I got back at 10.30pm from watching The Drive - a new horror play at The Actors' Studio. I immediately went for an important meeting and soon after managed to catch the cast at supper.
Having managed to tell the sole actress in the play that I believe I saw her bits of her undergarments on stage as I was situated quite strategically smack in the middle of the rows, I went home around 12 midnight to finish some work stuff.
However, I must say that The Drive is an entertaining show. One of the more entertaining plays I have seen in recent years. This is saying a lot, for me, since I abhor horror movies - accompanying one of my good friends to watch Twilight as the extent of how much horror I can take. Since it is Twilight, I must say I am quite a brave soul.
ANyway, The Drive follows much of the tropes of horror. And by tropes, I am using a more polite word for cliche. Nothing wrong here. If the cast and crew were to hope for more audience participation, some of them might get punches in the face instead.
The story is about three friends on a drive to an old abandoned asylum. Horror hijinks ensue, as the story became a frame for other tales.
The acting was okay, with some good scenes and some less so. If anything, The Ride suffers from an uneven feel. However, this does not distract from the enjoyment as well as the comedy thrown in.
There is a certain issue on the setting of the play - whether it was local or in the States - but it is a minor detail. For most.
A message for people who like to talk during theatrical performances - don't. The cast cannot hear your warnings and in fact, if they do, might miss their cues.
I recommend The Drive for those who like horror. It is a bit off season as the Americans are celebrating Thanksgiving - a play around turkey and masturbation might be more topical - but it was all in good fun.
If anything, it is heartening to see genre stories on stage. Shakespeare is great, but seriously, fuck Shakespeare. And fuck expositioning to the audience. Nobody gives a shit you got fucked by your uncle 20 years ago. I mean, sorry to hear that, but walk it off or go to a group therapy thingy.
The Drive is a refreshing performance and story. It's not perfect, but it's enjoyable.
Side Note: I want to see a Namron play or movie. I believe Namron to be one of the most underrated and unappreciated writers or directors in Malaysia. The man has a wealth of talent, knowledge and experience. I'd pay 50 bucks to see his shows.
Side Note 2: I noticed that I did not put in driving or golfing puns into the drive. The absence of puns is intended.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
V for Vagina
A lot of people say a lot of things about Malaysia. Especially Malaysians. Some people say we are heading for a more mature democracy.
However, I hardly find anything we do as mature. In fact, I find most people here as infantile as ever. Some are stuck in kindergarten, others in primary schools, and some, even more barbaric, in high school.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I am not saying right here that you are all stupid. I do call you stupid, but not here. I'm talking about maturity here in this article.
It is strange that a man who favours fart jokes and toilet humour would even deign to lecture on maturity, but here we are.
I find that we as a society - all of us - as being held back from maturity, which I will define as the ability to have two or more opposing thoughts in one's mind without going crazy.
I see the schemes being cooked up by people who consider themselves smart, and I do not even frown on their evil or the amount of bad karma it will produce. I am simply stunned at the sheer clunkiness - the unclean arrogance of it all.
Once you speak - once words leave your lips, do you expect that the people around you will never repeat it? Do you really believe that your motives are invisible? That no one will know? That you can get away with it? Your secret hate and thoughts.
Oh, humanity, you make me laugh. Sadly.
Politicians are stupid or behave in a stupid manner because they are merely aping what they see. They are popularity hounds, seeking as much airtime and facetime and celebrity as anyone else. Because if they get noticed, if they are liked, you will vote for them. Without even thinking what that means to your jobs, your health, money, your present and your future. Sometimes, also your past.
Politicians constantly do stupid things because they think you are stupid, and by golly, yes you are.
They say, people deserve the Government they get. And to me, I have long stopped differentiating between the BN and PR people as separate. They are a system designed to enslave us, and we are too stupid, too infantile to recognise it together, as a society.
As a member of my generation, I am duty-bound to point out the mistakes of our system. The flaws. The mistakes. The ugliness. That is our jobs.
And I believe that politicians are merely the symptoms of a cancer that will very soon consume us all. And that disease, is our lack of maturity. In everything.
It is a cold night tonight. Rain keeps falling down. Say goodbye to the static numbness of your TV sets, or the illegally downloaded porn on your computers. And say hello to the Voice of Fate.
However, I hardly find anything we do as mature. In fact, I find most people here as infantile as ever. Some are stuck in kindergarten, others in primary schools, and some, even more barbaric, in high school.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I am not saying right here that you are all stupid. I do call you stupid, but not here. I'm talking about maturity here in this article.
It is strange that a man who favours fart jokes and toilet humour would even deign to lecture on maturity, but here we are.
I find that we as a society - all of us - as being held back from maturity, which I will define as the ability to have two or more opposing thoughts in one's mind without going crazy.
I see the schemes being cooked up by people who consider themselves smart, and I do not even frown on their evil or the amount of bad karma it will produce. I am simply stunned at the sheer clunkiness - the unclean arrogance of it all.
Once you speak - once words leave your lips, do you expect that the people around you will never repeat it? Do you really believe that your motives are invisible? That no one will know? That you can get away with it? Your secret hate and thoughts.
Oh, humanity, you make me laugh. Sadly.
Politicians are stupid or behave in a stupid manner because they are merely aping what they see. They are popularity hounds, seeking as much airtime and facetime and celebrity as anyone else. Because if they get noticed, if they are liked, you will vote for them. Without even thinking what that means to your jobs, your health, money, your present and your future. Sometimes, also your past.
Politicians constantly do stupid things because they think you are stupid, and by golly, yes you are.
They say, people deserve the Government they get. And to me, I have long stopped differentiating between the BN and PR people as separate. They are a system designed to enslave us, and we are too stupid, too infantile to recognise it together, as a society.
As a member of my generation, I am duty-bound to point out the mistakes of our system. The flaws. The mistakes. The ugliness. That is our jobs.
And I believe that politicians are merely the symptoms of a cancer that will very soon consume us all. And that disease, is our lack of maturity. In everything.
It is a cold night tonight. Rain keeps falling down. Say goodbye to the static numbness of your TV sets, or the illegally downloaded porn on your computers. And say hello to the Voice of Fate.
Happy Birthday, Alam
Today is my old editor Zainal Alam Kadir's birthday. He hates to be reminded, he said, of the number that seems to be growing bigger each year.
I believe it's a cool thing. I can't wait to reach 40, because I was born an old man. When my contemporaries were busy partying in clubs, I was in a pub somewhere, reading the papers every night.
But this is not about me. Alam was my first real editor, and one of the three legendary journalists whom I look up to, and with the other two completes the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe trio.
I remember that the four plus years when we worked together at The Malay Mail at Balai Berita, we had around 2 and a half meetings in total. I could come in at 11am, and would go back sometimes, at 8 in the morning the next day.
I had two nervous breakdowns - both invisible and not at the office - and was hospitalised for stress-related illnesses four times. I didn't mind. I don't think any of us did, because Alam was - is - such a strong character, a great boss, and a fantastic teacher.
He would give you tasks and didn't care how you did it, as long as it got done. You want to come in at 5pm? Once a month? Sure. Where are the stories?
The reason why we produced so many stories - I was averaging three features a day, sometimes six, before one burnout - was because no story ever went to waste. We were doing some good work, and it showed. There was value in our work. And the person to determine the value was him, the editor.
I believe it is a credit to the man that as long as he was there, there was no chance for politics. There were no backstabbings or clunky, clumsy maneuverings simply because Alam held the biggest hammer and the only way you can kiss ass is by doing a lot of work. A LOT.
Each person I worked under have different management styles. Some are relaxed, while others are meticulous to the point of generating hatred. Alam's style is mixed. Sometimes, he simply tweaks a few things and your story is out. Other times, I have seen him tear through some people's work and it is not a pretty sight. Whatever it is, we knew that our stuff were in good hands.
I've worked with the man across many different platforms and media. I can safely say that he is the country's most effective creative man, the best that we have, bar none.
He can draw, write, sing, act, host, cook, produce (both albums and TV/movies) and anything else that comes to mind. His Mee Bandung Muar takes 12 hours of preparation - a testament to what kind of a person he is.
Alam intimidates people. Especially insecure ones, because there is no way they can look good when he's around. I do not even consider myself Alam's equal, though with my new age leanings, I recognise that everything and everyone is connected.
We've had our differences and I have worked for years to be out of his shadow - so great is his talent. Nowadays, I am still proud to call him my friend, and to have trained under him - one of, if not the best writers/editors/hosts/producers/singers in Malaysia.
Cheers!
I believe it's a cool thing. I can't wait to reach 40, because I was born an old man. When my contemporaries were busy partying in clubs, I was in a pub somewhere, reading the papers every night.
But this is not about me. Alam was my first real editor, and one of the three legendary journalists whom I look up to, and with the other two completes the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe trio.
I remember that the four plus years when we worked together at The Malay Mail at Balai Berita, we had around 2 and a half meetings in total. I could come in at 11am, and would go back sometimes, at 8 in the morning the next day.
I had two nervous breakdowns - both invisible and not at the office - and was hospitalised for stress-related illnesses four times. I didn't mind. I don't think any of us did, because Alam was - is - such a strong character, a great boss, and a fantastic teacher.
He would give you tasks and didn't care how you did it, as long as it got done. You want to come in at 5pm? Once a month? Sure. Where are the stories?
The reason why we produced so many stories - I was averaging three features a day, sometimes six, before one burnout - was because no story ever went to waste. We were doing some good work, and it showed. There was value in our work. And the person to determine the value was him, the editor.
I believe it is a credit to the man that as long as he was there, there was no chance for politics. There were no backstabbings or clunky, clumsy maneuverings simply because Alam held the biggest hammer and the only way you can kiss ass is by doing a lot of work. A LOT.
Each person I worked under have different management styles. Some are relaxed, while others are meticulous to the point of generating hatred. Alam's style is mixed. Sometimes, he simply tweaks a few things and your story is out. Other times, I have seen him tear through some people's work and it is not a pretty sight. Whatever it is, we knew that our stuff were in good hands.
I've worked with the man across many different platforms and media. I can safely say that he is the country's most effective creative man, the best that we have, bar none.
He can draw, write, sing, act, host, cook, produce (both albums and TV/movies) and anything else that comes to mind. His Mee Bandung Muar takes 12 hours of preparation - a testament to what kind of a person he is.
Alam intimidates people. Especially insecure ones, because there is no way they can look good when he's around. I do not even consider myself Alam's equal, though with my new age leanings, I recognise that everything and everyone is connected.
We've had our differences and I have worked for years to be out of his shadow - so great is his talent. Nowadays, I am still proud to call him my friend, and to have trained under him - one of, if not the best writers/editors/hosts/producers/singers in Malaysia.
Cheers!
Friday, November 11, 2011
Off the Fasttrack
I live in a fast world. Everything whizzes by so fast these days, and I am an old man.
Let me ask you a question - when was the iPad launched? Three years ago? Six years ago? Nope. It was last year. June of last year. And yet it feels like it's always been there.
Ideas that seemed revolutionary just a few months or weeks ago are now stale. Lame. Boring. This is why I liked journalism. Every day, it's a new thing, a new story.
I generate and chuck out ideas at an alarming speed. I think of them, fall in love with them, and then I throw them out.
However, while I follow the tempo, the rhythm for idea genesis, I am still a traditionalist when it comes to certain things. I believe that certain things should be meditated on, and for some craft to be allowed time.
Because being fast and pretending to act like you're fast are two extremely different things. If, at the end of the day, you consume the same amount of time to do things properly, why waste time and energy on acting?
Whenever I sit down in front of a keyboard, I turn off all external bullshit. People might be killing each other, bleeding themselves with blunt rulers or some shit, they can say and yell and sing all the fuck they want. I'll be in my world, and in it, time stops, all noise die down. There is absolutely nothing, except myself and my work.
Because, really, fuck everything else. That's all bullshit. All unnecessary, all for the ego. All lies and manipulation. The evils of the world stemming from deep-seated insecurities.
So, take your time. Relax. Take a deep breath, and do whatever. Cause no one and nothing is worth anything. We are all, to quote Tyler Durden, the same all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
Humans are like a virus.
Let me ask you a question - when was the iPad launched? Three years ago? Six years ago? Nope. It was last year. June of last year. And yet it feels like it's always been there.
Ideas that seemed revolutionary just a few months or weeks ago are now stale. Lame. Boring. This is why I liked journalism. Every day, it's a new thing, a new story.
I generate and chuck out ideas at an alarming speed. I think of them, fall in love with them, and then I throw them out.
However, while I follow the tempo, the rhythm for idea genesis, I am still a traditionalist when it comes to certain things. I believe that certain things should be meditated on, and for some craft to be allowed time.
Because being fast and pretending to act like you're fast are two extremely different things. If, at the end of the day, you consume the same amount of time to do things properly, why waste time and energy on acting?
Whenever I sit down in front of a keyboard, I turn off all external bullshit. People might be killing each other, bleeding themselves with blunt rulers or some shit, they can say and yell and sing all the fuck they want. I'll be in my world, and in it, time stops, all noise die down. There is absolutely nothing, except myself and my work.
Because, really, fuck everything else. That's all bullshit. All unnecessary, all for the ego. All lies and manipulation. The evils of the world stemming from deep-seated insecurities.
So, take your time. Relax. Take a deep breath, and do whatever. Cause no one and nothing is worth anything. We are all, to quote Tyler Durden, the same all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
Humans are like a virus.
Pornographicology
One of the more disturbing porn I have seen in recent years was not really porn. I couldn't classify it as that. Not really.
I mean, it has all the necessary fucking. There's one in the beginning which is mostly just nudity, to entice and set things up for the rest of the story. Two fucks in the middle, and one - the pay-off - at the end.
However, the story constantly wanders off to tell the tale about the characters - an old Japanese farmer suffering from dementia who 'milks' his daughter-in-law every morning. He thinks she's a cow called 'Bessie'. The girl allowed him to do so just to go along with his dementia, and also because she, too, wants to fuck him. INCEST!
See, the girl's husband and the farmer's son had died and two of them live alone in a secluded farmhouse that is nearing financial ruin. Both are horny, and you can expect what the finale is a mile away.
What disturbed me were two things. One was that after one daughter of the farmer comes back from the city and gets fucked for cash by an old lover who raped her when she was a teen (sordid past! three-dimensional characters! wow!), we immediately cut from heavy, loud fucking, to a visual of the old man - the farmer - masturbating with a bottle of shampoo/body bath.
I was like, fuck! The juxtaposition of raunchy sex and old man masturbating was disturbing enough, but I disagree more with his choice of lubricant.
Anyway, things happen, characters have arcs, and we get a satisfying resolution to the story, even if there was no fucking (there is). The whole story was, in the end, a meditation on caregiving for the baby boomers, isolation and dementia.
What I can say is that this porn has more depth than most shit I see on TV nowadays, which is the second thing that disturbs me. There is care in the acting, the characterisation and each scene, each shot was lovingly done and created a timeless classic. If I were given enough funds someday to do a movie, I would readily employ these actors - porn stars - to act in my film.
They got it where most people don't. I ended up watching the movie again, and fast-forwarding the sex scenes - who wants to see old men fuck young girls anyway - and enjoying the story, the performance and eventual tragedy of the tale.
Pinku eiga - the period of 'pink cinema' in Japanese porn industry is truly a treasure trove of hidden gems and forgotten, discarded masterpieces.
I mean, it has all the necessary fucking. There's one in the beginning which is mostly just nudity, to entice and set things up for the rest of the story. Two fucks in the middle, and one - the pay-off - at the end.
However, the story constantly wanders off to tell the tale about the characters - an old Japanese farmer suffering from dementia who 'milks' his daughter-in-law every morning. He thinks she's a cow called 'Bessie'. The girl allowed him to do so just to go along with his dementia, and also because she, too, wants to fuck him. INCEST!
See, the girl's husband and the farmer's son had died and two of them live alone in a secluded farmhouse that is nearing financial ruin. Both are horny, and you can expect what the finale is a mile away.
What disturbed me were two things. One was that after one daughter of the farmer comes back from the city and gets fucked for cash by an old lover who raped her when she was a teen (sordid past! three-dimensional characters! wow!), we immediately cut from heavy, loud fucking, to a visual of the old man - the farmer - masturbating with a bottle of shampoo/body bath.
I was like, fuck! The juxtaposition of raunchy sex and old man masturbating was disturbing enough, but I disagree more with his choice of lubricant.
Anyway, things happen, characters have arcs, and we get a satisfying resolution to the story, even if there was no fucking (there is). The whole story was, in the end, a meditation on caregiving for the baby boomers, isolation and dementia.
What I can say is that this porn has more depth than most shit I see on TV nowadays, which is the second thing that disturbs me. There is care in the acting, the characterisation and each scene, each shot was lovingly done and created a timeless classic. If I were given enough funds someday to do a movie, I would readily employ these actors - porn stars - to act in my film.
They got it where most people don't. I ended up watching the movie again, and fast-forwarding the sex scenes - who wants to see old men fuck young girls anyway - and enjoying the story, the performance and eventual tragedy of the tale.
Pinku eiga - the period of 'pink cinema' in Japanese porn industry is truly a treasure trove of hidden gems and forgotten, discarded masterpieces.
Pantun Mencarut Tanpa Alasan
Sorong konek, tarik konek
Biji kelentit dalam perahu
Bapanya borek, anaknya rintik
Emaknya tak pernah mencukur bulu
Konek emas di dalam seluar
Gosok sebiji di atas puki
Pantat mak kau macam kelawar
Ada sayap, telinga dan gigi
Kalau puki, katakan puki
Tidaklah kami menggosok biji
Kalau berlaki, tunjukkan laki
Tidaklah kami menjilat si isteri
Kalau ada puki di ladang
Boleh kami menumpang pantat
Kalau ada biji yang panjang
Itu kelentit, atau ketuat?
Biji kelentit dalam perahu
Bapanya borek, anaknya rintik
Emaknya tak pernah mencukur bulu
Konek emas di dalam seluar
Gosok sebiji di atas puki
Pantat mak kau macam kelawar
Ada sayap, telinga dan gigi
Kalau puki, katakan puki
Tidaklah kami menggosok biji
Kalau berlaki, tunjukkan laki
Tidaklah kami menjilat si isteri
Kalau ada puki di ladang
Boleh kami menumpang pantat
Kalau ada biji yang panjang
Itu kelentit, atau ketuat?
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Vagabond: Decoder Rings and Toy Swords
Earlier in life, influenced by tons of manga and anime, I decided to follow the philosophies of the samurai. I was young and stupid. Now, I am slightly older and still as dumb as I was. With one difference - I found out that the Code of Bushido, the Book of Five Rings as written by Miyamoto Musashi himself, was a lie.
There are allegedly historical records saying that the Samurai did not have a death before dishonor code. Far from it. There are accounts, written by the samurai themselves that tells of fort sieges.
It went something like this:
"We laid siege for two weeks, thinking this shit will be over in one. So we went home."
The samurais, with their armies, went home. Death before dishonor my ass. So I wandered the land, a vagabond, shocked at realising that this philosophy was a lie concocted simply because samurais wanted to continue getting an allowance from the Tokugawa government. See, after the Battle of Sekigahara and several other smaller battles, Tokugawa Ieyasu became shogun and united all of Japan. The feudal wars were mostly over and samurais - gods of war during more turbulent times - find themselves hardly relevant in peace times, but continue to receive money from the state. Just in case war breaks out again and Tokugawa needed some generalising.
So there I was, all that was taught me, ultimately, tragically and pathetically, a lie.
Did I lie down and allow myself to be raped by Imperial dogs? No! I decided that if generations of people can subscribe to a lie as a guiding philosophy, so shall I.
I decided to construct my own code, cobbled together from comic books. Tells of the same shit. Honour, loyalty, all that jazz.
Later on in life, I was like, fuck all this shit, and came up with my own code. I have no morals, just a few ethics. And right now, my code tells me I need to go to sleep and get ready for another day tomorrow.
There is no one who can guide me, except myself. There is no one who would listen, except myself. There can be only one truth, and I am the only one who can tell me what it is.
I am Lucifer! Called the Morningstar! And I shall carve my own kingdom with my own hands, and wear my crown upon a troubled brow. By this dick, I rule.
There are allegedly historical records saying that the Samurai did not have a death before dishonor code. Far from it. There are accounts, written by the samurai themselves that tells of fort sieges.
It went something like this:
"We laid siege for two weeks, thinking this shit will be over in one. So we went home."
The samurais, with their armies, went home. Death before dishonor my ass. So I wandered the land, a vagabond, shocked at realising that this philosophy was a lie concocted simply because samurais wanted to continue getting an allowance from the Tokugawa government. See, after the Battle of Sekigahara and several other smaller battles, Tokugawa Ieyasu became shogun and united all of Japan. The feudal wars were mostly over and samurais - gods of war during more turbulent times - find themselves hardly relevant in peace times, but continue to receive money from the state. Just in case war breaks out again and Tokugawa needed some generalising.
So there I was, all that was taught me, ultimately, tragically and pathetically, a lie.
Did I lie down and allow myself to be raped by Imperial dogs? No! I decided that if generations of people can subscribe to a lie as a guiding philosophy, so shall I.
I decided to construct my own code, cobbled together from comic books. Tells of the same shit. Honour, loyalty, all that jazz.
Later on in life, I was like, fuck all this shit, and came up with my own code. I have no morals, just a few ethics. And right now, my code tells me I need to go to sleep and get ready for another day tomorrow.
There is no one who can guide me, except myself. There is no one who would listen, except myself. There can be only one truth, and I am the only one who can tell me what it is.
I am Lucifer! Called the Morningstar! And I shall carve my own kingdom with my own hands, and wear my crown upon a troubled brow. By this dick, I rule.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Good Cop, Bad Cop, Cop a Feel
I was called in the morning today, to see some people about something, and we had a nice chat. During the conversation, I was told that the easiest way to make money in Malaysia nowadays is to advise politicians on their PR strategy, with particular interest on their Internet presence and persona.
So, as the world's greatest Internet image consultant, I was going to display my gargantuan brain by listing out several basic tips on cultivating an effective political online persona.
Instead, I decided to just write about sex education in Malaysian schools.
They say that there is no sex education in school. I beg to differ. I was eight years old, I think, when my Islamic Studies teacher said, "You can't have sex with your wife if she's having her period."
And I was like, "What the fuck is period?"
For years after that, there has been an obsession about periods. Apparently, women in their periods can't fast, can't fuck, can't perform the Haj, have to find other ways to 'pleasure their husbands' and that fucking doggie style is prohibited because Jews fuck from behind. Which leads me to having images of Muslim clerics watching Jewish porn in their offices. Because how else can you know about Jewish sex habits, if not for Jewish porn?
There is no need for sex education in Malaysian schools because, after going through the system, I can safely say that sex is taught quite openly as part of religion. There is an obsession about periods, or bleeding pussies, pregnancies, and taking baths after you have either ejaculated or menstruated, before you can pray and fast and stuff.
Barbaric, you say? Well, what right have you - or anyone - to judge how people want to live their lives?
Look at the liberals - always asking people not to judge them. But they judge those who judge them all the time. How can you preach tolerance when you are intolerant of intolerance?
I asked these questions when I was in my 20s. I'm an old man now. These days, I just laugh at people. And wank.
So, as the world's greatest Internet image consultant, I was going to display my gargantuan brain by listing out several basic tips on cultivating an effective political online persona.
Instead, I decided to just write about sex education in Malaysian schools.
They say that there is no sex education in school. I beg to differ. I was eight years old, I think, when my Islamic Studies teacher said, "You can't have sex with your wife if she's having her period."
And I was like, "What the fuck is period?"
For years after that, there has been an obsession about periods. Apparently, women in their periods can't fast, can't fuck, can't perform the Haj, have to find other ways to 'pleasure their husbands' and that fucking doggie style is prohibited because Jews fuck from behind. Which leads me to having images of Muslim clerics watching Jewish porn in their offices. Because how else can you know about Jewish sex habits, if not for Jewish porn?
There is no need for sex education in Malaysian schools because, after going through the system, I can safely say that sex is taught quite openly as part of religion. There is an obsession about periods, or bleeding pussies, pregnancies, and taking baths after you have either ejaculated or menstruated, before you can pray and fast and stuff.
Barbaric, you say? Well, what right have you - or anyone - to judge how people want to live their lives?
Look at the liberals - always asking people not to judge them. But they judge those who judge them all the time. How can you preach tolerance when you are intolerant of intolerance?
I asked these questions when I was in my 20s. I'm an old man now. These days, I just laugh at people. And wank.
Prometheus Unbound
It's 2.40am. Time for some MEGALOMANIA!
YEAH!
I'm the best there is, the best there was and the best there ever will be. The excellence of execution. The cerebral assassin. The king of kings.
Vocare Ad Regnum!
The stealer of wrestlers' hype. The bringer of rain! I am Spartacus, bitch! While you're just a wannabe snitch.
Fuck the haters. They be in the bathroom with their turkey basters, thinking about cellulite-ridden strippers. Talkin' like they be gangsters. Huh. Walk it off, you fucking masturbators!
YEAH!
I'm the best there is, the best there was and the best there ever will be. The excellence of execution. The cerebral assassin. The king of kings.
Vocare Ad Regnum!
The stealer of wrestlers' hype. The bringer of rain! I am Spartacus, bitch! While you're just a wannabe snitch.
Fuck the haters. They be in the bathroom with their turkey basters, thinking about cellulite-ridden strippers. Talkin' like they be gangsters. Huh. Walk it off, you fucking masturbators!
Humens Must Fight for Freedome!
Freeeeedom! I'm not making sense, but fuck it. Fuck it!
This is like, what? The fifth blog post? Fuck it!
Magika won at Anugerah Skrin after its earlier victory at FFM. As part of the team that did it, I'm pretty chuffed.
I'd like to do more kids movies. Buttt, we'll see.
More stuff coming. But first, I just want to rest. It's been a long week. With a non-sexual happy ending.
This is like, what? The fifth blog post? Fuck it!
Magika won at Anugerah Skrin after its earlier victory at FFM. As part of the team that did it, I'm pretty chuffed.
I'd like to do more kids movies. Buttt, we'll see.
More stuff coming. But first, I just want to rest. It's been a long week. With a non-sexual happy ending.
Wrath
I am pissed off!
For years, I was confused with the shows Webster, starring Emannuel Lewis, and Different Strokes, starring Gary Coleman.
WHat the fuck, man? TV got me confused between two midget black people.
For years, I was confused with the shows Webster, starring Emannuel Lewis, and Different Strokes, starring Gary Coleman.
WHat the fuck, man? TV got me confused between two midget black people.
Soapbox: PPSMI
Well, suddenly I am getting requests to write about the PPSMI issue. Since Magika won best film - again! - this time at Anugerah Skrin 2011, I guess I'll just comment on the issue.
My main concern is for the Government not to flip-flop on their decision on PPSMI. If you want Malaysian kids to study maths and science in English, then keep it that way. If you want them to study in BM, then keep it that way. FOREVER.
Any leader that flip-flops is a weak leader, Uncle Najib. Make a stand, and hold your ground. FOREVER.
Fuck being a populist. A populist is a dumbass who sways according to whoever last told him/her off. And you don't even have to be shouting and yelling in an angry voice to have a backbone. Just relax, clear your head, and stand your ground.
Because this shit is not scientific. Opponents to PPSMI cite shortage of textbooks. Well, call me! Give me a fat, juicy Government contract and I'll furnish every child of primary and secondary school age in Malaysia with books. Add enough money, and I'll do it double time.
If I'm no good, get someone else. Within 10 years, the shortage of textbooks can be solved.
I have always believed that learning other languages is key to opening your minds up to stuff and shit. I believe that every one in Malaysia, regardless of age, should take up an extra language, constantly, on top of what they already know.
I'm going to polish up on my Japanese soon. I don't give a shit.
Also, I believe that people who blame everything on education as fucktards. Education is NOT the magic bullet.
I come from a swamp. Blah blah blah. What I saw was poverty all around me. No matter what language you teach them kids, it won't make a difference if other shit are blasting their influence on them from all sides, 24 hours a day.
And while they're at it, some don't have enough nutritious food to even keep their brains alive.
Food, shelter, clothes. Those three first. THEN we talk education.
The task of improving our citizens will not be solved with a temporary Government edict. It will take generations, and the first step is admitting that yes, Malaysians are not that rich.
In KL, you can splurge on a lot of shit. You can spend RM25 on a pint of Hoegaarden. You can buy RM100 single-plate meals. Or pay RM1,000 per head to eat chrysanthemum tempura. What the fuck are the rural folks eating?
I believe that if we disregard the welfare of the poor, the really poor kids will come and rob us in 10 years. They will rape us, kill us and take all our shit. They will not discriminate between the rich (Francis Yeoh) and the barely-made-it (me). Because they would have nothing left to lose.
So PPSMI is an issue, yes, but I believe it is hardly the gravest issue. Neither is sexual equality the gravest issue this country is facing. I believe that we have to tackle poverty FIRST. And get food to these people. Food, for 10 years, vocational training for the next 20, and THEN education 30 years down the line. Or everything at the same time.
A sustained effort for the next 50 years MIGHT make a DENT. Anything else? Is bullshit.
My main concern is for the Government not to flip-flop on their decision on PPSMI. If you want Malaysian kids to study maths and science in English, then keep it that way. If you want them to study in BM, then keep it that way. FOREVER.
Any leader that flip-flops is a weak leader, Uncle Najib. Make a stand, and hold your ground. FOREVER.
Fuck being a populist. A populist is a dumbass who sways according to whoever last told him/her off. And you don't even have to be shouting and yelling in an angry voice to have a backbone. Just relax, clear your head, and stand your ground.
Because this shit is not scientific. Opponents to PPSMI cite shortage of textbooks. Well, call me! Give me a fat, juicy Government contract and I'll furnish every child of primary and secondary school age in Malaysia with books. Add enough money, and I'll do it double time.
If I'm no good, get someone else. Within 10 years, the shortage of textbooks can be solved.
I have always believed that learning other languages is key to opening your minds up to stuff and shit. I believe that every one in Malaysia, regardless of age, should take up an extra language, constantly, on top of what they already know.
I'm going to polish up on my Japanese soon. I don't give a shit.
Also, I believe that people who blame everything on education as fucktards. Education is NOT the magic bullet.
I come from a swamp. Blah blah blah. What I saw was poverty all around me. No matter what language you teach them kids, it won't make a difference if other shit are blasting their influence on them from all sides, 24 hours a day.
And while they're at it, some don't have enough nutritious food to even keep their brains alive.
Food, shelter, clothes. Those three first. THEN we talk education.
The task of improving our citizens will not be solved with a temporary Government edict. It will take generations, and the first step is admitting that yes, Malaysians are not that rich.
In KL, you can splurge on a lot of shit. You can spend RM25 on a pint of Hoegaarden. You can buy RM100 single-plate meals. Or pay RM1,000 per head to eat chrysanthemum tempura. What the fuck are the rural folks eating?
I believe that if we disregard the welfare of the poor, the really poor kids will come and rob us in 10 years. They will rape us, kill us and take all our shit. They will not discriminate between the rich (Francis Yeoh) and the barely-made-it (me). Because they would have nothing left to lose.
So PPSMI is an issue, yes, but I believe it is hardly the gravest issue. Neither is sexual equality the gravest issue this country is facing. I believe that we have to tackle poverty FIRST. And get food to these people. Food, for 10 years, vocational training for the next 20, and THEN education 30 years down the line. Or everything at the same time.
A sustained effort for the next 50 years MIGHT make a DENT. Anything else? Is bullshit.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Soapbox: Two Straight Guys Talk About Malaysian Homer-Sexuality
So after a long but fun day, I went to have Thai food with one of my close friends.
We're both straight, but somehow the conversation turned to Seksualiti Merdeka - Malaysia's premier gender and sexuality equality rights movement.
Friend: So, this Seksualiti Merdeka thing.
Me: Yeah?
F: What do they want?
Me: Gender equality, I think.
F: You mean, feminism?
Me: No, I mean, well, maybe feminism too, but more like sexual equality.
F: Like what?
Me: I dunno, dude, I'm not gay. I am perhaps reflective of straight ignorance of LGBT struggle.
F: There's a struggle?
Me: I think so.
F: But you started STRET - Straights Towards real Equality and Things - in support of gay rights. What do these gays want?
Me: I'm not really sure, but I support them all the same. Why are you so interested? Are you gay?
F: No, but our friend M*** asked me to ask you.
Me: Why? Do you guys think I'm gay?
F: No, but, you know, you have more gay friends than I do. Are they oppressed?
Me: I... think so. I believe that their plight is more implied. More psychological, more administrative, with some outbursts of physical stuff.
F: Like what? Were they beaten up?
Me: I believe that the chances that some were is very high. Though since there has been no credible research that has been made public, that I know of, I really can't say.
F: I never read about them in the papers.
Me: Look, you're an atheist. Do you feel oppressed? From our majority God-fearing community?
F: Sometimes.
Me: Okay, now I believe that it is not fair for us to assume what the LGBTQWERTY whatever community is up against, since we are not them.
F: Well, they did get Ambiga... which seems fishy.
Me: Why? That they turned to someone who recently made a successful commotion?
F: But why would they want a commotion? Why do they want attention?
Me: I believe that their stories are not getting enough exposure. If I was in their shoes, I'd get everyone, PLUS Ambiga.
F: What's the story?
Me: Maybe that's what they're trying to tell us.
F: You don't think they are just trying to force people to accept them?
Me: I don't know, dude.
F: Lots of things you don't know.
Me: To be fair, I haven't even heard fully what Seksualiti Merdeka - a subset of the LGBT community - is really complaining about. And maybe that IS their point - to put across their point. To people like us. Who don't know what they want.
F: I don't give a shit whether they're gay or not. They get the same treatment from me as everyone else.
Me: I'm sure.
F: What do you think they want? Gay marriage?
Me: Maybe later? I think it's just awareness and creating a support system, not turning straight people into gays.
F: Yeah, that turning people gay thing is bullshit.
I left for home feeling uncomfortable. I believe that everyone should be allowed to express whatever they want, IF THEY WANT TO. Seksualiti Merdeka does not represent the entire gay community, IMHO. They represent a people, trying to express their freedom of speech. Above all else, I believe in freedom.
I am increasingly asked by people concerning Seksualiti Merdeka. I am not sure why. I must state that I am STRAIGHT. Yes, I do watch musicals and am in touch with my emotions, and I am straight.
I do not agree with some of the thinking behind some people, who believe that fighting oppression and discrimination will make it go away. It simply, IMHO, makes it stronger and for the lines dividing us easier to see.
However, if that is the message that any group wants to convey, then I believe we either should help, or get out the way.
The problem with freedom of speech is that you must also allow and/or protect the kind of speech you don't agree with.
I believe that there are more things that make us similar, that binds us together - in a non-liberal way - than things that keep us apart. I believe that everyone and everything is connected. That winning and losing are two sides of the same coin.
And that ultimately, if you are aware and awakened, you will understand that the weapon to end all wars and hatred is not ego or emotion, but acceptance of the world and the nature of the people that God has created.
I hate liars. I hate racists. I hate insecure people. I hate idiots. And if I am strong enough, if I am wise enough, I will find myself in them and open my hearts to them.
But seriously? Fuck Apple zealots.
We're both straight, but somehow the conversation turned to Seksualiti Merdeka - Malaysia's premier gender and sexuality equality rights movement.
Friend: So, this Seksualiti Merdeka thing.
Me: Yeah?
F: What do they want?
Me: Gender equality, I think.
F: You mean, feminism?
Me: No, I mean, well, maybe feminism too, but more like sexual equality.
F: Like what?
Me: I dunno, dude, I'm not gay. I am perhaps reflective of straight ignorance of LGBT struggle.
F: There's a struggle?
Me: I think so.
F: But you started STRET - Straights Towards real Equality and Things - in support of gay rights. What do these gays want?
Me: I'm not really sure, but I support them all the same. Why are you so interested? Are you gay?
F: No, but our friend M*** asked me to ask you.
Me: Why? Do you guys think I'm gay?
F: No, but, you know, you have more gay friends than I do. Are they oppressed?
Me: I... think so. I believe that their plight is more implied. More psychological, more administrative, with some outbursts of physical stuff.
F: Like what? Were they beaten up?
Me: I believe that the chances that some were is very high. Though since there has been no credible research that has been made public, that I know of, I really can't say.
F: I never read about them in the papers.
Me: Look, you're an atheist. Do you feel oppressed? From our majority God-fearing community?
F: Sometimes.
Me: Okay, now I believe that it is not fair for us to assume what the LGBTQWERTY whatever community is up against, since we are not them.
F: Well, they did get Ambiga... which seems fishy.
Me: Why? That they turned to someone who recently made a successful commotion?
F: But why would they want a commotion? Why do they want attention?
Me: I believe that their stories are not getting enough exposure. If I was in their shoes, I'd get everyone, PLUS Ambiga.
F: What's the story?
Me: Maybe that's what they're trying to tell us.
F: You don't think they are just trying to force people to accept them?
Me: I don't know, dude.
F: Lots of things you don't know.
Me: To be fair, I haven't even heard fully what Seksualiti Merdeka - a subset of the LGBT community - is really complaining about. And maybe that IS their point - to put across their point. To people like us. Who don't know what they want.
F: I don't give a shit whether they're gay or not. They get the same treatment from me as everyone else.
Me: I'm sure.
F: What do you think they want? Gay marriage?
Me: Maybe later? I think it's just awareness and creating a support system, not turning straight people into gays.
F: Yeah, that turning people gay thing is bullshit.
I left for home feeling uncomfortable. I believe that everyone should be allowed to express whatever they want, IF THEY WANT TO. Seksualiti Merdeka does not represent the entire gay community, IMHO. They represent a people, trying to express their freedom of speech. Above all else, I believe in freedom.
I am increasingly asked by people concerning Seksualiti Merdeka. I am not sure why. I must state that I am STRAIGHT. Yes, I do watch musicals and am in touch with my emotions, and I am straight.
I do not agree with some of the thinking behind some people, who believe that fighting oppression and discrimination will make it go away. It simply, IMHO, makes it stronger and for the lines dividing us easier to see.
However, if that is the message that any group wants to convey, then I believe we either should help, or get out the way.
The problem with freedom of speech is that you must also allow and/or protect the kind of speech you don't agree with.
I believe that there are more things that make us similar, that binds us together - in a non-liberal way - than things that keep us apart. I believe that everyone and everything is connected. That winning and losing are two sides of the same coin.
And that ultimately, if you are aware and awakened, you will understand that the weapon to end all wars and hatred is not ego or emotion, but acceptance of the world and the nature of the people that God has created.
I hate liars. I hate racists. I hate insecure people. I hate idiots. And if I am strong enough, if I am wise enough, I will find myself in them and open my hearts to them.
But seriously? Fuck Apple zealots.
Nominated!
I got home from dinner and called my mother. She gleefully told me that I had lost in Anugerah Skrin 2011 for both Magika and Hikayat Merong Mahawangsa in the script category.
I was smiling all the way, though, as really, being nominated is enough. I wasn't even aware of the nominations till today, when KRU called me up, and another team, which did the documentary on Yuen Yuet Leng also told me that the docu was up for an award at Skrin.
Even though the movies lost, the documentary won. Muahahahaha! Yeahoo!
This is a step up from FFM. My name was not nominated at all at FFM, but at least my name is there for ASK 2011.
And my team won for the documentary. Muahahaha!
Yeah! I mean, that's what my producer told me just now.
Yuen Yuet Leng is one of Melaysia's living legends. He fought the Communists, became Perak Chief of Police and Sarawak Police Commissioner. I had fun interviewing him. He's like a Malaysian James Bond.
Anyway, I'll savour the moment of being nominated for a while. It's been a great day. Yeah!
I was smiling all the way, though, as really, being nominated is enough. I wasn't even aware of the nominations till today, when KRU called me up, and another team, which did the documentary on Yuen Yuet Leng also told me that the docu was up for an award at Skrin.
Even though the movies lost, the documentary won. Muahahahaha! Yeahoo!
This is a step up from FFM. My name was not nominated at all at FFM, but at least my name is there for ASK 2011.
And my team won for the documentary. Muahahaha!
Yeah! I mean, that's what my producer told me just now.
Yuen Yuet Leng is one of Melaysia's living legends. He fought the Communists, became Perak Chief of Police and Sarawak Police Commissioner. I had fun interviewing him. He's like a Malaysian James Bond.
Anyway, I'll savour the moment of being nominated for a while. It's been a great day. Yeah!
I, Amazo
I'm trying to sleep early because I want to wake up early tomorrow, but I keep waking up.
This time, things just fucking clicked, and I just figured out some shit. I am such a fucking genius! No wonder people are constantly threatened and scared of me.
I amaze myself again. Hahaha! This is the answer to everything! MYreka! I look at myself in the mirror, and discovered that not only am I ruggedly handsome, I am also a fucking genius!
I should pose in the middle of the night, on a building, dressed as a bat.
Someone like me only exists every billion years or so. I pity the lesser primates who call themselves humans.
Dang, I am so fucking smart.
This time, things just fucking clicked, and I just figured out some shit. I am such a fucking genius! No wonder people are constantly threatened and scared of me.
I amaze myself again. Hahaha! This is the answer to everything! MYreka! I look at myself in the mirror, and discovered that not only am I ruggedly handsome, I am also a fucking genius!
I should pose in the middle of the night, on a building, dressed as a bat.
Someone like me only exists every billion years or so. I pity the lesser primates who call themselves humans.
Dang, I am so fucking smart.
Lull
I just woke up from a two-hour nap. It was a restless sleep, but as soon as I woke up from a dream involving weird Japanese TV shows, I felt good and calm again.
Lots of things are happening, and people close to me are going through some tough times. In fact, almost all of them are. My first instinct is of course to help, but I remember now that I am no longer a superhero.
I can't save anyone and the best thing I can do is take care of myself and make sure no one has to worry about me.
There are lots of distraction and I haven't been writing much. All the bullshit will soon pass and I'll be at the keyboards again. I'll be reading again and writing again.
I'll be telling stories again, because at the end of it all, that is all I can do.
Hey, it can't rain all the time.
Now, back to weird Japanese shows.
Lots of things are happening, and people close to me are going through some tough times. In fact, almost all of them are. My first instinct is of course to help, but I remember now that I am no longer a superhero.
I can't save anyone and the best thing I can do is take care of myself and make sure no one has to worry about me.
There are lots of distraction and I haven't been writing much. All the bullshit will soon pass and I'll be at the keyboards again. I'll be reading again and writing again.
I'll be telling stories again, because at the end of it all, that is all I can do.
Hey, it can't rain all the time.
Now, back to weird Japanese shows.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Bedtime
I'm trying to reschedule my sleeping, so I'm going to bed soon. There's nothing to watch on TV anyway, so fuck you guys!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Rerun: Doing Content for a Brave New World
Despite my cheering of the Internet, I'm basically a traditionalist. I'm old school when it comes to writing.
The reason being I was influenced at an early age by classic articles in Reader's Digest. And I believe that since everything goes in cycles, the style would be fresh again very soon, when the current generation comes into power.
They would never have been exposed - most of them anyway - to the style of yesteryear. And after all that focus on the youth, old school will be cool again. If old people live long enough, they will be cool again.
The old school style I like so much can be explained as a hat-wearing, suit-donning 1950s guy who knows what a shoehorn is.
Fuck, man, I'm very bad at explaining styles. Okay, it's like when that boyband sang Uptown Girl, or when Michael Buble did covers of classics. Josh Groban singing Somewhere over the Rainbows for Oprah's farewell.
See, a style is a mentality, a personality. You embody that personality, or you showcase a side of you - becoming a simplified version of yourself - and you speak as that character.
Yeah, yeah, you can say I'm wanking but it's true, it's true. I've met really raucous and lewd people whose writing style is very dignified. All writers I ever knew, are different from their styles. It's an act, a performance. Writers are actors, telling a story.
Ah, fuck it. Time to shut up and write. Fuck off!
The reason being I was influenced at an early age by classic articles in Reader's Digest. And I believe that since everything goes in cycles, the style would be fresh again very soon, when the current generation comes into power.
They would never have been exposed - most of them anyway - to the style of yesteryear. And after all that focus on the youth, old school will be cool again. If old people live long enough, they will be cool again.
The old school style I like so much can be explained as a hat-wearing, suit-donning 1950s guy who knows what a shoehorn is.
Fuck, man, I'm very bad at explaining styles. Okay, it's like when that boyband sang Uptown Girl, or when Michael Buble did covers of classics. Josh Groban singing Somewhere over the Rainbows for Oprah's farewell.
See, a style is a mentality, a personality. You embody that personality, or you showcase a side of you - becoming a simplified version of yourself - and you speak as that character.
Yeah, yeah, you can say I'm wanking but it's true, it's true. I've met really raucous and lewd people whose writing style is very dignified. All writers I ever knew, are different from their styles. It's an act, a performance. Writers are actors, telling a story.
Ah, fuck it. Time to shut up and write. Fuck off!
Rerun
More than a year ago, Ralph Simon - the 'father of ringtones' and Lady Gaga's Internet advisor (please note that Lady Gaga is NUMBER ONE on Twitter and maybe Facebook) - finally articulated RIGHT HERE IN MALAYSIA what I believe is the single most important point concerning traditional, and new media.
"Ask old media - Fox, Universal Pictures, Sony Music, Rupert Murdoch - what is their product, and they would immediately say, 'content'," said the small man at PICC. "Ask Facebook and Google, what their product is, and they would tell you it's 'users'."
Which makes a damn lot of sense. If you ask Mark Zuckerberg, 'what is Facebook's primary selling point'? He's not going to answer, "Uhhh... we have location tagging and big blue buttons." No. He's going to say, "Facebook has over 750 million users, and growing."
Or something like that.
Traditional media is dying out and as part of the generation that helped destroy it, I feel damn fucking proud.
Actually, it's not destroyed. I believe I will die first before Ted Turner. Because Ted Turner is Captain Planet.
You can't fight the Internet on content. Nosirree. I don't believe that you can 'fight'. You can only add to the ocean of content. That's all.
News entities that want to fight the Internet will one day die like a fucking beached whale. Once all the newspaper readers die off in 20-50 years, that's it. You're dead.
And people who try to sell content online as what traditional media has done for the past couple of hundred years are merely doing what that old dude was doing. Roll the boulder up the hill, and watch it slide down again. Roll it up, slide down again.
On the Internet, you don't sell content. You sell user experience to users, and then you sell your numbers to advertisers.
For years, YEARS, I have been telling newspaper people that the ONLY way to make newspapers relevant again is to hand over the control of the paper to the people.
Have them vote on what comes out on the front page. Is it Najib? Is it Rosmah's imaginary diamond ring? Is it Anwar (allegedly) fucking someone in the ass again? Is it a pothole in Balakong? Everybody decides.
Okay, fine, maybe not the front page, but the inner pages.
Get people involved in news creation. Create a sense of ownership for newspapers, by the people. It's their fucking paper. The user experience generated by that would be so fucking tremendous and awesome, that I guaran-damn-tee that readership will increase by SIX BILLION readers.
Newspaper companies would have to cut down all the forests in the world, and everyone would die for lack of oxygen in TWO WEEKS. TWO WEEKS!
You know why I thought of this? Cause:
1. Nobody wants to read anything except their own writing and people who agree with them. Fuck facts. Fuck information. You tell them something they don't like, and they hate you for it. Even if it is true. Like, "The Opposition are just dumb racist fucks who want to embezzle even MORE money than the present Government."
2. News agencies waste a lot of time and resources sending reporters to cover areas where nothing happens. It's like, "Go cover Sepang and see if there's any landslide in two weeks." "Duhhhhh..." "Fuck you! Go cover 'em now!"
Of course, nothing happens and everything is a giant waste of time. And resources.
Instead, why don't we get people to suggest and vote for shit they want covered.
"Say, my daughter is graduating ballet next week. Can you cover that shit?"
"Fuck you, old man! There's a pothole behind my house and I want it covered right now."
Then, we go for a vote where ballet recital gets 1 vote, pothole gets 1 vote and Najib's Budget gets 200 billion votes. Fuck you, ballet recital.
During the days when we were all fighting against alleged control of the media, we all criticised how only a handful determines what comes out in newspapers and on TV. Well, my model breaks the game.
I've been yelling this on my blog since 2003. I've spoken to Government-linked and opposition-linked news outlets. ALL of them I believe - and this is only my own personal opinion - are afraid of relinquishing control.
Bros, Sistas, you never had any goddamn control since 1984? 1983? When the public Internet was born. You lost the grips fully when alt.news was all we had to share news and shit. You lost the battle on IRC. You got KOed for the billionth time, with FB and Twitter.
There is no control. There never was.
So just learn to let go.
Nowadays, I hear even the self-proclaimed information revolutionaries run their mouths with their silly little marketing slogans. They know something's coming, but they don't know jack shit what.
For us content people? Well, there's always a need for writers. For journalists. ESPECIALLY when everyone is a journalist. Look at Tyra Banks and her America's Next Top Model. Opening up the industry of modelling, telling people HOW to model properly did not destroy modelling, but simply increased appreciation for the discipline.
Sharing their recipes did not bankrupt Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver. Hell, they're worth more now than they ever were. Cause you can know the secrets, you can have all the tools, but nobody bakes Beef Wellington like Gordon Ramsay. Nobody can take pictures like Ansel Adams.
Writers and journalists who are afraid to share the techniques and tools of their craft are one-trick ponies and frauds afraid of being exposed. If you're really that damn good, you would share your knowledge.
I have shared what little I know of screenwriting with anyone who showed an interest. You know how many people actually wrote a script based on my advice? ZERO. I guess some people merely love the idea, and wanted to know about the process. They didn't really want to write.
I believe that opening up journalism and writing fully will elevate it into an art-form. Finally. Because it is an art-form.
And as an artist, a fucking rock star, I should be paid by the billions.
So good night, good luck, and fuck you.
"Ask old media - Fox, Universal Pictures, Sony Music, Rupert Murdoch - what is their product, and they would immediately say, 'content'," said the small man at PICC. "Ask Facebook and Google, what their product is, and they would tell you it's 'users'."
Which makes a damn lot of sense. If you ask Mark Zuckerberg, 'what is Facebook's primary selling point'? He's not going to answer, "Uhhh... we have location tagging and big blue buttons." No. He's going to say, "Facebook has over 750 million users, and growing."
Or something like that.
Traditional media is dying out and as part of the generation that helped destroy it, I feel damn fucking proud.
Actually, it's not destroyed. I believe I will die first before Ted Turner. Because Ted Turner is Captain Planet.
You can't fight the Internet on content. Nosirree. I don't believe that you can 'fight'. You can only add to the ocean of content. That's all.
News entities that want to fight the Internet will one day die like a fucking beached whale. Once all the newspaper readers die off in 20-50 years, that's it. You're dead.
And people who try to sell content online as what traditional media has done for the past couple of hundred years are merely doing what that old dude was doing. Roll the boulder up the hill, and watch it slide down again. Roll it up, slide down again.
On the Internet, you don't sell content. You sell user experience to users, and then you sell your numbers to advertisers.
For years, YEARS, I have been telling newspaper people that the ONLY way to make newspapers relevant again is to hand over the control of the paper to the people.
Have them vote on what comes out on the front page. Is it Najib? Is it Rosmah's imaginary diamond ring? Is it Anwar (allegedly) fucking someone in the ass again? Is it a pothole in Balakong? Everybody decides.
Okay, fine, maybe not the front page, but the inner pages.
Get people involved in news creation. Create a sense of ownership for newspapers, by the people. It's their fucking paper. The user experience generated by that would be so fucking tremendous and awesome, that I guaran-damn-tee that readership will increase by SIX BILLION readers.
Newspaper companies would have to cut down all the forests in the world, and everyone would die for lack of oxygen in TWO WEEKS. TWO WEEKS!
You know why I thought of this? Cause:
1. Nobody wants to read anything except their own writing and people who agree with them. Fuck facts. Fuck information. You tell them something they don't like, and they hate you for it. Even if it is true. Like, "The Opposition are just dumb racist fucks who want to embezzle even MORE money than the present Government."
2. News agencies waste a lot of time and resources sending reporters to cover areas where nothing happens. It's like, "Go cover Sepang and see if there's any landslide in two weeks." "Duhhhhh..." "Fuck you! Go cover 'em now!"
Of course, nothing happens and everything is a giant waste of time. And resources.
Instead, why don't we get people to suggest and vote for shit they want covered.
"Say, my daughter is graduating ballet next week. Can you cover that shit?"
"Fuck you, old man! There's a pothole behind my house and I want it covered right now."
Then, we go for a vote where ballet recital gets 1 vote, pothole gets 1 vote and Najib's Budget gets 200 billion votes. Fuck you, ballet recital.
During the days when we were all fighting against alleged control of the media, we all criticised how only a handful determines what comes out in newspapers and on TV. Well, my model breaks the game.
I've been yelling this on my blog since 2003. I've spoken to Government-linked and opposition-linked news outlets. ALL of them I believe - and this is only my own personal opinion - are afraid of relinquishing control.
Bros, Sistas, you never had any goddamn control since 1984? 1983? When the public Internet was born. You lost the grips fully when alt.news was all we had to share news and shit. You lost the battle on IRC. You got KOed for the billionth time, with FB and Twitter.
There is no control. There never was.
So just learn to let go.
Nowadays, I hear even the self-proclaimed information revolutionaries run their mouths with their silly little marketing slogans. They know something's coming, but they don't know jack shit what.
For us content people? Well, there's always a need for writers. For journalists. ESPECIALLY when everyone is a journalist. Look at Tyra Banks and her America's Next Top Model. Opening up the industry of modelling, telling people HOW to model properly did not destroy modelling, but simply increased appreciation for the discipline.
Sharing their recipes did not bankrupt Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver. Hell, they're worth more now than they ever were. Cause you can know the secrets, you can have all the tools, but nobody bakes Beef Wellington like Gordon Ramsay. Nobody can take pictures like Ansel Adams.
Writers and journalists who are afraid to share the techniques and tools of their craft are one-trick ponies and frauds afraid of being exposed. If you're really that damn good, you would share your knowledge.
I have shared what little I know of screenwriting with anyone who showed an interest. You know how many people actually wrote a script based on my advice? ZERO. I guess some people merely love the idea, and wanted to know about the process. They didn't really want to write.
I believe that opening up journalism and writing fully will elevate it into an art-form. Finally. Because it is an art-form.
And as an artist, a fucking rock star, I should be paid by the billions.
So good night, good luck, and fuck you.
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