Brain Drain

Dr. Chua, my dear health minister; you obviously do not have any relatives, friends or acquaintances who study overseas. If not you wouldn't be so surprised right? I mean, you are totally ignorant of the ages-long fact that overseas graduates, after being exposed to life, well, overseas just do not want to come home anymore. Make sure you bring it up to the cabinet. Complain to the weakling fatherly figure, and see what he has to say. Make sure you lament enough in the national papers too. The issue will die down anyway, because mark my words, this isn't the first time such an issue has risen, and very definitely wont be the last.

The brain drain has been going on for ages my dear. The government, and just about every other private company scholarship and MARA had been dilligently sending scholars overseas, only to not even get a whiff of their prized assets 5 years after sending them there. Would you care to hear about how to solve such a problem?

Firstly, that bloody contract that you require every scholar to sign, exercise it the minute you get a chance to. Don't wait 3 years before opening up the file, and another 3 years before you subpoena them. Secondly, hire all those Ah-Longs that you've put in jail. Should the scholars refuse to return, shame their families. Publish their names. Send dead chickens, coffins, red paint their house and send chrysenthemums. Change the clause to disallow staggered payments upon breaking the bond. See which fucking bank would wanna give a loan of RM 1 Million to a fresh graduate. Go after their ramshackled guarantors. Make them pay.

Sounds a little harsh some of you might say, but there is no fucking way I am going to let my hard-earned tax money be used by a bunch of selfish thoughtless traitors to get an education, only not to return to serve their country. Don't like the harsh rules, don't opt for the scholarship then. No one was complaining when they first signed for the PWD scholarship. So why complain when you have to return? Have some gratitude for godsakes. The government/private company/MARA was there for you when your future hung in the balance and your poor-assed parents couldn't afford to pay for your education and the education of your 10 other siblings. What the hell is wrong with sacrificing some of your time in return? Traitor. They should rescind your fucking citizenship. They should treat your entire family like pariahs.

Loyalty in the world today cannot be cultivated anymore. Everyone is a mercenary. Gone are the days when repayment went way beyond monetary debt. I can understand the perks of remaining overseas. I never went overseas to study, but the gold plated grassfields across the sea are very tempting to say the least. But I was once a scholar, and I intend, with all my might to repay what I owe. I may go through some hard times, I may end up doing something I do not even like. I am definitely earning less than those who choose to work elsewhere. But at least, I know that I have done my part. I have no beef with those who go on their own money and decide to stay. That is their own prerogative. Their own money. It's when they waste the people's money that people get mad.

And what about the future? The government should actually make it worthwhile to attract their overseas scholars home. Put together a nice package if they have to. Do what Singapore did, and restore the glory associated with serving the government. Instead of focusing on just corruption, why not make the government a proper, dynamic environment conducive and meeting the expectations of the overseas grads. Retire all those old bastards who refuse to move with the times. Its the only way forward.

What of the gulf between local universities and overseas ones? I'm sure local grads would feel shortchanged if overseas grads were treated better. For starters, it is about time that all local universities reverted back to English as its medium of communication and knowledge dispersion. We all feel nostalgic about BM and its lack of prominence, but English has inadvertantly become the lingua franca. The business, trade, commerce, finance, mathematics, engineering language of choice for the future. Move with the flow, or drown opposing it.

And for fucks sake, do something about our fucking Ringgit. No way is it going to compete with Euros or Dollars or Pound Sterling at the current rate. Forget about boosting exports. All you are doing is making a bunch of conglomerates and chinamen rich. We should no longer aim to compete with the likes of China and India, because truthfully, we can't compete with those prices. Concentrate instead on niche technology, on quality and precise goods. Concentrate on expertise. People pay a lot for expertise.

It's time Malaysians were given a better life. We deserve to buy more from every Ringgit that we have in our hardworking hands. When is everyone going to realize that China goods suck. We deserve better. We deserve more. So what are you going to do about it dear government?

It's Raya Malaysia! Rejoice!

Its Raya, its time for forgiveness. Its time for wiping your slate clean, only to screw around and destroy other people for the rest of the year. Then its back to wiping the slate clean. I love the system. Anyway, along with the tradition of new clothes, new curtains, a haircut and morning forgiveness and prayer, I would like to take this opportunity to seek forgiveness from this world. It is afterall, only appropriate, since I feel that I have stepped on many a toe since the last raya. (Wonder if I will be receiving any forgiveness in return, considering that my toes have also been stepped upon many many times - I've got toes as big as my ankles from all the swelling).

So here it is.

Selamat Hari Raya. Happy Raya. Maaf Zahir Batin. Sorry Inside Out. Dari pangkal rambut, sampai ke kaki. From the tips of my hair, to the edge of my feet.

This is however, only a general apology (I am not begging mind you). If you do not receive one personally from me in the coming days/weeks, this just means that:

a) You have deemed me unworthy of your company - you don't deserve an apology.
b) You don't deserve an apology.
c) I have totally forgot to seek your forgiveness. (Plausible)

So there you have it. Yippie. Raya's here. Oh the mundane things I get to do on raya morning. The same morning that had lost its meaning, more than 10 years ago. We still somehow need it don't we?

Untitled

Stumped by past forlorn
by hell be gone,
by heaven's scorn
The middle is where I stand,
the drifter I've become,
Where is my guiding hand?
Why was I abandoned?

And when that wall hits you
What would you do? What should I do?
And when she steps all over you
Do you see it through?
I dont want me to..

Its all a farce,
this life's routine,
No one can save me,
As the Silver Lining chokes,
As the optimism drowns
As the hope sedates,

Your presence is scarce,
All too familiar this place Ive been,
Open my eyes to see,
I will rebuild my spokes,
With happiness and sounds
Faraway from that fate.

And when that wall hits you
What would you do? What should I do?
And when she steps all over you
Do you see it through?
I dont want me to..

Where is my desire?
Why am I still here?
What do I do Sir?
How does it all end for her?
When will it start for sure?

It's Fasting Month!

What is a free-loving, alcohol trotting, pork gobbling "muslim" like me doing fasting, I've heard many people ask me. Truthfully, fasting IS a pain in the arse. I mean, what's to like about it? You dont get to drink, eat, cuss, fuck, wank, hear bad things nor even think it. It's supposed to teach patience, sacrifice, observance to divine law and subject yourself as the ultimate slave/servant of God. But really, what is the point, if the other 11 months of the year, you're a fucker, even if you're a Saint for 1 month (this encourages hypocritism). And really, if you are a Saint for 12 months of the year, you'd be lying through the pores of your clenching anus, because even Saints are not Saints 12 months of the year.

Somewhere in religion, individualism is lost. Somewhere in the interpretation of religion, the interpretation is lost. That is what I basically don't agree about it. I do not see their right on imposing their beliefs on others. Neither do I see their right to save me from damnation, or make me follow the supposed right path. I especially don't see their right in meddling in how I choose to carry myself and live my life, even if all they do is stare in their "disappointment". Believe me, I am not talking just about muslims.

See how everything is becoming stiffling? Most of us don't do something because we wholly believe in it. We do it because if we don't someone will be condemning us or would be very disappointed in us. Its as though, if you observe religion, you're a better person than a free thinker or a sun worshipper who does believe in God, but does not have any preference for religion.

Back to me. I don't know. I really have no clue. I guess the best explanation of this is that I do it out of habit. I was brought up in observance of Islamic law in all its glory and flaws. When my parents told me to pray, I'd pray. In religious class, I was the class pet. Though my knowledge of Islam may be based on the rather scholastic Jabatan Pendidikan curriculum, I'd say that even that is rather a lot of knowledge. Somewhere deep inside me, I do want to be a good muslim. By this I mean the "good"muslim in the eyes of conventionalism. The problem with this is that I don't want to be a "good" muslim now. I'd prefer to be given the freedom and opportunity to pursue what I deem is acceptable, not what society and a few men in headgear and robes think acceptable. Religion to me, is a very personal relationship between you and your creator. The whole point of it is to maintain that relationship, which ever way you want to do it. It shouldn't matter that another method be preferred to your method.

Truthfully, I do not think a lot seperates me from the good muslim, either than the fact that the good muslim probably devotes more time to religion. Even then, you get people who devote plenty to religion, and still act like bastards, condemning all that is "wrong" in his/her skewed eyes. There are even bigger bastards that block roads and refuse to move their vehicle in the name of reverence to God. I've come to believe most muslims oppose the war against Iraq just because Iraq is a "muslim" country, and that the invading forces are "kafir laknat" (infidels). In other words, they would not care less if Iraq was replaced with, say, Israel. In fact, they'd be extremely delighted if it were Israel. What happened to the notion of opposing a war because wars bring death, destruction and suffering?

Tomorrow, fasting month starts. I am not looking forward to it. But I have to. I just hopes that somehow, it's beneficial to me. I don't want promises of eternal gratitude in heaven. I do this because it's become a habit. I do this because I believe in its benefits. I do this for my own ulterior motives. I do this because I want to.

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P.S. To the fucking M.P's bickering in Parliament about some dumb A.P list that contains your fucking names. I did not vote you mother fuckers to debate on whether a portly bitch that double-crossed you by releasing that list should be referred to some dumb committee. Frankly, I couldn't even be bothered as to why some Bumi fucker gets more A.P.'s than the next Bumi fucker. I especially did not vote you to protect a fucking failure of a national car company just because its a national car company. I voted you so that you could take care of the interest of the public, not a select few.

Please debate about how to end poverty, increase productivity in the government, about making Malaysia a better place to live. Please debate about ways of increasing our standard of living, about a stronger currency, a better and more efficient taxation system and reducing crime, about an effective way on preventing profiteering. Please vote on a motion to stop the rediculous notion that public transport be a money making entity of the government, about diverting the subsidies for oil into improving/subsidizing our public transportation network and services, or vote against the dumb idea that all non-performing GLC's be automatically bought by Khazanah. Please approve the immediately-effective ruling to reduce alcohol prices. Stop thinking just about your fucked up selves. The world does not just revolve around you. Amen!

T.G.I.F. (2 Days Too Late)

The part about blogging is that you rarely write about something that will happen in the future. Most of what will be written is about the past, and what had been done. That's because we are all reporters. Its how people are. We love the 20/20 vision that hindsight brings. We hate the bright future because it blinds us in discotheque white lights.

Now this is exceptionally true for me, because not only do I love hindsight, I revel in reporting done 2 days too late. Well, actually, I revel much more in reporting never done at all, but for the sake of the miniscule readership of this blog, I'd have to give something right? So here it is, my life in a nutshell, 2 days ago.

It turned out a pretty day to be walking to the bustop. And the bus ride was, well, ordinary. Things did turn weird however when I walked straight into the emptiest LRT ever. I mean, this is what you'd get at the first train in the morning and the last train. When no one bothers to take the LRT. Not at rush hour. Usually I'd have to wedge myself between the civic-consciousless aunty and those buggers who refuse to remove their burdened backpacks in a crowded place. Nope, not today, not in this LRT. I could lie down on the floor and do my version of the snow angel and still people could walk in and out of the LRT without stepping on me.

Halfway through the morning (somewhere between my breakfast and settling down with work), the emergency system sounded. I had been waiting 2 whole years for this. Can you imagine, KLCC, all two towers of it, evacuating in their version of a mega firedrill. It was so damn cool (in a pimply teenage underaged sorta way). Well, and I confirmed the truth of my suspicion all this time that Tower 2 is where all the chicks are working (for the chicks reading this blog, its also a place where all the "hot" guys are). So, tip from my blog. If you feel like working in KLCC, head to Tower 2. Its where the pretty faces are. (Disclaimer: The author will not accept responsibility for subsequent nose bleeds OR utter disappointment.)

By night time, I'd found myself sitting in the most expensive seats for the extravaganza known as Stomp!. Show was great, atmosphere was superb, and my mouth was gaping the whole show, but, and this is a very very small but, actually; what on holy earth were they thinking when they did the ticket pricing for this show? It seemed as though they were trying to make it exclusive. I mean its one thing to pay those guys for performing, and I'm sure the sponsors were there to ensure no loss was made, but really, something as great as Stomp should be made accessible to all, not just the Mat Sallehs, yuppies and Datuks who could afford tickets. And if they were thinking of matching ticket prices here to those in Broadway and West End, well, we've only got our toilet paper valueless currency that serves no one except multinationals and a select group of Malaysian exporters, to blame.

One ghost-busride later (another empty bus - this time scarier because there were only 3 people on it), and I had an invitation to the Loft. Ah, another first. Three words. Loved the place! It was tasteful, it had a terrace which was seperated by a glass wall and doors that kept music in, and most importantly, the crowd was a good crowd. For a horny guy like me, good crowd equals hot women left right and centre, all checking you out. It was a good place to chill, or just about do whatever you wanted. If you felt like chatting up someone without having to blow your voicebox, do it in the balcony. The music's there, but just. And if you've felt that you've had enough fo talking and wanna get down to some serious action (dancing action I mean), a glass door is all that seperates you from the centre-bar, and the dancefloor. Superb. Nevermind the bomb I had to pay for the drinks and covercharge. Exclusivity here, I don't mind. Keeps the clamshell kids out.

So, that was my friday in a nutshell. Not your most typical Friday, but not thatt eventful either. But it was a welcome change from the gloom shrouding this blog and well, my existance. It did however, remind me, that sometimes emptiness could be rejoiced in, but that it could be scary. And most importantly, that friends sometimes pop up when you least expect them to. Amigos para siempres, as they'd usually say.

The Girl In The LRT

Sometimes, amidst the rubble that has become your existance, you find hope. That one person that crosses your path each day. The same person that though you've never been formally introduced, nor exchanged even the simplest of hellos, carries with her calmness, warmth and love; the attributes you so sorely miss and so badly need.

If there would be reasons to wake up in the morning to plough through the rubble and debris, its because you might, just might, cross paths with her again. I hope for it each day. The sight brings kindness and calmness only found in the deepest solitary spaces of your inner heart. A mere brush, a stolen whiff of her perfume, hidden glances. You know there could be something. Youd know, only if you made the first move.

Attraction transcends a pretty face and a perky ass. I am this much closer to life. I've seen her twice. I want her in my life. If only...

Merdeka!

Kemerdekaan bagiku, bukanlah berkaitan dengan perjuangan sekumpulan cendiakiawan dan ahli politik. Kemerdekaan bagiku, bukanlah teriakan dan laungan dipagi hari. Kemerdekaan bagiku, hanyalah jiwa yang bebas daripada belenggu pemikiran sistem sokongan kecacatan. Tidaklah aku hendak mencerca orang kurang upaya, aku hanya ingin meluahkan perasaanku sebagai seorang yang berani meraungi kehidupan ini tanpa pertolongan.

Hakikatnya, generasikulah yang paling alpa dalam menjalani kehidupan. Setiap satu mengharapkan pertolongan, sokongan, bantuan. Mungkin pada suatu masa dahulu moyang kita terpaksa bekerja keras demi menjaga cita-cita dan harapan mereka. Betapa bezanya kehidupan dahulukala berbanding dengan falsafah tunggak negara kita.

Kibarkanlah bendera kemerdekaan kita. Berusahalah mencapai masa depan dan impian kita. Janganlah mengharapkan dorongan dan bantuan pihak luar. Disinilah berakhirnya tangan yang hanya sanggup menggapai angan-angan kosong. Disinilah bermulanya kekesatan dan keperitan usaha gigih, yang akhirnya hanyalah untuk kebaikan diri kita sendiri. Bukankah ini makna sebenarnya kemerdekaan?

Ingatlah bahawa tidak seribu tahun, seribu generasi kita akan dianjakkan pertolongan pihak luar. Ingatlah bahawa semakin lama kita dilayani bagai orang kurang upaya, semakin lemahlah kita, dibuai kesenangan hidup, ditolak diatas kerusi roda, hidup dalam kecacatan usaha, ketandusan pemikiran. Bilakah lagi jika tidak sekarang kita bangkit menghadapi cabaran. Peluang keemasan tidak menunggu mereka yang ketinggalan. Hanyalah kehampaan dan kekesalan menanti mu diperjalanan hidup itu.

Our Pals, The Indons

WARNING: IF YOU LOVE INDONESIANS, HAIL FROM INDONESIA, OR JUST WANT TO MARRY THEIR CHILDREN, DON'T READ THIS POST. IF YOU BELIEVE IN FAIR AND HONEST ARGUMENT.. YOU MAY TURN AWAY NOW TOO.

For a long long time I had wanted to comment on the haze. Every single lazy, jobless day in the office I sat at my desk contemplating. I thought, why fan the fire (literally)? I ought to be a polite, neighbour-loving Malaysian. Love thy neighbour, Big Joe commanded. Don't do unto others what you won't do to yourself the famous saying goes. Yeah, fuck all that to hazy hell.

For a very long time the Indonesians have been jealous of us all. A deceitful and bitter lot really. The Kiasu King Singaporeans were always top of the ASEAN class with their autocratic democracy, followed generally by a tussle for second between Turbulent Thaksin Thailand, Lagging Malaysia and rank outsiders, the Drama-Queen Phillipines. As of late though, the Constipations, Aquinos, Arroyos, Copulations and Macapagals of our region have gone to the dumps, due to, what else, infighting. Brunei generally don't figure in any plans, as the Sultan "sapu's" everything (including his poor father) in his greedy path, while the Myanmarese play Double Whammy with Human Rights military rule, as Cambodia and Laos go about their business in confused chaos.

Nooo. Not the Indons. A brash and outgoing lot they are. They wont stand aside, while Pertamina, with its much, much wider base of resources squats in the perpetual longish shadow of Petronas. Nope, not due to corruption. Just due those unfair Dutch bastards at Royal Shell. They wont bear with Malaysia sending back all their citizens without work permits. Oh no. Not a single aid for their own people (we bore all the costs). Knowing that Malaysia will cripple with the shocking lack of blue collared workers, they withhold any of their citizens from coming back with a proper work permit. Hmm, we need 300 Million more processes for approval they thought. Don't even get me started on claims for useless islands on unproven oil reserve territories in the middle of pirate infested waters. Oh, and howabout the snatch thieves and burgalars? The balls of that fella that wanted to register his child as a Bumiputera by cheating our registration office. Mother Fuckers.

I've not commented on the haze have I? Its really just a case of fucking us up every year. "This is how we clear land since our forefathers". Fuck you stupid Environment Minister of Indonesia. If your forefathers cut off their own cocks as they licked creamy Dutch balls, would you do the same? "We don't have enough people to fight the raging fires". Wonder why our New Straits Times decided to publish a picture of Indonesian volunteers, in clean white canvas shoes, and specially made t-shirts and trackbottoms, emptying a pail of water onto what looks like peat soil? I used to remember viewing footage of American firefighters in action in California, extinguishing bush fires. They happened to be in full gear, soiled top to bottom in soot, and looking like they could sleep 30 hours after that ordeal. Don't seem to remember any smiling Indons in school shoes with buckets. Poor arsed excuse. Oh, and the balls to start blaming Malaysia companies for starting the fires. Didn't you say that this was how you cleared land since you came crawling out of the forests?

And what did our government do about this? "In times like these, I look for Divine intervention. Lets all have special prayers." I choked on a glob of haze when I read that. For now, I am NOT voting for that weakling to be back in office. Our leaders are supposed to fight for our rights and interests. Not placate to bullshit slung from across the Straits of Malacca. Finally, after the haze had cleared, due to 3 days and 3 nights of Badawi prayers, we deploy our first batch of firefighters. Yay, lets help our neighbours extinguish the fires they started. Yay, lets pay for it ourselves. Yay, we love giving handouts to neighbours who don't give a fuck about us. Wished a Tsunami hit them a second time. At least it'll help extinguish those impossible peat fires, whilst killing all the culprits who set fire to the jungle. But, what of innocent women and children? I say.. Go especially for the women and children. Women will give birth to children, and children will learn to burn jungles to clear land, just as their useless forefathers. (Yes this is all written in poor form, damn me.)

And what of the next time something like this happens? Oh, lets do everything all over again! Lets all wear masks, be sick, breathe fucked up air and pray that the winds shift direction. Lets send our brave men over to Indonesia a day too late. We can't stop them from burning forests. It's how they have been clearing land since their forefathers. No no no Malaysia, don't intrude on the way our neighbours do things. Lets just be polite and drop like flies from poor air while praying for rain shall we?

P.S. I have met some very nice Indonesians. (My great attempt at balancing out my arguments)

The Reinvention: Me

Recent events have forced a rethink. To reassess the current situation. To devise ingenious ways of making me happy again. I've come up with a solution. A cunning plan if you may call it that (Oh how I love Black Adder). I call it: Reinventing Yourself. Ta-daaa. Yeah, not much of a new idea.

Question that has been bugging me the last 2 hours in the gym, is how do I go about reinventing myself?How long will it take before I see results? And do I really want to be like the mother of all self-reinventions, Madonna? Err, not really. Does anybody have a blinking idea of how to do it?

Actually, now that I've thought about it, I've decided that a physical approach to this would be all wrong. I mean conical bras, prancing around the stage in leotards while making millions off wanking boys does sound appealing, but it all tires out, eventually. I want something substantial, something lasting, and something that comes from within.

I want to change the situations/surroundings that affect my life, and the way I react. I want to feel alive again. I want to change the way I think, the way I look at a picture and the way I approach each day that passes. I want too many things, while still not knowing how to accomplish it.

I can see now that it is a long term project. It involves courage to do the things I have not even contemplated previously. Most of all, it involves more dark days, before I see light again. I shall go boldly where I have never gone before. I shall start by eliminating those that no longer bring value in my life. To move to new surroundings, detach myself from what I have become accustomed to knowing and loving. This is something I have to do every 10 years of my life. Question that lingers now is, do you bring value to my life? Goodbye, if I don't say it later.

Midweek (ok, not so midweek) Gripe

What has transpired over the last couple of weeks regarding the AP issue has made me sick to the stomach. Pariah-ing a 60 year old ex-economics professor over a bunch of certificates is one thing, but blaming her for the poor performance of Proton, well that's just pathetic.

So, I hereby pledge, that I will never buy a Proton. No car company that would stoop so low as to say it's doing poorly because of foreign imports (that are more expensive anyway) deserves my hard earned money. As far as I am concerned, I'll take my chances with the rickety public transportation system. You be my witness.

My get out of the pledge above clause is that when they do buck up (or fuck off), I will consider owning one. Else, no point being patriotic over something so pathetic, no matter who is at the helm, as advisor or otherwise.

Of Bastards and Dogs

I live in old-suburbia PJ, where streets are lined with decrepit bungalows, built in an age where very much every other part of PJ was nothing more than acres of rubber estates. In this part of town, all you get are ancient Tan Sri's, Datuks, YB's and generally old people, living out their years in what they deem as idillic. To me, you just end up feeling older in the company of old people. Doesn't help that chicks are rare and far between (by this I mean the daughters/grandaughters available). When you do find them, they're just about old enough for you to call "kakak/aunty". Far cry from Sri Hartamas (where I used to live, back when it wasn't as famous).

What we DO have though, are lots of dogs. On the street I live in, 11 of the 17 houses lining it have at least 1 dog. On average, there are about 1.5 dogs per house I reckon. A real animal's heaven this. Now, I've got nothing against dogs, and I must admit that most of them are pretty friendly to the frequent walker like me. What I am against, is the releasing of dogs in the evenings and nights, so that they can do their thing (poo digested Pedigree Chow Chow) all over the street. Its disgraceful really, how old and well off people cannot and will not be a little more civic conscious.

Most people don't give a dogs ass, because they don't have to walk along the street. It becomes a minefield in the mornings, having to avoid, sidestep and jostle my way around piles of dogdung. This, while chewing on breakfast, and planning my working day. As if that isn't enough to contend with, everytime a car goes over a pile of shit, it multiplies the patches. Spreading the joy all over. What was essentially one pile turns out to be 5 patches after a car goes over it. Have another car go over the patch, and it's multiplied again. Reminds me of my art project in kindergarten.

What should have been done is an amendment to the municipal laws (along with its due enforcement of course). If owners can't be bothered about picking up after their dogs, pound every single unattended animal outside the owner's compound. Animal needs exercise? Tough luck, you'd have to bring them for a walk yourself. Not let them run free dumbass. Else you'd prefer me picking up after your dog, after which I will throw your dog poo on your spanking new Mercedes. Owning pets brings about responsibility, just in case you don't know.

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I was on my way to breakfast this morning when I passed by a newspaper vendor. There, one particular headline caught my eye. It said, "Anak Halal Jadi Haram" (From legitimate child to bastard). With just about every other newspaper talking about the fuel price hike, this was the exception. Not wanting to spend RM 1 on what is essentially tabloid material, I took a brief glance at what the article had to say.

Apparently, it said that a father was grief stricken when he found out he couldn't put his name on the birth certificate of his child because his marriage certificate was fake. Question. Who the fuck comes up with fake marriage certs, and for what purpose? Where the hell did he obtain a fake cert, and lastly but most importantly, isn't it stupid that a father not be given his right to put his name as the child's father in the birth cert?

These cases brings back the whole ideal of marriages in our often religious and cultural eyes. I'm guessing that the guy probably got married somewhere along the Thai border to avoid detection by his first wife, either that or he just bought a certificate so as not to get caught with his pants down in a dingy motel when religious officers come knocking. Else, I can't forsee any other reason as to why the state religious department itself would issue fake marriage certs.

Of greater importance is the fact that they will rather let the child be a bastard child, without a father to "call his own", rather than having a man, who professes to being the father of the child, being allowed to claim so legitimately. I really do hope it has nothing to do with being legitimately/religiously married. Is this, or is this not a flaw in our system? What is the rationale of having marriage be prerequisite for being a father? What the fuck is happening?

Gripes of the Week

• I don't get it. Why would a woman wear a very svelt, body hugging low cut white blouse with black bra to "match", only to fold her arms everywhere she goes (or hide her boobs behind a file/bag), even while walking. What is the logic of wearing something like that but not wanting to show off? Off course I'm going to stare at you. Woman, you've got nice breasts.
  

• Wow, we have a Klu Klux Klan in Malaysia. Supposedly going around in robes and masks, torching concrete teapots in the sky kingdom, "in the name of Big Joe". Wonder if they have pointy white hats, meet in swampy areas, and crucify anyone. Oh, and true to our Malaysian way of doing things, they've only managed to "cause some minimal damage" (want to copy, do some serious damage la wei). Malaysia boleh. Hope mass graves aren't next on the list.

Oh Vanity!

I feel like a fucking peacock. Everytime I strut out my door, out come my technicolor feathers. I have bounce in my steps, I strut like I've got balls Federer could hit around the court. I've become, as most of you could have become accustomed to, the proverbial 20's male.

Like it or not, I seem to have a sudden uncontrolable need to show off. To market myself like a cheap whore flagging attention. At one point in time in my life, and that wasn't that long ago, I used to think that I had no use impressing the fairer sex. Now, I can't stop the hormons oozing from every pore and hole in my body. I don't even need to try. It comes so naturally I feel like crying knowing what I've become. My wallet has stopped wailing.

You know whats really weird? I'm not alone. Every single one of my friends have the same uncontrolable urge to do the same. Everyone, to many degrees and extends, have changed somewhat since the scruffy mornings of university. And its not confined to the males. Even females have that uncontrolable urge too. Maybe its just that time in your life. Where you need to snag your other half before the next bastard/bitch takes him/her.

But what is the point? Whats the point of spending so much time, money, effort, on something that is so unguaranteed? Don't ask stupid questions. Its nature. No one can blame nature. How do you blame something you didn't create and you can't control. Right? Damn beer gut and bald spot. I hate being vain.

Morning Has Broken

I woke up today to the warm Straits of Malacca breeze. It has been a while since I've slept so peacefully, no matter how short the sleep. Something though, kept me from the feelings of Hensel and Gretel when they first saw the witch's house of sweets. I remembered a time when Port Dickson meant so much more to me than just a popular retreat. That seems to be the problem with memories; the feelings never last more than that moment it happened.

I walked to the balcony, half dazed from one too many party drinks, and soon found myself staring into the horizon (there wasn't much of a horizon, since the fucking haze is back). For such a beautiful morning, I kept wondering to myself as to why I couldn't muster that smile of satisfaction to welcome it.

It occurs to me, that in the grinding toilings of life, no one manages to muster smiles in the mornings. Every single day, I sit patiently waiting for my bus, crossing paths with the same people, at the same time, caught in the same routine. Everyone goes about in automatic synchronization, in controlled chaos, all being poor slaves of the system. Parents, school going children, office workers, busy bees, white collared, blue collared, Malaysian, Bangla, Indon, expat, all with the same expressions of emptiness.

Makes me wonder how many of us truly thank the heavens for that extra day in life we have. Makes me wonder how many of us truly want to live that extra day. Makes me wonder what I can do differently tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave. Maybe if I smiled more I'd be ok. Hopefully no one would send me to the loony bin.

Lately, I've come to believe that if you have a fucked up morning; you have a fucked up day. You can overcome this by bypassing the mornings altogether by waking up in the afternoons (or not waking up at all, ever), or you can best make sure, to the surest of sures, that you'd have a great morning. Hence, todays resolution is to wake up a happier person tomorrow. To thank Big Joe for giving me that extra day. To finally sit at the bus stop, and not sigh at what has become of me, the want-away slave of life. One day I shall be master.

Big News! Big News!

Darnit. I'd have to set the record straight now. I did not, in my previous blog, diss PETRONAS. To those of you smart enough to read between the lines, please don't. Everything should remain at face value. I am greatful to PETRONAS for all that it has given me, and would gladly serve my bond with them. That said, I am actually practicing the first rule of office politics. Covering your own ass. Go PETRONAS!

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Moving on. Big news of the past week. Firstly, Isa Samad gets a suspension for practicing money politics. Highly politicised stuff and extreme coverage by the media. Why? Because he was a big fish. Not the small fry usually investigated by the ACA. I say, Badawi has made his point. No big fish is safe from investigation and punishment. BUT, really, once you zoom out, how does this really affect us? Yeah sure, he had it coming, and it does send out a statement to the other people wanting to dabble in corruption. My question is, what have they done to those who recieved the payouts? I'm sure there must have been at least a 100 of them, right? After all, he did garner the most votes in the last party elections.

And what about corruption in general? What about the small fries out there that are directly connected to our miniscule lives? The corrupt district officers, policemen, municipal staff and enforcers, approval agencies staff etc etc. These are the people that we meet everyday. The people that we come to contact in everyday working life. These are the people that really make or break a project/person/day/bank account. Do you really think that 6 years suspension of a big fish is BIG enough a deterrent for those mentioned above? And if it does prove to be a deterrent for these people, in true Malaysian fashion, for how long will it remain an obstacle before things return to "normalcy"?

Finally, what becomes of Isa Samad himself? Despite being charged and punished, he still holds the title of Tan Sri (a respected person by any standards). And as far as I know, he remains Federal Territories Minister. Question remains as to whether we could tolerate a "convicted" corrupt official remaining in a very influential position, carrying a very influential and highly regarded title. This will all simmer down, and he will bounce back. All politicians die hard. Go Malaysia!

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Recently, the PM came out with a statement that he would crack down on printed media/advertisements concentrating on sex. Almost immediately, everyone condemned it. Bloggers went all out criticizing the merits of such a move and clearly projecting displeasure. The psyche remains that when freedom is challenged, people will make noise. Ask us not to do something, and in true teenage-raging-hormone-fashion, we will revolt.

All I can say is this. Sex sells. Sex is scandalous. Besides murder and price hikes, sex, in all forms, is and remains big media material. The media, be it Barisan owned newspapers or the ever popular chick/dick mags all have tons of material on this. Just in different forms. For example, while the newspapers might not be so brazen as to suggest naughty foreplay techniques, they do give front page coverage on the serial rapist that raped 2 tourists and molested a boy. Not the same thing you say? How about the murder case of Noritta Samsudin? True, it was a murder case, but I am sure EVERYONE remembered reading the highly explicit contents of the court proceedings. Feel like cracking down on NST, The Star, The Sun, Berita Harian, Utusan Malaysia, Harian Metro, Tamil Nanban, Sin Chiew Jit Poh and Nanyang Siang Pao, Badawi? How about a six year suspension for them as well? Oh, we have to start with a show cause letter. Anyone interested in starting up a newspaper with me? We'd have immediate market share and the cream of the reporters crop.

Now for the rest of you readers and bloggers. Quit complaining and criticizing. We live in a global world. If we really absolutely have to reignite our sex lives with sometimes very brilliant ideas, google the contents. I'm sure you'd get tonnes of results. And if you think reading from the computer screen strains your eyes (and other parts of the body), I'm sure as hell that you'd be travelling overseas, or know of someone travelling overseas that can help you bring back a mag or two ( I didn't have any problems what so ever bringing smut in through customs). You don't have to go far, Singapore has some pretty decent selections. And if even that doesn't cut it for you, we still have the RM 31 Cosmo's and FHM's. Variety IS out there. Go chick/dick mags!

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Badawi, Badawi. Your intentions are noble and brave. Its commendable, but I haven't seen any details of your plans, whether its combating corrution or upholding asian values (I will never agree with the government being moral policemen, but apparently the masses do). Do you even have a plan to begin with? David won against Goliath because he had a gameplan. David, come to think of it, may have won against Goliath, but that was an isolated case. Many a David-wannabe after that have been squashed by the Goliaths. Sadly, you are the David and the system is the Goliath. It'll be a pity if you get squashed. Go Badawi!

Lazy Arsed Sorry Excuse Of A Blog

A number of things have happened in the past month that I've been away from the blogosphere. Because it has been a WhOLe month, I can no longer recall the minor incidences. (Ah, now I remember that I'm actually quite a forgetful person). But anyway, I am not thatt old yet, and I think I do have all my braincells functioning, so I will make a "short" summary of the entire month that has gone by.

True to its label as a multinational conglomerate (international professional robbers), PETRONAS made me sit through 2 weeks of an orientation course. This was done, presumably, so that I do not have misconceptions of my beloved PETRONAS, and to provide me an with opportunity to socialize. That said, I died of boredome by the end of the first week, and they buried me at the end of the 2nd week. But, I now think that PETRONAS is the best company in the world, and I have made many new friends. I am now in heaven (In a Clockwork Orange-esque sorta brain-washing way). Of the things worth remembering from the entire brain scrambling, is the following pantun (cant remember the english name for it). Translations in brackets.

Berkawan biar seribu, (Make 1000 friends)
Berkasih biar satu, (Love a single person)
Berkahwin biar empat, (Marry 4 women)
Yang lain buat spare part! (Keep the rest as spare parts)

Its things like these that make me a proud malay. By the way, there were other numerous terms that I had picked up, including Bapak Naga ("Father Dragon": One up from the normal buaya term), and mangkuk tingkat (haven't really figured out what this means). I kind of appreciate BM abit more now.

Upon my return to office, I was greeted by about 100 work related emails. I was also greeted by about 1000 junk mails. Thank you my friends for you very kind contributions. I now not only feel that I would willingly sacrifice my balls for PETRONAS, but I am also willing to sacrifice my balls AND cockS (you know how when you see something really huge, cross eyedly, you'd see many of it) for a kid from *&%&%-stan living in extreme poverty with a half-arsed-toothless-three-legged-mountain-goat. I have turned into a very compassionate human being because of the many emails received. I shall now proceed to rape that three legged goat and have that boy for breakfast, cooking him using PETRONAS cooking gas.

My vision is all blurry now, and my head is aching from stupid petty problem solving at work. I hate Italian companies, and I will tell you why tomorrow. Darn Italians. Learn. To. Read. English. For. God's. Sake. (The pope is in your country isn't he?)

My First Time

I have in my hand, a box of g-strings. No, not the stringy, butt-floss female kind, but the male kind. The kind with a little more cloth and comes in boxes of threes. Now, before everyone brands me a fat, spectacled pervert, I would like to clarify here, truthfully, that I did not buy it. I would have to be crazy, amorous AND gay (yes, for fear of being beaten to death by navy boys, I would have to mention that straight guys wear them too) to have put my money into it.

I inherited the g-strings. From my uncle. Yes, the dead one. The stuff you don't want to know about dead people. Fact number 1, he was even more portly than I am. Fact number 2, he had a rather small bum, which would rationalize his g-string fantasy. Fact number 3, and I will repeat this as many times as needed, the g-strings were NEW and previously NOT worn. And now that I've mentioned fact number 3, fact number 4 was that my uncle used to have a problem with incontinence. I know fact number 3 because you can never fold underwear the way manufacturers do when they pack them into boxes. And you never leave tracing paper in between. And as you can see here, I am comforting myself for fear of having worn used, previously soiled underwear.

So I had to have a try. It was, well, small. Very small. Actually tiny for my size. Note for fat people. If you absolutely have to wear butthuggers (briefs), please do NOT buy g-strings. Not only is the cup extra small resulting in you sounding like Minnie Mouse, you'd have to suffer the agony of having a permanent wedgy at all times and burn your eyes everytime you look at yourself in the mirror. I burned my eyes looking at my pot belly hanging over whats visible of that g-string. However, on the plus side, you get to pretend that you're a german S&M gigolo, you'd never ever have to worry about skidmarks (because of the lack of cloth and because the g-string grips your asshole tight), and. And I cant think of anything else.

Maybe if I do end up with washboard abs and a butt women would crave, I might consider walking out of the house with it. However, I do not want to attract navy boys, or army boys, or Bai-is (yes, I am being racially insensitive here, but can someone please explain to me why is it a majority of my friend's parents think that Bai-is and anal intercourse go hand in hand). For now, I shall stick to my trusty boxers. I love boxers because my balls are free to dangle in delight everytime I pull a David-Hasslehoff-opening-credits-of-Baywatch-move. I will, on special request, entertain horny middle-aged aunties if they want me to strut around almost naked, in a g-string. Only if the price is right. Come on aunty! You can do better than 5 bucks!

It's all about Science

Alternating between hot and cold only invites a sickly feeling. The gutted body sends messages to the brain, duly received, processed and equally as fast, messages are sent back to the body. The body collapses and subsequently shuts down. In certain cases, waking up from bed becomes too painful to bear. All you want to do is lie in bed, dwelling in and out of a parellel world. One created only in the mind, of subconscious desires and thoughts. In other more fortunate cases, the person is up and about in no time, as spritely as ever, until exposed again to the same unfavorable conditions.

It always seems better to just stick to either. To dabble in a mixture of the two always seems to bring undesired/disastrous results. Even more so, if the change appears so sudden. It seems sometimes that we invite this upon ourselves. Exposing ourselves unnecessarily to volatility and unpredictable shifts. We willingly walk in and out of conditions thinking that we can cope with it, stretching our own capabilities, our bodies, our minds, our souls and our senses.

We forget that we are no longer as elastic as the young ones. That sudden extremes, that violently swinging pendulums, will rip us apart. Being the jaded, weary person represents the inelastic curve of our lives. Long gone and forever missed were times when all that we did would not be enough to break the elastic limit. That we could wake up the next day, dandy, in normality, back where we started. The only things we could look forward to now, is the peak of ultimate strength before we wither in denial and snap to oblivion.

Then, just then, it'll be all over. Exposure to oscillatory conditions are dangerous because of one thing only. Unlike constant pressure, which has a predictable, controlled and progressive ending, oscillation creates a situation of fatigue. Fatigue works much slower. Fatigue works by exposing yourself to both extremities, as well as the neutral mid-point of no pressure. Back and forth like a ping pong ball. Fatigue is capable of destroying anyone, no matter how strong that person is. Worse of all, you can never, ever, accurately predict the point of failure. When it comes, all you can do is regret.

The Chink In My Armour

Death in the family always strikes a chord in even the most hardened of souls. He lived a good life, and although he was a doctor's nightmare, he managed to go through every day very much acting like his jovial self. He stepped on many toes and stomped on many feet, but at the time of his demise, he had his entire family by his side, standing by him, supporting him as he breathed his last breath. His funeral went on smoothly, and turnout for subsequent prayer sessions was purely amazing. Though not many would have wanted his life, I'm pretty certain that there is no better way to pass on, then to be where he was, loved and supported.

Right now, I envy him. I envy not his position deep in his grave, but I envy the attention he received, even though it came too late. I envy the fact that although he was far from perfect, he had a wife that doted on him, and family that cared. I envy the thick and thin that he and his friends have gone through, and I especially envy the privellege of the good, honest and loyal company that he kept.

Day by day, I am turning into the loner that I didn't want to become. It has come to a point that not one of the persons that have crossed my crooked path can truly be depended upon. When it comes to the crunch, I seriously wonder who'd be there sticking by me, covering my back. When I am in the crunch that I am in now, I can't help feeling like the battle is mine to fight alone. I've become tired of companionship, tired of the work that has to be put in it. I've become weary of obliging and broken from giving in. I want to give up.

I try to be the person that I want to be, but I only end up wearing a mask that hides my feelings. I don't know how much longer the pretense will last, nor how much longer this facade will hold, before the glaring sadness in my eyes crumbles it all. I know for certain that a lonely death would be the only befitting ending to my drifting faith. I fear that. But more importantly, I fear living a lonely life. Friends and family will always be around me, but inside me, I am in darkness, in solitude.

Kopi-O Ideas

I really should be sleeping, but here I am, indulging myself in the one activity I have not been able to bring myself to carry out, blogging. It has easily been an overworked week for me, but maybe I'm just not used to the "joys" of work and the much maligned and dreaded, working life. Things do NOT look too bright at the current moment, as I immerse myself in paperwork. When I do manage to tunnel my way out of it, I will let you know. "Welcome to MITCO!" someone said to me the other day. Funny how he seemed to have the most mischievious of smiles. "I'm the new waterfish in town, so please use me!" the sign on my forehead read.

Was happily going through the papers this morning when I read the grimm headlines. No. No family perished in a 35 vehicle pile-up, and no, Badawi has not decided to make my life more miserable by increasing the prices of alcohol. However, some of his underlings/minions/kulibataks (pick the right noun) have managed to come up with a idiotic new ruling to flog to the masses. Apparently, someone, somewhere, decided during one of his/her (lets be gender unbiased today) many 10am kopi-O sessions that the best way to deter drunk drivers would be to suspend indefinitely their driving licenses. I have never imagined that the universe was actually capable of such stupidity.

Now, this brings a few things to mind. We are all aware of the legal limit of alcohol in the bloodstream, but really, how do we tell whether we are over or under the limit? One pint of beer really doesn't have that big an effect on the system as is led to believe by the government. Would it therefore, be a good business proposal to offer breathelizer services, especially to those who think they are borderline cases? (We could expand the services to the Im-going-to-puke-at-any-moment-but-would-still-like-to-take-
the-test-for-fucks-because-Ive-got-RM10-in-my-pocket-now, for the sake of it.) We could even organize contests for most drunk, most stoned and most able to walk straight with 4 times the legal limit in his blood. Oh the possibilities.

Right. So after I've won one of the many contests, and conned by my own business because I too decided to take several blows into my breathelizer, do I absolutely want to be conned by the taxi drivers too? More like, would I have any money left to be conned by them? This is when the seriousness and implication of such sordid and extreme rules comes to effect. I agree that in certain cases, it is right to take drastic measures, but steps have to be taken in order to ensure that the public DOES manage to get home safely, without being ripped-off by some taxi driver. Another business plan: why not offer value added services, such as a reliable and competitively priced fleet of taxis to cater to those who really shouldn't be driving. Services will also include the taxi driver ensuring that the customer actually manages to get into his/her house safely. When needed too, "other" services could be arranged. Everyone gets home happy.

See, this is the problem with bureaucracy. Ideas always seem effective at the mamak under the tree, but rarely any thought is given into enforcement, and ensuring that the interests of the public remain paramount. How come no one has decided to suspend indefinitely the licences of those taxi drivers that are caught ripping their customers off? My father said that they cant suspend the taxi drivers because politicians own the fleets. So, where do we, the non-politicians, the people that are just looking for a little bit of fun and stupidity, fit in?