Mellifluous Wasteland

On Holiday

2010-06-06T09:37:00.000-07:00

I had recently been suddenly stricken by the inexplicable desire to travel and just today I waltzed into a quaint little travel agency I happened across while out buying those decorative parasols you find perched on cocktail glasses.
Soooo…. I am going to be away for at least the next two weeks.

As it was a spur of the moment thing, my choices were rather limited, which was not helped by the state of my bank account.

Here I’ll copy this brochure my travel agent gave me. (It sure has a lot of strange typos though)

Well see you in two weeks.

Pulau Tekong

This idyllic island resort located just minutes away from the main island of Singapore is the perfect getaway for the busy businessman, secondary school dropout or low budget masochist.

This forgotten gem of the East remained largely uninhabited and unspoiled by human hands until early last century. Not long after achieving independence it was thought that it would be in the country’s best interest to allow the construction of resorts to attract tourists, thus the Marina Bay Sands and the Resorts World Sentosa were built.

Palau Tekong is unlike the other resorts in that it caters to a highly exclusive customer base and most are under invitation of the Singapore Government itself, which is a major shareholder in the resort, we feel that this contributes immensely to our unique ‘feel’ that has been highly praised by past visitors.

In designing the resort, great care was taken not to disturb the native ecosystem as the management is keenly environmentally conscious. It would interest the more adventurous visitors that the local flora and fauna such as the boar, 50 different species of trees and 87 species of mosquito are quite a common sight around the resort.

Our service staff has received numerous awards and counts among the region's best, they would be delighted to attend to your every need and ensure your fullest displeasure.

We pride ourselves on our excellent wellness facilities and an army of our enthusiastic fitness instructors will gladly reprimand you into a figure that you would not be embarrassed to walk around in public with.

So what are you waiting for? Christmas? Get off your lazy ass now and check into Resort Palau Tekong Today!

You Faggot!

So 4 straight men walked into a theater...

2010-06-04T12:51:00.001-07:00

A lot of times in life one is merely presented with a situation and it is up to the individual to react to it, hoping for the best, and having emerged from one problem it is not uncommon to find oneself stumbling with uncontrollable momentum into another. Such is life, they say.

Often when attempting to piece together a coherent and chronological sequence of bad decisions and forced encounters, one finds, quite frustratingly, no discernable order or distinguishable trait which one might use to prevent future quagmires.

Nonetheless, I find myself wondering with no little consternation how I stumbled into the situation I found myself in recently.

It began innocuously enough, a meeting of old friends to commiserate collectively at our uncertain futures, which any well adjusted human being invariably calculates to be to his or her disadvantage, as strange as it is.

Having been sufficiently stewed in the uneasy feeling of dread, a suggestion was made to avail ourselves of some light entertainment. The cinema being the most convenient and agreeable, a general consensus was reached to distract ourselves from our troubles with the improbable adventures of a Persian prince and his mystical dagger.

At this most inopportune moment, it was realised that one of the group was already very familiar with the adventures of the Persian prince having watched the movie previously. After much deliberating and polite hesitation, a splinter group of four emerged, of which I counted myself as one.

It was decided that the four would travel to Orchard as the population of skirts were more healthy and were generally of better stock, it is also there that a different movie would be available.

Upon arriving at the box office of the cinema, the irate cow behind the glass tapped impatiently on a mouse causing an image to appear on a screen which caused the party much dismay. The only unoccupied spaces in the theater was the aisles, which years of accumulated spilled Pepsi and other bodily evacuations have rendered unfit for seating, also it posed a fire safety risk.

The statuesque matron stared glassy eyed like a cow after an exhausting day of chewing grass as we played verbal hot potato with movie titles. During a lull in our game, someone casually mentioned ‘Sex and the City 2’, not wanting to seem like indecisive morons to the uncaring salary worker, we unthinkingly muttered our agreements.

That is how it came to be that four straight young men bought tickets to watch a porno flick for middle aged women.

As we walked away from the box office and the full import of what had just transpired had not yet sunk in, somebody suggested helpfully “M18, so got sex one right”, to which another more lucidly replied “who wants to watch ugly, middle aged women have sex?”

The conversation became more and more sparse as it became increasingly clear that we were out of place in that theater. The whole affair came to a head when the movie began with the wedding of a homosexual couple.

We spent the next two hours or so in that darkened room, uncomfortable, chuckling politely but awkwardly with the rest of the audience which thankfully were hard to make out in the darkness.

We left the theater, each reassuring the others with “that show was really not for us.” That was little comfort to my penis which was even more scared and confused than usual.

I jokingly remarked to my friend that movies like Twilight and Sex and the City were just different genres of pornography for girls. He sighed a sigh of resignation tinged with trepidation.

I spent that night sitting under a cold shower hoping the four of us didn’t look like the gay version of Carrie and her friends.

OMG I haven't had sex, bought shoes or made a remark in bad taste that would be confused for humour in 20 mins, it must be a record or something.

Won't someone think of the children?

2010-05-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

As an overly concerned parent of none, I am outraged and disgusted with the blatant advertisement of salacious entertainment that has been violating television screens with increasing frequency. The broadcasters have shown to have questionable understanding of what is decent and appropriate programming by allowing the advertisement to be shown even between 7pm to 9pm, when decent, law abiding and morally upright citizens sit down at the living room with their families to perhaps watch a program about healthy living and family values.

But these obtuse broadcasters would rather have healthy and decent minds polluted with filth like advertisements for child pornography.

The advertisement of which I speak of is below.

Not only does the advertisement feature a singer that that has a name of a hooker, he also looks like he belongs on a police wanted poster for convicted sexual offenders. This man, as I have later found out, has been known to make young girls weak in the knees and hang on to his every word.

On closer inspection, one finds that the entire advertisement is cunningly designed to cause the rapid and subliminal erosion of children’s moral and sexual values. It suggests through an infectious jingle and easy choreography that it is acceptable to view and indeed enjoy child pornography.

Let us first consider the purposely sexually charged lyrics. Without paying much attention one could very easily disregard the lyrics as harmless especially when sung in that catchy benign melody that disguises its darker meaning, this is obviously a devious ploy from the creators of the advertisement. Taken as it is, written on paper, one immediately notices the similarities to the script of an average pornographic video.
Indeed one need only change the words ‘Singapore’ to ‘Bitch’, ‘drum’ to ‘dick’ and ‘feet’ to ‘fuck’ to find that the lyrics matches perfectly to one of the more popular videos on the pornographic website, hornyslutsfrombehind.com.

Consider also the ‘dance’ of the pedophilic pied piper. As in the case of the lyrics it is easily dismissed as quite harmless. In fact it brings to mind other more decent and appropriate kid oriented shows such as Barney or The Wiggles which also feature simple dances for children to easily follow along. Except in the case of the advertisement the ‘dance’ conveys a hidden message.

The dance starts with cupped hands brought together at the wrist, this is the image of a flower which represents the sexual purity of children, it is also a symbol of the vagina.
The sequence continues with the hands removed from each other in opposite directions quickly, this represents the destruction of the flower or deflowering the sexual innocence of the child. The coming apart of the hands also symbolizes the vagina being breached.
Lastly, the two hands are formed into the shape of guns and several ‘shots’ are ‘fired’. Guns are widely known to be phallic symbols and the firing of the guns reflects the act of ejaculation.

The above clearly shows that the advertisement promotes the sexual violation of children. As the advertisement comes to an end, we find that it is actually in support of the Youth Olympics.

If there can be said to be any good to have come out of this, it is that it has brought to my attention, the staging of a massive event here in Singapore, of what is in essence a pedophilic rock concert where children perform ‘tricks’ while wearing figure hugging leotards to entertain a crowd.

Answer me this, how is it that it is entirely appropriate of a young lady to wear sparkling, brightly coloured, one piece swimsuits to prance on a bar but when an adult female wears frilly pink nightwear while twirling around a pole, it is suddenly too racy?

Is it because the pole is upright and the bar is not?

1...2...3... and...

2010-05-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

Away We Go is the latest in the series of movies that feature hand drawn stylized graphics, other notable examples being Juno and (500) Days of Summer.

Let Strongbad educate you on the significance of hand drawn images in movies.

Besides the visual similarities, the movies also share many common themes among them and have all had the phrase ‘a rom-com with a difference’ appended obtrusively on a promotional picture in a newspaper at some point.

I feel like Juno exposed a niche market for quirky romantic comedies and left in its wake a pair of dauntingly big shoes to fill. This year we have Away We Go.

Pregnancy is in again and the unrealistically attractive characters of (500) Days of Summer are replaced with the more relatable John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph, in fact someone thought it would be better if John grew a beard to obscure any trace of that youthful good looks.

The movie follows the couple of Verona and Burt as they make their way across America in search of a place to settle down and raise a family, Verona six months into her pregnancy but looking like she’s in her eighth.
They having decided that it would be best to live near friends or family.

And what friends and family they have! Everyone they encounter in their journey are maladjusted, undergoing some personal tragedy or are borderline psychotics. And the strange thing is Burt and Verona are always surprised.

The disjointed plot is tremulously held together by Krasinski’s charm transposed almost wholesale from his character in The Office. Burt could easily be an older, more jaded Jim with a beard, although in some instances he is more like Dwight. Maya Rudolph is the stoic pregnant girlfriend who tolerates her clownish boyfriend with all the patience in the world while still carrying the emotional baggage of her parents death years ago. Verona is definitely not the fun, energetic, wide-eyed innocent of Juno.

Needless to say, there is a happy ending, although it might seem a little forced and stilted scene leading up to it felt more like a synopsis of everything that preceded it.

See, the main reason why Juno was a good movie was that it had a lot of heart, clichéd as that sounds. Away We Go attempts to have heart but made the mistake of removing the youthful exuberance of Juno and having the impregnator attempt at having a sense of humour. It may also be in Juno’s favour that it depicted the sweet, innocent, passionate start of a romance instead of the flickering, smoldering embers of its midpoint.

While we have established that Away We Go is no Juno, it is also certainly not (500) Days of Summer. One wonders if the latter was really an appropriate title, not only is it pointlessly clumsy (I cannot imagine what the parenthesis is for other than to make it harder to type) it is also a dreary and tedious movie. (500) Days of Winter with No Heating more like.

Tom is a pathetic loser and Summer is disinterested and cold. They do not deserve the frustratingly attractive bodies that house them, a lot like real life actually. And unless I’m really out of touch, the public opinion on Paris Hilton has not improved. How are we supposed to like these people?

At least Burt and Verona are likeable.

So Away We Go is somewhere stuck in the middle. If you are itching for this particular brand of romantic comedy, it satisfies. It maybe suffers from being a little similar to Juno, but then if you really like Juno, it’s out on DVD.

If you like to watch hopelessly attractive people with the personalities of cardboard cut outs get their heart broken, watch (500) Days of Summer just remember to skip the last 10 minutes.

Here is where the title should be

2010-05-08T11:07:00.000-07:00

Oh yea. I had a thing on the interwebs where I post occasionally humourous essays or posts which I could then upload for all and sundry to peruse. A web-log I think it was called. My, it sure seems an eternity ago since I’ve written something.

Well let’s see.

Hmmm….

Errr…

So… do you?

I mean, nice weather we are having….

Well not exactly, I mean of course it has been a little bit like The Big Guy left the thermostat I little too high but relatively speaking it is quite nice weather we are having. It sure could be a lot worse. We could be in Iceland.

……

You know what?

If I were to ever find myself in a zombie apocalypse situation, I would much rather be bitten and turned into a zombie than to try to survive. I mean, there really isn’t much of a point in being a human except boning the remaining hot broad with breasts you can use as a bookshelf. Might as well get it over with.
Also why do you think there is always one big breasted survivor in every zombie apocalypse? Are zombies allergic to cleavage or something? Maybe zombies are confused by the irregular silhouette of a well endowed woman.

I’m tired of this make believe conversation. Moving on.

I don’t know what it is about doing nothing. The thing about doing nothing is that often you find that it is quite difficult to then not do nothing anymore. It is almost as if an inertia builds that resists any sort of force acting on it. In light of this revelation I have conceived this alteration to one of Newton’s laws.

An object that is at rest would remain at rest until a resultant force acts upon it, at which point the object would groan pathetically and turn over sideways and pull its covers over itself.
Not the most concise or catchy scientific law but accurately describes about 80% of all adolescent boys.

It’s not so much that I’m not doing anything than I am doing nothing.

I’ll let you think about that for a bit.

Done? Alright.

It’s strange living in this twilight zone, no there are no vampires but it is like living in a time bubble or a forgotten pocket of some faded old jean shorts of time. Seconds, minutes and hours lose their meaning and any passage of time is gauged more by the semi regular occurrence of hunger or hearing American Idol playing on the television in the living room. Both of which leave me feeling empty in the stomach.

I rarely have anything approaching the semblance of thought. In the past two weeks the only real thoughts I had were the drivel concerning the zombie apocalypse and how strawberry and Nutella on toast would taste. It was quite delicious actually.

Now I’m just prattling. I should stop here before I lose all self respect and start writing posts about how much my life sucks compared to everyone else. God, I hope I don’t become that.

That would be no different from being a zombie.

A Kick-Ass(Arse) Review

2010-04-23T10:33:00.000-07:00

The amount of enjoyment you can derive from watching the movie ‘Kick – Ass’ depends largely on the matter of taste.

Do you fancy yourself a person of discerning taste? Not necessarily pedantic but require that the media you consume have at least some modicum of creative and artistic integrity? If so, do yourself a favour and skip this one.

If, however, you couldn’t fart at much less give two shits about what you consume as entertainment - If you think that ‘2 girls 1cup’ and videos of people throwing stones at kittens in a cramped cage make for perfectly acceptable entertainment - you may enjoy ‘Kick – Ass’, it is also very possible that you are seeing a court appointed psychiatrist after spending time in jail for animal cruelty.

One thing about the movie in particular has come under contention as having crossed the line of being in good taste, stabbed it in the back, forcibly violated its anus then urinated on its corpse, that being the character of Hit-Girl, an ostensibly 11 years old girl who uses the word ‘cunt’, gets beat up by a mafia boss and kills said boss’ minions without any signs of guilt, remorse or emotions except maybe joy.

The use of the expletive is not so much of a big deal to me. This may be because, given the heritage of my country, I usually say ‘Arse’ instead of ‘Ass’. It may also be because Singaporeans are very fond of using the Hokkien name of a female vagina as an insult.
(Surveys have shown that many Singaporeans can’t get any)
I attached female to the front of vagina for the purpose of clarity, you can never be too sure these days.

Roger Ebert, venerated movie critic, singled out the physical abuse of Hit-Girl and while this is certainly not the most comfortable thing to watch, I feel he may have overstated it as the director, in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, only had Hit-Girl suffer a nosebleed as her most grievous injury.

As to the third point of contention, this is one of the extremely rare occasions that I completely agree with the board of censors decision to give this movie an M18 classification.

Although from the unbridled laughs that several scenes elicited from the audience in the theater where I watched the movie I wonder if R21 would be too harsh a label.
These are some of the scenes which the audience found so hilarious.

A boy getting run over by a car after stumbling into the street from having been stabbed by an unsavoury character.

A mafia soldier carelessly tripping over from a shove from Hit-Girl and consequently blowing a hole through the top of his head with a shotgun he happened to be holding.

I don’t remember laughing in that theater.

The movie fails in its own aspirations of being a satire on the comic book movie genre. It makes flippant remarks on Superhero origins, pointing out the ridiculousness of being dropped into toxic waste or being bitten by a radioactive spider only for the protagonist to gain ‘a slightly elevated tolerance for pain’ due to damaged nerve endings from the aforementioned traffic accident.

It lampoons Superheroes’ fortuitous motivations by having the protagonist’s mother die of an aneurism while at the breakfast table, only to later kill off Big-Daddy, Hit-Girl’s father, whose death she dutifully avenges.
(What did Big-Daddy die from anyway? Overload of Pride?)

When the protagonist (whose name I’ve already forgotten) discusses the plausibility of a real Superhero with his friends, they dismiss Super Powers as scientifically untenable and gadgets as logistically impossible. Of course, they conveniently left the Father and Daughter crime fighting duo’s access to weapons and wealth unexplained.

Some may say this is meant as a parody of the genre and of itself, but this is lazy writing and incompetent attempts at comedy at best.

See if you can tell when the following stops being funny.

An overweight man performs a standup routine, he jokes that he eats so much oily food that if he passes out and ends up in a hospital they would have to put him on a drip of bacon fat, he then remarks that he is hungry and pulls out a sausage from the inside of his jacket and proceeds to eat it on stage.
Unfortunately, the ingestion of the sausage is the proverbial last straw and he suffers the proverbial heart attack and promptly dies on stage.

The movie attempts to answer the not-so-original question of what would happen if someone tried to be a Superhero in real life. At first it gave the only logical answer, he wouldn’t do very well, only to realise that there is still an hour and a half of tape left and to fill out the rest of the time became what it was supposed to be a parody of, only it was conscious of being a hypocrite and so it tried to disguise itself in violence, cursing and blood.

Plaque Liberation Front

2010-04-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

I bet terrorists don’t visit their dentists often enough.

That is not to say that I believe that all terrorists have bad teeth or unhealthy dental hygiene, I’m pretty sure, hunted inexorably as they are, they would at least have access to some toothpaste and a toothbrush in their treehouse, hobbit hole or wherever they are hiding. A chewed up end of a fibrous stick could work in a pinch.

No, I’m quite certain that even the latest breed of terrorist, the self radicalized, social outcast that spends most of his time on shady internet forums, motivated less by ideology than fighting off a suffocating boredom. The ones that otherwise live normal lives, the ones that could be your neighbours. (Or Pepsi Terrorists as I call them) I bet those people also don’t visit their dentists.

How can I say this with such certainty?

Because visiting a dentist to get your teeth cleaned, would suggest that the person in question possesses the capacity for empathy that is surely a quality that terrorists are lacking. It suggests that the person cares about what others think of them and would do something to improve that impression.

I am not talking about going to a dentist to fix a toothache, terrorists might be misguided and cruel but they are not stupid.

A normal (relatively speaking) person before visiting the dentist would at the very least brush their teeth paying attention to brush near the gums and the hard to reach places at the back of the mouth. A more fastidious person might brush twice. A person who has obsessive compulsive disorder adds flossing and finally a schizophrenic finishes with a round of anti-septic mouthwash to kill any disease spreading bacteria, but he does it every 30 minutes anyway.

But a terrorist would not place any additional importance to a visit to the dentist, the dentist, after all is most probably an infidel, another cog in the capitalist machine, undeserving of sympathy or courtesy. A trip to the dentist is merely an inconvenient step towards blowing himself up after which he would become a martyr and his spirit commended to heaven where it will be blessed with perfect teeth.

Terrorists also lack another vital characteristic most of us take for granted, trust in complete strangers. Trust might be too strong a word for it. Perhaps it would be clearer to say that most people do not believe that the rest of humanity secretly held a meeting and unanimously agreed to destroy their way of life. Most people believe that other people don’t give two flying fucks about their way of life.

It is the lack of this particular quality that impinges on the ability of the terrorist to lie helplessly on a dentist’s chair, completely at the mercy of his various instruments of horror lined up on that swiveling work surface like cutlery on a table of a restaurant that has a menu composed entirely of items you can’t pronounce so you have to point to the waiter stupidly like some mute retard.

4th circle of hell

In many ways dentistry can be said to be a form of oral terrorism. The sterile white washed rooms, the many drills and instruments of unclear function, the bright light they shine on your face, the long waiting times, the discomfort of having a person’s face so close you can see individual pores over a long period of time, not to mention the astronomical prices are just some of the many tools used to intimidate you into brushing at least twice a day and flossing at least once a day.

Oh God! I’ll brush my teeth, I swear!

Maybe it’s professional jealously, because one is clearly doing better than the other.

But there is one crucial way in which their methods differ, and any terrorists reading should take note, dentists have this uncanny ability to make you care.

Even under the stress of being poked in the mouth, not knowing exactly what is going on, one still makes the effort to breathe through one’s nose in case one has halitosis and the dentist happened to not like the smell of rotting seafood.

It also helps that they give you a lollipop after.

So I guess what I’m saying is terrorists should make bombs that give people candy, chocolate and joy instead third degree burns, shrapnel and death.

The new face of terrorism

TGIF

2010-04-04T12:29:00.001-07:00

Last Friday I attended mass at a church, one of the two times in every year that my mother would force me to go to church because she feels it is too important for my mortal soul to miss. Last Friday was, of course, Good Friday, the other annual event being Christmas.

I use the word ‘force’ but hardly any physical enforcement is involved. Firstly, I like my mom and even though I do not subscribe to her religious views, I realise that it means a lot to her that I attend the mass anyways. Another reason is that she kinda holds me hostage because I live under her roof and collect an allowance on which I survive on.

Not that it stops me from complaining about it.

You see, if there can be said to be one defining feature about mass it has to be its excruciating dullness. I would not be surprised to learn that the phrase “If you’ve seen ‘em once, you’ve seen ‘em all” was a reaction to a church mass. Even if it appeared in the Bible, I’d feel more amused than surprised.

The church very likely realises this as well, this is why all churches inevitably have uncomfortably hard, angular pews for seating which are designed in such a way that there is no inconspicuous way to fall asleep on them.
It might also go some way into explaining why some churches have taken to getting their youths to play horrible pop songs that have their lyrics tweaked to provide some tenuous link to Christianity.

Have you ever seen a person asleep in a Green Day concert? Thought not.

If there is one bright spot in the exercise in ennui, it would have to be the Gospel readings. For people unfamiliar to the proceedings of mass, the Gospel readings are when a member of the congregation would read aloud to all present a selected passage from the Bible. Three short passages are usually read after which the presiding priest will deliver a sermon or a speech commenting on the passages read.

The sermon, I can lose, because it is very hit and miss, depending on the priest, it can be a humourous explanation of the passages with a couple of heartwarming personal anecdotes thrown in and capped off with an Aesop moral or an entirely humourless, powerpoint style summary of the Bible passages that would put the wooden pews to work.

In fact, those were one of my favourite moments when I used to attend church more regularly as a child, just behind eating luncheon meat with nasi lemak rice in the church cafeteria.

I loved hearing the stories, even though they were disjointed and I probably didn’t understand half of the words or even before I understood the inconsistencies, hypocrisies and the allusions to the more salacious parts of the Bible, which is how I derive most of the entertainment from the stories now.
I think I was enraptured by the sense of majesty and importance in the language used.

As I grew older and more knowledgeable, I learnt about the influence of the language of the Bible on the way people speak and write. I am told it ranks among Shakespeare and Keats as the three main influences on the English language. As someone who aspires to be a writer and having not read much of Shakespeare and not at all of Keats, (Blasphemous, I know although I hope to change that in the future) I am thankful at least to have an early exposure to the Bible. How much that has seeped into my consciousness, I cannot say.

That pompous, dogmatic language of the Bible is certainly very useful for sounding important. Anybody no matter how goofy looking could muster up a least some small sense of authority if one injects words like ‘thou’ into his speech.

Gandalf is pretty cool, but you’ve got to admit that is a pretty goofy looking hat.

It does have its flaws though. These would be the two main faults, tiresome explanation and needless repetition.

For example in all of the readings of the mass I attended last Friday, whenever something happened that was referenced to in earlier parts of the Bible, it would invariably proceed to hammer home the fact that this was prophesized however many books ago. This is not only a jarring interruption to the exposition, it is also an insult to the intelligence and attentiveness of the readers, not to mention really annoying. This is not unlike a garrulous, smart-arse commentator one occasionally encounters in cinemas that is unable to keep the fact that he has figured out the identity of the murderer in the movie to himself, only in this case the commentator is a character in the movie so you can’t reach behind you and express how your knuckles feel about his running commentary.

Another common annoyance is the Bible’s propensity to repeat itself, the New Testament would be one-fourth its length if it could make up its mind about whose account it wanted to use. It is not as if the occurrences when some detail is not corroborated by the other books would have detracted from the central message of the book. This almost seems like a lazy attempt to pad out the story or what some industries call ‘filler’. The requisite melancholic ballad in between the hit songs in a pop album.
The book is also not above rephrasing sentences or having the same things happening multiple times.
Is Peter’s denying the acquaintance of Jesus three times more evocative if it happened three times instead of just once?
Does the Macarena get any better after the first 30 seconds?

No. no it doesn’t

Regardless, the Bible is and will remain an influential book. Not even a book collaboratively written by J.K Rowling, Dan Brown, Mitch Albom and Stephenie meyer about a teen wizard who uses magic to decipher clues to an international conspiracy in works of art while having inspiring conversations with his late lecturer, in addition to maintaining a relationship with an unageing sparkling vampire, would conceivably help to create a religion which would eventually count a quarter of the world’s population as its followers.

Then again, its followers have not resorted to proselytizing through emotional blackmail, annoyance or violence… yet.

Borderlands Anonymous

2010-03-26T12:53:00.000-07:00

Hi… My name is Johnny Shortstick and I…uh I am a Borderlands Addict.

I was first exposed to Borderlands about 6 months ago, a friend and I were checking out the demos at the Singapore Games Convention and happened to find the demo stations for Borderlands free. We played the demo.

For three and a half hours.

In retrospect, that should have been a warning of the game’s addictive qualities, but those were more innocent times, oh if only we could turn back time.

Life would continue on, pretty much as usual, after that first taste of that game, it would occasionally come up in some of my conversations, but that was it. Little did I know that the seeds of addiction had already been planted and was quietly taking root.

It began innocuously enough, based on the positive reviews and gameplay videos on the internet, my brother and I decided to buy the game. I do not think that the game had as strong an effect on my brother though, he is a stronger man than I.

That was … maybe four weeks ago now. Four weeks spent, if not playing the game then thinking about it. Little else distracted me from my inebriated stupor, at times I become almost a fixture, sitting statuesque in the middle of the couch, controller in hand, mouth opened slightly in fevered concentration, keeping just enough self awareness to not drool all over my shirt.

The game is insidious in its seduction, it teases the player with just enough to keep him interested at first, a rare gun here, a skill point there. Just when you begin to notice the repetitive MMO like nature of the quests, your character becomes a little more powerful. Maybe you start to gain the ability to regain health or to regenerate ammo for your guns. It is almost superficial but it keeps you from wanting to put that controller down.

I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve said to myself, ‘Just a few more levels and I can get the skill to increase the effectiveness of my Fire Hawk Incendiary Pistol’ or ‘I think I’ll just do another Sledge run to see if I can get a better gun’.

It is not like the game doesn’t have its flaws. The load times between areas are glaringly long, so that’s the time I use to go to the toilet or grab another drink from the fridge. It would not be a stretch of the imagination to believe that that was its intended purpose.

There is a lot of noticeable texture pop-ins, this is particularly evident when you just enter a new area and the game doesn’t even seem to care to hide it. The frame rate also takes a hit every time there is more than three things happening on screen at the same time, it jumps and stutters like a mentally challenged kid trying to recite the alphabet while skipping rope. It even lags in the goddamned start menu! What other console game can get away with that?

The plot is as thin and insubstantial as a disposable undergarment improvised from a couple of plies of Kleenex. There are some genuinely interesting characters but you don’t get to interact with them much at all, they are as approachable as a back alley drug dealer, you know they probably got some really interesting conversation in them but they just want to do their job and be done with you.

I’m not even sure what I’m even Doing in Borderlands, earlier I compared it to an MMO, and it is like that, but the big difference is there isn’t anyone else around. In any MMO the driving motivation is a persistent sense of progression of your avatar and much of this is usually derived from comparing yourself to others. This isn’t the case in Borderlands, sure you gain levels and you can show off your character in online play, but it doesn’t have the same gravity because you are always limited to four players at a time and no real way of distinguishing yourself from other players.

So why can’t I stop playing it?

The short answer is: Loot.

There was a couple of times in those four weeks when I was granted fleeting moments of lucidity, I tried to breakdown what exactly I was doing when I played the game. This is what I scrawled on a piece of tissue with either ketchup or blood, I’m not sure which because I threw it away before I thought to lick it.

“Kill anything that moves that is not a claptrap, get better guns to kill things.
Kill some more things to get better guns… kill”

There is an experiment where a scientist observed animals in a box deprived of stimuli, except for a lever which when pulled would cause a mechanism to give out pellets of food. Interestingly, the animals were observed to pull the levers faster if the mechanism gave out the pellets at random rather than at regular intervals, sometimes the animals would pull the lever even if they didn’t need the food.

Borderlands is like that box only instead of food pellets you get guns and instead of a lever you have Skags. It is also more fun to shoot skags than to pull a lever for food pellets… I think… I’m pretty sure…

You know what I think I’ll go play Borderlands just to make sure.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumps on girls with his candlestick

2010-03-11T11:29:00.001-08:00

Put another notch on the board for Infidelity, no I’m not talking about terrorists or slightly confused customers buying a new TV, it’s that inveterate vice of all penis owning humans, Good Old Lust.

Good Old Lust, because everything is more romantic in French.

So what’s the score then?
Infidelity 9741374674628374628349081 : Men 0.

And who could blame them, after all science has given men the perfect excuse. Survival of the species. Encoded in the male DNA is the instinct to inseminate females so as to pass on genetic code to the next generation. It is only to play the odds that Men cheat, nobody upbraids another for buying multiple lottery tickets for the same draw.

So give the man a break. So he cheated on his wife with someone that is only slightly older than his daughter, so he probably cheated more than once, so what? Need I remind you that Jack Neo is the same man who gave you Liang Po Po? And at the first whiff of a scandal you conveniently closed one eye during his movies (Some even closing two), you bunch of Ingrates.

How can you turn your back on this?

I can’t stand recent media reports casting aspersions on his character based on one mistake, and I’m not too sure about his mistress, did he really have sex with her or did she just hypnotize him into believing that he did. Where’s the Semen? I watch CSI, check her panties, if it’s true her panties will glow like Christmas under a blacklight.

Doesn’t anyone else think the timing of these stories of Jack Neo’s dalliances with Former actresses weird? What are the chances of having recently released a movie, preparing to drop an album in a couple of weeks and having previously been subject to a famous director’s sexual advances at the same that the director’s current mistress decides to be a bitch and announce their affair to his wife. Those are some pretty long odds there.

Well here’s a story about Jack Neo.

I once had a pitbull named Candy, despite her ugliness I still loved her very much. One day while walking Candy at a nearby park, we happened across where Jack Neo was filming a movie. As I have long admired his movies as a very effective cure for insomnia, I stuck around curious to see how the prolific director worked. It wasn’t long before Jack noticed me and my bitch and, quite unexpectedly, came over to say hi.

Jack was very polite, it turned out he was a dog lover and remarked that Candy was one of the prettiest bitches he had ever laid eye on. Candy being a friendly dog by nature, did not object to Jack’s stroking. Jack then explained to me that it just so happened that the scene he was currently shooting would greatly benefit from having a dog in it. I agreed to let Candy do the scene.

Jack then brought Candy into the back of his car for make-up, which I later found takes quite a long time for animals. After the shoot, Jack approached me telling me that this was the best bitch he ever had at the back of his car and that Candy could go on to be as successful as Fann Wong. I had to make the hard decision to let Candy go, but I don’t regret it as Jack Neo has assured me that she is treated well and she has become moderately successful. I think she now goes by another name, what was it? Patricia something…

I can understand how he feels though.

Yes, it’s true I admit that I have cheated.

It has been a difficult time for us but I believe that the relationship can be salvaged. It has been especially trying because I had cheated with my partner’s best friend. I talked it through with the both of them and we have come to an agreement to try out a more progressive and liberal relationship. So lefty will get Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays while righty will get Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, on Sundays we will all get in on the fun.

Best of hands again.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2: Review

2010-03-08T09:45:00.000-08:00

This review of Infinity Ward’s sequel to the breakout hit Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 has turned out to be harder to write than I thought and that’s not just because of the series’ penchant for subtitles.

I’m not really sure how I feel about the game. On one hand, it is a pretty generic FPS game albeit a very polished one, and yet I cannot deny that I had fun with it or at least a strong impression that I did.

Modern Warfare picks up 5 years after the events of the first game, Russia has been taken over by the Ultranationalist Party and Zakhaev the antagonist of the previous game is viewed as a martyr.
As a US Ranger you go deep undercover infiltrating the ranks of a terrorist group.

This is when the controversial massacre of a Russian airport takes place. Much has been said about this chapter but playing through it felt terribly forced. Your character movement slows, ostensibly to allow the gravity of the situation to sink in or even to convey the character’s hesitation in going through with the mission.

The problem is that first person shooters are not the most conducive of genres to good characterization because you mostly play as a faceless, silent protagonist. We are hardly given any information at all about the personality of Pvt Joseph Allen before we suddenly find ourselves in front of civilians with a machine gun and lots of ammo. In that split second, the player either falls back on previous game experience (ie. Shoot first, ask questions later), project ourselves onto the character and (hopefully) try to stop the terrorists by turning on them or stand around fidgeting like an awkward teenager in a school dance.

Regardless of how the player reacts, you find out quickly what the game intends for you to do, however all that doesn’t really matter because SURPRISE! the terrorists knew you were working for the CIA all along and planned to use you to trigger a war between Russia and the US.

The whole sequence leaves you feeling helpless and used, forced into a decision you would not ordinarily make, which is, and this might seem like a bit of a stretch, exactly how Joseph Allen would have felt.

If this is indeed what the developers intended, then it is a masterstroke, exploiting the limitations of the medium to allow the audience to relate to the emotions of the character.

I’ll admit though that it is not something that presents itself, I arrived at this realization long after I played that sequence and it could very well be that I’m grasping at straws here.

Following that, the plot becomes more conventional except with a twist.

America is invaded by a terrestrial force!

Perhaps the invasion of the US of A would carry a greater weight if I felt any sort of emotional attachment to the country, as it is I might as well have been playing a Na’vi defending Pandora from Americans.

Although the depiction of a burning White House did make me think about how a similar scene with the Istana would sit with Singaporeans, personally I found it to be an oddly comical exercise of the imagination.

In what is now a trademark of the series, players switch perspectives moving on to ever increasingly improbable events, but the game keeps up the pace such that any sort of incredulity only sets in after you put down the controller.

Players advance through the game by moving from one checkpoint to the next, making sure to shoot any enemies so they don’t get a chance to obscure your view with strawberry sauce, although every good soldier knows that strawberry sauce is easily removed by hiding behind cover for a few seconds.
Nothing new here. Not that anyone plays a Call of Duty game for innovative gameplay.

After a while, it almost seems as if you are engaged in a sort of line dance with the enemy AI.

Receive objective, sprint in the direction of objective. Get shot from unseen enemies, go prone behind cover until screen is clear of blood. Peek above cover, shoot at the moving human shaped pixels 30 meters away. Get shot from another direction, throw grenade, hide behind cover. Enemy thrown grenade lands near you, panic, run into the open to get shot to death or get blown up by the grenade you were trying to throw back. Reload from last checkpoint, repeat until you have memorized enemy positions and use that knowledge to get to the next checkpoint.

It can get a little trite and at certain spots becomes frustratingly like memory card matching except with bullets and if you don’t match the cards right you get a face full of hot lead.

However this gives rise to some unexpected and probably unintended humourous situations. Characters important to the story seem to have a certain degree of self awareness and would often rush into a firefight with reckless abandon only to be shot or have a grenade explode at their feet, at which they react by lying on the ground for a couple of seconds before picking themselves up as if they had only been hit by a snowball.

Meanwhile the more expendable members of your squad have an inclination to walk into your line of fire only to realise they don’t have the regenerative powers bestowed by having one or more distinctive features. Here’s a tip, try growing a Mohawk.

Hiding your face behind a balaclava doesn't seem to work as well.

On the multiplayer side, you have the expected online multiplayer modes with the progression system which the first game made the standard. Tweaks to individual perks, the addition of death streaks and changes to the UAVs would keep veteran players occupied but wouldn’t mean a lot to someone new to the series.

What anyone can appreciate though is Spec-Ops, short stand-alone missions lasting a couple of minutes that could be played solo or with a friend. These let you replay some of the more memorable sequences in the campaign without having to go through the grind to get to them.

Modern Warfare 2 is a more than competent shooter that may or may not impress you with what it tries to do with its borderline schizophrenic plot. It is like going to Macdonald’s to have a cappuccino because its cheap, only to be pleasantly surprised at the effort the barista put into writing a message in the foam. The coffee still tastes like coffee though.

Coffee is Oscar Mike!

1001000 1101001

2010-02-25T19:39:00.000-08:00

Weeee! Whoope! Etc. etc.

Since approximately 32 hours before the time of this posting, I have performed my last academic obligation, so ending my time in Polytechnic. I can’t say I am especially happy – more relieved – because now I don’t have to waste time barely working towards a diploma I don’t even want, but instead waste time feeling guilty about not doing anything for the next couple of months.

Now that I finished my studies in polytechnic I no longer have a convenient excuse for not updating this blog as frequently as I used to. Well it’s more of an excuse for me than anyone else since nobody really reads this blog.

My readers are about as real as my imaginary uncle Herb, who is an aging heirless multi-millionaire dying of high cholesterol from one too many foie gras dinners. I have had no prior knowledge of him due to his reclusive nature but he has been surreptitiously keeping tabs on me as he has taken an inexplicable shine to me and my no-so-privileged lifestyle. In fact, he likes me so much that he has decided to name me his heir.

AH HA!

Now if anyone responds to my posts, from careful application of selective logic, I will then become the heir to a fortune of millions, then I would never have to work again for the rest of my life, in fact I don’t even have to keep up this blog so people will like me when all I have to do to make friends when I’m rich is to throw money at them. So see ya suckers!

…

But wait. If I don’t write on my blog anymore then I won’t have readers anymore meaning I don’t have a rich uncle Herb anymore so I won’t be filthy rich anymore… ok ok don’t panic, then all I have to do is continue to update this blog… yes yes that should work… Only I have pissed off anybody who reads this blog with the previous paragraph!

Maybe I can think my way out. If my imaginary readers are as real as my imaginary uncle Herb who wants to give me all his money and it turns out my imaginary readers were actually real, that means that my imaginary uncle must be real. Ok so far so good. So I inherit millions of dollars but that means that I don’t have to do anything anymore and anything includes writing this blog. But if I don’t write, I won’t have any readers and adkjfoadsihfiodsahfioadsjoglhassjhsadionlsa;dfjoasd;olllllllllfkjaafkjllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

A Response To An Open Letter To The Class Of 2010, Written By The Same Person, That Nobody Asked For.

2010-02-15T11:44:00.000-08:00

I have never experienced such unbridled joy in front of a computer screen with both my hands on the keyboard than when I signed in to my email account two weeks ago.

Fan mail.
I actually received fan mail from someone other than my Mom (Hi Mom!) or myself pretending to be somebody else.

Yes, so they were not exactly unsolicited, I sent my open letter to a group of students in my school with surnames starting with the letter ‘R’.
But still! Fan Mail!

Finally, I have gotten a taste of the recognition that I so craved for and boy was it intoxicating. This must be what it feels like to be jacked up on heroin. But like the high extracted from the drug, the joy I felt was fleeting and soon anxiety and self doubt hung on my shoulders like a wet blanket.

I immediately abandoned my original plan of sending the letter to everyone in school, partly because of how tedious and cumbersome the process turned out to be and partly because I already have what I hoped to have gotten in sending out the letter.

Fan Mail! Any good heroin user knows you have to start small, too much too soon and you would overdose and die from an overinflated ego.
But then the high wears off and you are fixing for another hit.

So here it is then,
A Response To An Open Letter To The Class Of 2010, Written By The Same Person, That Nobody Asked For.

It would seem that I have underestimated my persuasiveness, because nobody I sent the letter out to replied saying that it was overly optimistic and even naïve to suggest that all the world’s problems are symptoms of people not being loved enough.

There is a reason why when you ask someone the question, “What is Love?”
They usually give some nauseatingly pathetic answer like, “It is when we sit in a room and not talk for two hours because there is no need for words.”
Yeah I know, I had to forcibly hold down my dinner just typing it out.
By that logic I’m in love with everyone I’ve encountered on long bus rides, dentist waiting rooms and libraries.

Why does Love feel so hollow?

The reason people give such face meltingly obtuse answers is because nobody has a clue what it really is.
If the Meaning of Love was a person, it would have been gang-raped by Hollywood romantic-comedy movies, religious preachers, political leaders and hallmark card writers that its brain would have self induced amnesia to avoid dealing with crippling emotional issues.

Here’s a secret. Writers lie.
Writers lie because that’s what the readers want, they want to believe that life is usually interesting enough to warrant the use of extravagant superlatives.

They want to believe in ‘sun-kissed plains that stretched as far as the eye can see’. They want to believe in ‘the giddy delight of his soft lips against mine’.

So I was being disingenuous as my letter seemed to imply that with a bit of Love, all of life’s problems could be washed away, like Love was some magic all purpose cleaning detergent.

Look, we still haven’t gotten people to piss in the urinal and not all over the fucking floor, I think we still have a ways to go before we solve the problem of poverty, hunger and accidentally dropping bombs over other people’s heads, none of them can be solved by liberally applying Love and wiping with a soft cloth.

Not only that, it is dangerous too, many in the pursuit of what they perceive to be Love do terrible things, I also said this much in my open letter.
So it would seem the absence of love may be the root of many of the world’s problems but its presence is not the cure.

Love belongs to the same class as Equality. An aspiration that is to be pursued by can never be achieved. (All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others) The great Lee Kuan Yew, himself said as much.

The latest flavour of the month here in Singapore is sedition.
3 youths were arrested for creating a racist group on facebook and a pastor was called up by the ISD for posting videos that ‘trivialized’ and ‘insulted’ Buddhists and Taoists. Here’s keeping my fingers crossed nothing happens to me.

What crime have these people committed? According to the Sedition Act, they have ‘raised discontent or disaffection amongst the citizens of Singapore or the residents in Singapore’ and ‘promoted feelings of ill-will and hostility between different races or classes of the population of Singapore’.

Hello, what’s this? An act should not be considered seditious if it ‘points out, with a view to their removal, any matters producing or having a tendency to produce feelings of ill-will and enmity between different races or classes of the population of Singapore’

It is obvious that such highfalutin aspirations like Love and Equality can never be achieved and in fact is pernicious to the ~~Peace, no wait that is also highfalutin,~~ the status quo and therefore it can be construed that anything promoting these ideals are in fact seditious.

As such I demand that the following be removed for being seditious, in that it ‘brings into hatred or contempt or to excite disaffection against the Government’.

We, the citizens of Singapore,
pledge ourselves as one united people,
regardless of race, language or religion,
to build a democratic society
based on justice and equality
so as to achieve happiness, prosperity and
progress for our nation.

An Open Letter To The Class of 2010

2010-01-30T08:38:00.000-08:00

[Here something I wrote for a school assignment. You can tell that I have been reading Kurt Vonnegut. In my opinion Vonnegut's style of writing is about as idiosyncratic as the brush strokes of Vincent Van Gogh. This can only hope to be a pale imitation at best.]

Hello,

So we come yet again to the end of another academic year. This is conventionally a time for reflection. I am counting down the days to the end of my sojourn in poly (another day another $5.75, for non-citizens it’s $8.63) and have been asked to do a reflection for my WISP module.
In this module, which is compulsory for year three students we learn about World Issues, somehow this ended up being a study of the ways in which human beings mistreat other human beings.

I have decided to write my reflection in the form of an open letter to all the students studying in Ngee Ann. (Why not?) I hope you will spare me a little of your time.

This is why I think so many human beings treat other human beings like they are less than human beings.
From the time that we were born to about age 5, give or take a couple of years, most of us as babies were showered with so much care and attention, everything was new and we had more or less unconditional love from our parents.
Then as we grew older and less cute, we begin to learn that the world was sometimes a less than wonderful place to live in. Daddy was grumpy after work, Mummy was less amazed at everything we did and sometimes we didn’t get what we wanted even though we cried really hard.

Teenage years are marked with confusion. Our bodies were growing and changing in alarming ways and we did not feel comfortable talking to our parents about it. And all the time we are coming up with more elaborate and complicated ways of saying “Look at me!” and “Love me!” which were often ineffective.

On reaching adulthood, it suddenly became polite behaviour not to do things that say “Look at me!” and ‘Love me!”

I think this - often sudden - change from having unconditional love to having to live without it has left much of the world’s population with irreparable mental and emotional damage.

Many of people’s actions are basically different ways of saying “Look at me!” and “Love me!”
Some people try to gather more shiny things than others. Some people work to get authority over others. Some people write letters to people they don’t know. Some people strap explosives to themselves and put on a one man fireworks performance.
When Hitler wanted people to pay attention to him and to love him, he tried painting pretty pictures. When that didn’t work he became a dictator and tried to wipe out what he perceived were unsavoury groups of people. He failed at that too. Some people are more damaged than others.

Sometimes I think people spend too much time trying to be who they think they should be and too little time dreaming about who they want to be. (I used to dream about being an Astronaut or a Rock Star – “Look at me!” – now all I do is wonder why all the girls I have a crush on turn out to already have boyfriends)

Perhaps it would be a good idea to assign a psychiatrist to every child or to have psychology included in the curriculum in schools so people can recognize when someone had gone batshit insane and warn the rest of us not to listen to that person.

Yes, and if an extra-terrestrial being that was knowledgeable in human psychology were to make a general diagnosis of the inhabitants of Earth, it may look something like this:

Chronic Schizophrenia probably stemming from a traumatic childhood experience, sexuality issues, dangerous self-destructive tendencies, possibly suicidal.

Did you know that only until recently has there been talk about giving homosexuals the same rights as other human beings here in Singapore? This is something that many people have no control over, like the colour of their skin.

But at least we are making progress, in the United States of America, slavery was legal for almost a hundred years before they decided it was probably not such a good idea.

So I had to check my calendar to make sure we weren’t going backwards in time when I read that our own Health Minister Mr Khaw Boon Wan said: “it is only right for citizens to enjoy more subsidies than non-citizens”

In the midst of all this talk about citizens and non-citizens lately, I feel it is important to reiterate that nobody should feel entitled to anything in life except to be treated decently as a human being.
I feel the government is on a slippery slope with this issue, too much appeasing the masses and we might just end up a one dimensional caricature of privileged entitlement, spouting asinine catch phrases and starring in bad reality shows.

Perhaps the most significant step we have taken to ensure that people everywhere are treated like decent human beings in recent times is the growing use of the phrase “It’s Okay”.

These are some of the things that we have recently said “It’s Okay” to.

To be born with a skin colour other than white
To have imaginary friends
To be female
To not know how to whistle
To be guilty about being more fortunate than others
To be homosexual
To not be good in bed
To be different

The last significant step towards the decent treatment of other human beings was made approximately 1980 years ago when a man stood on a hill and said something along these lines to the people around him.

‘If you want people to be nice to you, it would be helpful if you were nice to them too’

Just yesterday I heard the writer J.D. Salinger passed away, Salinger of course was known for writing ‘The Catcher in the Rye’. I remember reading that book, although I don’t recall much of the story – nothing much happens anyway – because I identified with the main character Holden. There I was just coming out of puberty, still full of angst and frustration and there in the pages of this book was reflected the thoughts and emotions I felt but could never really put into words.
I felt, as I have felt from reading other books, that I was not alone. It was a great comfort at a time when I was vulnerable emotionally and it was all the more special because it was so private.

So my advice to you is to read. It is an easy way to feel better about living in a place where so many problems are caused by other people. it is cheap too.

I will end this letter with two quotes, one is the best introduction to life I have ever come across and the other is from the most popular book in the world. (Surprise, it’s not Harry Potter)

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies — "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

- Kurt Vonnegut from “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater”

“Be Fruitful and Multiply”

- The most famous Imaginary Friend in the world

Thank You for your attention.

Yours Fraternally
Aaron Tang

Look at me, I'm Kind!

2010-01-24T09:13:00.000-08:00

It’s gonna have to be a short one from me this week, I would promise that I would write more after my pile of school work would get the hint and go away already. (I’m at the every conversation punctuated with awkward silences and variations of “so how was your day?” stage so it shouldn’t be too long now.)

But I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.
Actually I do that all the time, but, and here’s the best bit, if you say that people are somehow less annoyed when you do it.

Also, yes that is how I end all my relationships.

Now here’s the part where I try to make you laugh, or chortle, or chuckle, or grin, I’ll settle for an amused smile, ok just promise you won’t hit me.

Ahh… here we go again. Just this night we were once again subject to celebrities cadging in the guise of entertainment.
Yes, it’s the semi-regular charity show.
There was once I thought that the things only came once every year, then different shows benefiting different charities were introduced when there were two competing networks and I was ok with that.
But then the two networks merged, in the same manner a shark would ‘merge’ with a seal by eating it, and it was as if a declaration of war was made among the charities over who put on the best show.

NKF had tradition and shiny prizes.
Ren Ci had that self-sacrificing monk and took the moral high ground offering no prizes. Hey, guess what Ren Ci money has no morals!
And then there are some other small charities nobody cares about because their CEOs haven’t stolen anything yet.

The thing that really rubs my scrotum the wrong way is that faint smug looks on those celebrities faces as they practically beg for the audience to call. It is like a corporate wank fest for narcissists earning a scout badge.
And Christ, do they make those celebrities jump through hoops and dance like monkeys. I mean why can’t they just do what they do best?
Singing and looking good.
It works for other fund raising/ awareness shows look at live8, or the other ones where musicians stage a concert to benefit whatever tragedy was happening when they opened the newspapers.

Oh that’s right! Because they aren’t good at what they do.

Before anyone feels the need to call me out on being a hypocrite and a sanctimonious prick. (I am)
Yes, money is not beholden to any moral standard, so no matter how pathetic their attempts at professional scrounging are, at least they are helping the charities.
Now if only the charities will help the people in need. HA!

Here is how I propose a show benefiting charities can be put on with minimal loss of dignity.

Nobody can say no to this.

Also I know my lighthearted posts may lead one to think that I am quite well to do, but this is not true. Do you know I still rely on my parents for income? With just a small donation of $10 you could feed me and my insatiable appetite for music CDs and video games. I just know you will help me because I believe that you all are such kind people who would never pass on an opportunity to exchange money for a sense of superiority.

Pocoyo Learns An Important Lesson

2010-01-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

Disembodied Voice: Why hello there, Pocoyo! What are you up to today?

DV: Ahh, I see. It seems Pocoyo would like to play with you Pato.
Do you have time to play with Pocoyo, Pato?

DV: Hmm… It seems that Pato doesn’t want to play with you Pocoyo.
He thinks you are an infantile childish prat and he doesn’t want to play with you because it always ends with him covered in your spittle.

DV: I’m sorry, Pocoyo but it seems you will have to play by yourself.

DV: Hmm… Well if nobody wants to play with you why don’t you make up an imaginary friend then you don’t have to play alone.

DV: Haha, yes. That’s very good Pocoyo. All your imaginary friend needs now is a name. What are you going to call your imaginary friend Pocoyo?

DV: You are going to call your friend ‘Halla’? Yes, that is rather a fun name to call an imaginary friend isn’t it?

DV: Oh look! Here comes Pato now. Maybe you should introduce ‘Halla’ to Pato.

DV: Hello Pato! Pocoyo would like to introduce you to his new friend. Tell him what your friend’s name is, Pocoyo.

Pocoyo: ‘Halla’!

Pato: Quack! Quackquack’Halla’QUACK!

DV: What’s this? Pato seems to be angry at Pocoyo. He says that Pocoyo stole his imaginary friend’s name! Oh dear!

Pocoyo: No, Pocoyo didn’t steal!

DV: Pocoyo is saying that he did not steal Pato’s imaginary friend’s name. And besides it is clearly stated in the book of ‘Rules of Imaginary Friend’s Names’ that it is ok for a person to want to call their imaginary friend by the same name as their friend’s imaginary friends.

Pato: QfUacKk YoU!

DV: Oh Dear, Pocoyo and Pato are fighting now!

DV: Oh my word!

DV: Oww! That looked like it hurt.

DV: STTTOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPP!!!!

DV: Don’t you see what happened? Your obsession over the names of your imaginary friends has made you neglect what is Really Important, your Real Friends, Each Other.

DV: I think there is something you should say to each other, don’t you?

Pato: Quack (sorry)
Pocoyo: Sowwi (sorry)

DV: Good now everyone is friends again. HURRAY FOR PATO! AND HURRAY FOR POCOYO! See you soon, Bye!

Now children don’t you think we could learn a bit from Pocoyo and his friends?

[I guess I should say Pocoyo is not my creation, so all rights to the creators and all that legal jazz, don't sue me please]

God, Already?

2010-01-02T10:15:00.001-08:00

A few days ago the world was, for a moment, united in celebration. Although that moment would come earlier or later for different people depending on where on the surface of this floating mudball they happened to be at that time.

What, you might ask, could possibly transcend racial, ideological, religious and national boundaries?
That was a rhetorical question, if you had to spend more than 1 second thinking about it, you really ought to just give up on life right now because you obviously have no clue. The answer is, of course, New Years Day.

Don’t you love how I castigated anyone for not knowing the answer to my rhetorical question then proceeding to answer it just in case anybody was still having trouble figuring it out? I am kidding about killing yourself if the answer did not immediately leaped at you and slapped you with 2010 calendars with January 1 circled in bold red.

I mean who else would read my blog?

People of the world stood anxiously watching the numbers at the back of their time-keeping devices roll over and experienced such unbridled joy at seeing such an amazing tableau of arithmetic that they shot off rockets in a shower of orgasmic bliss.

And they said Mathematics was boring!

Parents who are fully aware of the connotations behind such a display smiled knowingly with a wink and a nod to other parents while children stared transfixed unable to understand exactly why it made them so happy and just soaking in the atmosphere.

I remember vividly how the last seconds of the previous year was spent. I was thoroughly engaged in sorting out if the New Year started at midnight or just after that, I was shaken from my deliberations from some distracting shouting from the television then decided to give it up as the question was already obsolete.

But here is another question, one that I believe should be publicly discussed, why should we celebrate New Years Day?

Yes, I know it is supposed to be about hope for a better year ahead, but it just seems illogical to me, like buying a JBL 38-Special Reef Gun before you are absolutely sure you won the lottery.

How was I to know I couldn’t use it to catch fish in Singapore?
Also it was on sale, only $207.43!

What I propose instead is a different holiday, it will be held on the 31 December every year and it will be called ‘Good Riddance Day’ or ‘Day of Good Riddance’ depending on how pretentious you want to be.

The ‘Day of Good Riddance’ would, as the name suggests, be a celebration of all the bad stuff that we hope to leave behind, it would be celebrated in the same manner in which people try to forget things, by getting stupidly drunk.

I believe that the ‘Day of Good Riddance’ would be a more legitimate holiday than New Years Day, simply because while nobody can say with any certainty that the proceeding year would turn out to be one worthy of celebration, everyone will ineluctably end up with at least a couple of things they want to forget at the end of each year.

So there it is, I am officially renouncing New Years Day and will from now on only celebrate the ‘Day of Good Riddance’ and I hope all of my readers will follow my lead and spread the word.

It won’t be hard, all that is really different is the name and that it is a day earlier.

So this is Christmas...

2009-12-24T09:17:00.000-08:00

Despite what many Christians would smugly point out in that annoyingly condescending tone they are particularly fond of employing, Christmas is not about the birth of Christ. Those guys don’t even know exactly when that dude is born, the best they could come up with is that the date is nine months from when he was supposed to be conceived, which I find to be arbitrary and very creepy.

So I went for Christmas mass today and for those who have never been, it can be described as a massive gathering of people to share in communal goodwill with storytelling and lots of karaoke, so it’s a kind of a Christian seventh month then. Actually that makes it sound more fun than it really is. Like most Christmas themed entertainment it is nauseatingly maudlin and just dull really.

It strikes me as a really tenuous cause for celebration though, the birth of the illegitimate spawn of the invisible man and a woman who claims to have never had sex.

And it is amusing how all that goodwill gets left behind in the church just as the mass is over and everybody tries to drive out of a packed carpark while forcing themselves not to use the horn because it’s Christmas.

No, I’m not even talking about that old tired dictum about how Christmas has become commercialized.
Sex has long been commercialized, in fact it is widely accepted that prostitution is the oldest profession, but it doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.

So what is it about then? Sharing, caring and all that good stuff? Friends and family? Whatever, I see them enough the rest of the year.

No, Christmas is a holiday. It is a holiday where people exchange gifts but not only that, it just so happens that I am of an age when it is acceptable for me not to give anything while at the same time expect to be given lots of shiny new things.

It is also the time for feasting, a time of smoked salmon, smoked hams, on occasions sushi and whatever else anyone feels like bringing. Here as with the gifts, I am at a fortunate situation where to all these feasting there isn’t attached any worry about whether my finances can afford these for years to come or expend any concern with regards to my waistline or health.

So, Christmas is good to me and I am going to enjoy it guilt-free for as long as my selfish adolescent mind will let me. To anyone who thinks this to be inconsiderate and contrary to what Christmas is all about, all I have to say is, you are living life all wrong, my loves.

Thanks for reading and have a Merry Merry Christmas while you still can, Jesus would have wanted it this way.

Better late than never

2009-12-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

Do not worry, my throngs of hot, intellectual teenage girl readers, I am not dead. Although I am not entirely certain that it would not be a more accommodating alternative.

I say readers but I sometimes wonder if anyone actually consistently reads my posts, I know people are visiting my blog, that little counter on the side tells me that by increasing in agonizingly slow rates every time I go check on it, which I try to limit to once a day because that’s all the bruising my ego can take.

I get so pathetically excited every time there is a little spike in page visits, one might make the mistake of assuming I was looking at my stock portfolio.
The thing is, once you sieve out the anomalous jumps in traffic, as any judicious statistician should, we are left with overwhelming evidence that my readership could very well consist of just one person.

Now, whether that one person is a hot, intellectual teenage girl, there is no way of telling from the statistics but if you are and you are reading this now, I would just like to say I enjoy stimulating intellectual conversations, one would likely find bands like Grizzly Bear and Animal Collective playing on my portable music playing device at the moment and I like movies like Here and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I am sure you will find a way to contact me if you are interested to go have a coffee together sometime or catch a movie or something, my resourceful little pet.

Ahem.

Well, the other alternative, which I do not find as appealing, is that I am somehow sleep-reading my blog, probably as a defense mechanism of my sub-conscious to protect my delicate ego. Naturally, the somnolent visits to my blog would be kept to a minimum, one would not want to inflate the ego, just as it is obvious that an inflated balloon is easier to burst.

The numbers are so incidental, that they can almost be entirely attributed to people who were looking for the meaning of the word ‘mellifluous’.
Meanwhile obtuse teenage girls whose blogs consists of whiny posts about how their friends didn’t notice that they had their hair trimmed, get more traffic than this blog just because they have pictures taken of themselves from a high angle with a slightly confused or constipated expression or because they have more than one friend.

I also suspect that a substantial amount of traffic is made up of boys who, thoroughly misguided by some bizarre logic, believe that reading the girl’s blog would increase their chances of being allowed to put their pork sausages into the girl’s meat canoe.
Euphemisms!

I suppose I can tell you why I haven’t been posting as regularly as I wish I could.
My stack of schoolwork have seemed to gain aspirations of beating Everest, and through some strange and arbitrary reason I feel obligated to actually defeat their purpose by completing them because I am in my final semester. This is not helped by their deadlines overlapping the common tests and the holidays.
In fact, I really should be doing work right now.

Also the seasonal flu as it is wont, has befallen the host at the most inconvenient time. Just as I passed the phase of coughing up phlegm into basins, my throat is now wanting of lubrication, it feels as if it was scrubbed with steel wool. It is not the most favourable physical state to be in for studying when you are keenly aware of every dust particle that you breathe in.

On a separate note.
God, I hate whiny blog posts, don’t you?

Teacher Feature

2009-11-25T08:02:00.000-08:00

Having had my brain deliquesced and the neural juiced drained for the last 11 years or so in the power juicer that is the Singapore Education System, I feel that I can speak of the teachers under its employ with some authority. The conclusion that I have come to after being subjected (geddit) to their teachings for so long is that the happiness and overall satisfaction teachers get from teaching is inversely proportional to how much they give a fuck.

It even removes the bits of broken skull. Convenient!

Another observation that I made was that teachers have a certain way of controlling the class and that these can be broadly distilled down to the following categories.

The Guilt-monger

The guilt-monger as the name suggests deals out guilt in an attempt to get the class to behave, as such a physical deformity or a weepy story about their childhood are the usual tools of the trade.
Class not listening to your lessons? Start walking around the classroom with your pronounced limp while making grimaces of pain then sigh heavily and tell them about how if only a class would listen, it would make the job so much easier and maybe your leg would hurt less.
Timmy not handing up homework? Make him stay after class, then when you are alone tell him about how you regret not doing your homework back when you were a student, then you wouldn’t be teaching noisy little fucks that don’t do their homework like you are now. That’ll scare him straight in no time!

The only problem to this approach is that it is based on the false assumption that people are naturally good-natured and would act with decency if they knew that their actions are causing a great inconvenience to others. This might be true for the population at large, but at the age when one is schooling the compassion and empathy parts of the brain are largely undeveloped, this means that students are about as good-natured and decent as an Atlantic Salmon.

Not very.

Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

One can readily identify this type of teacher, at some point during the first lesson the teacher will say something along the lines of, “I can be very good to you, but if you push me, my chainsaw will be the plunger and your arsehole will be the blocked toilet, am I making myself clear?” Well, something resembling that.

This generally works for about one hour after which the students will, as students are wont to, try to test the teacher’s limits. This will end up in one of two ways, either the teacher is in the position to carry out his or her threats after which the class will hate them and would be annoying out of spite or they find out the teacher poses as much of a threat as a toothless poodle and would incite their anger just because an angry toothless poodle is a lot of fun to watch.

Did you know if a poodle gets really angry, it pees itself? Me neither. That is until yesterday.

Ms. Robinson

Have you ever thought, ‘Gee I sure love going to school!’?
Did you ever complete your homework on time because it is the right thing to do?
Have you ever stayed back for optional remedial classes?
If you have answered ‘Yes’ to all of the above, you have had a hot teacher at some point. Or you are a huge nerd, in which case, Fuck Off, Poindexter!

For this method to work, the teacher must be sexually attractive to his or her students, for female students try looking as much as Robert Pattinson as possible, this might prove to be a difficult task unless you are a vampire or have the disease Michael Jackson had that made him white. It is much less complicated when dealing with male students, for this all one would need is a sizeable rack.

Once the teacher has fulfilled the conditions controlling the class would be a simple matter of showing up. Male students would stare in rapt attention at your chest valley and female students will… will.
I dunno, they will do girl stuff, I’m not a girl.

An important thing to note before making that appointment with the cosmetic surgeon is that most students have the attention span of a dead gold fish and fall in and out of love as often as they change their ringtones, so the length of time that this method might work is uncertain. Breasts have a very long shelf life though.

The Saint

A variation of the guilt-monger with one important difference The Saint has the power of GOD behind him. So like a guilt-monger lvl.2 then.
The power of The Saint mainly comes from the spells it can cast, namely Homily and Prayer.
Homily has a wide Area Of Effect (AOE) and is efficient against large hordes, it delivers a moralizing lecture which stuns enemies into guilt and shame.
Prayer is most effective in PvP situations, once the enemy starts attacking quickly counter with prayer, it deals massive damage and has a chance of inflicting the status aliment crying.

However it should be noted that The Saint should not be used on the map, SecondarySchool, the enemies on this map first gain the skill pseudo-intellectualism and there is nothing that pseudo-intellectuals love more than denouncing religion, this creates a barrier that negates the effects of Homily and Prayer.

Learning!

The Eccentric

The eccentric works on the principle that human beings cannot focus on two things at once and so the goal of the eccentric is to act in such a way that the students cannot focus on talking about the previous night’s soccer game and are instead are completely involved with coming up with ways to describe how weird their teacher is on twitter.

To master the eccentric style, one must first abandon all self-worth and any sense of dignity. After all who needs dignity when you can have your sanity?

The main disadvantage to this is that at the end of the class the students would likely remember the teacher’s lengthy exposition about the various different sexual positions animals use in the wild and not so much the method of using simultaneous equations to solve quadratic expressions.

The Shouter

It is the basic rule of thumb in the wild where anything that can make a louder sound than you can is probably bigger than you and therefore could possibly have you for supper. It seems that humans still retain some of that hereditary instinct.

The shouter makes use of this, as it is a natural response to be alert to your surroundings when there is a perceived threat, any learning is an incidental bonus. It is also common knowledge that it is hard to conduct a meaningful conversation when you cannot hear the person you are talking to. This is why cafes do not pipe Metallica in their stores.

This is actually the best method so far in controlling the class, just don’t expect any more learning to be done, students still have those really short attention spans of theirs and in addition they have a remarkable tolerance for noise, this is evident from them being able to listen to Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers without soon being reduced to a twitching mass in a puddle of their own piss.

Do-I-look-like-I-care

The ultimate level of evolution of a teacher in the Singapore Education System, the inevitable outcome of working in this industry. This teacher has lost all enthusiasm in teaching, any sense of satisfaction in contributing towards creating a better society for the future was effaced with the realization that year after year it is the same set of bratty, vociferous twatheads with their malleable, spoon-fed opinions derived from reading the new paper. The teacher has come to these realizations and most importantly has made peace with them. They have reached Teaching Nirvana.

Their name comes from the automated response to any question that cannot be answered with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘it’s in your notes’, this comes from the belief that students are not worth the effort of stretching those brain cells. A videotape could take their place in lessons without any appreciable difference, therefore it is the goal of these teachers to do ever so slightly more than a videotape can.

By proceeding at a calculated pace which is just a little faster than students can write, they force the student to make a choice between failing and being a nuisance in class.

Do you have a new found respect for teachers after reading this article?
If not, you just might be a student.

A New Low

2009-11-20T09:28:00.000-08:00

Today I woke up at 10.30am, then sat on the edge of my bed staring in blank space not thinking about anything in particular. I brushed my teeth, then I drank coffee milk. I spent the next 30 minutes involved in a heated debate with myself about whether I should switch the order of teeth brushing and milk drinking, the debate ended with no clear winner.

I … OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME?

Man, was I wrong when said that the holidays had a way of wearing down one’s mind, I hadn’t been in school proper for 8 months when I said that. Now I take it back, nothing could be as stultifying as school.

Education is important to the healthy development of any person, of that there can be no argument, but after a certain point, education (especially in Singapore) becomes less involved in learning than the programming of students to perform a specific function.

And it is debilitating to the other functions of the mind like writing interesting blog posts and imagining convoluted and improbable situations in which a really sexy women would want to have sex with me.

In any case here is an update to test the boundaries of tastefulness.

“Houston, this is Challenger we are strapped in and ready for lift off, over.”

“Very good, we should be commencing lift off in T-minus 5 minutes, it is a beautiful day for a launch, we wish you all the best in the mission ahead.”

“Yes, it is really nice weather for lunch isn’t it?”

“Yes I suppose so Bob, but I don’t think that is what he was referr…”

“Yep, really nice weather and I’m getting kinda hungry too, I didn’t really get breakfast, you know what with getting into this suit taking me all morning.”

“What are you talking about you had the most to eat out of all of us.”

“I don’t like that tone, mister, nosiree, you know we had this thing called respect for your elders back home. I think it would do you wonders to get acquainted with that concept, Jim.”

“Look I’m sorry, it’s just we really have to focus on the launch and …”

“Oh lunch! Did I tell you that I’m starving, I’m pretty sure there is some packets of onion rings left.”

“This is mission control is there a problem? We are picking up a lot of chatter.”

“Nope we are all set, it’s just Bob would like to check up on the O-rings.”

“The O-rings shouldn’t be an issue we’ve had many successful launches without any complications.”

“No, you misunderstand, that was just a joke, Bob says he is hungry, look can we just get on with the laun…”

“What’s that Jim? You talking to mission control, oh did you tell them about lunch, man my stomach is really going now, you know I remember we packed some O-rings.”

“The O-rings are fine Bob, no need to worry.”

“Christ, I’m starting the launch, do we have an all clear?”

“Lunch? I…”

“ARRrrrhhhh… 321 go!”

“Soooo… when’s the food gonna be served on the flight?”

“Bob, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but if you are going to continue like this I’m going to have to stab you in the face with this pencil.”

“Ok ok, sheesh.”

“I could really go for some Onion rings now, man crispy, golden fried batter and the warm moist center. Hey have you ever wondered why so many Onion rings don’t seem to have any onion in them?”

“GODDAMNIT if you want the onion ring so much go freaking get it!”

“Alright no need to shout dude. You know what you need? Some onion rings. I’ll just put some more in for you.”

“Wait what are you doing the microwave can take so ma…”

“Oh my god, Challenger do you read me?”

“It’s no good, Mike, they’re gone.”

“But what could have caused this? What am I going to say when their Wives and Children ask me what happened?”

“Well, it sounded like they had some trouble with O-rings.”

Ba Dum Tish

Video Game Review: Uncharted 2: Among Thieves

2009-11-04T07:50:00.000-08:00

There is an under reported but no less prevalent younger sibling to a phase of life commonly known as the mid-life crisis, this quarter-life crisis, as I have taken to calling it, afflicts countless youth in the golden years of their teenhood. This psychological problem usually takes root from a sudden realization that one is growing older and that it is only proper to align their behaviour accordingly. In a majority of cases this presents itself as a compulsive urge to acquire the accessories and tokens of adulthood.

Boys may feel the need to be in possession of a motorised vechicular transport and to dress more like their fathers, this ostensibly shows one to be a responsible and capable source of genetic material.
Girls feel the need to speak as if in the company of royalty, as it shows you can take things ‘seriously’ whatever that means, and also to look as different from their mothers as possible.

But not all people afflicted with quarter-life crisis display similar symptoms, just recently I bought a PS3 slim. My doctor tells me my condition has improved immensely since.

Depending on who you talk to my purchase of a gaming console may indicate a reluctance to grow up, even going so far as to suggest a desire to revert to a state of childish play, upon hearing this you can safely assume that the person you are speaking to does not play games. A gamer would see this as a step towards maturity into the realms of a more ‘adult’ oriented gaming experience, especially when considering my only current-generation console up to that point was a ‘kiddy’ Nintendo Wii.

As a justification of my prodigality, I have decided to post reviews of some of the games I play, with an eye to a career in writing about games.

As a start we have ‘Uncharted 2: Among Thieves’, the instrument of my ‘next-gen’ gaming deflowering. As with all first impressions, we look to appearances and Uncharted 2 is undeniably attractive. Uncharted 2 is so attractive if I saw her I would stare blankly at her until she notices me at which point I will look away in reddening embarrassment, hopefully after a couple of such encounters she would approach me and I would not be too distracted by the growing stain in my pants to give a coherent reply and then … I don’t know what happens next I’ve never gotten that far.

The game take place across several different locales including a lush island forest, an urban Tibetan city and the snowy Himalayan mountains, all of which look like they were taken right out of a Discovery Travel and Living program. However the most spectacular views are always relegated to the background, meaning you will only get to enjoy them during the quieter portions of the game.

And there are not too many of those. Continuing with the sexual theme, now that the very attractive Uncharted 2 has you tied down to the bed, you notice too late that her wardrobe has a disproportionate amount of leather clothing, before you know it Uncharted 2 has her hands around your neck.

Uncharted 2 doesn’t give you time to breathe, it starts off with a dramatic escape from a precariously placed train over a precipice in which lies your certain doom and keeps up with more of these situations where not dying is the motivator for advancing in the game and that is a very compelling motivation.

Uncharted 2, though is not the most elegant of story tellers, although that is mostly an afterthought because most of the time you are too busy asphyxiating.

The flimsy plot involves a garrulous, likeable(attractive) protagonist that spouts one-liners that pass off as sarcasm these days fighting his way through impossible odds in the shape of innumerable henchmen and cumbersome ancient puzzles that serve the same functions as a padlock and key, and in the process save the world by stopping the evil and very possible nutcase antagonist. Along the way, the protagonist would also encounter a love interest (in this case a love triangle because it’s a sequel), betrayal of a close associate, plenty of deus ex machinas, not being killed by the villains even though there was no real reason not to and some kind of mystical Macguffin to provide a tenuous air of complexity.
Hey this sounds a lot like Generic Blockbuster Movie Plot #4.

The gameplay does not do much better, the controls are tight and Nathan Drake moves with a realistic weight, players will quickly become puppet-masters pulling on the strings of their Nathan ragdoll. Aiming is also easy to pick up even for a person who is more used to aiming with the Wiimote or mouse. With the controls so well implemented it is a little disappointing you don’t get to do more with the character, there are basically two different types of puzzles in the game, one involves searching the environment for places for Nathan to jump to and the other deals with shape recognition.

The game also sometimes fails to communicate clearly what you are supposed to be doing at certain points, it does provide hints which can be activated by pressing up on the d-pad after the game realises you have been running around in circles for 5 minutes without making any progress, this will point the camera to where you are supposed to go and materialise an accompanying helpful caption. It does have the downside of making the player feel like a complete arse though.

Where the game really shines is in the set piece scenarios that all the jumping and dealing with runic symbols, build up to, these would be the equivalent of the showcase battle sequences with words like ‘climactic’ usually ascribed to them. This is the closest you can probably get to being a hero in an action movie, that is until they work out the kinks in that virtual reality whatsit.
Pity most of the boss encounters are really dull especially the last boss, shooting a exploding things to damage a nearby and otherwise unbeatable enemy, that only appears in … ohhh I don’t know every other game ever made?

Still I had a lot of fun playing Uncharted 2.
But just like having sex with an S&M fetishist, pleasurable though it may be, I do not wish to live through that experience anytime soon.

*Spoilers*

I found it weird that Nathan acted so differently on the later chapter of the falling train sequence. It made me suspect that for the most part of the game we are seeing it through Nathan’s interpretation of how things went down. That would certainly explain how he was able to almost single-handedly defeat Lazarević’s impossibly large army while finding time to flirt with two very attractive women in impossibly tight pants that also happens to be experts in firearms and come up with snappy one-liners. It was all greatly exaggerated.

Yep, deliciously exaggerated

Once we consider this possibility, a lot can be read into the actual nature of Nathan Drake. From the events towards the end of the game, I’d wager that he had been recently watching Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and probably has played World of Warcraft.

Travel Log: Part 3

2009-10-24T12:16:00.000-07:00

Well hello, hello, hello and welcome to another episode of
“A bit of Travel with Johnny”.
In tonight’s cryptic and indecipherable episode of
“A bit of Travel with Johnny”
We explore London through the insufferably pompous verse of the author.

Enjoy.

Scene 1
The party arrives in England

Enter Traveler and companions

Traveler
So it is come, soonest we shall make to the cross,
Where passing shelter lie. As the flight of swifts
We fly, we have time not. Lo! Helios doth mark
His journey’s middle and the sights do not lend
Themselves eyes.

Companion1
Yea and legs do not lend themselves step.
Waste not thy movement on thy tongue
But to put one afront another, it is prudent.

Traveler
Mine movements are wasted not, once ours start.
Haste, the gates are not stayed for our comfort.

Scene 2
The party checks into the hotel

Traveler
‘SBlood t’were one to find a bestowment more
Accommodating a closet, one could not.
Marry you doth find a closet to be of fine comfit,
Or t’is custom to live as hobbits?

Companion2
T’is most unfortunate, but it is not my contrivement
To have landed us in this situation.

Traveler
That is well, but it nary make well this
Tiny toilet which takes two steps from shower
To porcelain chair. Or that the door could not
Keep its privacy. Or the still air to be moved
Only by exposing opening for which any
Stranger may take as access?

Companion2
O your mouth is want for a lid.
Equip thee for this tour so we can leave
Most presently, the sight of thy open mouth-cave
Makes not the room any less sufferable.

Scene 3
The party is at the London bridge (or is it?)

Traveler
Drink thine eyes in this, perhaps
The most distinguishing of sites in England.
Now we can say, aye I have seen the London Bridge
A most impressive sight it makes.

Companion1
Indeed if it were the London bridge
We could say thus and be right.

Traveler
What have you to say now?

Companion1
This, the colour in thine eyes are painted
In falsehoods and ignorant platitudes that
Blind have you become to even the most
Catching markings. Look here! T’is not the
London bridge you give thine eyes but the Tower Bridge.

Traveler
You see with clearer eyes, my friend.
I will hold to heart thy precepts, to
Thicken the bark of my conscience
To the gossip’s axe.

Companion1
It will serve thee well.
Let us fly to the palace with winged feet.

Scene 4
The party arrives at Buckingham palace

Traveler
We have come with more haste than warrant’d.
We can make the postponement
Less burdensome if we place our backs
Against the walls of the font.
What for the art of comedy,
Fortune or circumstance are left
Wanting of a just explanation
To the returning event of
Meeting one’s fellow countryman
In a foreign land.
Cast thy eyes over yonder,
And find thee the sight to complement
The hearings of the ear.

Companion1
So it is. But to list his speech
One would find more comedy.

Embarressingly Stereotypical Singaporean
Do you know Chi comes from the ground.
I teach you lah. You put your legs like that,
Then you focus the Chi from the ground
Into the different parts of your body.
Your hands, your legs. Can you feel or not?

Assumed Son of ESS
A little bit. Liddat arh?

Traveler
Methinks we shall hold vigil elsewheres.

The traveler and companions move to the gates of the palace.

Companion1
Ah, the pipers make their joyous entrance.
T’is strange. A pomp ceremony of equal
craft is many times more artful when removed
from native soil.

Traveler
It must be something in the air to
Hold it so. It clouds the brain and colours
The sky an even deeper blue.
To which doctors have no herb.
But if it were, to be of little virtue
For it is not for remedies to make less well.

Scene 5
The party visits Madamn Tussaud’s wax museum

Traveler
These shadows of man made solid
Worries mine bones, too lifelike they look
Yet lack any quality of it, t’is as a man bereft
Of all soul is left transfixed in his gaze of
Unseen things.

Companion1
T’is the deceit of fame and a trick of the mind
Endears it to men, what is to an elephant grace.
More comfort is to be found in lies than honesty
Such is it in life, this is but an addition.

Traveler
Marry, as if the horror of the soulless
Was not proof enough, a darkened set
Of hell is put aside for our perusal.
O damn this useless pride, for which
We are bound, it directs us there.

Companion1
Come now, dalliance defaults not our doom.

Traveler
In less harrowing, a darkened room
With the accompaniment of shieking
Tender blossoms of women would be
A pleasure, but fright is a dumb bride.
Oh Good Lord
Methinks a zombie doth approach.

AHHHhhhhhhHHHHhhh!

Weeeeeeeellll. That’s all the time we have tonight.
So Ladies and Gentlemen, Its goodnight from me.

We’ll leave you with tonight’s cocktail recipe
“Milky white thighs of a sweaty trucker with an Australian accent”

For this you’ll need.

A finger of whiskey
A spattering of vodka
A dash of lime
A raw egg
Some full cream milk
And Hugh Jackman

Please Mr. Music will you play?

Soupy Twist.

Travel Log: Part Deux

2009-10-15T12:40:00.001-07:00

There is a great tendency for things to not live up to their reputations. Words in the hands of the linguistically capable can conjure up magnificent images in the minds of its audience. It is the nature of the mind to put everything into soft focus, under a haze of romanticism if you will. These things combined form an expectation that is hardly ever reconciled with reality. The haze of romance has no equivalent in the physical realm. However it is difficult not to form expectations especially when one is talking about Paris.

So hopefully I might dispel a few unrealistic expectations here. Paris has been called the City of Lights and the most romantic city in the world. It should be noted that the former is largely obsolete as it refers to Paris’ early adoption of street lighting, and as for the latter, romance is a product of the mind and is not intrinsic to a place or thing.

Don’t get me wrong though, it is a beautiful place to visit. But just don’t expect to see people in striped shirts and berets with a red bandana around the neck, eating baguettes, walking on cobblestoned alleys that are lighted with street lamps that shine the light of romance, illuminating the city with cinematic clichéd soft glow all while a phantom orchestra plays a whimsical little ditty.

Another thing to consider when visiting Paris is the language, the French have a reputation for being haughtily contemptuous of English. While I cannot objectively comment on the citizen’s general character due to my short time there, I can say that an English speaking Frenchman is a rarity. If I may so humbly offer my careless opinion, I think that its less of an issue with pride than trying not to look like a total arse. When both parties cannot understand each other, miming their conversation, communication regressed to gestures as if thousands of years of advancement in language didn’t happen, all just to agree on whether the object of a sale is a quiche with ham or just tomato, the ego is quick to obscure one’s embarrassment with blame.

The quiche with ham was delicious though.

As we only had a couple of days in Paris, my family and I were eager to strike the usual tourist attractions off the list and at the top of the list of all tourists visiting Paris is of course the Eiffel Tower.

One thing that really bothered me about the great throbbing steel erection is its colour. I mean why brown? Of all the different colours, why choose the one that makes it look as if it just emerged from a giant metal anus?

We chose to only go as high as the second level of the tower, a separate elevator is available to take visitors up to the corona of the steel penis, which naturally constitutes another fee.

The Tower has its Monroe moment.

From that picture you can see how densely packed with buildings the city is, you can also see the river Seine.

The constructors and architects of the buildings have a fastidious obsession for ornateness. It is almost as if they have some aversion to leaving a wall unadorned, so much so that when they run out of ideas to fill blank spaces they just randomly run their jackhammers on them.

Their obsessive nature also spills over to their statues. It is somehow important that depictions of horses have accurately detailed scrotums.

It’s really hard to take pictures of a statue’s balls while trying not to look like a sick pervert and my camera’s flash wasn’t strong enough, but if you squint and get really close to your screen you can definitely make out the two egg sacs.

Many of the male readers of the heterosexual persuasion would have one burning question that is right now undoubtedly weighing heavily on their minds. Well fear not! I have gone and observed and I can tell you that, yes European chicks are hot. I would show you some pictures but the police was forcibly insistent that I delete them from my camera.

But the facial hair, oh the facial hair. If there’s one thing I curse above all else about being of Asian heritage is the inability to grow an attractive beard. But this isn’t Asia, this is facial hair Shangri-la, stubble heaven Europe.

Full beards, mutton chops, goatees, soul patches, sideburns, moustaches, soup combs, those things that look like hairy vaginas, hobo beards, handlebars, after five stubble, any kind of facial hair you can think of, it’s probably on display.

But that’s not all, Paris is not all large phalluses and facial hair, it is also the site of the Virgin Mary’s tomb… I think, I wasn’t paying much attention to the movie. I am of course talking about the Louvre, possibly the most famous of museums around the world.

Shame then most people who visit seem only to be interested in taking pictures of Mona Lisa. Conceited bitch, look at that smug arse half smile she wears on her face, which just begs for a souvenir museum cup to be thrown at it. My god, she’s ugly too, she looks like George Bush Jr. with the skin on his face stretched, wearing an unconvincing Weird Al Yankovic wig.
Also she has Man Hands.
Also definitely stuffs her bra.

And you can’t even get in close, she is displayed under bulletproof glass barricaded from the crowds by a wooden banister and two vigilant guards that look like they know several methods of causing grievous hurt to anyone that decides that a waist high barrier isn’t enough to stop them from confirming whether there really is a flying saucer in the background of the painting.

This all makes viewing the work very tedious and it is not helped by its relatively small size, meanwhile ‘The Wedding at Cana’ that hangs directly opposite ML is only afforded a few sidelong glances, and it is MASSIVE. Its size is just staggering. It could not get any work if it was a porn star because no broad would dare risk such enormity, and these are people who have more spacious ‘accommodations’ due to overuse.

Of all my time spent in Paris, the happiest would most likely be at the Louvre, not only did I check off an item on my smartarse list of pretentious things to do, I also came across a stunning revelation that obliterates an old lingering doubt gnawing at my soul ever since puberty.

The revelation is this: Modestly sized penises are the Artistic Ideal.

This guy looks like he is having a little too much fun.
Note the penis is not huge.

Yes, sculptors and artisans for centuries created works of art that depict naked male forms with small genitalia as it is thought that is the most attractive of sizes, so much that even depictions of Gods and Mythical Heroes are presented this way.

Fuck yea, now I can say with confidence that I have a penis worthy of the Gods.

Must remember not to piss the Gods off though, that’s what did the Titans in you know, they thought that with their huge dicks they were better than the Gods and foolishly challenged them.

Its great fun watching parents bringing their kids to the museum, you can see the embarrassment on their faces when the little ones ask why Hermaphroditus has mummy and daddy parts.

So ends my summary on my stay in Paris.
Next I travel to the place where ‘Pussy’ may not mean vagina or wuss and ‘Fag’ may not mean raging homosexual.

Travel Log: Part Un

2009-10-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

As many of you, my dear readers, may not have noticed, I was away for a week around the middle of last month on holiday. As I find myself questioning the benefit of coming up with funny updates to this weblog, especially when considering the lack of an appreciable increase in the amount of pussy I receive. (Consistently updating a blog is hard work, you know)
I have decided to write an update about my vacation. This is probably the ‘bloggist’ update I’ve ever put up, just don’t expect more of this.

So anyway.

I was experiencing my usual pre-travel jitters I always get before overseas trips especially ones in which I’m going someplace I’ve never been before or is far away. (places other than South-east Asia or Australia) This time it was both.
It’s a kind of strange nervousness I think is associated to not wanting to move out of one’s comfort zone.

At this point I am within the departure hall and if you have never been, it is a magical place. It is that wondrous place that is separated from the plain, old ordinary airport with glass and is guarded at its entrances by two policepersons. The glass is there to provide those not fortunate enough, a glimpse at what they are missing out on, (seriously there is free internet and free screenings of EPL matches) this might explain the regular occurrences of people sobbing uncontrollably after being refused entry by the elite crack squad of police that have been trained to recognize people who are actually on a flight just from a cursory glance at your boarding ticket.
There is everything here, liquor, perfume, cigarettes, jewelry, handbags, suits, jackets, books, videogames, sweets, basically anything you forgot to pack or a last minute souvenir for someone that slipped your mind could be bought here.

What really baffled me, however, was a store selling travel luggage.
The thing I cannot wrap my mind around is why anyone would want to buy luggage at the departure hall. The only conceivable situations in which it would be reasonable to purchase a bag when you are already in the departure hall would be if you are planning to buy a lot of stuff at your destination or if you are a really lucky terrorist that forgot to bring his bag. It could be possible that the people working in the store are undercover counter-terrorist police but that would be a really inefficient way to catch them.

One of these bags has a bomb, another has $500,000!!!

Anybody who has travelled on a commercial airline would know about the safety instructional video that is typically shown before takeoff, you know the one which nobody really pays any attention to, that tells you everything you need to do in the event of a plane crash, which nobody will remember because they would be too busy being dead or trying to come to terms with how they arm is now two seats away.

Well, I caught myself watching the safety video on another person’s screen, I could say in my defense that my screen was about 10 cm away from my face, but I know that is an excuse. There is just something irresistible about watching somebody else’s screen, it’s the same kind of attraction of the newspaper a person sitting beside you is reading even though you might already be reading the same newspaper.

Can I also just raise a question about the little window that is behind the toilet? More specifically what the FUCK is it for?
You cannot take a shit while admiring the view because it’s facing the wrong way and you can’t look at it when you’re standing unless your eyes are located at your crotch.

I decided quite wisely not to ask any of the flight attendants about it. In my eagerness to satiate my curiosity, I might have given off an intenseness and nervous fervour that some would mistake for having something to hide. This is all understandable keeping in mind the incident recently where a person stuffed a soft plush animal down the toilet causing it to regurgitate its contents halfway through a 10 hour flight.

I digress.

I love flying. I like the quixotic notions of sailing through the air, there is a real sense of serenity and tranquility to flying that does not happen quite as often in other modes of transportation.

It looks a lot better when you see it in person

And the view, oh the view, when you get up above the clouds.
Its like you’ve ascended into the realm of the gods, a playground for the cherubim, soft, pillowy fields of cotton that stretch on endlessly.
At dawn or dusk, Apollo practices with his brush, in bold strokes of orange and if he’s in an artistic mood maybe even dip into the purples.

Some of them also look like bums. Hehe

Well, there are several irritants that detract from the joys of flying enough to stop me from dissolving into a puddle of happiness. Fact: one of my more obvious features is that I am tall, at about 187cm, I am no giant but no slouch (my mum would disagree but this is not her blog) either. For people who have never been tall before, it is quite common for tall people to have long legs, which presents a problem when trying to fit comfortably into an economy class seat without having them spill over into the aisle. And I haven’t even mentioned the horrors of sitting behind someone that is feeling sleepy and knows what the button at the armrest is for, I hope you are not claustrophobic.

Remember that magnificent view I told you about, well you can only see them if you are sitting at a window seat or bent over a toilet. And then there is the babies.

Babies are the single biggest obstacle to having an enjoyable flight and it is because of one thing, here it is presented in a mathematical formula:

BABIES + AIRPLANES = CRYING

It is an inescapable scientific fact.

They are really sneaky things too, those babies. At boarding gates, the babies are always well behaved or sleeping, so even though you might have your doubts you still hold on to the hope that they stay that way during the flight. Then when the airplane is taxiing and revving the engines and the babies don’t cry, you think that you may be lucky and that the babies are the breeds that don’t cry because they are hunting babies.
That is until the airplane lifts its nose up.

It always starts with one. One baby that decided that it could not let mummy and daddy get some peace and not be embarrassed by the inconsolable cries of their spawn. This is their sole source of entertainment, they feed off the guilt of their parents. Of course, the other babies soon join in and it becomes a sort of competition between the babies to see who can guilt-trip their parents to take them to the toilet first. This isn’t much of a comfort for the other passengers because the walls of the toilet are too thin to contain the unholy ululations that can even drown out the noise of four turbofan engines.

While trying to come up with the most creative(painful) ways to shut the demon children’s mouths, I think I may have stumbled upon an alternative explanation for the babies' laments.

Arrrggghhh… Square container not fit into round hole… make Hulk MAD.

This turned out longer than I thought it would, which is great because it means I can split it up into several posts, then I don’t have to slit my wrists coming up with new topics to write about.
In the next post, I get off the plane!

Man, I had such a hard time getting this up

2009-10-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about pornography. (OK, more than usual anyway) And I have come to make the inescapable conclusion that it sucks. I mean let’s face it if the market wasn’t horny males the industry would have gone down faster than a cheap whore on a guy who has some change to spare.

To quote the great philosopher, Gregory House, “Don’t blame me, blame my gender”.

Also it appears that porn clogs up the arteries of the internet and by downloading porn we are actually preventing it from getting a heart attack. He’s a doctor you know? He knows these things.

Ever since that first magical moment when some guy who just happened be in possession of a camera told some naïve, credulous broad that ‘it would be fun’, ‘it’s only for his own use’ and the classic ‘everyone is doing it’, accidentally left the pictures on the table when his mates came over for whatever ancient people played - golf probably – and commented that they would pay to see more, the porno industry never looked back.

Wankers across the world rejoiced at finally having a substitute to jerking off to statues of naked women and nudie paintings hung in museums. No longer is wanking off to depictions of naked women exclusive to the wealthy or shameless. This new medium also had the advantage of being portable, which single-handedly solved the criminal wave of people moving sculptures and paintings into museum toilets.

Why do you think so many sculptures are white. Think about it.

Yet despite its burgeoning popularity and later advancements in technology such as video and the internet further improving its penetration in market share. Porn was always tied down with the issue of the quality of its content. Few other products this popular actually require the consumer to manually finish the task that porn is supposed to do.

It cannot be denied that pornography retained its stranglehold over the masturbating market, however it has hardly evolved. There isn’t an appreciable difference in the ability to arouse the customer in a porn film made 30 years ago and one made just yesterday. This is largely due to the generally unrefined tastes of the human weener.

Weeners are Sexy!

Perhaps it is precisely that reason that pornography struggles with quality. People are so easily gratified that there never was much impetus to improve or make any effort.
It seems all you need to qualify as a porn star is a dick, boobs or a vagina and a willingness to get naked. The acting in particular is horrible, stilted delivery of lines, a tendency to overact, worst of all actors frequently break the cardinal sin of film, YOU DON’T LOOK AT THE FUCKING CAMERA.
Although even the greatest of actors would not help your film if it was written by mentally impaired, 12 year olds that learnt to write from watching reality TV shows.

It seems pornography suffers from the lack of quality because it is being made by people who are as emotionally mature as its audience. In no situation would the referring to CPR as ‘Cute Pussy Revival’ be considered humourous and witty, except in the retarded fantasy land that only exists in the mind of a porn writer where a woman’s response to every sentence is to spread their legs.

In spite of this, pornography has been for so long a loyal and dependable companion to countless adolescent boys discovering their sexuality, and it can continue to guide generations yet unborn. But it is also sad to see that most that grow up abandon and disclaim any association with pornography, like a son sending his parents to an old folks home to live out the rest of its life lonely and unloved.

It is just despicable, outright deplorable and downright disgusting.

Nobody pay attention to the inevitable questions about the state of the author of this article’s mind that he cannot watch porn without stopping to make a comment about how ridiculous the plot is, how unconvincing the actress’ performance is and how the cameraman obviously dropped out of cameraman school.

Well that’s it, if you will excuse me, I have some porn to download, you know, civic duty and all that.

Get A Life, alternatively you can read this blog

2009-10-02T12:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, I swear I had this idea for a blog post weeks before I read this, that pretty much sums it up in a neat little bow, except I would probably have slipped in a few mentions of dicks and breasts, ie. It would have been funnier.

Since I don’t want to seem like a complete rip-off and I don’t really want to let an idea for a blog post go to waste, I present to you…

Get A Life: A Very Short Choose Your Own Adventure… thing. (Where You Only Really Get to Make One Choice And It’s Not Really An Adventure)

I had walked into this room for some reason not made clear to me, it felt more like I had been compelled into that room, and it was not until I closed the door when I actually began to take in the whole look of the room. It was a very plainly furnished room, a dusty old closet stood against the wall in the middle of the room, at the center of the room were two single seat sofas facing each other and a small table on which someone placed a vase of flowers, I suppose because it would look rather stupid standing on the floor.

“Ah, this is dream” I thought, as I sat down on one of the sofas, I wasn’t at all startled to find that the other sofa was now occupied by a very very sexy woman. By sexy I mean she had only done up half the buttons on her blouse and let’s just say her chest enjoyed the view that provided. “Been pretty chilly lately hasn’t it?” I said while sipping a martini that had materialized in my hand. “Yep, definitely a dream, I’m not having an embarrassing hard on and I used ‘hasn’t’ in conversation”.

When the sexy woman had not undressed after I finished my 5th sip of the martini, I knew that either I was having a nightmare or worse, she actually wanted to talk to me. “So then now that you have finally come to that realization, I will get on with business” the mouth attached to the boobs said. “Business? What sort of business?” I replied to the entrancing cleavage.
“Well, let’s face it, Dick, you lead a miserable existence, I’m talking about getting a life.”
“I know, I know, my facebook wall is covered with requests to ‘get a life’ and to ‘go suck dick’. Thing is they don’t tell you how to go about doing it and I’m quite sure the latter is impossible.”
“That’s where I come in”
“That’s good to know but it doesn’t help me much”

“I mean this you dirty minded creep” she said as she produced two pills from within the cavernous valley of her marshmallow bosoms, one red and one blue.
“This isn’t very original, you know” I said smugly while debating whether to spill what’s left of my martini on her blouse.
“This is your dream you dimwitted git, and its good enough for an amateur blog post, thankyouverymuch.”

Perhaps the weight of her smoking rack was getting uncomfortable or because I like the look of two peaches pressed lightly against each other, the woman leaned forward distracting me when she said the following, “The blue pill represents a sedentary lifestyle while the red one represents a more active lifestyle”.

If you pick the Blue Pill go to [1]
If you pick the Red Pill go to [2]

[1]

After I woke up from that dream I went back to sleep again. When I woke up the second time I looked to the clock and it read 3:12pm, I was up early. Deciding against brushing my teeth, I powered up my two desktops, my laptop and my iphone in case there was a new time sucking application to download, nobody really calls me.

My first desktop I used to run Second Life, my avatar was an animal hybrid so I naturally got a job prostituting my wolf arse to furry fetishists. My second desktop is used to monitor my World of Warcraft accounts, overseeing the program I wrote to automatically farm gold. My laptop is used to post on internet forums, which usually involves calling anyone who does not agree with me a nazi and threatening to cut their balls off, sticking them into a blender then force feeding them their liquidated manhoods. This is also the platform I use to search for the latest hentai tentacle porn.

Suddenly I realised that my supplies of mountain dew and salted crisps have been exhausted. Steeling myself I gathered all the money I could find on my laundry covered floor and prepared to leave the safety of my parent’s basement. I did not take three steps outside before the hot fury of the fiery sun caused my skin to boil and my hair to melt. It was only a matter of seconds before I became a suppurating puddle being soaked up by clothes that smelled vaguely like chlorine.

Continue to [3]

[2]

As soon as I regained consciousness I jumped out of bed and hopped over to the bathroom to start my morning beauty routine, brushing, cleansing, vomiting, plucking, combing. After I am absolutely sure I’m gorgeous, I stare at myself in the mirror for 10 minutes.

Already I was late for the oyster buffet breakfast and I had to be at the mall for the big sale they were having for overly expensive sports cars, my collection was looking pretty meager compared to Devonson’s and I had only bought 6 new cars this year.

The test driving proved to be a bit of a workout what with all the smug faces I had to pull at the drivers beside me at every traffic stop and also having to smack some sense into my butler, I mean imagine having to actually wait two whole minutes before he arrived with my imported mineral water.

At least I could get some rest at my private booth at the most exclusive gentlemen’s club. It has the best peep shows, I’d pity the poor souls that are not privileged to have seen them, if only I wasn’t so lazy to.

Overall not a bad day, well except the whole being allergic to the leather the lapdancers were wearing and dying of a heart attack.

Continue to [3]

[3]

That was one weird ass party

As I wait in line to be judged by Minos, a familiar voice asked “So, how did you enjoy your life then? Must be pretty interesting, you even managed to check off on all the Seven.” I turned and found the voice belonged to the same well endowed woman that appeared to me in my dream, strange I never noticed that she had horns and a tail until now. Still really hot though.

Oh God, please forgive me

2009-09-29T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have to admit I have been rather slack lately, it’s the school holidays you see and have this peculiar way of making anybody become very unproductive. But boy do I have something to perk you up, titillate your senses, arouse your emotions and stimulate the dark forgotten recesses of you old decrepit hearts.

Never in all my years of trolling the highways, underways and sewerways of the World Wide Web have I encountered such a rare and amazing find. It makes me want to believe in a future, a wonderful future of wonderful things in all its wonderment.

It is pure bliss condensed into a 25 minute video. It exposes the full spectrum of human emotions, happiness, sadness, hornyness, confuseness and a whole lot of other nesss I’m sure could be read into this stunning work of cinema by people better qualified (more pretentious) than me. The plot complex but never esoteric, manages to combine a love story and the story of a girl blossoming into womanhood without feeling contrived, more amazingly it pulls it off with hardly a line of dialogue. Many social issues are explored but the video does not try to address them but rather dances flirtingly in the grey areas. It is quite simply brilliant, pure unadulterated brilliance.

As a human being you owe yourself to watch this video. An instant classic that would no doubt find itself within the same leagues as ‘Citizen Kane’ and ‘The Shawshank Redemption’. All the more amazing that this is a pornographic video which as a genre have earned a reputation for being derivative and shallow.

Because of the nature of the video, I will have to warn that readers should only click on the link that I am providing if you are of the legal age and are not wearing any socks as they will only get blown away. Also this blog and its owner/writer will not be held responsible for any negative effects the viewing of the video might have on your life. Especially if you do not take precautions like closing your door and not watching this at school or at work.

THIS VIDEO IS NSFW AND HAS BREASTS AND VA-JAY-JAYS AND DICKS IN IT AND SO WOULD BE CONSIDERED BY MANY TO BE PORNOGRAPHIC. DO NOT OPEN IF IN SITUATIONS THAT MIGHT LEAD TO EMBARRESSMENT OR ARREST OR OTHER SUCH BAD STUFF. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So now that’s out of the way, here’s a short review of the video.

A brief aside.
This is the most hilariously funny porn video ever. And for anyone who has experience in this subject will know how terribly horrible any attempts at humour these videos usually are, that alone is worth the price of admission.

The video stars the lovechild of Emma Watson and Charlize Theron and she puts on the performance of her life in this video playing the naïve young lover. Other cast members do not feature prominently, leaving Emma Theron to carry the video and she nails it.

The story revolves around the naïve young lover trying hard to please her lover, however she is obviously very inexperienced and a few laughs arise from the various methods she tries to ‘pull’ this off. And try she does wholeheartedly, one can feel her passion and tenacity, few cockles of hearts would not be warmed at the sight of a green sweat wristband, revealing the protagonist’s naivety while showing off her sweet side.

The protagonist’s constant posing did not distract from the narrative. At the later part of the video we question the intelligence of the protagonist whose first words in the video is “ice cream”, without pausing to let the viewer ingest this plot twist, it changes gear and one cannot help but commiserate with the protagonist as she tries to reinvigorate the flaccid form of her lover in vain.

Her lover is forced to take control of the situation but in the process the protagonist is hurt both emotionally and in the eye, resulting in the most accurate imitation of a chameleon ever put on film. The video ends strongly with a lingering close up of the protagonist still with a forced smile but one that cannot disguise the bemusement, befuddlement and bewilderment she is experiencing. But right before the video ends another plot twist emerges when we suddenly realise that the protagonist might be drugged up, leaving the viewer just as bemused, befuddled and bewildered as it fades to black.

This video explores several themes such as sexuality, maturity, the dangers of drugs and the mentally handicapped. But most importantly it is funny as fuck.

10/10

Toys for Big Boys

2009-09-23T11:32:00.001-07:00

Girls like to be courted.

They want to be the object of desire. They enjoy the warm touch of the undivided attention of healthy, fit, young men.
They like being showered with gifts for no reason.
They become moist at having the power to so completely entrap somebody with their charms that no amount of rejection could shake their prey’s obsequious fawning. They want to be wooed with ridiculous, expensive ‘designer’ chocolates and flowers that impress more with the price tag than with fragrance and beauty.
It makes their legs wobble, their knees tremble, lips pursed, quivering with the effort of forcing down a moan, toes curled in ecstasy, hands grasping tight to a satin bedsheet.

Too bad, I’m not a girl then.

You see, I am currently pursuing a diploma in an engineering field, and that apparently makes me completely, lip smackingly, finger lickingly, hands reaching into pants-ly IRRESISTABLE to the Singapore Armed Forces and its various divisions.

This casts me as the pretty, innocent girl that everyone wants to fuck and the army as the creepy stalker guy that sends letters inviting me to his house, ‘just for a talk’, written on paper that was once soaked in his urine, in this awkward and slightly uncomfortable rom-com play. Which is quite a change for me since it is usually the other way around.

Admittedly, it is a little underwhelming when you finally realise that the creepy stalker was also stalking other girls at the same time.
Even though you would never in a million years willingly engage in a conversation with the guy through a telephone even if it was to buy the latest overpriced slippers, you still find yourself feeling a little, just a little, cheated. Then you feel confused about your emotions, maybe, just maybe, hypothetically, you actually kinda, sometimes liked the attention. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad just to have a little chat.

And that’s how they get you. I, however do not fall for such emotional manipulation because I can see it a mile away, also because that’s how my first two relationships started.

I have to admit though they are getting pretty clever about what they send you in the mail now, besides the glossy pamphlets and promise of food of course.

But Business Cards? Hah! Who still uses those things, ever heard of a mobile phone? keep up with the times air force. Above all my arse.

Guess what I got from the navy? A little blue plastic submarine!

It actually sinks and surfaces just like a real submarine! You put a bit of baking power in a chamber accessible by removing the part on the top with the three pointy outy things and put it in a bit of water and it floats and sinks all by itself!
Baking Power not included.

The only way this could be more awesome was if the submarine was yellow.
And if I could have gotten it to work properly.

This almost makes me want to join the navy. Now if they send me some chocolate as well. Or better yet, put both the submarine and the chocolate in some amusing egg-shaped packaging, Man I would join the navy in a heartbeat.

Look how clean my floor is!

I cast 'Adulation3' on you

2009-09-18T10:06:00.000-07:00

Following recent reports of two boys who jumped to their deaths in the hopes of being reincarnated as ‘Slayers’ to battle demons, more of such stories of people taking their games a little too seriously has emerged.

Police has announced that a flurry of reports of lost articles has been recently reported, the unusual thing about these reports is the stolen objects in question are not of any value at all. Most commonly reported stolen items include keys, scissors, tape, magnets and other paraphernalia.

Not only that reports of missing items have been reported around neighbourhoods, things like rocks, advertising cutouts, it seems anything that is left unattended is being taken away. Police are making some headway into the investigation of this phenomenon, several people have been taken in for questioning when caught taking these items. All the people gave similar responses with reasons such as “you never know when they will come in handy” and “If I just have a bit of string I can use it together with this magnet and stick I have in my inventory and retrieve the key in the drain”.

Police have also started randomly checking any person carrying bulky backpacks, as this seems to be the prevailing mode of carrying the stolen objects which is commonly referred to as their ‘inventory’. These evidence suggest that the people are somehow working together.

In other related news, stores selling swords and other decorative weaponry has seen a tremendous increase in sales. The storeowner of Diadara’s weapon shop, Diadara tells us about the customers he receives, “They all seem to be interested in the more expensive items and also of the weapon’s size, they keep mumbling something about if its expensive its got to be good and how they need to upgrade their equipment for a difficult boss. However the problem is they usually want to pay me in some weird currency, just today I turned down zenny, gil, gold, bottlecaps and coins”.

More alarmingly, some of the people who have bought weapons have even appeared in public welding their giant swords, they also seem to like to gel their hair into spikes and wear clothes that have a lot of buttons or zippers. A member of the public commented on their appearance saying that they look “gay”. No reports that these sword-welding spiky-haired people have caused any injury to anyone yet, although it is reported that they would approach random passerbys and talk incoherently about a man dressed in black, crystals and dungeons.”

The hotel business has also benefited from these curious people, they would pay to take a short nap before leaving after commenting on how refreshed they were.

Not all of these people are as innocuous, a worrying trend of driving recklessly on the streets is giving the traffic police quite a headache. The reckless drivers are unfazed about the consequences of dangerous driving, when one driver was pulled out of the wreckage of his car he merely stated that the car would be alright after a while.

It also appears that people are engaging in impromptu fighting tournaments on the streets, these fights draw huge crowds silently cheering on the combatants while they enter a sort of trance and jump around one another and occasionally put their hands together with their palms facing out and shouting something sounding vaguely Japanese. This continues until one of them collapses from exhaustion.

The children have not been saved from this wave of strange behaviour, many pre-teen boys have started developing a form of Tourette’s syndrome, spouting racist epithets at the slightest provocation. It is not uncommon now to find schoolboys saying things like “Go wipe your dick on Hitler’s moustache, you Nazi faggot” while performing jerky squatting motions over the defeated supine form of another boy.

Experts believe that all this strange behaviour are signs that the world is coming to an end.

How to win friends and be popular

2009-09-16T11:06:00.000-07:00

Guess who's back, bitches!
I mean that of course in the most respectful way.
The way of a pimp to his hoes.
(Where Ma Money Bitch)

I'm just kidding, but seriously though if I could get some form of reparation, that would be nice. I mean it doesn't even have to be money. Expensive gifts would also be greatly appreciated, i really wouldn't even mind if it wasn't expensive you know?
Some home-baked cookies. A card? all it takes for that is some paper and a writing implement and something nice to say.

If you don't have paper you could write it in the sand then use a digital camera to take a picture of it and send it to me. Wait I guess that's not as easy as getting a card. Or just a simple "thanks" would do you know? I don't care if you shorten it to "thx" too, I promise.
Oh god, I have no friends all I have is this stupid blog nobody reads.

Arrrhhhhuhhuhuhuh (that's me crying by the way)

If this update has made you feel guilty, ashamed, remorseful and generally an all-round asshole, you can alleviate those feelings by referring people to this magnificent blog and raising its readership. Then when this blog becomes really popular you can boast to your friends that you were the first few readers of the blog, while the writer gets all the hot chicks and not give half a damn about you.

Gone Fishin'

2009-09-02T22:57:00.000-07:00

The writer of this blog is currently away having a better time than you.
However that does not mean you should go read some other asinine, banal blog about how someone spent the entire day buying new bedsheets, instead the writer of this blog suggest reading the previous updates in the archives that can be accessed if you clickity- click on the dates at the right side of the page.

If you like what you see you could help me out by telling your friends about the blog, if you don't like it tell your friends anyway, then your friends would know what a shitty taste you have in blogs, you cockhead.

If you have already done all that and still have nothing to do, you can stare at this here picture of Dr House.

Ou es les toilettes?

2009-09-02T19:52:00.000-07:00

Ahh… Dearest reader(s) it pains my heart to have to say this but there is just no way around this, so I’ll just have to say it.

I- I am leaving.

Oh god, stop crying it only makes it harder than it already is.
It has been a pretty good time living in the pimple-of-the-earth country of Singapore and I am really going to miss it.

Here I received an education that shaped me into who I am today. I’m not sure I like my shape though, it’s too lanky. People pay attention not to walk into me because they are afraid they would break me. My arms are of the size that I can intimidate an infant. Hmm I guess I got a bad deal out of the whole education thing. Oh well, my narrow frame meant that I had to compensate in other areas like having a better vocabulary than most. I know words like Septuagenarian.

Heh, bet you looked that up in the dictionary.

Pfftt.. I suppose that’s not very impressive. Christ I’m so pathetic, why doesn’t anyone like me? I am really starting to suspect the efficacy of slitting your wrists to get more attention. Haha, I’m kidding, I don’t slit my wrists, that’s just stupid. I just drown my sorrows in lemon tea until I pass out from water poisoning. Hey did you know you could get high if you smoke lemon zest? I didn’t think so too.

Huh, you know now that I think about it, I don’t really have anything to miss in Singapore, it is where my two friends are, and that’s about it really.

Bah, so it is with a not so heavy heart that I’m leaving this country.
So its au revoir from me. (that’s Spanish for good riddance)

Oh well, see you in two weeks.

[ergghh this isn't particularly funny or well written, hopefully I'll get my groove back after taking a vacation.]

Can't be arsed

2009-09-01T19:14:00.000-07:00

You know, dear readers, there is something that has been bothering me for quite a while now.

You see, after I emerged from the tumultuous, hormonal, depressive awkwardness of puberty, I became something of a butterfly.

My sculpted figure seemingly chiseled from white marble by Michelangelo himself, a face that lends an air of nobility wearing a look of scorn of having to be around inferiors. Luxurious, flowing hair, iridescent in the sun.

That however is not my problem, my most certainly by now moist readers, my problem is this.
In light of my overwhelming good looks, people find it somehow appropriate to ask me questions like, “How did you get such wondrous looking bum?”

While it is easy to make the mistake that I was simply born with it that is not the case.

In fact I work hard for my arse, some might say I run my arse off, but I have to correct these people as my arse is still firmly attached to my delicious body, even though I do run a lot.

Yes, its true, the secret to my magnificent arse is running. Now many pompous smart-arses might point out that just running would not in fact yield such an arse that might be so beautiful as to be invited to be displayed at the national museum (mine was displayed july4 2006 – july15 2006), but that’s because they don’t clench.

Now many of you might be thinking that you would want to own an arse as delectable as mine, but before you do I would give you one tip on running.

It is extremely advantageous to run behind an attractive female, especially if she herself has a nice bum. In addition to motivating yourself to achieve a rump like her’s, the hypnotic, rhythmic swaying of her gorgeous trunk would help distract you from the exhaustion, it might also help to listen to “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot.

Humpty and Dumpty

2009-08-27T21:11:00.000-07:00

A while ago, when I was reading the newspaper I saw the above advertisement.

Can you spot anything wrong with it?

Yeah, Nanotechnology? What the fuck kind of nanotechnology makes your boobs look bigger? Some kind of nanorobot that blows up nanoballoons in your boobies? I’ve played Metal Gear Solid and there is no such technology and MGS is considered the bleeding edge in terms of nanotechnology, it’s true Hideo Kojima said so.

On closer inspection, the lady’s boobs aren’t really that big even. They kinda look like squashed peaches.

Jesus Christ, why is there a kid in this ad!

Man, those sick advertisers thought they could slip in the kid next to the boobs and thought no one would notice? Too bad they did not consider the perspicacious eye of depraved, sex-starved adolescent boys.

Damn just look at that awkward look of confusion on the innocent little kid’s face, she looks as if she thought she was going to watch hi-5, lost her way and wandered into the wrong studio. What mother would do this to her child?

“Mummy, what’s happening? You forgot to button the top of your blouse.”

“Be quiet, Dear. Mummy is doing an advertisement for breast enhancement and they said they would pay me extra if I let them take a picture of you too, so you can actually make some money for once. I would have aborted if I knew they cost so damn much.”

“Mummy, what’s breasts?”

“Breasts are what is putting food on the table and keeping my coke coming in”

“You mean the white power you put into your nose because you are too busy to drink the ones from the can.”

“Yes, Dear.”

“Oh boy, When I grow up I wanna be a breasts just like Mummy!”

“Heh, not at that rate you won’t, you ironing board.”

“Huh, are you going to iron clothes now?”

“No, go take your beddy-bye medicine and go to your room, uhh.. Mummy has to give Uncle Fred a massage in my room because he is uhhh.. sick”

“Again?”

Idol Thoughts

2009-08-26T09:07:00.000-07:00

So… I was flipping through the channels on cable trying to find a show I could watch while cutting my toenails today, I stumbled upon this little show called ‘Singapore Idol’. Against my better judgment, I decided to watch that whilst performing a purely heterosexual pedicure on myself.

It turned out pretty well for me because I was struggling for a topic for an update, oh the show? Well it’s still shite. It is like the one kid in school that tried too hard to be as cool and popular and hip as the resident hunk, that punctuates his sentences with “like” and “you know” as if he was some kind of indecisive dickhead that learnt to speak English by watching American sit-coms. (and I don’t mean the good ones like Arrested Development, God Arrested Development is awesome, if you think otherwise you are a fucktard, I’m sorry but that’s how it goes, it’s scientifically proven and everything)

The show is awful and it isn’t even the kind of awful like the scene of a car crash or videos of animals doing the nasty, no, this show is just annoyingly awful like getting a paper cut right between two fingers.

Which is a shame because this season has some of the better contestants in terms of ability in singing, if they were in the American version they might even go all the way to the second round of auditions.

The most off-putting thing about the show is the judges. I suppose with the overwhelming popularity of the American version of the show, and with the judges being a big part of the attraction of the series, comparisons are inevitable. But the Singaporean trio of judges, a euphemism for penis, the birthplace of the comedy’s pilgrim and a character from street fighter, as we might have gathered from my earlier allusions, give the impression that they are trying too hard to be like their counterparts.

They seem more preoccupied with coming up with snappy one-liners than actually judging the contestants based on their performance. You can see them trying to hide their smirks whenever one of them spouts another corny one liner. They can hardly refrain themselves from high-fiving each other.

Now for the sake of the readers I am going to delve deep into the psyches of each judge and turn the tables on them and judge them based on things that have nothing to do with their performances.

Dick
“Ok, firstly what is up with the name? Is this what the kids these days are into? I don’t know. Anyway I really think you should lose that cocky, I’m-really-a-nice-guy-but-you-suck-so-bad-I-can’t-help-but-criticize-everything-about-you attitude. It is so yesterday, you know? I mean I know you were once some big shot singer, but nobody should be matching those pink jeans with that top.”

Florence
“Hmmm, mmmm, ummm I dunno about you, I like you, but …. What do you think Ken?”

Ken
“You know what the problem with you is? [pause] If my mother was here she would tell you not to mumble and to speak up. I am being serious here [pause] you speak as though you are scared that you would break yourself because you were made of glass. [pause] But you know what the most important thing you are missing? [pause] It is that you have no soul.”

And that’s all folks.

I’m available for company functions and birthday parties. For more information lick your left pointer finger and slowly slide it in between your two butt cheeks then sniff it until the big men in white clothes come and take you to a nice, safe place.

Non Sausages

2009-08-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

Over the last weekend I watched this movie called ‘Up’, I’m not going to do a review for this movie because that’s not really what this blog is about. But also because all Pixar movies are kinda the same. It is like a box of chocolates you Always know what you are going to get.

You get Chocolate in a chocolate box, Tom-constipated-Hanks.

Pixar are the masters of the “Awwww” heartstring, and they have been yanking at it so much over the years it now resembles a fat woman’s thong. And I mean having to buy two plane tickets kind of fat.

Try this next time you are dragged by your girlfriend to go watch a pixar movie, tell yourself you are not going to get that feeling as if your heart just fell off a 20 storey building or have to furtively touch the corners of your eyes just to make sure you’re not tearing up. I’ll be willing to wager a stiff ramming up my arse that you’ll fail (don’t hold me to that).

Pixar has made so many insecure, muscle-bound meat heads question their sexuality, because as we all know feelings are for girls and gay people.

But this update isn’t about the movie or the ridiculous 3D glasses that seem to be made for people with hooks for noses (goddamit I didn’t pay an extra $3 so I can push the freakin glasses up every 30 seconds instead of actually watching the movie) and are really only good for that One time in the movie when they make something fly into your fucking face at 90 km/h, just because they are jerks and like to think of the audience flinching in their seats then feeling embarrassed that some other person might have seen their act of cowardice even though it is pitch dark in the theater.

No, in this update I would like to address the subject of advertisements. More specifically how they don’t make any fucking sense.
These days you don’t even know what product the advertisement is promoting until right at the very end, sometimes that doesn’t even happen. What happened to those annoyingly catchy jingles that are clandestinely implanted into your brain like some kind of alien egg thing that suddenly pop up at intermittent times, without realizing it you are whistling the tune and have a inexplicable urge to get a popsicle.

Instead, we have weird, creepy looking kids that would typically be cast as the freaky child killer in a horror movie, contort their faces in ways that would make one squirm in disgust if it didn’t look so blatantly computer generated.

Christ, the scary thing about the whole affair is that these types of advertisements are becoming more common, so logically one must assume that people are actually responsive to them. I don’t know why people would feel compelled to eat a bar of chocolate after seeing images of children going through the full spectrum of expressions of pain, but I highly suspect these people belong in big, featureless, white, cushioned rooms. Wearing straitjackets. Because they are crazy. And possibly child rapists.

It seems like all the advertisers are doing to come up with new advertisements is to force feed bits of paper with random words written on them to a puppy and then sticking said puppy into the microwave, then its simply a case of turning it on and seeing what appears pasted against the door amid the blood and guts.

With that in mind I have written my own advertisements, see if you can guess what product its supposed to be for.

The scene opens with a peaceful city, the camera zooms in to focus on a couple of smiling pedestrians, one tips his hat in greeting. Before the person can remove his hand from his hat, an ominous shadow blankets the city and the pedestrian’s face metamorphasizes into mangled mess of fear and despair.
A scream is heard coming from a woman off camera. The camera pans slowly upwards through the city skyline, while creepy music plays.
It is revealed that the shadow belongs to a giant baby!
The giant baby is rampaging through the city covering the city in its spittle and milk vomit, and leaving behind a faint hint of the smell of poo (available in smellavision) that inexplicably makes everyone sniff the air like they are looking for their old, forgotten gym socks.
Suddenly, Godzilla remerges from the ocean! It approaches the giant baby.
The Giant baby and Godzilla stare at each other in a tense few seconds, then Godzilla gives the Giant baby a Giant hug! The people of the city are overwhelmed with emotion at what they had just witnessed and a collective “Awwwwww” is heard.
The people start to sing a cheery song, while the Giant baby and Godzilla team up to destroy the city.
End scene.

So do you know what product that advertisement was for?

It was for a coffee machine that can make 27 different kinds of coffee that is powered by garbage, it also has a handy umbrella attachment for when you want to bring your coffee maker for a picnic.

WB:CO episode 2

2009-08-21T01:31:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm feeling a little burnt out so I'm gonna post this short speech i wrote and presented as part of the attachment program i was doing for school.
I'll try to write more next week, don't want to disappoint my readers, all one of you.

IA presentation :Reflection

Just a mere six fleeting months ago, the prospects of having to work as an intern for the Industrial Attachment program, plunged me into a dark, gloomy pit of despair without a change of clean underwear. And the floor of the pit was rather damp so that was a very uncomfortable situation for me.

You see, my dearests, I have long had this little thought in my head that if I were to somehow become forced by circumstance to take up a desk job, that that would be the end of me. Of course, I did not mean that it would be the mortal end of me, but rather the intellectual, idealistic, hopeful me would most certainly slowly shrivel up like a scrotum in a cool breeze to form a singularity of depression, drugs and cheap whores.

So when the Industrial Attachment officially ended last Friday and instead of feeling joyous, emancipated, vindicated and relief, I felt the slight twinge of longing, like the pulling of heart strings I didn’t know I had, that accompanies premature goodbyes. The tinge of sourness at the base of the tongue, the lump in the throat, the heaviness in the stomach, coupled with the lilting melancholic atmosphere of John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane” and when the horns and strings kick in that’s when the bus comes to take me away and in cinematic slow motion as it pulls away, I turn to take one last look at the place I just spent working at for six months, the song builds to a crescendo. Fade to black.

[take dramatic pause]

So what caused this apostasy? Could it be because my supervisor treated me to a pizza farewell lunch? That explains the heaviness in the stomach. Could it be that my principles are worth less than a couple of slices and a few chicken wings? Could it be that I have somehow unknowingly become the company’s bitch?

Nay, if the industrial attachment taught me anything it is that everything I suspected about what some people call the ‘working world’, the ‘real world’ or the ‘rat race’, if you will, was all very and utterly right on target. Long, cold, boring days spent in a sterile environment, hopeless and gray, everything you do is in an automated, zombie like fashion.

No, those faint tuggings were not on heart strings, they were the dust and cobwebs accreted on my atrophied heart, vainly clinging on to what had become familiar.

So it was familiarity that was the cause of my embarrassingly maudlin farewell. And it was familiarity that was also what I feared the most, it is like being with crazy bondage fetishists, its all fun and games until she takes out her secret stash of razorblades, lighters and knives and you realise too late that you can’t escape because she has tied you to the bed. That was a painful lesson, I won't soon forget.

It sneaks up on you.
One day, you’re a 20-something, bright eyed, vivacious, go-getter with the world at your feet, the next moment you’re deep into your 40s, still stuck at the same job for the last 12 years, with a wife that is totally not what you expected to end up with when you said ‘til death do us part’ and four boisterous, annoying black holes of time and money your wife insists you call your children.

That is not to say that my experience in the company was a living hell, far from it. The people were nice enough, then again most people usually are. But I am thankful that I was assigned to my supervisor, he was the only one who seemed to take time out from work to check on my progress and explain various things happening in the workplace. Oh dear, is my effeminate side showing again, I do apologise. And I’m not just saying that to ingratiate myself to him, he’s not even here.

Now on to lessons. What have I learnt from the experience? The value of a dollar? How to put on the appearance of being productive? The importance of diligence? Or perhaps even *gasp* Company Secrets?
In terms of relevance to my course of study I cannot honestly say that I have learnt much of great value. Nacelles were barely even touched on in our modules. However if one insisted, on the threat of forceful kick to the groin, I suppose I could posit that I gained some insight to how a nacelle is repaired.

In summary, the Industrial Attachment program wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, although it really only served to reaffirm my suspicions about the ‘working life’.
To quote Jim Halpert, “If this was my career, I’d have to throw myself in front of a train.”

An Essay on Patriotism, war and peace

2009-08-14T10:24:00.000-07:00

This essay is a short exposition of my thoughts on the subject of patriotism, war and peace, in case you couldn’t tell from the title, it is not laugh out loud comic piece, although one may find it mildly amusing if one has a sense of humour not unlike that of The Watchmen’s Comedian.

What triggered this urge to put down in writing my thoughts is the advertisements promoting the different aspects of the Singapore Armed Forces. I feel that it is important to be a little more reserved and try not to rant on frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, the way I usually write my blog updates, which I admit is a lazy way of writing. But also because I feel that this subject is one of great importance that is not as much discussed as other topics and it is easier to take it seriously this way.

But anyway, back to the advertisements.

I find it odd that there is not much dialogue concerning this, seeing as how many, perhaps overprotective, parents seem to be quick to lament the glamourisation of violence and war in video games, movies, television and even music, but do not find anything deplorable with the army advertisements.
Now, I concede that the advertisements in no way depict any form of violence, it is not so much the visual content that bugs, offends or gets my panties in a bunch, but the idea behind the advertisements. I can’t see why there is even a need for such advertisements considering it is compulsory for all healthy males to serve the country.

You see, even though it is not explicitly written, vocalized or in any way made known, there is the tacit acknowledgement that for the most part the army is involved in the training of killers, although it is swept under the carpet, kept in a secret dark corner of the attic and generally ignored.

Even if the advertisements had depicted scenes of violence or even murder. One suspects that people would be more willing to accept it as harsh realism than if the advertisement was for a video game.
This is where patriotism comes in.

Patriotism is largely not an odious quality to posses and is encouraged as much as say kindness, politeness and courage. But like most things in life should be practiced in moderation. Patriotism when taken too far leads to fanatism, which could expose itself as xenophobia and laughable bigotry that serves little more than fodder for amateur internet comics and stand up comedy, or even to rouse entire countries to war, such as in the case of Germany in World War 2.
From the above examples, it can be seen that patriotism can cause reasonable people to perform hideous deeds, it is almost as if it blinds them to logic and somehow transcends morality.

One might rebuke that in Singapore’s situation, the need for an army is for the purposes of defense, due to its small size and strategic location it is vulnerable to attack and so a strong army is necessary to act a deterrent for would be attackers. This may sound exaggerated, but that is not at all dissimilar to terrorism. Terrorism works by imposing a threat of violence in order to coerce its target to meet its demands. Juxtaposed that to the Singapore Army’s threat of violence in order to prevent hostile countries from attacking and maybe the statement I made earlier would be less of a hyperbole.

What then can be done to remove the threat of violence? Have all countries agree to relinquish all military power, that would be highly naïve and improbable, however attractive an idea it may seem. For even the destruction of guns and missiles as weapons, knives, forks, rakes, hammers, sticks, rocks can still be used and even if somehow it were possible to remove the pernicious potential of such objects, we still have arms and legs. Yes, it almost seems there is no limit to the myriad methods of causing harm that can be thought up by the human mind. But it perhaps should be noted, that guns and missiles and other such implements make killing so easy that it almost makes the act seem trivial, abandonment of these tools of destruction would not solve the problem but as long as such things exist true peace , I don’t think, can be achieved.

War, however much people speak about its horrors, they do not seem to be horrible enough to turn people away from it. But sometimes war is inevitable, unavoidable to protect our way of life, such as in the case of world war 2 where it seems war is justified (if the taking of life can be said to be justifiable) in that it prevented a megalomatic dictator from taking over the world. But think, these wars all stem from the agenda of a few individuals who somehow managed to invoke patriotism and playing on people’s emotions and fears to serve their own ends. That is why patriotism is so dangerous, it clouds people’s senses, appealing to primal instincts and fears rather than logic and morality, a siren’s song luring people into their doom.

Think now what an army consists of, not the policy makers and warmongers, they are made up of the pawns, the expendable tools, a mean to an end. They consist of people who like people in other armies believe they are fighting to protect their families and the things that are dear to them. By killing them, you believe you are preserving your way of life. But you cannot see that the people you kill are also fighting for the same things and that there are alternatives to resorting to violence.

You can choose not to fight. When the warmongers can no longer invoke emotions like patriotism to gather armies, they lose their power. Let them fight their own wars.

But what if you are forced to go to war under torture or execution? What happened to being willing to die for your country? Did you really mean you were willing to kill for your country?

This, of course, is only a conceivable solution if everyone in the world could be made to realise and follow this. Which you would think would be easy considering how everyone in the world SUPPOSEDLY WANTS WORLD PEACE. Maybe the world should be governed by beauty pageant participants.

It really annoys me to no end, that one of the ad campaigns involve asking the question “What will you defend?” when it could more accurately be phrased as “How will you justify murder?”

Education would be a vital step, but there also educated bigots and educated fools too struck by lassitude to use their brain. Then there are the people who just want to watch the world burn so they can say “I told you so”.

It seems I’ve gone round in a big circle and come to no clear solution, perhaps there is none, people of far greater mental capacities have bent their thought towards it but to no avail, every year they elect a person for the nobel peace prize but it seems we are still nowhere close to a solution.

John lennon posited that the idea of countries should be abolished. Philip K. Dick showed us that even a system to predict murders before they occur would ultimately fail.

I guess in our own small way we have to do our part. As Kurt Vonnegut once wrote (well, I'm paraphrasing)
"You’re got to be kind, God damn it, you've got to be kind."

NDPee

2009-08-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

Ahhh… Another year, another National Day Parade.

First off, who made Gurmit Singh the official ambassador for all things Singaporean? Did I miss a vote for something? He is EVERYWHERE.
At first it was just the TV show, you know what I’m talking about “Phua Chu Kang” and that was fun for a while. But just like slapping your friends in the nuts, you find that it loses its charm right about the time you lie writhing on the floor clutching your burning genitals.

Things got a little weird when he started rapping about hygiene measures to counter SARS, but most of us were too busy shitting our pants to worry about the reason a Eurasian looking, afro-coiffured, garishly dressed contractor who forgot to wipe his mouth after drinking bubble tea is simultaneously having a seizure and trying to tell people to cough into their tissues.

Then somehow he managed to make an appearance in the show “The Amazing Race” and so millions of viewers worldwide now have this as their impression of a typical Singaporean

Would you leave this man alone with a child?

Personally, I suspect he plans to take over Singapore and maybe JB, some even say Batam.

Excitement for these holidays seem to wan proportionate to the amount of years one spends on this floating ball of shit we call Earth.

Proof by word association
(earth -> dirt -> filth -> shit)

I am right and I will have no argument. That means you, SAM!

And maybe it’s the part of me that thinks it is House. But National Day has one of the most tenuous premise of all the holidays. Also seeing people overly excited over what I deem to be trivial really gets on my tits.
It is like me going up to a guy on the street and inviting him to have a drink with me because the guy used the urinal next to mine at a toilet once.

What exactly are we celebrating again?

National identity? Progress for our nation? Racial harmony?

God, I hate how they play up the Racial Harmony angle, as if everyone was all running on verdant, rolling fields, hand in hand forming a circle and singing songs. Apparently, that’s what racial harmony means according to almost every advert on the subject.

Racial Harmony can never be achieved in my not so humble opinion, the best we could ever hope for is racial tolerance. One can greatly disprove of one’s neighbour letting his dogs defecate outside one’s house and walking around with no shirt on, displaying their beer bellies and ‘Ride the Dragon’ tattoo. But one still forces a smile when they unfortunately happen to be airing their butt cracks and gathering the newspaper while you walk by. That is tolerance (although the example is of neighbourly tolerance, go risk your own neck writing one about race) and that is all you can hope for as long as we don’t live in teletubby land. (But we don’t have to deal with EvilLaughingBabySun Overlords so that even things out a bit)

And what about National Identity?

Is it Phua Chu Kang? A ‘Fine’ city where the oppressed population of lambs can’t even chew gum? Food?

Gluttonous Sons of Bitches.

Everybody has to eat to survive, idiots! Most of us that don’t suffer from eating disorders actually Like eating food because we are evolved to derive a sense of pleasure when eating to motivate us to continually put food into our bodies so it can function.
I like eating, but it doesn’t mean I want to be defined by it, because it suggests that there is nothing else that is worth noting about me and that is just sad.

So what then is the precious National Identity? It is simply the acknowledgment that when we spun that wheel of chance, the pointer ended up in Singapore. That’s all there is to it.

It’s a contrived sense of familiarity, it is an emotional ‘safe zone’. If a magic 'mirror' Singapore appeared that was exactly the same in every way, a typical person would still have a manufactured sense of ‘obligation’ towards the ‘original’ Singapore, “because that is where I was born”.

It is a little ironic how with the emphasis on progress and pragmatism that the ‘culture’ of Singapore is hidebound and traditionalist.
How many times have you heard your parents talk about the ‘good old days’ living in a Kampong and that we young ones are spoiled brawling little shits. So says the globs of fat stuffing their faces with Kentucky Fried Chicken and driving around in their SUVs complaining about how the traffic jam forced you to sit in your air-conditioned car listening to the radio, reduced to a panting sweaty mess whenever you climb the escalator, lamenting that the lifts don’t stop at every floor when it stops at every other.

I’m willing to wager that if given the choice between the ‘good old days’ and ‘get the @%#$^(Cantonese swear word) road, you dickhead’ present. They will choose the present.
That’s progress Baby!

Now that I have (hopefully) ruined your holiday and sense of national pride, I wish all a happy national day. Now fuck off.

Korean Drama Plot ad-libs!

2009-08-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

All the straight male readers can roll their eyes contemptuously and go back to watching professional wrestling now because the subject of this update is …
Korean Dramas!

Translation: “will she still love me when she realises that testicular cancer has cause me to go blind?”

More specifically how they seem to follow some sort of formula. This is my attempt at writing down that formula. Create your very own Korean Drama Plot by filling in the spaces with the helping words! Enjoy.

We are introduced to the protagonist who is _______________ (suave, gentlemanly, and possesses an impeccable fashion sense to the point one might question his sexuality/ cold, aloof, thinks using words to express oneself is uncool/ bubbly, vivacious, naïve, happy-go-lucky woman/ stern, professional, uncaring bitch)

Next we have to have a love interest for the protagonist, this will be a person with qualities contrary to the protagonist. A second person should also be introduced that would form the third link in the love triangle of which your protagonist inevitably finds him/herself in. The third wheel should be someone that is more ________________(approachable/ less of an asshole) than the main love interest at first to string the audience along.

Now that all the characters are introduced, the protagonist must undergo some kind of personal tragedy, this is to make protagonist played by a gorgeously attractive young star more relatable to the audience. (see attractive people have troubles too!)
This can take the form of __________________(being diagnosed with a terminal illness/ having close relatives/friends diagnosed with a terminal illness(or die)/ getting shot in the head/ becoming poor/ developing amnesia/ realizing you were switched at birth or adopted/ sold for cash because parents couldn’t afford to raise two kids)

In the process of dealing with this personal tragedy the protagonist will fall in love with the love interest however _______________ (bigoted in-laws/ hidebound parents that don’t approve of love interest/ mixed feelings toward third wheel/ engagement to someone else(usually, third wheel)/ own insecurities about illness/wealth/memory) gets in the way.

Here one would pad out the story with a lot of back and forth, regarding protagonist’s state of personal tragedy and/or relationship with love interest.
In the process the love interest reveals his/her vulnerability and that deep down even though they may seem uncaring, they are in actuality overwhelm with emotions but their ego prevented them from expressing their feelings until somebody __________ (died/ was diagnosed with a terminal illness)

Finally, the protagonist receives an epiphany through _______________ (death of somebody close/ someone close diagnosed with terminal illness/ losing one’s wealth/ a sudden realization that love interest is actually (sibling/ long lost friend/ related to enemy/ poor/ terminally ill)/ recovery of memory)

The protagonist then overcomes all difficulties through the power of ‘true love’.

Then the protagonist and love interest _________________ (live happily ever after/ dies)

The ending depends on whether ‘true love’ was able to overcome terminal illness. It might be useful to select an unhappy ending to give your plot a sense of grit, edginess or realism.

Ahhh.. but my, what a lovely birdie

2009-08-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

In all the red blooded, chest thumping, muscle-bound, sweaty institution that is the Singapore Armed Forces, it can be rather squeamish about homosexuality. A person, apparently, would not need to serve (or serve in a limited fashion, ie. away from the boys) in National Service if one should feel inclined to declare oneself a homosexual. The thought comes to mind, that an actually homosexual would actually want to shower in bath stalls that have no way of protecting the modesty of the people using them and participate in all the sweaty camaraderie that comes with the territory of NS. It is a little bit of a catch-22, isn’t it?

In any case, I want to talk about a more specific matter. It is this, for what purpose does the checking of a person’s genitalia serve to prove that one is fit to serve the country?

Hard to find any picture that is both inoffensive and relevant so here’s a flower instead.

Back in primary school, a dick check could be rationalised by the reason of prudence. At that age, at the cusp of puberty, many wee lads knew not much about their … wee, and considering how parents no longer had to assist in manual positioning of the wee for peeing, the lore of the crotch would be known to only a callow boy. As such a dick check to make sure all is well is quite justifiable.

But what of these men? Men that the country has to depend on at its time of need, men expected to handle complex weaponry, and keep their heads amid the tumult and chaos of war? Surely of such men one would think that they would at least know what is going on with their penises(peni?)

One would hope to think that men would have the mental facility to determine if their wangs were in working condition. Surely one should always perform regular checks as to its functionality, once a fortnight at the least.

Coming back again to phallus testing, what invaluable information can be gained from a nurse fingering your tackle?
A check for homosexuality? Doubtful, there are more accurate and less invasive technologies for that such as the gaydar.
More probable is that this is the main source of statistical data condom makers like to publish every once in a while.
Also likely is the ever present threat of a deadly penile fungal epidemic. Known to be prevalent in male teenagers due to their lower standards of hygiene, particularly in males that do not practice manscaping the discovery of such fungi is usually at the later stages of infection.

If left unchecked penile fungal infection could easily spread in a self contained environment such as an army camp, where men are forced into close contact for sustained periods of time, more than likely sticky with sweat.

An epidemic would cripple any hopes of an effective defense against any enemy, any infected would have to be subjected to a excruciatingly painful process of penile scrubbing to remove all traces of the fungus, and would take more than one session because the prick would need to heal.

That’s not the worst of it, in severe cases where infection has spread upwards of the shaft, a total amputation would be necessary. And a dickless army would do no good at all.

So I guess a poke in the balls, would not be entirely gratuitous. But it still brings questions about the psychology of a person whose job it is to fondle cocks.

For more information about genital fungus you may watch this highly informative video.

Go get your Testilogram today, It might just save your life.
It didn't save mine, but it was still a pretty enjoyable experience.

'allo, wot's all t'is then?

2009-07-31T11:18:00.000-07:00

Heh. What do you know, turns out huffing paint thinner is actually bad for the brain… or something. I can’t remember. I seem to be forgetting a lot of stuff these days.

Anyways since getting high off industrial chemicals is bad for the old noodle, and that’s all I have really, I’m not female (in case anyone was wondering) so I can’t just take pictures of myself (they don’t even have to be salacious in nature, thems are suckers, those boys) and expect to see the hits come pouring in.

So then.

Readers of newspapers would no doubt have seen letters from the general public being published in a dedicated section usually called a forum, you know they are not written by actual journalists because they are usually frivolous in nature and have the quality of a secondary school homework assignment run through a word processor and with some big words thrown in just to make absolutely sure to readers that the writer has a better vocabulary than someone who does not know how to use a dictionary.

Well, I have taken it upon myself to reply to some of these senders of letters. Mostly because I haven’t thought of anything else to write an update about, and my blog seems to give off this weird fishy smell when I leave it alone for too long.

Today’s punching bag comes courtesy of one Arlene Mandia. Why, Hello Arlene, it is nice of you to have written your letter which I would in the ensuing few paragraphs make a few cutting remarks about and dismissively declare to be asinine spittle wiped off from the frothing mouth of a woman infected by rabies by one of the thirteen cats she lives with, on a used tissue and sent to the newspaper, which in turn published it because nothing else fitted in that small space between the advertisements.

Oh dear, In the expulsion of all that pent up bile, I seem to have forgotten that the purpose of the letter that Arlene sent was to decry the use of the word ‘hello’ in a sarcastic manner.

I am SO sorry then, Arlene. So so so SO sorry. So sorry indeed that right now as I am typing, hot, wet streams of tears have spouted from my tear ducts and makes a pool of condensed regret on my keyboard.

Couldn’t help myself.

My my, Arlene, either you live in a world of politeness and graciousness, where people always engage in pleasantries and speak with candor. That, or perhaps where you come from the people there are such masters of subtle sarcasm that any hint of which would escape your feeble mind and so be misinterpreted as geniality. Or a third and the most likely possibility is that you’re a fucking idealistic tard.

While living in a utopia, of rainbows and unicorns, of adventure and wonder, where people talk like characters in the Lord of the Rings, where people of nobility and rectitude dwell in quaint houses where dinner parties are often held and everyone has opinions about wine and its accompaniment of food, which they drink with their pinkies stuck out as a sign of sophistication. All this sounds very attractive and if I could I would rather live in that fantasy world than this decaying shit-hole of a world we humans fucked up and are now trying to put it back together as best we can with scotch tape and chewed up gum.

And who wouldn’t want to?

It seems so easy when you put it on paper. The only thing that needs to be done is to make everyone realise that a peaceful, civil world can be achieved by wanting it and to start acting like we live in that fantasy land.

After all, who doesn’t want world peace, amiright?

Well, the problem really is that no one is ever one thing. It is inevitable to categorise people and form stereotypes because that is how we evolved, by assigning everything we see into broad categories we were able to learn and pass information amongst ourselves quickly and efficiently, this was useful when we had to decide whether a saber-toothed cat was something to cuddle up to or to avoid as death. This, however, has an undesirable effect when it comes to describing more nuanced ideas such as an ideal or a personality. What we end up with is flash cards like the guy in the movie memento, only taking snapshots of a particular person at a particular time and remembering only the most important things about them that is most relevant to oneself.

But I am starting to digress.

What I mean is no one person can dictate how a culture shapes itself, however much it may irk us. You don’t like the way people use the word ‘hello’, well tough titty, the people who are forced to serve you because it is their job to, probably find you to be a sanctimonious wanker, and they can’t even take the moral high ground and write to a newspaper to complain about the way people expect them to have no other emotion except the most noblest of joys that they get from satisfying your every need and fancy.

One last thing, the feeling of goodness is not intrinsic to the word itself. But more to the person hearing it and whatever one might interpret it to mean. Maybe if people behaved in a way that does not warrant the sarcastic use of the word ‘hello’ then such a practice would cease.

But such are the days we live in that we cannot or would not afford the time and courtesy to step into someone elses’ shoes and take on anothers’ perspective so that some sort of tacit understanding could be reached and act like the civilized people we like to think we are.

The Divine Stupidity

2009-07-25T11:51:00.000-07:00

[I'm reading The Divine Comedy right now, a classic epic poem written my some long dead person called Dante Alighieri. I am of course not as egotistical to think that my inane post can compare to his work. However I can't think of anything else to write about right now.]

Now as we reached the edge of the chasm,
A foul stench filtered up our nostrils,
So we would be forgiven even by the punctilious,

For our language which matched the stench’s foulness.
Let not the amorphous glob that seems to take delight,
At sitting next to me on long bus rides on humid days,

Boast any longer that he may curl back anyone’s eyelashes,
Through the power of his repulsive body odour alone.
The source of the foul stench was revealed to us,

When after we had gotten used to it,
(as much as one can get used to having sweaty
Gym socks filled with rotten eggs shoved into where

One would normally bring to summer flowers)
As we ventured to peer over the ledge.
There, at the bottom were multitudes of shades,

Bloated to a point where it seemed,
A slight prick would force them to yield
Their innards in an explosive fashion.

Sensing my disgusted confusion,
My knowing guide spoke, “these shades
Are punished for the sin of gourmet dining,

Where in life, they have forced a goose,
To eat more than it would ever need.
So too are these shade forced into their bloated forms.

Behold! how the great wisdom has meted his righteous justice,
These shades cannot stop feasting on each other’s livers,
Even as their own is being consumed.”

And I intrigued, entreated my guide to converse with the sinners.
We climbed down the craggy precipice where it sloped.
And at once, a shade in between stuffing his face spoke,

“who is this that roam this hopeless realm unmolested?
Are you a servant of the fell one?”
And I, “Nay, I am but a writer of a blog,
I am on a journey to reach the heights,

Where one can attain the most glorious
Of all prizes, the prize of internet fame.
Tell me, disgusting blob, have you a name?”

“I take umbrage at thy insulting remark,
If my legs have not been crushed under my enormous frame,
And I could control my irresistible urge to eat this man’s liver,

I would do more than this, but alas!
That isn’t so, therefore a Fuck You would have to suffice.”
“I apologise I am merely in shock at your

Gelatinous form. Pray tell me your name.”
And the sinner replied, “When my body still drew breath,
I was known throughout the land as Anthony Bourdain.

I earned fame as a host of a travel show
Where I roamed the world in search of food
To stuff my face in, as my show grew in popularity,

So did my feasting, as I was trapped,
In a vicious cycle, trying to one-up myself.
Now in death I am forced with my fellow sinners

To gorge ourselves on each other’s livers,
As we have gorged ourselves on the livers
Of the divine will’s flightful creations.

The taste of our rotting carcasses bring not pleasure
But nausea and so we expel what we cannot keep down.
And yet our mouths cannot stop their invidious endeavour.”

And I having heard what that odious shade had to say,
Spake these words, “My, this would make a good update for my blog.”

shaking hands with mr.tomkinson

2009-07-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

Unless you are agoraphobic or blind (how the hell are you reading this blog?) then you would have probably seen this rather contentious advertisement of a new Burger King sandwich.

Here is the ad of questionable taste (I don’t eat posters so i wouldn't know)

Pffffttt…. I’ve seen way worse, but then again those weren't ads.

Also its obvious Burger King didn’t do their market research, 7-inches? We are Asians man, that’s too big. (I meant the sandwich, you sick fucks)

The reason there has been such a commotion about it, is because it apparently references the act of fellatio. Or a blow-job for those not familiar with porno lexicon. An article in Life section of the Straits Times also said that the woman was made to look like a blow up doll, am I lagging behind my “blow up dolls monthly” magazine delivery? Because I’ve never seen such a realistic blow up doll before, Britney looks really plasticky and her boobs look like pyramid shaped balloons stapled to her chest, maybe its time I upgraded.

When I saw the ad before this whole thing blew up, I got the innuendo right away but then I just chalked that up to me being a dirty minded, emotionally immature teenager, turns out there’s a lot of us.

In the article a father of a 19 year old son said he found the ad to be vulgar and is surprised to find it at a place where teenagers hang out.
HAHA.
Dude, your son has seen stuff 10 times more vulgar than this ad, and he saw those things on something called the Internet, lots of teenagers hang out there, you might want to check it out. Just stay away from the furries.

I think it’s stupid for parents to think that this ad would pervert the minds of their precious, innocent little children. If your child is really pure of thought, he/she would never not make the connection of eating a sandwich with a sex act. (unless he/she is seriously fucked up then they should be kept in a mental facility)
And if he/she thought “Hurhur blowjob” when they saw the ad, then chances are they have seen worse, and the ad would not do anything to further your child’s perversion.

This calling for the ad to be banned from parents is nothing but to save them from embarrassment and from the realization that their child has become sexually aware. There seems to be a sort of stigma when it comes to children and sex, which is ironic since one is the product of the other. And in a relatively conservative country like Singapore, the way people deal with it is to shut it out. The thing is you cannot protect your children forever, eventually some jerk diver is going to capture your offspring to be a gift for his niece and both of you would have to go through many adventures before realizing that it is all a part of growing up. Wait I’m thinking of something else.

Besides there are way more suggestive ads than this, take for instance shampoo ads and that detergent ad with all the chicks participating in a wet t-shirt contest in a washing machine.

Take these for example.

That’s quite a handful, you must have really long hair or something.

And the ever popular shower scene, what a tease.

This might be the worst of the worst. Starts out innocently enough, then the girl starts making orgasm faces and bouncing up and down around 40 seconds deep(into the video).

Have fun jerkin' off, freaks.

I'm so happy, I'm almost........

2009-07-20T08:50:00.000-07:00

I refer to an article (am I being professional yet?) published in the new paper on Sunday 19 July 20, 2009, regarding Dr Thio Li-ann’s defence of her stand on same sex marriage in Singapore.

[I can’t find the article online so I will just type out excerpts of the article in question, also i assume you are familiar with the topic]

In the article she says “My objection is not to gay people, it is towards the nature of the homosexual political agenda and the vicious and degrading tactics of some activists (like insults and death threats)”.

Firstly, what exactly is the homosexual political agenda? Are there any gay political parties that have just come out (haha, pun) that I did know of?
If she is referring to the abolishment of the law prohibiting gay sex, as I have said before this is obviously a case of the ignorant wanting to remain ignorant, the abolishment of the law would not cause any sort of moral degradation or sudden proliferation of homosexuals.

Secondly, if you can read past the rhetoric, you see that there is no credence to her argument. All Dr Thio is saying is, I don’t want the law criminalizing gay sex to be removed, it’s not that I have something against gay people, it’s just that I don’t like the way some of them talk to me.

This is equivalent to saying that all women are bitches because this one lady told me off just because I wanted more syrup in my soybean milk. And because my experience with one person is indicative of the entire female population, I deem they should all wear muzzles to stop them from spewing their vitriolic venom.

Perhaps more tellingly, Dr Thio later contradicted herself in the same article when she implied that a dissident who called for her to be disallowed from teaching about human rights in NYU to be totalitarian.

“Let’s be tolerant but not tolerate whom we consider intolerant. That is totalitarianism by any other name.”

You said it, sister. *COUGH*Hypocrite*COUGH*

We are the World

2009-07-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

Something i want to add to my post yesterday.
Despite all the high tech visual effects and a story about transforming robots, the transformers movie is horribly outdated.

Why do i say that?

Notice the slight dig at Obama in the movie? You don't see the president in the movie at all but he does appoint an annoying prick whose job it seems is to make life hard for the people that just wants to shoot at giant robots.

I mean really Obama?
Diplomacy? Dialogue? Peaceful resolutions? ppppfffffftttt.
That's for pussies, man!

Here in AMERICA we solve problems by shooting at it in the face! or crotch depending on how we feel that day. And Explosions! Nothing is more satisfying then seeing stuff disintegrate in a giant fire ball and later we could have a barbeque over the charcoal carcasses of our enemies too. And nukes, we love nukes.

Wait a minute. This is a Bush era movie!
Quick, check if the republicans made Transformers.

In the Transformers, even though the robots fight in many different locations all over the world, it seems only AMERICANS can do anything about them, in fact they are the only people in the world that even seem to know about the transformers. At the final big fight in Egypt the Jordanians sent two helicopters to back up the AMERICANS and got swiftly wiped out by a Decepticon.

PUSSIES, it doesn't matter they would have probably just got in the way of our rippling Biceps. Only the AMERICANS can save the WORLD, so if we skydrop our military in your country just get the fuck out of our way and pray to whatever God you worship to even though it probably wouldn't help as much as our BULLETS!

AMERICA! FUCK YEA!

Review in disgust!

2009-07-18T00:46:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make, when I wrote my mini review for Transformers 2, I did not watch the movie.

But now that I’ve watched it, I think it’s the greatest movie ever made! And all I had to do to enjoy the movie was get a lobotomy.

But lobotomies are expensive I hear you say, well you’re in luck hypothetical reader, because I will now tell you how you can give yourself a lobotomy all in the comforts of your own home!

First, you need to get your hands on a pair of chopsticks or any similar stick like instrument. Next locate the entry point which would be the tear ducts near the bridge of your nose.

Now clutching each chopstick on each hand tightly, insert the sharp end of the chopsticks into the eye, after a few inches you should be able to feel a soft material that is your brain. At this point, you may find yourself losing your motor skills or other bodily function, fret not! This just means its working.

Continue until you hit something hard, this would be the top of your skull.
If your body is not convulsing violently in a seizure, you would have to then move the chopsticks side to side until the soft material turns into liquid.

Congratulations! You have performed a lobotomy on yourself. You can now receive the mentally disabled concession when traveling on public transport, apply for a free stay at a mental facility and enjoy movies like Transformers 2!

this is you

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is a 150 minute marathon of Michael Bay masturbating onto the screen. It would have been more appropriate if it was called “CGI Effects: Revenge of the Loud Explosions, slow motion shots of Megan Foxes boobs, Macguffins, motion sickness inducing circle pans of Megan Fox, running, shouting, running and shouting at the same time, bad dialogue, slightly offensive jokes that are about as funny as getting punched in the stomach, bad movie clichés, tits, ass and characters that have as much personality as my blow up sex doll I keep in my closet (for the companionship)”

But I guess that doesn’t roll off the tongue as well, also it probably won’t be able to fit onto a poster.

Unfortunately, this movie isn’t the exception to the rule, if I had to guess what Hollywood think the movie watching audience consisted of it would be, 13 year-old sexless boynerd that has not developed emotionally from burning ants with a magnifying glass and has not had sustained interaction with the opposite sex.

It is a downright insult and I’m sure that I’m not alone right? RIGHT?

Oh crap. 4/5 stars based on 583 user reviews on yahoo?
Here only got 2/5 stars?

That’s It! I now repudiate any connection to humanity, if it means being associated to people like the incoherent spaszoid fredericklewweilong who writes:

This is Cybertron!!!
by fredericklewweilong on 17/07/2009
What I loved most: This year the Best of The Best movie ever!!!
What I really hated: none
This 2rd Transformers movie have finished Optimus have defeated The Fallen but Megatron & Starscream have escaped. The new 3rd Transformers movie will have Unicron the planet-eating, Unicron is a planet-sized Transformers which eats other planets Wow, Megatron will rematting to Galvatron, Air Craft Carrier and will have a lots of new robots both Autobots and Decepticons don't foget to surport Transformers movie!!!

Great. Awesome . Illuminating. Numinous.

Well if anyone wants to join us, some friends and I are going to colonise mars. It’s gonna be sweet, we are going to have movie night every Tuesday, next week is Citizen Kane.

NowHere In Cinemas

2009-07-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

Quick! If you have not watched 'HERE' yet, this may be your last chance to catch it.
I have written before how much I loved the film. Also if you intend to go watch it tell them you were sent by Mellifluous Wasteland, maybe if a lot of you reader(s) go watch it they might sent me a keychain or something.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your final chance to catch HERE at The Picturehouse, The Cathay!

The feature film runs for what may be its final week. Don't miss out on Singapore's unique feature film entry to the Directors' Fortnight, Cannes Film Festival 2009, by filmmaker and visual artist Ho Tzu Nyen.

SHOW TIMES:
Saturday 18 July 3:20pm
Sunday 19 July 3:20pm
Monday 20 July 9:20pm

TICKETS AVAILABLE@
- The Cathay box office, 2 Handy Road
- www.cathay.com.sg

Discounts: 12% discount on tickets purchased at box-office only with UOB Visa card

Big shoutouts to all who came and supported. If you have not yet experienced HERE, now is your chance!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Proper update tomorrow, if i can tear myself from the depression of realising how pathetic my life is to write one.

i am sorry, so sorry

2009-07-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

No doubt if, anyone that reads this blog(hah) has made use of the MRT recently would have noticed the new reserved seating graphic above.

Well, I am shocked that no one has expressed the utter tastelessness of it.

Let’s see now.

If my interpretation of the graphic is correct. (and I am never wrong, only misunderstood)
Then the seats are to be reserved for: (going clockwise from top left)

A pimp with his pimp cane.

A woman who is being pleasured by a person under her skirt.

A man with a rare physical dysfunction which has caused his penis to grow to such a size that he has to walk with the aid of a crutch and also has to wear a cast over his dickhead to prevent it from abrading against the ground when he walks.

A pedophile.

woody!

2009-07-14T09:01:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year, when I was collecting my annual reparation for being related to other people, with what are called ‘red packets’, one in particular caught my eye and I took a picture of it.

I’ve been rather stumped(haha, pun) on what kind of business the alleged ‘wood doctor’ does. The tendency to associate it to erections is certainly inescapable, but I doubt there really is a specialized degree in medical schools for that kind of thing. That logo doesn’t help too, the ‘w’ and ‘d’ look suspiciously like childish depictions of a dick head and a sperm respectively.

The next inclination would be to think that the ‘doctor’ specializes in treating trees, hence the wood. But the problem is, who the fuck cares about their tree so much they have to procure the services of a ‘doctor’ to treat it when it gets ill? And the business would have to be doing pretty damn well too from the looks of the quality of the ‘red packet’, it was printed on real good paper. Not the flimsy ones that stain your fingers red when you touch them, which you know probably only contain two dollars.

It is also kinda ironic that a ‘wood doctor’ would use good paper. You know, what with paper being made out of wood and all. Maybe the ‘doctor’ is some kind of crazy, psychopathic serial tree killer that lures his victims by pretending to be a ‘doctor’? Yes, that seems plausible.

Hold on, I seem to be remembering something.

*Checks spam email folder*

Oh. That’s why it looks so familiar.

OH MY GOD! Spam is real?!!!

Oh all the wasted years! For so long I have searched for ways to ‘increase my girth and length and pleasure your woman!’ and the solution was right in my spam folder all the while.

Ahem, not that I need it.

Verbosity

2009-07-11T09:39:00.000-07:00

While having one of those conversations with my mum, which involves my mum spouting a stream of words only stopping occasionally to allow her brain some time to catch up and me not caring much about what she has to say only listening enough to respond at appropriate intervals with various grunts, I heard her using the line, “Your verbosity is beyond my comprehension”.

Apparently, her lecturer back in her JC days, taught the class this retort which he or she no doubt thought to be quite clever against someone sesquipedalian. This left a somewhat profound impression on the students, many of them I’m sure thought of this phrase as some sort of magic incantation that would instantly win arguments.

I have heard this phrase being used by my mother a couple of times throughout my life, and it never really bothered me until my vocabulary had improved to such a state that I can see that that phrase is load of sweaty bollocks.

Firstly, the lecturer has totally misunderstood the meaning of verbosity. To be verbose is to have the tendency to speak or write at length, it does not suggest that the person uses any long or obscure words. So unless the subject has written or spoken with such prolix that your brain can no longer take it and has turned to liquid and is attempting to escape through your ear canals, then the use of that phrase would be appropriate.

Secondly, this statement has no pedagogical value, in fact I would say that this is instead damaging to a person’s education, because now the students have such a convenient excuse for being ignorant, that they would hardly care to expand their vocabulary.

Thirdly, this is probably one of the worst comebacks I have ever heard. It is the equivalent of saying that you are an ignorant git and walking out of the argument because you don’t like that fact that your opponent has a better vocabulary than you do. This is not at all how one should conduct oneself in an argument, unless you are French.

Here are a few better alternatives to that retort.

“Oh yea? Funny you should say that cuz your mom told me the opposite last night when I was shaggin her”

“I wonder, is the use of really long words an overcompensation for something?”

“What’s that? I got distracted by how ugly your face is, you might want to get some surgery done I know a good doctor.”

“While you were busying reading a thesaurus last night, I was out having sex with your girlfriend, here she left her panties at my place.”

“WELL FUCK YOU!”

Why F1 is actually pretty cool

2009-07-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

There was a time when I, being the cynical supercilious bastard that I am, did not consider Formula One racing as much of a sport.
It was just a bunch of cars driving round in fancy circles pretty quickly, I observed while sipping Brunello di Montalcino from a diamond chalice.
It’s not much different from looking out at a busy road, what soulless joy could be derived from that?

The sense of speed is not well translated onto a television screen without the use of dramatic camera angles and clever editing as human beings mostly get a sense of speed through the movement of fluid in the inner ear.
Watching cars race on a television screen while lying supine on a couch, fingers stained orange with cheetos dust, does not do much to stimulate the inner ear, so what appeal could F1 have that makes it one of the more successful spectator sport in the world?

Not until one lazy weekend having exhausted all other forms of distraction I could think of and switching through the channels on the old goggle box did it finally come to me.

F1 is in fact a subtle allegation to sex.

As most people would agree the most exciting part of any F1 race is the high speed crashes, pieces of car is strewn upon the tarmac with the occasional chance of flames to liven things up, it is the unpronounced desire of every driver stuck in traffic fulfilled in full orgasmic fashion, and the drivers usually get away with their limbs attached so there’s no need to deal with the messy stain of guilt.

But wait! I hear you say, if that’s all there is would it not be easier to watch the highlights of every race, to this I reply ‘foreplay’.

Once one comes to this understanding, the implications to reality can be staggeringly poignant.

Usually, crashes happen near the start of every race, with the remainder of the race spent trying to get back into a situation where another crash would likely occur. These situations may come teasingly close to yielding that excitement of the start but many times this would not come to fruition. Occasionally, one must stop to refuel. In the end, the people involved are left exhausted, and drenched in sweat at times shedding up to one kilogram in bodyweight, and when it is time for celebrations one would spray foaming liquid at each other.

When look at in this light, F1 is a piercing reflection of life as all art should be.
And this is why F1 is actually pretty cool.

Famous!

2009-07-08T09:43:00.000-07:00

Oh my dear readers, this is rather a cliché, but I have bad news and I have good news.
Before I further elucidate, I must say that it has been a wonderful pleasure to have written articles to a largely imagined audience in hopes that it would bring about if not some entertainment then at least to provide a distraction to your otherwise mundane sad lives.

While that is so, it would be mendacious to say that I would be dreading what comes next. This is, my dears, the bad news.

You see, I’m famous now.

Remember that rather delightful review I wrote for the film ‘Here”?
Well it turns out that the director himself has personally emailed his thanks.

Oh before I forget. I’m supposed to put this up.

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We are delighted to announce that HERE will continue its run at The
Picturehouse, The Cathay.

Screening times @ The Picturehouse (tickets available from Wednesday
evening, 8 July)

Saturday 11/7 - 3.20pm
Sunday 12/7 - 3.20pm
Monday 13/7 - 9.40pm

To those who have seen the film, thank you and do help to spread the word!

For those who have not yet experienced HERE - don't miss out on
Singapore's unique feature film entry to the Directors' Fortnight,
Cannes Film Festival 2009, by filmmaker and visual artist Ho Tzu Nyen!

Come experience this singular cinematographic adventure that has got
everyone talking!

TICKETING DETAILS

I. Tickets available at
- The Cathay box office, 2 Handy Road, level 5
- www.cathay.com.sg

2. Discounts:
- 12% discount on tickets purchased at box-office only with UOB Visa card.

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(Before anyone asks, no I haven’t been paid to plug this film, although it would have been nice to, really I would have been happy with a signed poster too)

In light of my new found fame, I can no longer expect to sit in front of my laptop, staring at the screen hoping for an idea for an update, without soon being hustled to, what I do not doubt to be the most happening parties and social events.

Yes, I expect I had better get used to sipping fine wines, driving fast cars, confabulating with other famous people about how to spend our money, having scandalous affairs with beautiful actresses, dancing on tables and getting thoroughly pissed and passing out in a gutter, all the while being photographed by the paparazzi. This is the good news, hopefully you can find it in your heart of hearts to feel happy for me, but I know the stinging prick of inferiority can often lead to resentment towards us famous types.

Yep, any time now, my doorbell will ring and a smartly dressed elderly caucasian man with a british accent would be there to whisk me away into my new lifestyle of opulence and hedonism.

Yep, aaannnyyy time now…..

No Homo

2009-07-06T07:08:00.000-07:00

From the front page of ‘Today’, Monday July 6, 2009.

Law minister K Shanmugam, in a dialogue session at Punggol Central Division the day before said Singaporeans were “not ready” for laws criminalizing homosexuality to be repealed.

According to Mr Shanmugam, “There is a group that is actively commited to saying that homosexuality is okay, but probably a majority of Singaporeans are still very conservative and say that this is totally not acceptable. So, the Government has to respect both sides.”

How is this respecting both sides when the decision clearly favours one over the other?
Could it be that the Government is afraid to make a decision that it knows will most likely result in a backlash from the conservatives in Singapore?

Mr Shanmugam continues, saying that the government must “be careful about being ahead of public opinion, if the majority of the population is against homosexuality, then it’s not for the government to say we are going to force something against the wishes of the people”.

That statement is quite obviously just an excuse. I don’t remember that it was the ‘wish of the people’ to raise the GST and yet it still happened, could the government be practicing *gasp* double standards?
And does the government not pride itself on its practicality and the sagacity of its leaders? Has it not been said that the government should for the better of the community introduce laws that might not be popular with the people?

The repeal of this law that bans homosexual acts, would admittedly only benefit a small community in Singapore, but lifting the ban would also not cause a sudden proliferation of homosexuality in Singapore. Are we going to let the unfounded fears of the majority intrude on the rights of the minority to live their lives the way they want to, just so the conservative community can carry on living with their eyes closed, hands over their ears going lalalalalalala.

If the government allows the majority to pressure it not to change a law because in doing so it might result in some kind of social upheaval, then I say that the government has succumbed to terrorism.

we are doomed, doomed i say!

2009-07-05T08:02:00.000-07:00

Here’s a bonus post this weekend because I didn’t want to bog down my (amateurish) review of ‘Here’ with frivolous gripes.

Had I not been swayed by the cosmic forces to look at movie listings at yahoo, I would not have had the good fortune of watching a great movie that happened to be directed by a Singaporean who isn’t Jack Neo.

This bugs me because while the movie had little to no promotion, the asian youth Olympics that is going on has a dedicated channel on cable, huge print and television advertising and even posters in polytechnics.

And the worst part is people would rather watch the asian youth Olympic games than one of the greatest movies to have been produced by a local talent. The director of the film was born in Singapore, not a hand-me-down citizen from some other country.

Watching the games is about as enriching is watching someone cross the road.
If I wanted to people running I could go to a stadium or a playground. If I wanted to see people in skin tight outfits I have the internet.

Its just such a shame to realise that as a nation we have yet to evolve culturally past the level of a pimply adolescent whose favourite show is icarly and favourite band is the jonas brothers.
(I felt I should be slitting my wrists when I wrote that.)

Also before the movie start there was this anti-piracy advertisement which entire premise was that pirating movies would cause the downfall of the cinema.
I fear the future would be much bleaker if we continue down this crooked path, I see instead a future where shitty blockbuster movies like “transformers” and “Hannah Montana: make your parents spend money tour” would flood the screens, reducing the population to Paris Hilton clones and boys that run around going pewpew while gesticulating wildly with their finger guns.

Bonus review! Transformers!

There is fighting robots that go wakwakwakwakwak when they transform and there are explosions! And shia le beef was running and running occasionally stopping to shout at somebody. And that is basically it, oh and there was megan fox.

Here, a review

2009-07-05T06:51:00.000-07:00

Today I watched the best movie I’ve watched in a long time.
And it was made by a Singaporean!

I realise that the above statement might come across as a little condescending but when one thinks of a ‘Singaporean’ movie one inevitably thinks of Jack Neo flicks.
And the thing about Jack Neo is that he’s been making the same movie for the last decade or so.
(I’m using my professional voice here, if I was using my obnoxiously cynical voice the above statement would read more like, “Jack Neo has been squeezing the same shit out of his ass for the last decade or so and it’s stinking up the local movie scene”.)

So I was pleasantly surprised to find that when one digs deep enough in the cesspool of our local movie industry, one might find, albeit rarely, a true gem.

The movie I’m talking about is Here, a film by Ho Tzu Nyen. It would be unfair to say this is a good Singaporean movie because it just a great movie period.

In fact, I’d have to say ITS FUCKIN’ BRILLIANT.

On the surface, the movie is about a man’s time in a mental asylum. That alone makes it more interesting than 95% of any local film that has screened on our island.

But the thing that makes it FUCKIN’ BRILLIANT is the almost seamless weaving of the narrative and the filmography. One suspects if one is indeed part of the movie. This blurring of what real and (I hate to say this) reel is at once uncomforting and stimulating.

The pacing of the movie allows the audience time to contemplate the plot and it implications without dragging its feet.

It is reminiscent of my other favourite movies like Memento and Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, where the medium of film is really pushed to its full potential to tell a story as only a movie can.

This is what a good movie should be and a milestone in Singapore film-making.

It is rather sad that it only has a limited release in Singapore, what with all the talk of supporting the local art talents, this film seems destined to be overshadowed by the asian youth games and Jack Neo’s fat arse.

I implore you, readers, if you are lucky enough to be in the situation to be able to watch this film, please do, if not to see a great film then at least to support the Singapore movie industry.

Writer's block: Cop out, episode 1

2009-07-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

I am having writer's block, so here's an old short story i wrote.

An indicator on his left flashed amber signaling that the hyperdrive was in standby.
Danny looked up from the controls, "When you're done with that, make sure the coordinates are right." He tried to control his voice so that it wouldn't betray his excitement.

"Why do we have to go so far just to eat anyways?" Ben said without trying to conceal his irritation.

"Because! It's the best in this galaxy, I really hate to have to explain this so many times so just shut up! Have you checked those coordinates yet?"

Some kind of grunt came from Ben's direction, Danny had heard it many times before.
"Make sure u get it right, we don't want to end up in a star"

Almost yelling now, Ben replied "Oh! would you please let it go already, it was so long ago and it wasn't all my fault."

A smile had started to form on Danny's lips, satisfaction of knowing that he held the upper hand and that now Ben would shut up too.

Silence.

Moments later the ship would travel faster than the speed of light, covering over several lightyears in a matter of minutes.
The thrill of traveling so fast was long since lost on Danny and he sat strapped to his seat looking at the latest spaceboy magazine.

When the ship finally slowed down enough to orbit perseus-4 in a teasing dance of sorts, Ben appeared from the maintenance hatch.

"This better be as good as you say it is." the voice noticeably less annoyed now.
The jumps always seem to calm Ben down, Danny wondered if he had a magazine with him too.

"Yea of course it is, I bet by the time we are done feasting on those perseus grubs, you would wonder how you could ever doubt me."

Danny smiled but only half-heartedly. He seemed to be remembering something but can't quite put his finger on it, he decided to ignore it and let it come back to him later, that always works he thought.

They were on the surface of perseus-4 now, when they were within sight of the restaurant, Danny suddenly spoke, "Oh fuck, i forgot to bring my wallet."

Pop goes the King of Pop

2009-06-26T09:14:00.000-07:00

The king of pop is dead.

Today as news of the death of Michael Jackson spread across the globe, a collective sigh of exasperation was released as thousands of stand up comics had to rewrite half their sets because it suddenly became inappropriate to make a joke about Wacko Jacko, as the media so lovingly called him, for at least half a year.

The sigh was quickly followed by the sound of multitudes of pens and pencils crossing out jokes on whatever comics write their jokes on. (I write them on the inside of my boxer shorts)

Shortly after that, a subtly different sound of the same writing instruments could be heard rewriting the jokes because Michael Jackson was kind of weird and it is okay to make fun of weird people as long as you follow up with a joke about yourself being weird but not quite as weird.

Picture of normalcy

Michael will be remembered for his indelible legacy on music, with such songs as the ultimate wanker anthem “Beat It”.

BEEEeeeeaaaaatttttt IIIIITTTTTtttt!!! JUST BBEEaaat IIIITtt!!

Although this legacy is somewhat mired by several controversies, such as the whole ‘moonwalk’ incident where he was accused of stealing credit of inventing the moonwalk from Neil Armstrong, the case was eventually settled out of court.

Also recent accusations of child molestation greatly denigrated his charitable reputation, his lawyers put forth the defense that it was just a misunderstanding and that Michael was merely trying to help the children like that big guy from the movie Green Mile.

However a report from the Department of Pseudo-Sciences have released a statement expressing their incredulity regarding the pop star’s death, saying that “ You can’t kill what is already dead”, probably in reference to the music video for ‘Thriller’, which the department claims was an attempt to supplant subversive thoughts into the minds of youth by portraying the undead as “hip” and “cool”.

Undead?

In related news, North Korea has declared that the country will cease all nuclear and missile activities as a sign of respect for the Moonwalker, “until the US has time to grieve for their great loss”.

Iran has also announced a week of mourning.

I hear lawsuit's bells a-ringing...

2009-06-23T08:42:00.000-07:00

Joe Satriani is sueing Coldplay for plagiarism.

If you don’t know, read about it here.

I think Joe isn’t handling it in the best possible way.

Here what he should have done.

Joe Satriani should have announced that he was releasing a new single of an instrumental cover of Coldplay’s ‘Viva la Vida’. But instead of actually doing a cover, he should have just re-released ‘If I Could Fly'.

Then when everyone who listens to it says, “Man, this is such a rip off! Its just ‘If I Could Fly’.”

Then Joe Satriani could say, “EXACTLY!”

He would still sue Coldplay. Its just funnier this way.

Icicles

2009-06-12T02:03:00.000-07:00

Doing attachment work is not helping my writing, i've hardly had time to catch a thought.
So here's an old one i wrote in a stream of consciousness during a conversation with a friend.

Working is like watching an icicle melt and counting every drop of melted water because if you miss one you won’t get paid, not that it pays a lot because you’re supposed to be learning the purity of melted icicle water droplets, also if you fail at your task, your diploma of icicle melting will melt away like the subject of your studies.

You go back home, but you can’t shake the image of the icicle melting and you jerk off thinking it will help take your mind off it but it doesn’t, because that’s kinda like an icicle melting upside down.

So you go to sleep and you have a nightmare where you have to watch icicles melt for the rest of yr life.
You wake up in a cold sweat, which only adds to your fear, you think the icicles melted on you while you were asleep.

You realise it’s time to go to work again, you contemplate suicide, but drop the idea when all your ideas involve icicles somehow.

You go to work praying that global warming would hurry up.

Fly Swatting with Prof Dick

2009-06-03T08:25:00.000-07:00

Here’s something I read in the newspapers.

“Over the past two decades, Professor Michael Dickinson has been interviewed by reporters hundreds of times about his research on the biomechanics on insect flight”

While it is very comforting that some researchers devote their time to things other than curing cancer or solving world hunger and shit. Still, two decades? That’s kind of a really long time to be filming insects, which is basically what he does according to the article.

Over the years many reporters have asked him questions like, “ Why the fuck don’t you get a real job?” or “Do you have some weird fetish for insects? you creep” and “Why did your parents think it was a good idea to stick with the name Dickinson?”

To which Professor Dick replies “Why don’t you all go stick a carrot up your arse?”

That is not to say he does not have something to show for it.

After two decades, Prof Dick has managed to answer the age old question of why is it so hard to swat a fly.

The answer? Because they move away. No really, that’s the answer.

He calls it, “Visually mediated motor planning in the escape response of drosophila”.

The whole thing is really just a long-winded way of saying that when a fly sees a swatter coming to squash the life out of it, decides that it would rather live than die and proceeds to move out of the way.

Oh and I checked drosophila means flies.

Any reasonable human being that is not retarded would realise from reading this that prof dick is running an elaborate con, but he gets away with it by using big words and wearing a white coat.

Come on are people so ignorant or thick to not see this?

Well now you know.

Now please excuse me, I have some very important work regarding the stimulation of the turgid form of a previously flaccid bodily part containing cavernous tissue when that tissue becomes dilated with blood with one or two terminal parts of the forelimb.

Oranges and genes

2009-06-03T08:13:00.000-07:00

A revelation has shook the very foundations of the scientific community.

According to genetic researcher Kasumi Mitsubishi, he had succeeded in genetically modifying the humble orange into a new fruit he calls 'red'.

Mitsubishi says after three years of intensive gene splicing and other scientific stuff, he has managed to find and replace the 'orange' gene of an orange and substitute it with a 'red' gene.
The result is a completely new fruit which he has dubbed 'red'.

Mitsubishi has announced his discovery on monday and has made plans to sell the new fruit with the company that brought us cubed watermelons and seedless grapes.

But the citizens of Japan that were salivating at the opportunity to shove another abomination of nature into their throats were soon met with disappointment

A few days later, it was discovered that Mitsubishi had in fact been deceiving the scientific community by faking his discovery, when under going testing of the new fruit 'red' researchers found that it was in fact an apple that was beaten into the shape of an orange with a meat tenderiser.

Mitsubishi is currently on trial for crimes against humanity.

An Introduction

2009-05-30T10:27:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am again, wading through the sea of spittle, spunk and vomit that makes up this thing we call the internet.

The last time I swam this fetid, grotesque soup of bodily excrements, I lasted about two weeks before throwing in the towel.

But that has more to do with a lack of determination on my part.

For despite my rather hyperbolic description of the internet, it is not without its graces.

The internet is a very interesting thing. It is a sort of man-made amalgam of heaven and hell.

There is a very evident duality to the internet.

There is a place for works of art by undiscovered artists that would have otherwise been forgotten and lost in some dusty attic, and there are works of horrible fanart of the latest anime characters copulating.

Legitimate journalistic websites and humour sites exist side by side with blogs written by people with questionable commands of language and think that videos of this abomination is the height of comedy, and fanfiction of the latest anime characters copulating.

Then there is the interminable amounts pornography but that can really be good or bad depending on perspective.

Many decent people have raised concerns about how an unsupervised child may unintentionally come across unsuitable material that might pervert their emotional development, while that may not be an unentirely unfounded concern

- Personally, I can no longer watch pokemon the same way again -

I believe that you only find what you’re looking for.

One would have to really descend into the pits of hell(4chan) to really get to the truly revolting stuff. Bifurcated genitalia, scatological videos and beheadings are hardly suitable material for human consumption regardless of age.

Hopefully, this blog or weblog for more pedantic readers, would be a place where people can find some entertainment in this otherwise dull, drab worrisome, enervating, hopeless ball of dirt we live in.

Or at least a stop-over before you go watch some more porn.