, Muhammad utilised knowledge of terrain, resource control and superior morale of his 313 troops to fight the thousand-strong Meccan army.

In Uhud, the Muslim lost, because the archers moved from the hills and allowed a classic flanking maneuvre to kill a lot of Muslim soldiers.

In Khondak, it was classic trench warfare as Medinah was besieged by a huge Meccan army. Since most of that army was their elite cavalry, digging in trenches neutralised their advantage. Everyone became infantry.

In the Battle of Khondak, Medinah's natural terrain also played a major part in the Muslim's victory. It is reminiscent of the Battle of Gettysburg, hundreds of years later, when warfare changed to defensive rather than offensive. This all foreshadowed the terrible trench warfares of the First World War.

One thing that was vital in all these ancient wars was information and communication. The first thing you need to do in order to fight a war is not to buy a gun, but a walkie talkie. Knowledge is power.

Makes for interesting animated series or comic books, no? One set in space, so I don't get bombed by terrorists, of course.

Cartoon Girls I Wanted to Fuck

When I was a small kid, I always wanted to fuck FEMALE cartoon characters. Unlike Sunder, of course.

Here's one from Beetlejuice:



That black-haired Goth chick with the eyebags and Jewish looks. Man!

ANd here, is Jem and the Holograms:



I wanted to fuck Kimber. You know, Girl Number 2 with red hair? The one who sprays the camera with water or some shit. She's fucking hot.

Oh, and of course, I wanted to fuck Synergy the Computer. Oh yeah. WIth little electric shocks on my dick. Man!

This is Binoc Six:



STupid intro, but I have always wanted to fuck the mother cause she has telepathy and can read/control people's thoughts. I wanted to get her, and then control Rock 1, the daughter. So I can fuck her.

This is The New Adventures of He-Man. I wanted to fuck the sheep-girl. The one in that shade of pink. Mauve? No, too purple. Peach? Komquat? Whatever the fuck. I wanted to fuck her so much, man.



Yeah, the hot chick with the little kid. The girl in the short dress. I was like, eight, and I wanted so much to hook that dress up and take it down so it crumples around her stomach and fuck her silly. YEAH.

Oh YEAH!

Oh wait. Erm... excuse me for a while.

Freakazoid!

Toxic Crusader

Contrary to unpopular belief, I am not God's gift to journalism. I am God's gift to women, cause I was born on International Women's Day, which also happens to be Datuk Seri S Samy Vellu's birthday as well.

Anyway, when it comes to the vaunted, oh-so-glorious discipline that is journalism, I am just a small-time hack.

I am a barbarian. I live by the swamp, and I die by the swamp. That's what I am - Swamp Thing. I'm a Toxic Crusader.

Toxic, Cruuuusaders! Toxic, Cruuuusaders!



Anyway, while I believe that race-based breakdowns of voters and buyers have always been a staple of political analysis when it comes to elections, I do not agree with it.

That practice simply shoves people in boxes, creates divisions and also breeds distrust and hatred.

During the post-morterm (and even ante-mortem) of the Hulu Selangor by election, I predict that there will be breakdowns based on race.

"Oooh! The Chinese supported Zaid Ibrahim. The Malays supported BN."

It is something that divides rather than unites, I believe. Well, it could also unite, but the divisions and walls will be much more pronounced. Am not saying it didn't go down that way, or saying that such analyses are wrong.

Or that any one party or biased media are the lone perpetrators or users of such things.

Am just saying that here lies another example of things that could very well run counter to a stronger society. Just a thought. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a Swamp Thing.

The Sword in the Stone

I was monitoring the Hilt of Selangor (Hulu Selangor) results and reaction on Twitter - just for fucks - when almost all my Pakatan Rakyat buddies decided to go and get KFC.

This happened just as PR was almost 99% confirmed as having lost the seat.

I was like, "Hey, take a chill pill, man. You can still save the world next time."

And they were all like, "Nahh, we don't wanna play no more cause we're losing. We're losing the country, affirmative action, we're losing the whatever. We're fucking losers!"

It's like that last time when I was right about BN losing those three seats somewhere up north. All my BN friends were simply quietly offended or some shit. And slunk away. And didn't show up till like, two months later.

So I did what I had to do. I got myself KFC. I like the Colonel Chicken Rice. It used to suck real bad, cause they used dehydrated bullshit, but it's way better now.

And now I'm home, ready for some sleep. I hope no one makes this a race issue. Already, some people are dividing voters up according to race. That's for the idiot politicians to figure out. I don't think it's in the best interest of anyone to remind ourselves how divided we are due to skin colour and the Gods we worship (when in reality, most of us worship the opinions of other people, and money).

In conclusion, WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?! WHO?!

And that, was my Hulu Selangor political roundup.

PKR Lost?

What? Is it true? The mighty PKR lost?

Oh my God! Then who's going to save the world? From... aliens? Or something?

Boo fucking hoo?

The Malay Male's Dictionary of Cool Vs Not Cool Things

Not Cool: Taking drugs.

- Everyone can take drugs. Everyone IS taking drugs. SO?

Cool: Dying of a drug overdose

- Do us all a favour. Yeah!


Not Cool: Your mother.

Cool: Your mother fucking the ice cream man.


Not Cool: Zaid Ibrahim and Kamalanathan

Cool: Alcohol, gambling and kissing.


Not Cool: Politicians

Cool: The H1N1 virus which will kill them all.


Not Cool: Anwar Ibrahim

Cool: Anwar Ibrahim sex scandals


Not Cool: Singapore

Cool: Singaporeans


Not Cool: Malaysia

Cool: Me

The Malaysian Dream

You're looking at it.

Now, I have a dream. And that dream is to spay and neuter all idiots and racists, so that they may not breed.

We should get the police to catch all idiots, and neuter or spay them. If a kid gets bottom of his or her class, say goodbye to the ability to breed.

You need not cut their balls off or anything. SImply tie up their ducti sperma or fallopian tubes.

If you're stupid, chances are your kids will be stupid too. So fuck you.

I believe that if we do this, politicians will be extinct in 50 years.

Then, we go after racists. Anyone caught for racism, gets neutered or spayed. With this in place, no more politicians in 1 year! Hooray!

Shopping Cart-mageddon

I fucking hate going to supermarkets nowadays, simply because of the animals there. They cut queue, they bang your shopping carts and they are generally rude and obnoxious.

So here's what I suggest to end this once and for all - vigilante justice.

When you go to a supermarket, if anyone cuts queue, drop kick them. If she is a pregnant woman, drop kick her in the stomach and hope that the spawning pool loses the capacity to breed more monsters.

Then, when they are on the ground, take a knife, and ram it on their sides, around an inch above the navel. Then, drag the knife across, making a horizontal cut and letting their intestines and/or uterus burst forth.

If people bang your shopping cart, simply get back and go for ramming speed. If they have kids in tow, simply mow the fuckers down. Repeat until they die.

Kill them all, motherfucker!

The Dawn of the Third Age of Mankind

I have always bought parts for my PC from friends. I get real good discounts from these tech-heads.

Unbfortunately, most of them still has yet to graduate, or got kicked off college. Don't ask.

Now, I am in a conundrum. This PC just died on me when I tried playing CM. Only after some BIOS mod skills could I get it to function again. My guess is, by the end of the year, this PC is toast.

I mean, I open like, 100 webpages at one go, and then I play games with the fucking things still open. The temperature in Malaysia has increased, with some themometers recording it as high as 40 degrees. That's Celcius, foo!

I am also running out of space for my porn. I mean, for important Open Office files and pictures of cats.

This system I am using, which I cobbled together from the scavenged parts of four other systems, is falling apart.

I was thinking of Low Yat or Imbi Plaza. However, after making some calculations from the brochures they hand out, the kind of system they are selling with the specs I'm looking for, even though it has DEALER PRICE written all over it, is the same, slightly lower, or slightly higher than a Dell or HP desktop.

Furthermore, HP and Dell offers on-site service and warranties that no shop in those plazas could match.

Also, last time I bought a laptop, I got screwed by a couple of hundred dollars at Low Yat, while the same laptop I got for my sister at fucking Harvey Norman is cheaper, and has all the warranties.

I mean, Low Yat and Imbi are good for upgrading and finding parts. However, as dealers, I don't think they can match the power of wholesale, original software and service that HP or Dell has.

I'll still go for speakers and motherboard batteries, power supply units and the like, but for a full system, I think I'm better off with buying a major brand.

That being said, I think a trip to Low Yat or Imbi is due. Perhaps next weekend. Maybe I can find a bargain. I mean, if I'm buying something with limited warranties, it better be damn cheap. If it's just RM200 off, I might as well go for Dell or HP.

And I am also looking up my old friends, to see if they can get me some parts I need to assemble my system.

Thank God I have a netbook. If this system fails, I'm converting it into a docking pod for my netbook. And wait until I have enough money to buy that kick-ass system.

Another Unprecedented Attack on Lipstick Liberals

I fucking hate lipstick liberals. The lip-service liberals who place their mouths and their lips around the cock of lies and started sucking.

Freedom of speech. Freedom of the Press. Freedom of expression. Freedom of religion. All these bullshit motherfuckers scream and yell for these freedoms, which they have little knowledge about, during rallies and on pmaphlets.

When it comes to action, they do nothing. In fact, some of them sue journalists. How does suing anyone for the things they write in any way promoting freedom? That promotes fear, not freedom.

You can ask for a retraction, or write something and ask for it to be published. I once gave a bad review for a dance thingy several years back, and the people in the review sent something as a reply from an expert who called my article, at best, as misguided or ill-informed. He was basically calling me an idiot. So we ran the piece the next week. No harm, no foul.

Hell, the time when individual journalists, or merely individuals have the final and only say on something, is ending. Blogs, social networking sites, forums, blah blah blah, will shape public perception more effectively than anything we have ever seen.

Everyone gets a say. Two says. Or three. Whatever. And that is neither good, nor bad. It is simply the changing of the rules. The whole world is changing, you bastards. Wake up and smell the Molotov cocktail.

It's a brave new world and lipstick liberals have no place in it. You can GETTT OUTTTT!

The List

So I was in Kuantan, when one old friend told me that she hasn't founf anyone she wanted to be with, cause no one fit the list. Her list.

"So what's on the list?"

"Only one thing. He must be a good man."

"Hoo boy."

Yep. I don't see any. That kind of person doesn't exist.

See you in another life, sister!

Lazy Saturday

So I woke up at noon, called up two of my friends, and made them go to watch Kick-Ass with me. I booked online for the 7pm show, and fell asleep.

Woke up, got ready, and went to see Kick-Ass. Well... it was okay. It wasn't as good as I hoped, but it was all right. Quite disappointed, cause many people recommended me the movie.

It was simply a bit to draggy, and the focus was too all over the place. Hit Girl is cool, though.

Furthermore, the guy sitting next to me had a BO problem, and when he opened his mouth, it was as if a pig crawled into his throat and died there. I had to go ninja all movie long, with my shirt around my nose and mouth.

After the movie, I went to Jusco and started to shop for mixers and stuff. I was being civil, before my friend told me that these people are not people, but animals, and should be treated as such.

Sure enough, the fucking breeders and animals never gave me way, but took advantage of my meek and mild nature while pushing the shopping cart.

So when everyone is acting like animals, I decided to act like an ever bigger animal. A T-Rex.

Anyone who bumped into my cart, I bumped back. Harder. I even rammed into a pregnant cow, in the belly. Last I saw, she was on the floor, bleeding to death. Fuck you, animals! You're all dead, motherfuckers!

So I got home, and got an earful from some people talking about journalism. As if they're God's gift to journalism and shit.

I just let it go, and then they started questioning me about my work and whether or not my paper is a Government tool.

"As a journalist, we must remain neutral," they said.

"Oh? And who do you work for?" I couldn't resist.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the correct answer is: I work for the people. But you missed that boat. Who owns your media entity?"

"Errr... umm... "

"You don't know? Are they invisible masters? Who owns the company where you enjoy this freedom of the Press?"

No answer. Cause I know them. I know their bullshit. That's why I'll never go far in life. I know bullshit when I see it. And I can't pretend I haven't seen it.

ACtually, EVERYBODY knows. It's just what they do with the information. I am not prone to tolerate hypocrites or hypocritical racists. The holier-than-thou types who are just fucking insecure with their own bullshit existence.

I fail as a politician. I just let things go. If one day those things make my life and/or my work harder, I eliminate it. Destroy it. When the time comes. I refuse to play politics, and whatever or wherever that lands me, then so be it.

I'm ready to die or go to jail for my beliefs. No one is going to light candles outside my cell, cause I didn't spend my life kissing their bullshit asses. I don't pretend to be innocent or be depressed with guilt.

I'm still standing here saying fuck the free world. That's how I fucking roll.

Counter-terrorists Win!

Somehow, I am being stalked by some Arabs. I get several messages on Gmail and Google Chat using Arabic characters.

Dudes, I am NOT Habib Marwan. I don't do terrorism. I'm just a small-time hack in a small country. Malaysia. South of Thailand, north of SIngapore.

A 'documentary' from Australia years ago said we killed a billion immigrants or something like that. And all Malays live on trees. Serious. I saw that on TV, and was so disgusted, I went down from my tree to crap in the river.

For some reason, I have always distrusted the Aussie Government. I find them US-wannabes.

This was made clear to me in their cartoon Dinky-Dis. Dinky Dis show a Superfriends-type anthropomorphic shit with a Kangaroo and Koala as leader and member of an animal UN of sorts.

Guess who is their greatest ally? A bald eagle representing the US. In fact, one iconic scene showed the kangaroo and bald eagle fighting back to back. This was included in their opening animation.

Malaysia was represented in one episode as a water buffalo in a cage. Or something like that.

What stupid propaganda bullshit. I would have let that slide, if the stories didn't suck ass.

Oh well.

Anyway, my trip back to Kuantan showed me that living on trees is not that bad. I went to two commercial touristy beaches - Teluk Cempedak and Cherating. I didn't go to Balok, Berserah and Pantai Batu Hitam, which are better. Took some nice pics.

I have always been of the mind that Malaysia has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. In my opinion, they're much better than Thailand's. The East Coast ones, of course. West Coast is polluted and crowded. East Coast is where you want to be.

I prefer Thailand because of the go go girls. I love them go go girls, man. Furthermore, booze in Thailand is fucking cheap. And the girls... the girls.

While girls in Malaysia extort money and are more expensive, Thais are better-looking and don't demand that much. Plus, their vaginas don't smell.

ANyway, to any and all terrorists: I am not a terrorist. So stop bugging me.

The Malay Melee: For the Record

I don't know why, but some people are raising the 'Allah' issue and asked where I stood.

I was like, "Right here. Or maybe over there."

Then, it was church-bombings, mosque-bombings, cow's head, body-snatching, blah blah BLAH.

I mean, these are all old issues, and I'm not important, like a celebrity or a politician. Why the fuck should what I think I matter?

ANyway, just to set the record straight, here is where I stand:

1. The Allah issue:

BIG FUCKING DEAL.

2. Cow's head protest, counter-protest, Khalid:

STUPID.

3. Church and mosque-bombings:

FOR GOD'S SAKE (ANY GOD), MOLOTOV COCKTAILS ARE FOR PERSONNEL INCENDIARY USES ONLY (ESPECIALLY IF YOU ADD BITS OF STYROFOAM IN, AS IT STICKS TO SKIN LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER)! Meaning, Molotov Cocktails are used to set people on fire. For buildings, you need something like nitro-glycerin. Simply heat up soap in a tub or vat of water, slowly. This separates glycerin and the other junk. Expose glycerin to air, with a catalyst, you get nitro-glycerin. That's DY-NO-MITE!

Really, if you want to be a terrorist, read up first. Giving terrorists all a bad name.

4. Body-snatching

WHO GIVES A SHIT?

Yeah, man. Suck my dick.

Zaid Daniels and Kamalanathan The Kisser

If anything, the recent smear campaigns by BOTH BN AND PKR sucked ass.

So what if Kamalanathan kissed Muhyidin on the lips? Who did Anwar kiss? Where?

So what if Zaid drinks JD? Or gambles? He is merely reflecting the true Malaysians of today.

And even after much proof and evidence have been brought forward, some are still saying Kamalanathan do not have a degree.

You know what? Tertiary education is overrated. It is a scam. I've met stupid Ph. D holders, and smart people who don't even know how to read. Takes all kinds, man.

ANyway, end of the day, the people of Hulu Selangor gets to decide. I just want some sleep.

This, after disappointment that even though perhaps the biggest issue facing Hulu Selangor is rumours of an H1N1 outbreak around 80km from that place - or some other bullshit - the politicians are still doing what they do best - smear.

Man, if we start spaying and neutering idiots in this country, no more politicians will be born after 50 years.

The Lord of the Thing: Return of the Thing

Man, I am too tired to die.

So I got back from Kuantan today. Meeting my family has always been a draining experience, but this one wasn't so bad.

My father's condition is stabilising, in the sense that he's not getting any worse, but he's not getting any better either.

After getting back, I immediately went to a farewell party of a colleague. I just joined the early parts, as after The Two Towers, I felt like kicking people in the face. Too tired, so I hopped on a ride and showed some people porn, by demand.

The trip to Kuantan sowed the seeds of many stories. One of which was when I met an old friend. She's 36 and has never married.

"I haven't one to fit my list," she said.

Curious, I asked, "What's on your list?"

"Only one thing. He must be a good person."

"Ouch. That's harsh. Good people don't exist anymore."

I, myself, am THE Ancient Spirit of Evil. Good people have all been phased out by grey people. I'm not grey. I'm evil.

As a family of educators, I discussed with my family the possibility of catching idiots and spaying as well as neutering them.

It's easy. If any kid gets the last place in class, he or she will be neutered or spayed.

Any poor outreach programme would include capturing of rempits and idiots, and after an IQ test, we spay or neuter them.

There are simply too many idiots around.

Man, I was so fucking tired, I fell asleep in front of the TV just now. I think it's time I turn in. Got a full day tomorrow.

Cheers!

"Repent, Harlequin!" said the Tick Tock Man

I am currently using the last of my Blackberry battery, as I have a conversation with my father in Kuantan.

He is talking about his righteousness. His past glories. These days, sometimes he gets things mixed up. I guess, the future is bleak and the past, to him, is as clear as a sunny day.

Clearer than anything. He just realised it's over 3am. He loses track, sometimes.

"Do you know where you are?" I asked him.

"Bukit Kuin."

"Do you know what year this is?"

"19...19..."

My heart sank.

"20...00..10!"

"Ah," I said. Relieved.

He's now recounting his years as a teacher.

He started teaching at the age of 23. He retired at 57. That's 34 years. And the reason I can't misbehave in Kuantan. He taught half the town.

I can do nothing more than just listen to his stories. I can't trap Death in a poker game. I can't make a deal with Hades. I can just listen.

There is some time before I go to bed. Now, I need to fix myself a cup of coffee. Cheers!

Sleep Deprivation: Lifting the Veal

I see lots of relationships where the men treat the women like cattle, and the women simply take it. They just sit there and they take it. They might scream and yell and bleat sometimes, but end of the day, they accept their subservient role.

I never knew that I could get away with so much. Man, it is fucking great to be a man.

I saw the other day a guy who is otherwise pleasant, but when ordering his woman, he just does so like one would bark orders to a dog. He just raises one finger and his voice turns stiff and rigid. He wasn't very convincing, but the girl yelped and fell in line.

These are not my judgments. These are my observations.

It has constantly amazed me how lucky I am to be born with a dick. The things I can get away with. The stuff I can do! Man! This is fucking great!

I could beat up women. I could be a bastard. And that is what is expected of me. My role. A dick. That's easy enough.

There was a girl last week, who had this worried look in her eyes. She told me that "This is my man," and for a moment, there was sheer terror in her eyes. A searching look, to find... what? Approval? The setting of boundaries? Very primal. Very pathetic.

Apparently, all these cows have been fed a lie that they need men. Science proves that it is possible to simply clone women. Just like Dolly. But they don't go for science. They don't go for that at all.

Put in a similar position, I would be a serial killer. Thank God I have a dick.

It used to bother me when some women in the social circles I travel in ask me for advice or for my opinion to 'put me at ease'. They apparently don't need my thoughts on areas they are more well-versed in, but they like my - the man's YEAH! - approval. They need to make sure that I am not 'threatened'? I am not threatened. I have Buddha powers. I don't compete.

Nowadays? I don't give a shit. I see people. I don't see people. I am past caring. I just don't give a shit.

Still amazes me. It is a social structure that puts yokes and harnesses on women, and they fight - very hard - to keep the system in place.

At the core of this evil is the family. Family is evil. Nothing more destructive, nothing more nonsensical than the modern family. That, and the rites and traditions that keep the society working - that keep the people in place - my, my, what sheer terrible genius.

Oh well. We are at Auschwitz, and apparently, I am with the SS. Off to the gas chambers, then.

The Malay Male Family Values

Am going back to Kuantan tomorrow. My father's appointment with the doctor is due.

I made peace recently with the fact that I couldn't force my father to take care of his health. He believes himself immortal, but I am no son of Zeus. He is just one man.

Last week, I left on Wednesday to go for an assignment in Langkawi. I am turning my trip to Kuantan as an assignment as well. I will come up with a few stories. Work has been good as it takes me away from my family's situation. I relish the challenges and the many actions needed to make things work.

With the family, it's very different. It seemed that nothing I do could improve the situation. I cannot stop my father from dying. I cannot control his health and his diet. And that was my mistake. I tried to control things. It was not my decision to make.

All I can do is just be there. In truth, I am glad I did not get out of the country. Am also not going out anywhere for now. Even if I get to Thailand, I dread of getting that one phone call as I drink with a go go girl. That would spoil Thailand for me, forever.

Here are some lessons I learned dealing with sick parents.

1. Always have insurance.

My father did not have insurance. Even at Government hospitals, the medical costs are astronomical.

And if you're not rich, this is what happens.

2. All old people are emotional.

Let. It. Go.

3. Fuck the society.

I decided to take care of my parents as a conscious decision. Not because I wanted praise or money. Fuck the fillial child bullshit. I can turn my back and say fuck this shit at any time. I chose not to. One day, you young 'uns will have to make that decision as well.

Know that whatever you choose, you have to be okay with it. No emotion.

I do things because I want to. I am fully responsible for my actions. Some are good. SOme are bad. SOme, are just whatever.

I set a goal, which is to make life as comfortable as possible, as comfortable as I could for my parents before they die, and that's it. The rest, a majority of the decisions, lie with them. I am merely here to hold their hands. They have to walk through whatever doors for whatever.

House of M: Dance Dance Revolucion

I have been in the media for several years now. Not long enough to claim to know it all. Not short enough to hide behind my noob status either.

I do not claim to know where the industry is heading, but I believe... I believe everything that the Internet has said.

Yes, traditional media like newspapers will die. Not so soon, though. It will take at least 50-100 years. I'll be long dead, buried, creamted, shot into space and forgotten before the last newspaper reader or TV viewer coughs out his or her lung.

And really, it has been about the readers. Media people who fail to realise this are dead or will soon be dead.

It's not about you. It's about them. The journalists whose names are identified with reliability, truth and transparency are few and far between. Journalism is not really a lucrative career choice for many. Only the few strike gold. To them, thank goodness you guys struck gold. It is a miracle.

Journalists as experts, as personalities, as celebrities or as stars - they are a dying breed. How many writers nowadays stay at a publication for 20 years? They stay for decades, and they build up their name - their brand - bit by bit, gathering one loyal follower a week, so that one day when they go talk to people, people actually talk back.

Money is a factor. Love for writing is another. There are a myriad of other factors. Politics, is one. Temperature (it's so fucking hot and humid nowadays in Malaysia). Food. Social dynamics. It's all contributing to stuff.

ANyway, back to readers. In this age of interactivity, readers seem to no longer want to want to simply take what is written for granted.

I observed this formally in Malaysia for the first time during the Reformasi days. A lot of people simply refused to believe what is being reported in the newspapers or on TV, regardless of what it is. A lot still do.

I found that these discontented people, the unreasonable ones - and all progress relies on unreasonable people - have taken to whatever means necessary to create their own news.

They take to the Internet, set up chatrooms and e-circles and forums and Yahoo! groups.

The sites that survived from those days survived because of their functionality. The role of websites is simply to set the stage and get out the way. The clunkier sites died fater than I could fart. The ones that tried to stem or control, or edit public opinion, died sudden deaths.

Information. Eye-witness reports - reliable or not. Pictures, doctored or not. Doctored professionally or amateurishly. They all swarmed for it. I felt the rush for the first time.

It was a slow usurpation of the role of traditional journalists, done at lightning speeds.

Intrigued, after I graduated, I sought a job in journalism. Because I wanted to be there when it happened. When the great revolution happened.

What I saw in those early days, pre-Reformasi, Reformasi and post, all points to a burgeoning desire for freedom and independence. People can think for themselves. They can write, sometimes better than journalists, sometimes much worse. The point is, traditional media must accept and adapt to the fact that they no longer have complete monopoly over information and information flow.

It has never been a one-way flow. People who think so delude themselves. The public has always voted with their acceptance and rejection of media in its many forms. Now, the vote is for full cooperation and full interactivity in the production news.

What is news? News is what people want to read. If people don't want to read it, it is not news. I don't care if it's a small booksale or the PM's decree. Would people read that shit? Would they spend time eyeballing the page or the content?

In all honesty, no one really knows. The best sample is the whole thing.

Now, people get to decide what kind of news they want. They can even create their own news. Their own articles. Post their own thoughts and judgments and biases and viewpoints.

After that case with slandering the Agung, they are all individually responsible for what they post online or anywhere.

I predict that after a period of chaos, enjoying seemingly unlimited freedom, there will rise a voluntary order. Ordnung. Anarchy in its purest form.

And I will be here to see it. I will see the revolution unfold. And I will tell the story from my vantage point.

Dance dance revolucion!

House of M: What Makes it Work?

A lot of companies have stupid misconceptions about the Internet and the communities that live there.

They lose sight that what makes websites work are still people. A most dangerous and ever-changing factor.

Interactivity and direct involvement - which was not a staple of the old media - opens doors and it is the media people's jobs to hang on to the handles for dear life.

For when you start a website, you do open the Pandora's Box of bullshit, stupidity and irresponsible mannerisms from people as much as you nurture the exchange of ideas, information, thoughts and viewpoints.

The Internet is a separate reality for a lot of people. For now. SOme people become sexist, racist and usually just plain stupid. However, the key components remain the same.

So if you want to make it right, you must understand people, and manage a large number of people who will be using the facilities.

The old system of the old media where the public trust of disseminating information is served by the privileged few, is dying. There will be lesser star journalists and columnists and whoever who will dictate information and information flow.

If I know anything, it is information flow.

Nope. The Internet, with all its whatever, will create its own stars and believe in what it wants. Not what people simply put out.

Without understanding this yearning for freedom, with a burning desire to control everything, some people and some companies who handle websites are at a disadvantage. They become self-obsessed. Hubris sets in. "I know best!" And you will never be the best. And you will know nothing.

The final form of the Internet is a bridging of the virtual and the real. Hinted on fantastically in the anime Serial Experiment Lain with really crazy experiments of quantum physics and perception, using the atmosphere as a giant network and people's brains as harddisks.

But it's all there.

The time for traditional spinning is at an end. Let us use the lessons learned for a new era of information and perception management. Let the truth prevail. Anarchy is set loose upon the world!

Alif Lam Kamariah dan Alif Lam Samsiah

Alif lam kamariah adalah apabila alif dan lam ada tanda mati di atasnya.

Alif lam samsiah apabila ada tanda sabdu atasnya. Cara baca? Aku tak tahu. Muahahahahahaha!

Belajar Tajwid Bersama Abang Terung

Ya, adik-adik! ABang Terung datang lagi dengan... Tajwid! Mari kita belajar tajwid!

Mad Lyn.

Mad Lyn adalah mad paling mudah sekali. Cara membacanya, dengan lembut, sebab lyn maksudnya lembut dalam bahasa Arab.

Mestilah huruf tanda atas atau alif bertemu dengan huruf wau atau ya.

Contoh Mad Lyn, Gai. Daigouji Gai. Dal, alif, ya, ga, wau, jim, ya. Space bar. Ga. Ya. Berapa banyak mad lyn dalam perkataan ini, kalau perkataan ini ditulis dalam bahasa Arab dengan nahu Al-Quran?

Ya. Dai. Dan Gai.

Ikhfak Hakiki

Ikhfak masudnya dengung. Kot. Dengung dengan jelas. Nun mati atau tanwin bertemu dengan huruf-huruf ikhfak.

Kalau nun mati atau tanwin bertemu dengan huruf-huruf izhar, maka jadilah izhar halki. Kot.

Zaid Daniels

I have trouble believing this is true. Furthermore, upon seeing this picture, I laughed my ass off several times.

That's definitely not how you drink Jack Daniels. Or so I heard.

I think Zaid Ibrahim might be a drinker, but:

1. Who gives a shit?

2. Even if he did, this picture is not a valid proof that he does.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Books

I read three books last week. Time to review them. Only, now, time for sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Yeajh.

Tales from the Drunk Side: Who's Eating Zedeck Siew?

So there I was, drinking, at the post-party, ready to leave, when Zedeck came up to me. He was a sight to behold. In a yellow dress, with black panty-hose. Hair cut shorter and puffed up a bit.

I was like, "Huh?"

Zedeck mumbled something, but I couldn't make out what it was he said. So I said, "Yeah, man, okay. Sure. Let's meet up."

Oh yeah, just in case, Zedeck is not gay, as far as I know. He is just party to some unwise ideas at times, with hilarious results.

I mean, of all things to drag in, that yellow dress just doesn't cut it.

ANyway, next time we meet up, he better not be in drag. He might be a pretty boy, but a horrible drag queen.

24-7

Just finished 24, the TV series.

Now, imagine if Jack Bauer worked at 7-11.

Previously, on 24-7...

Tony Almeida: Jack! We don't have enough ice to face the morning rush!

Jack Bauer: Chloe, get me the president!

Chloe O'Brien: He's on Com 5. Please standby.

President of 7-11: Jack?

Jack Bauer: Mr President.

P7-11: We need that ice to be at that outlet within the hour, or the free world will die!

JB: I'm on it, Mr President.

Tony: The guy who stole all the ice from the truck is Habib Marwan. A known ice-terrorist.

Tony: Jack, what are you going to do? Jack?

Chloe: He left. I... I think he's going to rob another 7-11 to get more ice for us.

Bill Buchanan: That's crazy!

The following takes place between 2am and 3am...

Tales from the Drunk Side: The Final Boh Cameroonian Arts Awards

It's actually Cameronian. Whatever.

Anyway, I just got back from a party in the underground levels of Mandarin Oriental. It was the final party, the last hurrah for the Boh Cameronian Arts Awards.

Read that in the papers. In The Malay Mail. Either this week or next.

Anyway, I met some old friends, like Ee-Tan, who was a colleague at the old The Malay Mail.

Zedeck was in a dress, for some reason. Sunder would have been happy. Also met the 'luminaries', the who's who in performing arts. I covered them for around five years, even after I left The Malay Mail the first time, during the time of the Exodus.

Old faces, some old friends, and some new ones I made over the past few years. It was nice to see them again after all these years.

I remember going to a few performances, interviewing a few of them every week. Kakiseni was a rallying point to this small, small industry. A bit nostalgic to see it go, but I think they did a good job of ending it properly. I hate stories with no endings.

The performing arts is a funny industry, and if you really look at our entertainment industry in general, they are basically the same. Just a bunch of people hoping, hanging on to a few tossed copper ases from passers-by.

We entertainment journalists serve a function. We are an aspect of the industry. No more, no less.

I have always seen the performing arts to do and say things that more mainstream, and bigger industries or sections of the industry, could not cover or express. You need an outlet for the people, or there will be explosions. Given the variety of people there are out there, a non-homogenous, myriad expression points system is vital to contain malcontent. To deal with our insanity.

Too much, and we ape the closing days of the Roman empire. Always, a delicate balance.

I was happy enough to spend some time with people I know. Rodek, Zedeck, Megat, Yusman, Tapai and the rest. Good drinking buddies, even though most of them don't drink.

A good thing is that I will get invites to some more productions happening in May, and I also have some story leads which hopefully grow into something substantial.

For now, we drink a toast to Kakiseni, which closes its doors, perhaps forever. To Kakiseni.

Uncle Najib: A Review

It is Day whatever of Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak being Malaysia's Optimus Prime.

I do not believe we can accurately gauge whether or not he is a good PM, or a bad one. I can only comment that I acknowledge what he has done so far.

Coming up with the NEM was further proof that this guy will focus on the work at hand - be they good or bad work remains to be seen - rather than put everything on his own self.

I was extremely skeptical of the 1Malaysia concept, as it seems like more sloganeering. But the focus on the bottom 40%, low-income earners regardless of race is a step many - including myself - have called for. Execution remains to be seen, but the thought is there.

Rarely do we ever hear of Malaysian politicians talk about the people. It's usually about themselves, as Malaysian politicians have taken on the role of professional wrestlers without the money, glory, entertainment value, good looks or hygiene.

It's always about 'me'. Mememememememe. Never about the work on improving everyone's lives.

Some politicians make their career on the possibility of being a victim. So you're a victim. BIG. FUCKING. DEAL. What are you going to do, or rather what are you DOING to improve everyone's lives?

Take more naked pics? Intimidate more foundations? Buy more Toyota Camrys? Suck my dick?

Simply pointing out mistakes and flaws of the opposing side, be they Government or Opposition, is self-indulgent, self-centered and selfish. It worked before, but Malaysians are indeed idiots if we allow these prancing ponies to simply gallop and strut without doing a shred of work.

One can always bet on the fact that the more mistakes one points out, he or she has committed more, as only those who made them can recognise mistakes in others.

I much prefer a PM who is more inclined to come up with projects rather than waste time entertaining the whims and fancies of his or her opponents. A worker more than a politician. Or feeding his family - in-laws and all. Or sleeping. If the PM gets more sleep than I do, then Malaysia is doomed.

Shut the fuck up about who is MORE racist. You're all fucking racists. Some are even lip-service liberals. Lipstick liberals. Moralising left and right, but when it's on their heads, they sue.

We should send a clear message in the next elections. Mark any and all politician, from any party, who speaks more about him or herself, than about the people, and we simply DO NOT vote for them.

Any prancing merry men can just go fuck themselves.

ANyway, I would have been more worried if Najib were to spend most of his days simply answering allegations and taking care of his own ass. He should take care of my ass. The People's Asses.

At least, there is progress, though to which direction, no one can know until much later.

Furthermore, he's Pahangese.

Friends

I just got off the phone with a friend. Am so happy that he is doing very well right now. Being a tad flashy, he made a declaration to drive a Hummer by 2009. The Hummer has not yet come, but I won't be surprised if he drives by waving from one sometime soon.

I am surrounded by success, and for that, I am thankful. One of my best friends is doing very well as a creative dude in Canada. Terrina's also there, carrying her second child. Pretty soon, she'll be killing roaches with her walking stick. Just like her Yaya.

Another friend is also in Canada, working as a graphic artist for a robust video game company.

I got four friends in Bonn, Germany, and two in Zurich. The Middle-East contingent has slowly been coming back from over there, but are landing jobs here in Malaysia. Or setting up businesses.

Just the other day, I met up with an old friend who now programmes satellites. Cheepork is moving up, and Chee is happily married.

At home, I have been opening doors for people. I believe that I owe it to the previous generation, to return the many favors they have bequeathed me.

Bequeathed, tau.

Feels like Don Quixote, charging at windmills.

Am glad that so many of us found their calling, and prospering. Seems like the past 10 years was not entirely a waste.

Tales from the Drunk Side: The Langkawi Trip

When I first got the assignment several weeks ago, to go to Langkawi for a familirisation trip, I honestly didn't want to go.

Call it a habit, but usually, I go on working trips to come back to even more work piling up from the days I was absent from the office. So no matter what the junket is, I usually just say no. So far, I have turned down trips to the US, Japan, Hong Kong, and Singapore.

Plus, I didn't need a break. My energy levels were fine. I learned to cope without going to Thailand, and just another trip - any trip other than going to Thailand - would have sapped more of my energy.

God knows, the last time I was on a trip, Yasmin Ahmad died. I couldn't even attend the funeral. I went on this one cause no one else was available.

However, the Langkawi trip was all right. I mean, it was hot as hell, and I didn't sleep the first day, as I did not want to miss the flight, but things were okay. Everywhere I went, there was laughter and fun. And I made friends, as well as potential writers.

On the second day, instead of a normal tour, the media people were divided into groups and asked to compete in a treasure hunt, Amazing Race style.

I was in a team with a guy with a bad leg, two of the oldest members of the trip and two 'lost' Singaporean girls. I was invited over to the manly men team. THe macho guys. But I said no, cause I knew I would bring up the rear at some point.

The first clue was a maths problem, and as I was smoking a cigarette, it got solved by other people. We rushed to a beach where the task was to use a slingshot and knock over five cans. I knocked down three, as I took over when I saw that most of the rest were used to automated stuff. You have to pull on a slingshot, not just release the rocks from the thing.

AFter that, one of us had to go and use a kayak to get to 10 buoys inscribed with answers to 10 questions. We were only handed the question list after our kayak was in the water.

We sent our most fit member - a PADI-certified Singaporean white girl (she's actually Italian). Unfortunately, she does not know any Bahasa Malaysia at all. Guess what the answers were in? Yep.

We had to rely on guesswork and her memory of certain words to finish the questions which sounded more like riddles concerning Langkawi.

In the end, it was all right. We were in second place, and even thugh I was conserving energy, I decided to jog all the way to the next stop, which was 500m away.

The third challenge was to do batik. I stayed back as two of the members did it. Got a towel, as I was already soaked in sweat by that time.

Then, it was a rush to one near a bar inside an old pirate ship, with a choice of three routes. One was longer, through a path. There was a shortcut either through some tall rocks, or up the steps to a hill and down again.

The guy with a bad leg couldn't go through the rocky path, and I didn't want to, so we went up the steps and down again, surprisingly ahead of people who chose the tall rocks.

I was there, and the task was to peel and open a coconut, and then to scrape the flesh using a traditional scraper. Kukur kelapa.

The SIngaporeans didn't know how to work the kukur ayam, so I took over and did what my mother used to do it. Unfortunately, I was not doing well when there was just a thin layer remaining.

I handed it off to the guy with a bad leg, who is Chinese but with a Malay godmother. He displayed some amazing skills and got it done in just two minutes.

By this time, we were in second place.

We had to drive to a part of Langkawi, just to throw a fishing net. The rules were: the net has to be thrown properly in a circular pattern, and each team must send one guy and one girl.

The older guy threw the net, and then it was the SIngaporean girl - the most vertically-challenged of our team. Fortunately, she was a quick study and only did one bad toss.

Then, it was off to a plaza of sorts, where we had to take photos with a snake. A python. I would have been afraid if it was a cobra. Pythons, anacondas and boa constrictors never scared me, cause they're slow and not poisonous. Really, you have to be really dumb and slow to get killed by a python. Which animals get killed by pythons anyway? Small cows. ANd goats. There you go.

We were just a minute or two behind the first-placed team. Something happened at this point. Instead of boarding their transport, the lead team decided to go there on foot.

We happily passed them by and reached the foot of the hill leading to the Telaga Tujuh or Seven Wells.

It was a steep, vertical, almost 60 degrees climb. The guy with the bad leg and I lagged behind to enjoy our cigarette as three of our fittest members streaked ahead. There was someone bringing the rear, but it wasn't me.

The first team, now in second place, rushed past us. We were like, okay.

When we reached the top to the waterfalls, we found out that the three members secured our team in first place. It was a half hour of staring at nothing before the other teams arrived.

Had lunch, and then it was free and easy. I had a shower, a nap, and then I decided to get some alone time by going to Pantai Chenang instead of staying around for lunch and join them for a shopping trip.

I discovered that Pantai Chenang is very similar to Patong Beach in Phuket, in terms of the quantity of massage parlours and shops. However, they lacked go go bars. You need go go bars. LADA should look into this. Go go bars will make Langkawi even more competitive.

ANyway, that night we celebrated by tossing people into the pool. One girl was having her birthday, and one guy was getting married. After a while, the number of dry people shrunk to four - me being one of them. I decided then to call it a night and watched TV in my room.

Earlier today, our flight got delayed, so the nice people from Mutiara Buray Bay Resort took us out for lunch on a floating restaurant. The food was just okay, but there was an opportunity to take pictures of eagles during the boat ride.

All in all, a fun trip. And I celebrated my homecoming, finally alone, in my apartment, with a few bottles opened. I am writing this because I will not write this or this way for my article. I don't usually condone writing in the first person.

Travel articles should be about the place and the attractions, not you. Unless you can make it sound interesting like some travel writers or writers who are highly-skilled in doing just that, the first person style just sucks.

All in all, I made some good friends, and had fun. I would recommend Langkawi for people who want Phuket, without the fucking. In general, the food is just so-so, but it's cheaper than Thailand. Malaysia has some great beaches and they're not as over-saturated or over-populated as in Thailand. I love Thailand, but not for the beaches.

Of course, a lot of things can be done to make Langkawi better. Now, about them go go bars...

Sudah Terang Lagi Bersuluh

Aku belum tido lagi ni.

Aku nak naik Firefly ni. Kalau aku mati, sepeninggalan aku, pesan aku sedikit saja.

Buatlah kerja dengan ikhlas dan hati yang aman. Usah dikhuatir pekerjaan orang lain. Usah terlompat-lompat tak tentu pasal.

Kalau hati dah risau, mata pun melilau. Kuman di lautan nampak, gajah depan mata tak nampak.

Oklah. Kalau aku pergi dulu sebelummu, taburlah bunga di atas pusara.

Semboyan telah berbunyi! Bangunlah wahai bangsaku Fajar Sarawak.

The Cast

A girl in a black tudung and black, body-hugging t-shirt with a tight sweater that looks like a mini bolero jacket.

Three guys in t-shirts and shorts sitting at a table.

A guy in a Nike jacket and jeans. Sharp facial hair with a profile as sharp as a hatchet. Another one, chubbier, wearing a racing t-shirt. Most probably Man U fans.

And, if I can find him, the legendary John Tiong.

Whack the Dog

I am still early. Now at McDonald's Subang Airport.

The weather is kind of nice, or maybe it's because I left the door open and the cold air from the air-conditioning units are flooding out.

Ah, there we go. Somebody closed it, causing a rise in temperature, just for another guy to open it again and turning everything cool again.

I am writing this using my Blackberry Bold II.

Had a conversation with the cab driver. A pleasant one. I might have a regular cabbie, after this.

And apparently, this is the Hindu New Year. So Happy New Year to all Hindus.

I hope your year will be filled with joyful, good stuff.

May your heart be clean, your mind clear, and your dick in someone's mouth.

Trust me. It's good.

Early Bird

I am early. By about an hour and a half. Didn't sleep last night, and am having coffee. With the cab driver who decided to keep me company.

Oh well. Enough time to lounge about and make last-minute purchases.

Captain's Log

Captain's log, supplemental.

The captain's log is gray in colour. It still sinks. I flushed it and, well, the size, the girth, was so awesome, that it took two flushes to get it down through the pipes.

Ah. The cab might be here any moment. Time to go. Will feature the captain's log sometime later. Now, off for last-minute packing.

Langkawi, here I come!

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

I don't plan much, these days.

One look at my room, and some might say I am disorganised. And yet, I know where everything is, where they go and will go.

I know for a fact that things are never static. They're always flowing, moving, changing. You can never be a step ahead of reality. Why would you want to be? It simply means being out of step with creation. With life.

The only thing that tells us that time is happening, is change.

I do not presume to know everything. I don't even see levels of knowledge or experience. People who do - and I was one of them - would continue to strive for higher levels until one day, they fall flat on their fat faces.

How many times have I fallen flat on MY face? Countless. I know more about the 'wrong' ways of doing things than the 'right' way of doing things. In the end, right and wrong are all illusions.

So that leaves me with? Ways. Only ways.

The folly of planning is making assumptions. You assume that you will be alive tomorrow. You assume that the ground will not shake beneath your feet. You assume people are stupid. You assume people are as petty as you.

Journalists - real journalists, good ones - never assume. Good Buddhists as well. Real ones.

Like that turtle said in Kung Fu Panda. Yesterday, is history. Tomorrow, is a mystery. And today, today is a gift. That's why it's called the present.

I find plans, schemes and plots to be a distraction from the actual work of the moment. This is why I write for newspapers. Consider that. Writing for newspapers. Every day, is never the same than any other day. Each task, each challenge, is unique. I get easily bored, once I've solved a puzzle.

The computer games I play all follow multiple paths. Championship Manager, where you can deal with an infinite possible line-up, problems and player change and performance dips and curves as allowed within the confines of the rules.

Jagged Alliance 2, where I have read more than 100 ways of playing it to the finish. I play Jagged Alliance 2 my own way. Based on whims, luck and whatever was available at the time.

Final Fantasy VII - I have explored as many ways to play the game as possible, including times when I spent days - actual, real-time days - just racing Chocobos. I also defeated the final monster with just a limited, rudimentary set of materia. Not material. Materia.

We set things up for the future, yes, but to follow such a rigid system or set-up is a lesson waiting to be learned.

SYstems are made up of components, yes? What are the components? What are the most important cogs in a system? People. And people, while they do not change, are always making different moves and thoughts and whatever else. It is impossible to control people. It is like ramming a square peg into a round hole.

You do not control people. You work with them. Play to their strengths. And shoulder up their weaknesses. Some, are gone cases. I mean, you don't send a one-legged man to compete with Usain Bolt in the 100M dash. You don't send a deaf-mute to challenge Aretha Franklin in a singing competition. You don't send Ray Charles to drive in the F1.

And I didn't even plan to write this. Just waiting for my cab. Spent the whole night reading Wikipedia. Not all of it. Impossible. Just a few things here and there.

I don't plan, these days. Whatever is in front of me, I'll deal with it when I get to it.

Plus, no matter how I plan, things always have a way of turning up better than expected. I have faith in the universe finding a balance for itself.

This week, for example, whenever there was a lack of whatever, something shows up in front of me. Instead of rejecting things, I embrace it. Circumstances and people eventually get the work done. With or without me.

End of the day, that's all that matters.

I let go, and I let it rip. And I let it RIP.

I am so fucking cool. And right now, with my eyes half closed and coffee in my veins, I feel like Buddha the Barbarian.

Langkapuri

I'm going to Langkawi tomorrow. Work, baby, work! I got a (borrowed) dSLR and I'm taking pictures.

My flight is in the morning, and a cab will be coming for me at 8am. I have yet to pack properly.

Been reading wikipedia for the past five hours. Usually, with a single reading, I retain - almost completely - around 25%. I remember 70% of the lessons in school. These are rough figures.

I am sometimes surprised that most people don't. Then again, I don't have a car or a wife or kids. This means that my brain is free from such cumbersome things.

Having a car means that I will constantly think about the car, from multiple angles. Did I lock it? Will it be scratched? Did I park it correctly? How much is the road tax and insurance and how, as well as WHEN am I going to pay the tickets?

This is one of the reasons why I have never had a car. Furthermore, I live in KL. There are lots of cabs around. I don't even travel that much anymore.

Ah, well.

I intend to read and write reviews for three books in Langkawi. One, I am almost finished with. We'll see how much time I can cultivate for myself on the island.

Fire It Up! Fire It Up! Fire It Up!

Ada beberapa member aku yang nak pergi buat umrah tahun ni.

Aku takkan pergi umrah atau haji. Takut dosa banyak sangat, nanti terbakar la pulak.

Kalau tak terbakar, nanti aku lepak kat luar kaabah, dengan mamat-mamat yang sekepala, pastu asyik acungkan tangan ke langit sambil cakap, "Fire It Up! Fire It Up! Fire It Up!"

Pastu, ada mamat yang pernah kena bakar, datang balik dengan make-up Joker dan burung gagak. Pastu nak belasah aku.

Fire It Up! Fire It Up! Fire It Up!

Ngentot Kerma Wijaya Mamak Mendeliar

Uah!

Paman-paman pateh sekalian ngentot-ngentot bangat!

Penyet konaknya, diacungkan ke jendela. Pemuncar kapet jua menchadi piluhan.

Nanti ku sepit pakai kepala bapaknya di kelangkang leluhurnya luluhawa.

Nyat nyin song matak aji Amir ngi Singh!

Fiksyen Kipas

Aku baru habis lepak dengan member-member. Mungkin keagungan aku membuatkan salah seorang daripada mereka berpeluh. Pasal aku best gila. Atau mungkin dia berpeluh pasal baru lepas main Nintendo Wii.

Yang penting, aku memang best.

Ada sorang member aku pulak, dok mengadu. Ada orang cakap macam-macam la kat dia.

Aku cakap, dalam bahasa omputih yang telah dialihbahasa kepada Bahasa Terjemahan, "Ah, Patrick, walau apa pun orang cakap pasal kau - buruk atau baik - tidak mampu mengubah kebenaran. Mereka tetap bodoh dan engkau tetap engkau."

Patrick pun mencapai jaring ubur-ubur dan mengajak aku menangkap ubur-ubur. Aku menolak, kerana aku sibuk berasa best dengan diri sendiri.

"Kau rasa, dalam bandar Bikini Bottom ni, ada ke orang yang sehebat aku?" tanya aku, penuh ikhlas.

"Mana mungkin pak," kata Sandy. "Semuanya mati enggak, hidup enggak mau. Kapan pergi mampus pun enggak tau."

"Ko ni, asyik kapan orang apasal?"

"Vois ektornya orang Indonejia."

"Kok ngoyok ngono?"

"Pendet tempe garuda sri rama malim kundang dian sastrowardoyooooooo!"

"Pergi mampus."

Intermission: Insomniac

I was lying in bed, when I got a message that a story just came in. So I sat up and did what I will always do in this cae. I went and read the story.

And now I am up again. Hopefully for just a few more minutes.

Enough to tell you:

MySpy might still be available on Astro Box Office. That was the first movie I wrote.

Magika, the next movie, has gotten mostly good response from viewers. I have yet to see it, my own schedule keeping me from watching this collaboration with Edry KRU.

I have heard many dates when Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa will come out. I am not sure which one is correct. I will not pursue the matter, and will trust the KRU brothers to do the right thing with the movie.

Sharon Bakar is putting together a book based on the Readings series she has conducted, and Bernice Chauly earlier, I think. She wanted one of the pieces I read there. So I'll be a published author again. The first time this happened was for a short story in Silverfish III. Last time was after I left The Malay Mail in 2006, or was it 2007, when Susuk came out?

Just writing this makes me want to write a novel again. But duty calls. Between my work at The Malay Mail and my movies and TV shows, I have little time for novels.

Some people asked me to do some technical writing. I think I shall pass it to some friends.

I have yet to do a comic book with Sunder, Chee or Adijin. 1Malaysia indeed.

I have a story about a powerless Superman who fights Lex Luthor with only the powers of journalism, and takes 30 years to have a dent as he solves the murder of Jimmy Olsen in a noir send-off.

I have one story about the reincarnation of Jesus and Buddha in a girl, protected by a supernatural dark creature.

There is one with a pirate all-star cast. Black Bart, Black Beard, Anne Bonney, Mary Reed, The Gentleman Pirate Stede Bonnet and the fictional Richard the White.

There is a ninja murder mystery, set some years after the Battle of Sekigahara.

There is one that would connect all South-East Asian mythologies. One about choices, set in a sci-fi world.

One to create a super-power universe in Sentul.

Ah well. Maybe one day I get to write comics. For now, I shall settle on trying to get some sleep.

Job 30:29-30

I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat.

Gua Nak Pergi Langkawi

Aiseh! Gua nak pergi Langkawi la pulak. Esok. Gua ada assignment. Nak buat camana? Nak bawak bikini ke? Pastu paksa orang pakai.

Aku: Pakai! Pakai ni!

Jalang: Tapi ni dedah aurat!

Aku: Abis, kau bogel ni tutup aurat sangatlah tu?

Seluar pendek best mesti bawak. Laptop. Maxis Broadband. Kamera. DSLR tu. Kamera DSLR pinjam. Portable hard-drive. Moleskin notebook.

Kena bawak cap. AKu mana ada cap. Pantat betul la. AKu mana pernah suka pakai topi dalam apa jua bentuk.

Getah sekotak.

Berus gigi. Tuala. Jeans. Seluar pendek kargo. Deodorant. Cologne. Bordeaux. Champagne. Lyon. T-shirt. Kasut. Selipar. Duit belanja dua tiga ratus.

Dan senyuman manis.

Oh Well

I just finished writing three different summaries for telemovies. Some people asked me to do it, so I am.

These days, seems like this is all I've been doing. Concepts. Synopses. Proposals. Not complaining. I'm a big picture kind of guy. I'm not small or petty.

It is also very important. No stage in the production of anything is small or insignificant. It could just be lunch, but if you screw up lunch, you can screw up someone's half-day.

It is not whatever. It is attitude. Some people, put their craft below their individual egos. Oh well. We all walk our different paths. We may come to the same destination. Or not.

Most of these projects, I will hand over to other writers later on. Writers I trust. Writers I respect. I am just nurturing saplings of ideas. Ripe with potential.

Sat down with a very spirited industry person just now, and was inspired somewhat with the fire I see in her eyes.

Ah, to be young again, and enjoy/suffer the passions of youth. To be righteously indignant again. To have a clear idea of what is right, and what is wrong, rather than relying on an innate instinct of the thing.

I am merely the blind swordsman now. I listen. And my instincts have served me more than my senses.

I'm growing older. Not that old. Not yet. But I'll get there. Soon.

For now? Back to work.

Kalau Aku Ada Dua Juta

Kalau aku ada dua juta ringgit Malaysia, aku akan bersara. Mengasingkan diri dari dunia kepahlawanan. Untuk menulis filem.

Tulis pun bukan pasal duit, tapi pasal aku nak buat sesuatu yang baru. Sesuatu yang aku akan berpuas hati.

Aku nak tulis, aku nak terbit. Aku rasa aku taknak jadi pengarah. Pasal aku takde keinginan dan passion untuk mengawal sesuatu produksi. Lagipun, aku tengok ramai pengarah hebat yang masih muda. Bila aku dah tua, diorang nanti jadi power gila.

Tanggungjawab aku adalah untuk menulis filem-filem berikutnya dalam kerjaya aku. Cerita aku ada banyak.

Cerita bapak aku. Cerita mak aku. Cerita abang aku. Cerita orang (insan) dan orang-orang (patung) sekeliling aku.

Cerita aku? Cerita aku muzikal. Gila gay. Emo.

Cerita aku berkerat-kerat dan babaknya ada lebih 300.

Kalau aku ada dua juta, aku bersara.

Aku bayar cukai 29%. Tinggal 1.4 juta. Aku bayar hutang, downpayment untuk rumah dan kereta dan juga belanja makan untuk lima tahun. Cukuplah sekadar 400,000.

Aku simpan sejuta dalam amanah saham peribadi, amanah saham bumiputera/nasional dan selebihnya aku laburkan dalam hartanah dan saham.

Dengan kadar faedah purata, lepas lima tahun, sejuta tu dah kasi aku lebih daripada 500,000.

Aku duduk je, relaks kat kondo tepi pantai di Cherating (RM400,000). AKu bangun pagi, bekerja keras di gym(keahlian = RM1440 setahun). Pastu aku naik kereta 4WD (20,000 second hand. Second hand je) pergi melawat mak bapak aku dan projek basmi kemiskinan yang aku buat.

AKu lunch kat kampung aku. Pastu dah petang, aku balik kondo, masuk gym balik.

Masa senja, aku naik kuda aku. Di tepi pantai.

Malam-malam, aku menulis.

Sekali sebulan, aku datang KL, naik kereta aku (minyak dan tol = RM200 sekali pergi) untuk berbual dengan pembikin filem yang lain.

Lepas aku menang Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, aku bawak segerombolan go go girl Siam datang parti kat rumah aku.

Yeah! Yeah!

Satu hari, bila aku dah tua, dan nak mampus, orang kampung pantai Cherating akan bawak jamung nak bakar aku. Pasal diorang cakap aku setan.

Aku overdose morfin dulu, siap-siap, pastu diorang bakar rumah aku di tepi pantai.

Satu-satunya kesan peninggalan aku di dunia ni hanya arang dan abu di kawasan pembakaran rumah.

Lepas setahun dua, kayu arang dan abu pun dah takde.

Tu jelah cerita aku.

Selesai.

Orang Gasar di Pintu Pagar: Sebuah Puisi

Kalau takut ribut meraung
Jangan berumah di tepi pantai
Hajat di hati memeluk gunung
Apakan daya, tangan tak sampai

Kalau kail panjang sejengkal
Jangan lautan dalam hendak diduga
Kalau memang orang yang dangkal
Meludah ke langit, terkena ke muka

Mentimun hendak menggelek durian
Menepuk air di dalam dulang
Satu jari menunjuk ke bulan
Empat lagi menusuk ke tulang

Kalau ke kelong pun, masih lapar
Usah khuatir, tak perlu gusar
Aku hanyalah seorang gasar
Sedang menunggu di pintu pagar

Orang Gasar di Pintu Pagar

Maafkan aku.

Aku bukan orang budiman. Aku orang gasar (barbarian kata omputih).

Gila. Liar. Penakluk kemusnahan.

Kau mungkin nampak aku tadi, dengan penuh kegemilangan, merentap tombol pintu. Memusing penuh rakus. Hampir patah besinya.

Bukan aku sengaja.

Bukan aku sengaja, membuka pintu neraka. Menarik-narik baju dan seluar, menghamparkannya di atas sofa. Mengunci pintu selepas berbogel.

Dan berlari masuk dalam bilik air. Untuk berak.

Ahhhhhh...

Sekarang, selepas berak, aku mengarang karya yang bakal dibaca oleh anak cucu korang. Pasal orang gasar di pintu pagar. Pergi berak waktu malam terang bulan.

The Hang Nadim Syndrome: No One was Killed in the Writing of This Blog Post

According to Dr Oz, a healthy shit is green in colour, and sinks. Shit that floats have too much cholesterol and oil and fat.

Judging by this bit of info, I have pretty good shit. It's not green, as that would be weird. It's kind of grayish-brown in colour. And it sinks!

I take a dump twice a day, and had just done the first session this morning. One more later in the evening.

A good shit is important. As well as a good fart. Because any gasses and waste not released will eventually be absorbed back into the bloodstream. Especially gasses. Gasses need to be released regularly. I fart constantly to ensure that I do not become those people who have hot air go to their brains.

I like my head and the cavity where my heart should have been (but I have no heart) to be filled with good stuff, not one to be full of shit.

Running Themes

There are some themes that keep on recurring in my life. Sometimes, it's a resonance of sorts.

I wake up, with as many ideas and decisions for an entire week, month or year.

So it's like Lost. I wake up.

I never get any ideas while crapping in the toilet. Not for me. I get ideas as I talk to people. SOmetimes, I feel as if I was the vessel for some Ancient Spirit of Evil who was speaking through me.

That's how I write. I have a rudimentary idea of how things go, and then I just do it, and everything comes out.

Me as a vessel. That's another theme.

Irony is another. I would be in situations where the roles are reversed. I appreciate it, even with differing circumstances.

Another is planning. I plan for everything, but they never come true. They always turn out better than I expected or planned for.

Oh well.

My Family: A Portrait

Happiness of the Katakuris

Last night, I got some people asking me about the secret to happiness.

I was like, "Wha?"

And they were all like, "Blahblahblahblah."

Hell, man. I don't have the secret to happiness. I know what makes me happy. And that is enough for me.

Some of them were like, "This thing doesn't make me happy, but it will make my parents happy."

Stop right there.

After going through endless drama with my own parents, I can say for sure that parents are happy when you are happy. As to what makes you happy, well, you have to figure that out yourself.

When I told my parents that I was not going to be a doctor, they were shocked. Aghast. Angry.

"If you're a doctor, you can take care of me when I'm old," said my father.

I thought that was selfish, and was just so that they could tell their friends that their son is a doctor.

Probably so, but at that young age, I had a sense, a notion, that I would never enjoy life as a doctor. As a medical researcher, maybe, but not a doctor. Too much responsibility.

So I offered my parents something else - a peace offering. I was going to be an engineer.

Then, I discovered that engineering students have to draw shit. I HATE drawing shit. So I said no.

I wanted to take languages, but my parents HATE anything in the arts spectrum. They wanted me to take something technical.

So I took up Computer Science - a compromise. It was a technical subject with languages in it. Programming languages.

"Only stupid people take computer science," said my father.

I grit my teeth. And finished that.

In my final semester, I joined a cult and was convinced that I need to go and do something I like, consequences be damned.

So I graduated, and became a writer instead.

"I want to write for a living," I said.

"What are you going to write?" asked my family.

"Comic books."

There were much screaming and yelling.

I sent my resume to 54 different companies. The first one got me a real job.

Years later, after much drama, my father asked me this.

"Are you happy?"

"Huh?"

"Happy. Are you happy?"

"Well, it's all right. I'll never be rich, but it's fun."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

See, this is the one thing I do understand about my family. They have my best interests at heart, but they have no idea what is best for me.

I am a Metal Monkey, so I get bored easily. With stuff. With people. Writing stuff - a different story each day, a different assignment - that keeps me interested. No assignment is stupid. Each article is a masterpiece for a few hours. And then you let go.

Some people are interesting, from afar. As ideas, as concepts. I even fell in love with the idea of a person for a while. But as soon as you get near, all the sordid details will be revealed.

People defecate and salivate and ejaculate and menstruate. It can kill any romance.

With the family, all I have to do is take care of myself. Cause my parents, in their twilight years, are not taking care of themselves and that makes me go ballistic at times.

Yes, they will compare their kids to others', because they don't know any better. Parents are humans, not idols to be worshipped. They are not models of God. They are infinitely human, with human insecurities and flaws. They will make mistakes and continue to do so, as that is their nature.

The only thing you have to concern yourself with is your own happiness. No one thing makes you happy. No one makes you happy. Happiness as well as misery, I find, is a decision.

Choose wisely.

Woke Up in the Morning... Evening?

Man. Panadol, cough syrup, and some genius juice. Knocked me out till 3.40pm.

I was up till like, what, 6am?

Fortunately, most of my meetings cancelled today. I'm just going to be at home and relax.

Last week, it was all about my family. Still reeling from the after effects. This week, I'm going to do a lot of things before I leave for Langkawi.

Three days, two nights of work at Langkawi. Man.

Well, I'm not complaining.

Should I go back to sleep, or should I just hang around until this week's rations of TV series is here?

Cheerio!