Stepping aside for Reality

That’s it! I have had enough! This is my 8th post for today and there is only so much strain my brains can take. So I’m just gonna end today’s half-blogathon with this poem:

I tried a half-blogathon,
A task I thought was easy.
But when I reached my seventh post,
The effort made me dizzy.

I squeezed out every inane thought,
Until my mind stopped cranking.
But still I’m glad I didn't waste time,
In dumb pastimes like wanking.



Goodnight, everybody.

Oh heck, this half-blogathon thingy is getting on my nerves. I am already running out of things to blog about. I mean really interesting stuff.

Desperate situations call for desperate measures.

I am going to blog about making soup. You heard right……I’m gonna give you a cooking tip.

What do you do if you accidentally put too much salt into the soup?

The remedy is to throw in some POTATOES and the saltiness will not be so pronounced. I kid you not.

What do you do if you put in too much sugar in the soup?

The remedy is to put in SWEET POTATOES and tell everybody that that is how it’s supposed to taste, and they are supposed to get high on it.

That was my seventh post. I hope you are exhausted already, because I definitely am.

Just got back from work and dinner. Here is my 6th post for the day. And I’m still not tired. If you are exhausted already, please let me know. Then I shall be damn merciful and stop posting.

Reading this entry by Brand New Malaysian reminded me of a draft letter that Yoda showed me the other day.

I don’t know how he got hold of it, but it read:

“My dear M,

My colleagues are compelling me to write a letter to you. Frankly, I don’t think it is anybody’s business how permits are given out. Especially retired people. But since I have agreed to write you a letter, here it is. Everybody thinks that I am using this letter to explain the permit issue. They are wrong. This letter is about how to make nasi lemak. First you take a coconut……..”

I told Yoda never to read other people’s private mail ever again.

Unless with my expressed permission. Which is usually given freely.

Okay, so I was supposed to be blogging the whole morning. But I got distracted and went into some camera site. My old Konica gave out so I’m looking at a suitable replacement. I’m going to buy an ultracompact camera that I can slide into my jeans pocket. Not the best way to carry a camera, I know.

I’m looking at the Casio S-500, the one with 3x optical zoom and anti-shake. Also looking at Panasonic FX7 or 8. Will go scouting around after work.

How often have you heard it being said that bad pictures are not the fault of the camera but that of the photographer. Well, forget that shit. It only absolves the camera manufacturers from blame.

“Your pictures turned out lousy, issit? It’s your fault!”

Oh yeah? Well, I don’t believe that shit anymore. Just sell me your best camera at a cheap cheap price okay?

Wow! This is my 5th posting today and I am still not tired. I bet you are exhausted already. But I’ve got to go to work now. Bye!

Took a break from blogging just now.

I went to the garden and played with my dog. Affectionate pet bonding does wonders for the mind. It was sitting there quietly like a statue waiting for pigeons, allowing me to stroke and pat him. Then suddenly, it got up like it remembered something it had to do, like maybe pay the bills or something similarly urgent. Then it went and fetched an old bone and came to me. It dropped the bone nearby and gripped my hand gently with its mouth.

Immediately I knew what it wanted: a whole new bone.

What is it with everybody today? Even my dog is giving me hints.

Sheeeeeesh…..

This is your lucky day. I’m gonna educate you bunch of semi-literates.

For free!

‘Coz I’m feeling good and generous.

The lesson for today is this ancient Chinese saying:

"Man standing there waiting for duck to fly into mouth, has to wait long long time."

What does that mean?

Yo, listen up. It means that you have to open your mouth bigger to improve your chances!!!!!!

Sheeeeeesh......

So Sashi commented, “I protest! As a sign of my protest, I shall not ping PPS at all unless I write a blog entry...”

Sashi is rarely inane, so I sense a subtle message here.

Is that a reminder to me that I don’t have sufficient blog entries? That I can’t flood ping PPS unless I have sufficient blog entries?

Very good point.

So Sashi is calling my bluff, izzit? Wa lau eh. Now, I just can’t allow other bloggers to live with the erroneous impression that my life is so unhappening that I don’t have sufficient material to put out more than half a dozen postings a day, can I?

Coincidentally, I’m free this morning and will not be going in to work until the afternoon. Life is good, okay? This is my second post for today, and I’m not even tired yet! In fact, I'll exhaust you pussies out first. I eat pussies for breakfast. That's just a metaphor and has nothing to do with oral sex. But you get my drift.

So, its like so on, man. I’m gonna blog non-stop this morning. Call it a half-marathon. Yeah!!!!!

I was walking with Hot Babe in 1Utama and she had to go to the ATM machines near the food court. She then suggested that I had a haircut since my hair was getting long. So I popped into Pro Cutz(located next to the ATM machines)and had my locks trimmed. I liked the end results.

There were two girls working inside. One was pretty. Ordinary pretty.

The other chick was also pretty. But starlet pretty. She looked like a starlet in one of the Hongkong serials. And she attended to me, taking 15 minutes to cut my hair instead of the usual 10. But of course, she saw that I was with Hot Babe, so she did not try to flirt with me. But I could tell that she can be flirty. When she vacuumed my head for hair clippings with the overhead vacuum cleaner, I did not even worry that the vacuum would suck my brains out.

So any of you single guys who want to have a pretty starlet look-alike to touch your head, you know where to go. And its only RM12. Geez, that outfit ought to give me a commission for blogging this.

I am surprised that Aizuddin is not going to impose throttling measures to prevent flood pinging, but instead, he considered the matter closed.

Haiyah......since I know got no action taken one, from now on, I'm gonna flood ping PPS repeatedly, to as much as a masive FOUR pings a week.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

There is no continuation of my science fiction story today. The next installment, THREE, will be out next month. The germ of a plot came to me this morning as I was washing my face. It is a good plot even by the standards of science fiction writers.

Not say I say one, but even the great Asimov himself would have said that what I am going to write is plausible! I will have to borrow his three laws of robotics to continue with the storyline. Also I will have to finish reading up on some of our legendary myths. So much work just for two postings. If everything goes right, the result should have a serious ‘Star Trek’ feel to it. Wish me luck.

Oh, my inane mood is starting to reassert itself again. I was dancing in front of the TV while it was drizzling outside, much to the amusement of my dog, staring at me from outside. For some reason, I was too hyped up to sit down. Can’t remember what was on TV though, but it was not a music programme.

Here’s something light. Occasionally, I come across a comic strip that is so hilarious that it is pure genius. Over the past year that I have been reading funnies online, surely this one is the best of all.



I bet you never knew one could have so much fun with a brush and some yellow paint!

Although I downloaded it from somebody’s blog sometime last year, I am pretty sure that it originally came from the wulffmorgenthaler site.

Their humour may be sick most of the time. And they call themselves ‘100% pure Assholes’. But occasionally they do come up with some gems.

You gotta admit it – those guys are brilliant!

The Universe’s mentality is Complementality.

Attu33 walked by the seashore. The microorganisms from Gaia’s body had spread to the ocean, feeding on minerals in the sea and growing in quantity.

The tiny organisms had spread to all the oceans and land masses, adapting marvellously to different climatic conditions on the planet. To help the spread along, Attu33 had taken samples of micro organism laden seawater near the gravesite and released them in different locations of the planet. Now that the planet was filled with life, it was just a matter of time before new species of algae and bacteria develop and evolve into plants and animals. That could take hundreds of millions of years. By that time Attu33 would be dead.

In theory, a robot was immortal. In practice, there had to be a constant supply of spare parts for replacement purposes when old parts get worn out. Nothing lasted forever.

The little robot was intelligent enough to know that if it wished to extend the lifespan of its parts, it had to leave the planet’s oxygen-rich atmosphere. The only viable option was to live on the moon where the absence of water and oxygen would allow the robot’s parts to exist without rust and oxidation.

Attu33 formulated a plan. It would build a base on the moon and stay there with the spaceJet. While at the moonbase, it would power itself down into ‘standstill’ mode to conserve movement and thus save on wear and tear on the robotic joints. By having the base on the bright side of the moon, solar power would be available to charge up the hyperzenon storage batteries. Every 100 million years, the robot would power up and fly down to earth to check on Gaia.

- - - - - - - - - -

While watching a herd of triceratops feeding in the area, Attu33 cybernetically registered the fast pace of evolution for the past 100 million years. There had been a big change in the type of vegetation species covering the land. During the previous trips to check on Gaia, evolutionary progress had been slow. Now suddenly, there was an explosion of species on land. This must be what is known as the Pre-Gerassic Period on Attu33’s previously existing home planet of Durente-6.

The robot thought of its home planet without emotion. That was a long time ago in a place faraway. Robots simply do not get sentimental. Shifting its focus to the present, the little robot started taking temperature readings

Artu33 was puzzled. The heat from the sun had increased by 20 % since the spaceJet first landed on the planet eons ago, yet the temperature has been more or less constant. The planet showed no signs of heating up. Some unknown factor had been at work, controlling the climate.

Suddenly, it heard, “Thank you.”

The robot turned around, scanning the surrounding vegetation.

Again the words, “Thank you.”

It was not a voice. But a message that came from within its circuits. The message conveyed gratitude.

“Who are you?” the robot called out.

Silence.

Attu33 waited. But there were no more messages.

It walked towards the vegetation and examined a fern it had never seen before.

And then the robot sensed something else: joy!

Attu33 had the ability to sense emotions. A long time ago, Sensei Rincen had fitted it with an experimental chip to sense emotional fields. Looking around, the robot could not see anybody nearby. Who or what was putting out this emotional flux?

Getting into the spaceJet, it flew to a different part of the planet. While in the air, Attu33 looked down at the rivers lazily meandering their ways to the oceans. The weathering of rocks had caused salt and minerals to be washed down to the rivers which carried them to the oceans. Yet the salt concentration of sea water remained at a constant 3.4 % for the past few hundred million years. Something was clearly regulating the salinity of the oceans .

It was a bright and sunny day, and the sunlight glistened off the water below in myriads of sparkling patterns. By Durentian standards, it would be what can be called "a pretty sight".

At that moment, the robot sensed the emotion of gratitude. In the air.

Setting the spaceJet down on the ground, the robot walked out and shouted,
“I know who you are!”

The answering emotion came: happiness!

The robot shouted, “You are Lady Gaia!”

The planet had communicated its emotions to the robot. But maybe, this could not be termed as 'communications'. The robot could not hear complex thoughts, but could only ‘hear’ raw emotions from Gaia. It was an interaction nonetheless.

The robot tried to figure out how all this was possible. Or even made sense. It knew that it was not delusional. Robots simply did not get delusional. There had to be some form of scientific explanation.

Scanning through its internal knowledge database, Attu33 was able to come up with a little known theoretical concept that might be relevant; Wurevit’s Complement Role Induction Postulate.

Eons ago, Wurevit, a behavioural scientist on Durente-5, was known for making quirky announcements. The press loved to quote his most famous statement:

“The Universe’s mentality is Complementality!”

In his unproven Complement Role Induction Postulate, Wurevit stated that:

“When the complementary part of an entity is transferred to a new entity, in the total absence of external modifying influences, the new entity takes on the role of the old entity.”

Complementary role induction can be demonstrated by bringing the north pole of a magnet to a piece of iron bar. The north pole of the magnet would induce a complementary south pole on the piece of iron.

Applying the Postulate, if a group of slum dwellers is transferred to a block of spanking new apartments, the new place will quickly turn into a slum. The apartments complement the behaviour of the slum dwellers by assuming the role of a slum, induced by the dwellers. However, this was true only in the total absence of external modifying influences.

But can the Postulate apply to a planet?

Attu33 tried to guess what had happened. The micro organisms of Gaia’s body were a complementary part of Gaia. When they were transferred to the planet, the new entity, they induced the role of Gaia onto the planet. This was done in the total absence of other lifeforms, thus fulfilling the condition of ‘total absence of external modifying influences’. And because the micro organisms were conscious creatures, the complementary Gaia role of the planet developed a consciousness as well.

Durentians had always wondered if it was possible for a planet to develop a consciousness. That would make the planet a sentient being. The concept goes against all logical reasoning.

The little robot was not concerned if the Postulate could be logically applied in this case. It could sense the planetary emotions. Anything else did not matter.

Lady Gaia lives!

The oration of Attu33, the robot.

“Father, I wish to go to the planet Durente-11”

“Why”

“I want to see cousin Grenadine before the sun blows up.”

“Don’t stay too long, Gaia. And take Attu33 with you.”

“Yes, father.”

Sensei Rincen looked at his daughter Gaia. She was becoming a young beautiful lady day by day. But there was no future for her. The solar system was dying. The red sun could turn supernova and explode any moment now. Nobody knows when exactly, and nobody could escape their fate. The exploding sun will explode with a burst that sends its outer layers flying off into space. And for that event, the sun will shine as brightly as 600 million suns for a few weeks, and frying the planets in the process.

The ambient gamma radiation on Gaia’s home planet, Durente-6, had risen dramatically the past few years. The nearest planet system that could escape the supernova was thousands of light years away. It is doubtful of any of their spaceships could make the journey. Besides, no organic lifeform could survive that long. On top of that, the high intensity of gamma ray radiation from the dying sun made traveling in space for more than a few months highly dangerous to organic life. Even with spacecraft lined with lead material. There was no escape. It was the end of their race.

“Lady Gaia, do you wish me to prepare your spaceJet?”

Attu33 was the family robot. It has been in the family for 600 years, getting an upgrade in parts every 100 years or so. In the last upgrade, Sensei Rincen, being an eminent psychfield researcher, had fitted an experimental chip in the robot that allowed it to sense emotional fields. It had worked very well thus far.

“Thank you, Attu33. You will accompany me on this trip.”

“Yes, Lady Gaia.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Attu33 glanced at the lead-lined hibernation chamber in the spaceJet. Inside was Lady Gaia, her body in deep chill so as to conserve oxygen and energy during the journey. They had been traveling for 2 months from Durente-6 towards the planet Durente-11 where her cousin lived. Durente-11 was the last planet on the outer reaches of their solar system. Beyond that would be Deep Space, where nobody has gone. Exploratory craft manned by robots had been sent to investigate Deep Space, but none had ever returned.

A sudden brilliance in space caught the robot’s attention. That could only mean one thing. The event that everyone talked about has arrived! The sun has just turned into a supernova!

Attu33 was trying to decide, in the cold calculating way that robots do. Should it try to dock at Durente-11 and let Gaia die together with the rest of her race in the solar blast? Or should it try to outrun the supernova into Deep Space?

Making a quick decision, the robot steered the spaceJet into Deep Space. It’s internal program would not allow it to take Lady Gaia to certain death. Deep Space was an unknown. And certainly preferable to certain death.

- - - - - - - - - -

Three months later, Attu33 could no more detect signals from Durente-11. One by one, the planets had stopped giving out signals. With Durente-11 gone, all the planets in the solar system have been destroyed. The blast had not caught up with the spaceJet, but it will. By calculating the rate by which the planets had stopped giving out signals, Attu33 could work out the time when the spaceJet will be hit. The blast wave was traveling fast. In another five months, vast clouds of hot rocks and metals moving at high speed will hit the spaceJet.

In space, there was nowhere to hide.

- - - - - - - - - -

The blast wave was now near, almost reaching the spaceJet. Attu33 took one last look at Lady Gaia still alive in cold slumber in the hibernation chamber. Strapping itself down, and putting all remaining shields up on the spacecraft, the robot braced for the impact.

- - - - - - - - - -

A random piece of space debris banged into the side of the spaceJet and jolted it. The jolt caused Attu33’s system to reboot. The robot powered up its visual sensors. It did not know how long it had been out cold. A quick check on its internal time clock told the robot that it had been in the incognitive mode, which was equivalent to the unconscious state in organic life, for the past five years.

It looked around the spaceJet. The vehicle was damaged but flyable. Lady Gaia had long since died inside the hibernation chamber. Her body was decomposing. But very, very slowly. The micro organisms inside her must still be alive and feeding on her dead body. Somehow, these tiny lifeforms and bacteria had survived the blast.

Attu33 made the only decision it could make. The people of Gaia’s race bury their dead. It decided to give Gaia a proper burial on a suitable planet. One that would have only one sun, like Durente-6.

Most planetary systems in the universe have two suns. To look for a star system with only one sun in it is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Attu33 did not attempt to fly the spaceJet but merely allow it to hurtle at high speed through space on its own momentum. The robot lowered the temperature of the hibernation chamber until it was cold enough to render the micro organisms inactive. Then it waited. It did not know how long it would have to wait before a suitable planet presented itself. But it waited.

- - - - - - - - - -

Five million years have passed. The spaceJet was still hurtling through space. The robot knew that it could not hope to keep this thing flying forever. They were passing a small solar system. This one had only one sun. The third planet from the sun appeared to have potential. A small planet with one moon. With an atmosphere and water. Lots of water.

The spaceJet landed on a beach by a sea. Onboard sensors revealed that there was no life on the planet. Just mountains, rivers and seas. No vegetation, no animals, not even bacteria.

By adjusting the temperature controls, Attu33 slowly thawed out the body of Lady Gaia. She was still beautiful, with a peaceful expression on her face.

The robot dug a grave on the beach. Then carefully, it carried the body of Lady Gaia and placed it inside the grave. The body was still cold, but warm enough to coax the micro organisms out of inactivity.

Back at Durente-6, Attu33 had often heard Sensei Rincen giving speeches at funerals. It was part of the burial ceremony. Attu33 had never made a funeral speech before. But someone had to say a few words to the dearly departed as a sendoff.


Pausing for a moment, the little robot said:

“Lady Gaia. Death is but a new beginning. This planet was barren and devoid of life, but now it has you.

If a robot can feel honour, rather than know duty, then surely, it was my greatest honour to have served you. Though you may have passed on, your body still contained micro organisms, the only organic life ever to be witnessed in this part of the universe. In your living, they were a part of you. In your passing, they are still here with you.

If a robot can feel hope, rather than know a computed positive expectation of probabilities, then I will surely hope that the microscopic lifeforms you have carried within your body will one day evolve into higher lifeforms. Lifeforms that reflect the beauty and vibrancy that you had always shown. And because the only life that is here sprang from your body, henceforth, this planet shall be known as “Gaia”.

If a robot can feel love, rather than know mechanistic devotion, I will surely love you to the end of my days. As long as there is life in my energy cells, as long as my systems still function, I will be here to protect you.”

So saying, Attu33 covered the grave with sand. In the cool moist ground, the micro organisms multiplied rapidly.

On that day, Life on Earth began.

I am tired. The events of the past few years have been mindless. It's been one calamity after another. Wars, earthquakes, terrorism, tsunamis, SARS and HIV. I think we are being managed. On a macro scale. Not by the Americans. They don’t have that kind of power or resources. But by the alien robots. Together with their human accomplices. I reckon there can't be more than a few hundred people around the world who are in contact with the aliens. These are the chosen ones. Carrying out the aliens bidding. In return for power and riches.

I feel like I’m in a giant ant farm. And we humans are the ants. Living out our ant-like lives. Unable to escape from this planet.

When I was a kid, Harry and I would play in an empty plot of land near my house. We used to go fishing for ants. By using a thin grass stalk. It was easy. Just poke a grass stalk into an ant hole and one of the stupid creatures will grab the other end, thus allowing us to pull it out. It’s like fishing, but without hook and bait. Ants were kind of stupid in those days.

Occasionally we got tired of all the fishing. Then we would pee on the ants. We didn’t mean any harm. Just wanted to get their little heads wet, that's all. Harry and I would stand on each side of an ant trail and it would be like, “One, two, three, go!” The best results was achieved when both of us could synchronised our urine streams such that whichever direction the dumb ants ran, they would get a thoroughly good wetting.

The joint military operation wasn’t always perfect. Most of the time, one of us would pee first, while the other would still be waiting for the liquid ammunition to come out. But when we got our act together, it was mayhem and madness in the little insect world below. Yippee-khai-yeh!

It was funny to see the little creatures trying to escape. Occasionally, there would be this little black ant that thought that it could outrun me. Probably some shitty fuck winner in the ant Olympics 100m sprint events. But I hopped alongside it, and at the same time, sprayed its head with urine. It was quite tricky, trying to hop and urinate at the same time. The urine would come out on spurts instead of a steady stream, and frequently missed the little ant. But what the heck, I had lots of pee.
"Get your bath, you little fucker!"

Life was good. I missed my childhood.

I never knew how the ants felt. But now I do. Sort of. Like I said, we are ants in a giant ant farm. The human populace is being managed with wars, tsunamis and whatnots. Oh shit! So this is how it feels like when the aliens pissed on us.

Time to open up an umbrella.

It is difficult to know what caused the NKVE flyover section to collapse by just looking at the pictures in the papers. But I want to know the answer to three questions:

1) Were the steel cables strong enough?
All steel cables are not created equal. Although this seems highly unlikely to be the problem, if it were up to me, I will send the steel cables for tensile testing. Both used and unused ones.

2) Were the concrete girders casted to specifications?
Concrete products can fail and they often do spectacularly. From the angle the pictures were taken, the girders appeared intact even after falling down to the highway below. They appear okay. For my peace of mind, I would prefer someone to go to the factory where the concrete girder was casted to take a look at the process.

3) Was this the most suitable method of assembly?
In the normal course of operation, the bottom of the girder would be in tension and the top in compression. In the method of assembly, as shown in the NST, the girders were cantilevered out. This will cause the bottom to be in compression and the top to be in tension. Which is practically an opposite condition to that experienced during traffic load bearing operation. If I were the investigating body, I would look through this angle thoroughly.

It must have been pretty unnerving for the poor motorists in the highway below to see concrete slabs raining down from above. Good thing nobody was killed. That's a relief.

Occasionally, I would check my sitemeter to see which one of my articles is making the email rounds. For some strange reason, many of my articles are wildly popular. And people like to email them around the country. So, lately, I have started putting in a certain cryptic phrase inside my articles such that whoever reads it and do not understand what it means, will google for it. And Google usually list my blog on the first page of this particular search results. When the search engines start to send traffic to this blog, I know that this article is currently getting emailed around.

This may be an indirect way of checking, but hey, it’s free! I need to have this kind of feedback so that I would know if my writing has improved or not. I couldn’t care less if people plagiarized me. I am already one of the most plagiarised blogger in this country. But what I really care about is my writing progress. So much so that I am thinking of adding an "Email this article" feature in this blog. But I think it may be wiser to wait until the quality of my postings really improve by a quantum leap before taking such a step. If you are reading this and feel the urge to puke, don't reach for the bucket just yet. There is more. Heheheh!

Sitemeter tells me that I am also attracting a number of fetish nuts lately. Most of my visitors are regulars, but some land up here because they did a Google search for “rotiboy recipe” and “Malaysian gigolo”. That was the trend last year. Now it appears that weird people with strange ideas on their minds are also giving this blog a visit for lord-knows-what.

Recent Google search:

“what kind of horse farts the most”
Now what kind of person asks that kind of question? I’m sorry I wasn’t of any help. But thanks for visiting.

There’re some more:

6th July : Yahoo search - ‘how increase my ejaculation volume to mind blowing loads’.
I was No 9 on Yahoo results last week. But why would anyone need to ejaculate to mind blowing loads? All it takes is only one sperm cell to do the job. ONLY ONE!

6 july : Google search for "free cheebai".
I was No. 3. Don’t understand why. Remember the famous proverb?
“There is no ‘free cheebai’ and there ain’t.”
Proverb applies to ‘free lunch’ as well.

6 july : Google search for "tua neh neh"
I was no 2. After reading that, I checked the mirror. 20000000 times.

8 July: Yahoo search "flying monkey ate my homework"
Yours truly was No 1. No shit! I’m gonna cook that monkey if it is still around.

Now you may puke. Welcome to Monday!

This is the most serious posting I can make this year. But when reality asserts itself, we have to make way.

Something important is upon us. Something that will change our way of life. Something that I wish I can flush away, but I can’t.

The London blasts may have occupied our attention. About 50 people died. That is tragic certainly, but it is small compared to another situation looming larger.

In 1956, geologist M. King Hubbert observed that in any large region, unrestrained extraction of a finite resource rises along a bellshaped curve that peaks when about half the resource is gone. He predicted that U.S. oil production would peak in around 1970. He was right. It did peak at 1970.

Those of you who have studied statistics would know a thing or two about the bellshaped curve. It applies not just to U.S. oil production, but also to GLOBAL oil production.

There has been NO major oil find on this planet for the last one generation. Despite new methods of exploration utilizing satellite imaging newfangled techniques. Sure, we found a new itsy bitsy field here and there, but those are ikan bilis fields. They are like zilch. Which means that the peak of Hubert’s bell curve will hit sooner than later. After that, some countries will face disaster. Some will experience daily queues for petrol. We will be the luckier ones. We need only pay high fuel prices, something like RM2 per litre next year. And I would call that lucky. But food prices will rise phenomenally.

But when will the Hubert’s Peak arrive?

Arguments ranged from the year 2001 to 2010.

I think future historians will say it is THIS YEAR 2005.

Crude oil prices have breached 62 USD per barrel momentarily this week already. Two short years ago it was only around 25 USD.

Events of the world such as war and bomb blasts will deflect people’s attention and may give the impression that this is a temporary situation that will go away. It will not!

No matter how peaceful the world is, the worldwide oil shortfall is genuine. Even if everybody stops fighting, hold hands and call each other “Darling”, it also cannot go away. That’s because the PLANET IS FINITE. Once we reached Hubert’s Peak, shortages cannot be solved, and prices will continue to rise at a dizzying rate. Most of us will live long enough to see the planet run out of oil.

Local petrol prices have already been increasing slowly prior to 2005. But the rises have been marginal, like averagely 10 cents per litre per year. Once after 2005, it should rise by something like 40 cents every year by my gut feel. There is nothing that the government can do. When I listened to the news this morning to hear a minister say that the government does not plan to increase petrol prices, I already know that he cannot prevent it from happening. The diesel shortage we experienced earlier this year will hit again. The market follows reality.

If you remember, last September, in my posting “Petrol prices will rise” I mentioned that high prices was a wake up call.

I like high oil prices. It discourages demand and forces the world to develop renewable energy sources, such as wind power. I am not weird. The future generations will have to pay a big price because we consumed away their petrol heritage. We should not be selfish about this. When your children grow up, they will not be living the way you do. They will be using ration stamps to obtain petrol. Your grandchildren will ride bicycles to work. Better get used to that idea.

Poor nations produce more children than they can feed, so they have to depend on charity of others. But after Hubert’s Peak, many rich nations will become like Russia; barely getting along without extra bread to spare. There will be no more “We are the world” pledges.

This is one of my rare serious postings. 2005 will be the watershed year. For some reason, I became aware of global events much more than I want to. I much prefer to go back to posting inane stuff. But when Reality charges, it is best to step aside. Regular-style posting will continue only next week.

For those of you visiting this blog regularly for a spot of light hearted posting, I am sorry. Certain news can be sobering. But it has to be told. Nothing is always la-di-da all the time.

What can we do? We cannot live our lives in fear for the future. But we can live wisely. Thank the heavens that we live in this country. Without the need for winter heating, the fallout will be less. I think, with some ingenuity and some prudent adjustments to our wasteful ways, we can still lead a pretty good life. I certainly intend to.

That’s it. You’ve had your warning on Hubert’s Peak. My work is done.

To all my friends and fellow bloggers still in London, I pray for your continued safety.

To the friends and families of the victims of the bomb blasts, my heart goes out to you in your moment of pain and sorrow.

To the city of London on whose buses I have enjoyed riding, may you recover rapidly from this senseless darkness and plough on with the resilience that you have always shown.

I can’t believe that I’ve pinged PPS 3 times already this week. That’s it….the quota’s busted. No more blogwhoring for this blog for the rest of the week.

While waiting for my food this morning in a coffeeshop, I entertained myself by reading the advertisement posters on the walls. Some of them have really good taglines.

A sampling:
Nescafe: A Great Day in every cup
Lipton: Good things grow.
Mirinda: Taste the thrill

I have great admiration for people who can write taglines. I once won a prize for writing a tagline which I thought was not very good. It was a stupid phrase written hurriedly on the spur of the moment, but I guess the competing writers must have written schlock. The problem with writing taglines is that practically all the great lines have been taken.

However, there is hope!

Four words: Copy shamelessly and modify!

Look around you. Everything that you see has been copied legally or illegally from elsewhere and painstakingly modified. From the battery in the car that you drive to the embarrassing crotchless underwear that you put on so proudly.

One of the best taglines I have ever heard came from the Dreamland mattress company:

“Tomorrow begins tonight.”

Now, all it needs is a little ingenuity to modify it for a Family Planning Clinic, and voila:

“Tomorrow’s babies begin tonight.”

The Nescafe tagline? Easy.
Just modify it for a bra manufacturer:

“A Great Handful in every cup!”

The Lipton advert? No problem!
Modify it for Viagra:

“Good things grow hard!”

I still can’t think of a good modification for the Mirinda line yet. It’ll come. I’m sure of it.

Kids like me. For some mysterious unknown reason. When we get visitors, it is usually me that the kids will follow around the house. Like I’m a cool rock celebrity or something.

During the weekend, we had some visitors and one kid just wouldn’t leave me alone. A streetwise fella who had more adult education than his parents suspected. He kept following me around and giving me bad advice. When he saw that I was not following his various bits of wisdom, he started asking me dumb questions to which I had no dumb answers.

Then, to show off his superior knowledge, he started asking me the riddles he had learnt in school.


“What bra can make rabbits disappear one?”

“Big bra. Big enough to cover the rabbits.”

“No, this one can do magic one.”

“Abracadabra!”

“Yes. What bra can find in the sky one?”

“Air stewardess’s bra.”

“No, higher than that, in the stars one.”

“Libra!”

“Correct! What bra come from Africa one?”

“Black bra.”

“No, got stripes one.”

“Black striped bra.”

“No, no! Get eaten by the lion one.”

“Zebra!”

“Yes. What bra long long one?”

“Cobra!”

“Yes! What bra is not in front but at the back one?”

“An idiot’s bra.”

“No lah.”

“Vertebra.”

“Correct! What bra can give you a lot of problem one?”

“Where got bra can give me problem one? I so espert.”

“Got lah. The problem you must solve one.”

“Algebra!”

“Yes! What bra very secretive one?”

“Spy bra.”

“No!”

“Don’t know leh.”

“Victoria’s Secret.”

WTF????? Smartypants trying to show off a little worldly knowledge. I told him to grab a brush and help me scrub the flower pots. He suddenly lost all interest in me and moved off.

These must be the more interesting adverts I have seen locally. Found them in the Sun(Jul 2 -3, 2005) issue which is distributed free in the Klang Valley. If you have a copy with you, turn to page 27 and you should see this:



“If I busy, Call again”

This is obviously some busy chick.
So she took out an advertisement to tell her friends not to give up if they can’t get through to her on the phone. Obviously, you need to be persistent, to be her friend. Although I have a suspicion that having money to spend is not a bad thing either.


Here’s another one that is quite undecipherable



“Feel Looney with your Life?
Find your fun with us.”

Frankly, if you ask me, being looney implies that you are a lot of fun already. In fact, you are heaps more fun than a barrel of monkeys. You don’t need to find any more fun!

Anybody out there feeling looney with your life? And still looking for more fun? Hello? We are all fun people here!

I am quite convinced that smart people are fucking up half of this world and stupid people are fucking up the other half.

The best kind of people is what I call the 'everyday people'.

Sometimes I wish that I was just smart enough to know that I’m not stupid, but stupid enough to think that I am not smart.

I was planning a trip to Tanjung Sepat for seafood after seeing the great pictures in Gina’s post. But the trip tak jadi because Hot Babe was not feeling perky enough this weekend and I did not want to go without her.

Tanjung Sepat is between Sungei Pelek and Morib in Selangor. The strange thing is, I never remembered it. I have been through the road between Sungei Pelek and Morib several times, but there was no Tanjung Sepat. The trouble with small towns is that you should always keep your eyes open. I must have blinked. Every time.

If you will remember, Tanjung Sepat is the UFO capital of Malaysia. I was planning on going to the little town to scout around. Many years ago, I saw a triangular bright object in the sky with crisp lines and since then, I have been unwilling to dismiss the aliens as fanciful stories.

If it was indeed an UFO that I had seen, then it must have seen me looking at it. It would be a simple matter for an advance technological society to quickly scan the retinas of all the millions of humans and animals within sight to realise that I was indeed looking at it. Just like modern warplanes know when they are being tracked by missile sites.

I was looking at them. They know that I know. And I know that they know that I know. I don’t fear them. We have different roles. They are immortal alien robots seeking meaning, And I am the vulnerable genetic life giving them meaning. Symbiosis. I bet they read my blog. I’m so wishing to go to Tanjung Sepat. For seafood. If the aliens are still there, they may enjoy watching me eat.

As a child I had always wanted to write a kungfu epic. Like Ku Loong, the famous writer who wrote a lot of kungfu stories for the Hongkong movie producers. But writing epics takes too long. Probably a few years. And I don’t have that kind of time. I have to work, okay.

But I had the storyline ready. It goes something like this:

A young orphan kid was adopted by an old kungfu master who was skilled in the healing arts, and who passed his knowledge and property to him. The kid was a martial arts genius and he grew up to be an brilliant kungfu exponent. After his master passed away, Kungfu Man went and lived near the Capital. Everybody respected him and nobody there could match him in a duel. His skills were so good that he often went out without a sword.

Kungfu Man fell in love with a girl who was betrothed to another. The affairs of the underworld were often complex. A crooked official set a plot into motion to get the kungfu masters to fight among themselves. As a result, the girl’s half-assed betrothed came and attacked Kungfu Man, and then got killed accidentally as a result. In mourning her loss, the girl blamed our hero. He handed her his sword and asked her to kill him. She said that she hated him, but would not sully her hands. In sorrow, our hero decided that he did not want to live on any more. But he wanted to die peacefully in a place where nobody knew him. Quietly and forgotten.

So, telling nobody his plans, he dispersed his servants and gave them enough money for the rest of their lives. Taking a substantial amount of gold and paper money with him, he left in the still of the night. Before he left the Capital, he decided to get rid off the crooked official who caused so much killing. Stealing into the official’s mansion, he killed the crooked official and his guards. Before leaving the mansion, he discovered two kungfu manuscripts written in a cryptic form. The official had confiscated them from someone but could not decipher the writings. Taking the two manuscripts on impulse, he left the place in flames. After that, everybody assumed that the official had perished because of the fire.

Kungfu Man wandered from town to town on horseback seeking a place to die. He stopped grooming himself, grew a beard, coloured his hair white and posed as a medicine peddlar. The underworld figures could not trace his whereabouts. Months later, he came across a mountainous region without any signs of human life. Travelling by a mountainous cliff, he spotted a tiny cave high up on the cliff face. Only a supreme martial artist would be able to leap up to the cave. Freeing his horse and gathering his belongings, he leapt high into the cave opening and then he lay down to die.

While waiting for death, he meditated on the sounds of nature. He listened intently, forsaking his world and memories, and all thought vanished. His body hibernated and the body metabolism slowed down to a crawl.

One month later, he got up because he had still not died. The intense meditation had slowed down his bodily needs so he was still alive. He was hungry and thirsty. There was no food and water. He picked up one of the two manuscripts and read. The month long meditation had slowed down his thought processes sufficiently for him to have a clear mind, and he quickly discovered the truth and intent of the manuscript. It was the Art of Reality Warping, where the exponent can affect the light rays within 100 steps and made everything there look warped and skewed, thus freaking out everybody in a battle within 100 steps.

Kungfu Man, mastered the Art of Reality Warping in two minutes and then laid down to die again.

One month later, he got up because he had still not died. Ignoring his hunger and thirst, he took out the second manuscript and read. It was the Art of Invisibility. In two minutes, he mastered the art. It was not a perfect technique as the exponent can only become invisible when conditions are right and he is unable bring his full internal energy into play while being invisible.

Kungfu Man then laid down to die again. A month later he got up. It was already winter and snow was falling outside cave. This time he wanted to have some water to quench his thirst. Dying can come later. So he went to the entrance of the cave to catch some falling snow. But the 3 months of physical inactivity had caused his muscles to weaken, and he slipped and fell out of the cave. It was a long fall since the cave was on the side of the cliff high above the ground level. The thick layer of snow on the ground broke his fall.

A passing woodcutter found him and took him home to nurse him back to health. The woodcutter had a wife and two children. The son was crippled in the legs and his sister’s face was disfigured.

Kungfu Man thought, “Woodcuttter is a good man. When he is gone, his crippled son will have no future and nobody will want to marry his disfigured daughter. I will put aside all thoughts of dying and find a way to cure both of them with my healing arts.”

The son’s name was Loong and the daughter’s name was Lan Fa. When they were young, they were playing in the wrong place at the wrong time and a local tyrant had his men broke the Loong’s legs and burned Lan Fa’s face.

Within 3 days of drinking rice broth in the woodcutter’s cottage, Kungfu Man felt better.

So he told the woodcutter, “I am a travelling herbalist. Your children are not beyond hope as they are young and have fast recuperative rates. In return for the kindness you have shown me, I will heal them. It will take three months. During this time I will have to impose on your hospitality again.”

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

You see? Just talking about the initial plot alone is already taking up so much time. How to write some more?

My latest take on the Workshop 1 can be found in my Malaysian Idol site here:

http://malaysian-idol.blogspot.com/

If you are an M.I. fan, you may want to update your links.

Yo, listen.......I want everybody to practise recycling, and I mean EVERYBODY!

Coz if you don't, I'm gonna come round to your house and put your shitty little act together with an unstoppable hacksaw.



Threats will work, every time......yeah.

The uproar in the online forums on why 17-year old 6th form schoolgirl, Lee Kar Wei, was eliminated by the judges, for the Malaysian Idol top 24 contestants, refuses to abate. You may remember Kar Wei. She was a guest singer in last year’s Malaysian Idol Finals in Genting. She was only 16 at that time but she blew the audience away with her singing. The shock that followed her departure is nationwide. On Tuesday night, the 8TV Quickie announced that M.I. judge Paul Moss would turn up on Wednesday night on TV to explain why Kar Wei was rejected.

So last night I waited. Till 12 midnight.

Where were you, Paul? You had something better to do? Well, so had I. But I dropped whatever shit I was doing and waited patiently to hear your side of the story!
Till 12 midnight!

Did he show up on TV? Big fucking NO.

Did he give a reason why? Another big fucking NO.

Look around you, Paul.
Is it dark? Does the air smell funny?
Isn’t it obvious that your head is up your ass?
And you couldn’t find your way out to come to the 8TV studios? Is that it?

You know what I think? I think that Kar Wei was eliminated because she was a favourite to win. Her problem was a Low Humpability Factor. The winner of Malaysian Idol gets a recording contract and the recording company has to promote the album. This is a tough business. The most successful singers are those who have good looks. Then girls want to be you and guys want to hump you.

Kar Wei looks like a vegetable gardener. On a humpability scale of 1 to 10, I’ll rate her a 2. Her teeth are funny and she moves funny. Her face is plain and her figure is out of shape. If she wins the Malaysian Idol crown, it will be a disaster for the record company. So she has to be eliminated at all costs.

Is my theory correct, Paul? Maybe, maybe not.
But I so wanted to hear your side of the story. I gave you the opportunity to explain the shitty decision that you and the other two retarded judges made.
Still unable to pull your head out yet?
While you're in there, stick your tongue out, Paul.
Like the taste of your own shit?
No? Well, neither do we!

I remember Paul saying that Kar Wei had “limited talent” during the Theatre Auditions on Day 3. The fans didn’t buy it. Kar Wei came onto the 8TV show last night and asked what Paul meant by that. If Kar Wei was not a good enough singer, do you think that 8TV would have invited her to appear on TV?

Here’s a tip, Paul. Keep your tongue sticking out as you pull your head out of your butt. It dredges your colon clean of fecal matter. I don’t have to explain to you the wonders of colonic irrigation, do I?
‘Limited talent’ my ass.
That excuse was so limpdick that a ton of Viagra couldn’t pull it up to stay at half mast.

In last night’s TV appearance, hosts Adam and Marion asked Kar Wei to sing a few lines from a song, and she obliged. I think the fans are going to be convinced more than ever that the judges were wrong in eliminating her. And Adam said that Paul did not turn up to explain why because he was too chicken. Chicken? That explains a lot.

Now listen, you three lame ass retro-products of evolution masquerading as song judges. We fans vote with our own money to make your show a fucking success and you think you don’t owe us any explanation? You think you can just treat us as discarded backlane whores? We are the ones footing the bill, not you! We fucking pay your salaries!

The mindless drivel you spew out as fair comments often make less sense than a virgin dick shagging a hornet’s nest. And after every show, my IQ drops 20 points until its only 50 points higher than the combined total of you three.

But did you hear me complain? The fact that I am willing to listen to crawly lowlifes like you for the SECOND year running testifies to my infinite patience, and not because you sound remotely intelligent.

And how did you three get to be picked as judges? Were you picked for your ability to listen to music with your ears boxed tightly inside your ass passage? Don’t you find the echo in there annoying? Well, we fans are annoyed even if you aren’t. And it’s taking us all the self-control we can muster not to bitchslap you three wormlike freaks into a threesome monotonal lullaby shitfest.

I strongly suggest that you go back to kindergarten and study the basics of “do-re-mi” again. Don’t you dare fail! Again! And this Friday, when I next tune in to Malaysian Idol, please take the effort to make more intelligible noises than a half-squashed cicada’s fart! Dumbasses.

Who would have thought that the month of June would be a month of suspensions?

First, we had a minister threatening to suspend a technician for one month because of dim lighting.

Then we had a deputy minister suspended for 3 months.

Just when we thought that it was safe for the chicken to cross the road, we got a vice-president suspended for 6 years, or 72 months.

A Serious Analytical Mind would immediately spot the pattern here:

1 month, 3 months, and then 72 months.

Holy shit……this figure is going up exponentially!

The fourth guy to be suspended is gonna get it big. And I mean BIG!.

Plotting these figures on a graph, a Serious Analytical Mind would be able to tell how much the 4th guy is gonna get.





Lookit that….the 4th guy’s gonna get 3600 months! And 3600 months is 300 years. The graph cannot be wrong!

Wait. There are some of you who will not believe what you see on a graph without an equation. So a Serious Analytical Mind would have worked out this approximate equation in advance:

y = - 809x + 1491.92x² - 820.5x³ + 138.58x².x²

Just put in the value of 4 for ‘x’, and that should give you the answer 3600 or thereabouts.
Are you convinced now? Or do I have to dazzle you with some more mathematics?

Whatever you do, don’t be the 4th guy to get suspended. If I were you, I’ll watch my behavior very closely for the rest of the month.

If you see a seductive slut out cold, behave yourself.
If you see some ducks and goats unattended, behave yourself.
If you see a tree trunk with a hole in it, behave yourself.

There will always be morons who do not understand the gravity of the situation.
“Oh….. 300 years only is it? Kacang, lah”

You know that these people are nothing more than fucking idiots, right?

They are idiots for two reasons.

Firstly, they are not smart enough to come to this blog to pick up the necessary information, where a Serious Analytical Mind has already done all the hard work in preparing the graph and the calculations for everybody. Only the very brilliant people, like you, know how to come here to be suitably enlightened.

Secondly, they don’t understand that 300 years is a very, very long time.

How long is 300 years? Too damn long.

Let’s just say that after your suspension period is over, your mother would not recognize you.

SO, YOU BETTER BEHAVE YOURSELF, OKAY?


Alright, the analytical part of the post is over.

The next part of the post is meant for those of you who are reading this because you came here via a link from Minishorts site, where I was described as:

“18 PL for sure. Insane mind recommended, and please proceed with care.”

Frankly, you don’t look insane to me. The very fact that you are here implies that you are a very brilliant person. Potentially a rocket scientist. Being a Jedi, I can peer down the network lines to your monitor, and I think that, wa lau eh, you are very good looking also! I seriously think that you should go back to the Minishorts site and paste these words in her comment board:

“Dear Minishorts: You are wrong. Viewtru has a SERIOUS ANALYTICAL MIND. The incredible things that we learned from him have metamorphosed us into Valuable Assets of society. Really!”

A word of caution. Please do not flame her site or use unflattering descriptions like “hallucinating biatch” or “brainfarting maggot” on her blog.

Okay, maybe just once or twice. But not more than 263 times, okay? I can’t afford to get into a flame war with her fans. Her readership is a least double that of mine. In a tit-for-tat battle, my tat may not be a match for her tits.

Master Gensha (831-908)

Monk: “Where can I enter Zen?”
Gensha: “Can you hear the babbling brook?”
Monk: “Yes, I can hear it.”
Gensha: “Then enter there.”

This blog has got an 18-PL rating from Minishorts. That girl is amazing. She’s on holiday and still finds time to blogwhore her friends. And she reads a lot of 18-PL sites.

But I wanted a U rating!

I use expletives very sparingly. Every sentence I write, I asked myself repeatedly, “Should I use the word “fuck” in this sentence or not? If not, why not?”

You see the amount of care I take to avoid corrupting your sensibilities?

I’m beginning to suspect that I didn’t get the U-rating because of the liberal doses of sexual humour that I can’t seem to control in this blog. But I don’t do that every day. Only every other day. Okay, maybe 3 out of 4 days!

One of my most successful articles has been a non-sexual one. This article, ‘The objective of STPM is to pass people?’ has been emailed by people throughout the country and also duplicated in other blogs and forums.

There has been feedback that even teachers quoted this nonsensical article in classrooms to impress upon students that they should not get too swollen headed if they passed the STPM government exams. Since teachers are willing to use my article as a valuable educational tool in the classroom, then maybe it’s time that I re-write the school syllabus for them! (That was a joke, okay?)

In retrospect, had I known that the STPM article was going to spread like wildfire, I would have written it much better. When I re-read it later, it did appear patchy by my usual standards. I wish I could take it all back and rewrite the damn thing. But it’s too late now.

The trouble with writing humour is that it is often difficult to know what works and what doesn’t. You can write a brilliant piece and other people don’t seem to think that it’s all that great. But you write a dumb article and many people treat it as the best thing since blowjobs were legally allowed.

Oh, by the way, blowjobs are still not legally allowed, but that’s not the issue here.

If you are thinking of injecting humour, either in your blog or in your college essay, there are not a lot of areas where you can be truly original. Somebody, somewhere in the world, has probably told a similar joke. What you can do is probably take a fresh approach, like the remake an old movie.

Dave Letterman has been a source of inspiration. Many of his jokes are actually corny and mediocre. But the delivery is masterful! And he can still get a laugh out of them! That is where he stands out.

I often visit American and British humour sites and benchmark my own work against theirs. It is difficult to maintain objectivity, I know! We are bloggers, so we tend to think that our work is far far better than anybody else’s!
Hahahahaha! Ooooooooh….the ego! But what to do?

Also, readers and writers don’t always have the same objective. I get a tremendous orgasm from writing something original and creative. If I don’t laugh myself silly while writing it, I may actually chuck it aside and write something else. Or just post only 3 sentences later.

But readers have a different purpose. They like a good read to fortify their minds before they go out and face the world. Originality doesn’t impress them. They just want a good laugh. Can’t say I blame them. I want a good laugh myself.

When our purposes meet, it is beautiful.

When they don’t, we’ll try again another day.

See? I manage to write this article without using the word “fuck”.

Now, gimme my U-rating already!

Today’s post is meant for broadminded adults only.

You people are not going to let this issue die a natural death, is it? Frankly, I am deeply puzzled by all the undue attention. I don’t know if I should be flattered or flabbergasted.

At first I said that I was not going to the PPS Bash.
But you guys thought I went incognito.

5xmom blogged about it.
Joanne Low blogged about it
Vincent blogged about it.

Then I said that I was not going to answer that question.

Lucia expressed her disappointment for not having smelt me.
FireAngel wanted her money back. (Wut money?)
Suanie threw in an acronym rapper expletive.
Hliew invented an emoticon expletive.
Minishorts threatened to cry. Yeah......like I believed her.
Even CHiQ got into the act.

I was asked to give 10 reasons why I did not go. Like Doc Liew. Frankly, I don’t understand why doc liew needed to give 10 reasons. If he didn’t want to go anywhere, he could just write out a medical chit for himself, can’t he? Those are the perks of being a doctor, man!

Good thing I managed to get some much needed moral support from cool michaelooi, tsewei and Leona.

But all these questioning is making me nervous. And highly strung.

Okay, okay! I give up! I’ll admit it! I went to the Bash!

But you did not know. Cos nobody saw me!

I didn’t go incognito. I went as da Invisible Man!

Of course I can be invisible. I’m a Jedi, aren’t I?

So there I was, standing there besides the lot of you all-evening, listening to all your dumb jokes, eating your dumb food, peeing dumbly against the walls, and posing for dumb photos with everybody.

As an invisible man, I couldn’t go up to the waiter and order food, can I? So I just went to the kitchen and helped myself. The cooks just could not understand how the food could have vanished mysteriously into thin air. So they had to cook up a fresh batch.

Do you understand now why your orders took SO LONG to come?

Oh yes, I did pose for photos with you people.

Take a look at this picture.



See the famous Penang blogger on the chair?
See the cun chio chick(as described by J infinitium) striking up a ‘James Bond’ pose?
See me standing besides the cun chio chick, also striking up a ‘James Bond’ pose?

Of course you can’t see me. This picture was taken by a low-tech baka camera.

But I was there!

The intelligent ones among you would have noticed that the table was higher than it should be. Strange, ain’t it?

Strange, my ass. I caused the table to rise. But we’ll get to the explanation later.

What I want to show you now is the same shot taken by a Klingon anti-cloaking camera. The Klingons(from Star Trek) are known for their cloaking technology. Visibility and invisibility are peanuts to them. An invisible man would show up in this Klingon camera shot.





Okay! You see me now? With my cool ‘James Bond’ pose?

The Klingon camera is equiped with ‘physique enhancement’ features, thus making invisible people look impressive in the best possible light. Which is a far better feature than the stupid ‘anti-red eye’ feature in the low-tech baka camera. See how ribbed I look? Who da Man?

This is the moment when the prudes among you would hyperventilate and scream,
“Eeeeeeeeek! He’s naked!”

Of course I had to be naked! I could become invisible. But my clothes couldn’t! They’re too dumb to master the art of invisibility! No use even trying to teach them. I had to shuck my clothes in the car and walk naked into Charlie’s Place. Nobody knew I was there. Nobody, except the fucking mosquitoes!

So there I was, in my best James Bond pose, standing behind the table. A group of female bloggers walked by, wiggling their cute asses as they passed. I started getting a hardon……and the table started to rise.

Man….I sure wuz shocked that the thingy could lift such a heavy table.
Who da Man?

Okay, let’s take a look at the next pic.



This one was taken with a low-tech baka camera. It showed two of the rawkingest party animals at the Bash. You can’t tell from the pic what they are trying to kiss, but whatever it is, it’s obviously tilted firmly at an angle.

Do you know how I was positioned in this picture?
Would you like to know?
Of course you would, you fucking perverts!

Alright, let me show you the same shot taken with the Klingon camera.

Oooooooh……..wow……..can’t show you this one. Sorry! Better delete it!

* Deletes Klingon camera shot.*

Let me tell you that it was bloody murder, walking around naked with a pole protruding out front. I kept bumping into people everywhere I turned.

I turned to the left.

Wap!

I turned to the right, and yet another group of female bloggers rushed by.

Wap! Wap! Wap! Wap! Wap!

The thing was bruised by the time I got home. Had to use some Tiger Balm to rub it back into shape. Used up a whole bottle of Tiger Balm in fact. I may need to go down to Singapore to get some more. Maybe I should try going over without a passport. Gonna get to the causeway, shuck my clothes, turn invisible, and walk across nonchalently. Who da Man?

Day 1

Nothing particularly exciting worth mentioning on the first day. Most of the Malaysian Idol hopefuls were required to perform on a theatre stage and at the end of the day, only 74 would be sent to the next round. So there certainly was a lot of practicing and practicing outside the theatre, with each singer practicing without unduly disturbing the others.

Except for this Fat Kampung Rocker. He would practice at the top of his voice. And get everybody else really pissed off! One girl described him as the Malaysian version of Constantine(American Idol finalist). And then she added, “I think he’s Constipate!”

Constipate my ass. Fat Kampung Rocker got thru’ to the next round.


Day 2

The 74 singers who got through from Day 1 were required to perform a duet. People were paired off by the judges and they would have to choose appropriate songs. This led to several bad song choices as the singers didn’t really understand each other. In fact, the teamwork was atrocious! Like goats trying to bleat in tune with ducks.

You should never pick a song that your partner can’t sing. And you should always stick to the format you practiced so as not to throw off your partner during the actual performance. That’s what some of them found out too late.

The only bright spot was this performance by a Red-haired Anorexic Girl who partnered a Short Cute Boy(called Daniel). They sang “Fire” and it was comparatively good. The judges lapped it up like starving cats.

Fat Kampung rocker made a mess of his song but he was told, to his surprise, that he got through to the next round. He celebrated by yelling at the TV camera, “Orang Kampung!” Now, we all know that Orang Kampung is a brand of the sex herb kacip fatima, the backyard version of Viagra for women, don’t we? I’ve blogged about kacip fatima, before, I believe. So what’s Fat Kampung Rocker’s connection with Orang Kampung? Is he peddling the stuff?

At the end of the day, 51 singers were left.


Day 3

Participants were required to sing the songs picked by the judges. Those who were asked to sing “Gemilang” fared badly. There was one girl with a good voice, nice figure, and she looked like a ‘7’ on a humpability scale of 1 to 10. Her mind went more or less blank when she sang “Gemilang” and she was given the opportunity to sing again. However, she chose to bow out. Which was a pity. Cos you don’t often get a ‘7’ appearing on Malaysian Idol.

The reason why only nice looking girls should be encouraged to sing on TV is because if you don’t like the song, you can always hump the TV. Don’t try this at home. Damn, what am I talking about…….it’s YOUR TV, not mine! Okay, try it and tell me the results. Should be fun to blog about.

I thin Nita, the slim Penang cafe singer got through to the final 24. Nice chick. Slightly on the thin side. Humpability factor 6.

Fat Kampung Rocker also got through. Humpability factor zero. And again he shouted “Orang Kampung” at the TV camera. I’m starting to like the guy. Even thinking of going out to buy me a bottle of kacip fatima. Then again, better not. It may have strange effects on males and make me horny for goats and ducks.

At the end of the day, only 24 were left. I'm not sure about the rules, but I think from this point onwards, the public will get to vote for their favourites. I’ve lots of money left unused on my prepaid handphone account. More than a hundred ringgit, I believe. Yes! Takes very little to make me happy, doesn't it?

Yesterday, my internet connection was downright uncooperative. How uncooperative was it? Well, let’s just say that if gets any more uncooperative, I will have to suspend its privileges for 3 months.

I had written the ‘Chin Tu Lan’ article and prepared the pictures very early in the morning, and I thought it was just a simple matter to post it off. But I couldn’t get through to the Blogger host site to post the article until past 10 a.m. Then when I finally managed to post it, I discovered that I had made an error in the html coding, so the ‘Bush’ picture did not show up. It was not until after 11 a.m. that I managed to get through to Blogger to fix it. During that one hour in between, the people who visited this blog did not get corrupted by the Bush pic. Damn! I gave up on the internet after that.

Normally, I would often log onto the internet when I get home. But yesterday was ‘Malaysian Idol’ night. And you know that I am a sucker for 2-hour TV shows that stimulates my intelligence. Heheheh!

So, this morning, I read all your comments on yesterday’s posting, and I was like “Wow! What happened?” Instead of focusing on the pictures which I had taken some great efforts to prepare, most of you were actually wondering if I went to the PPS Bash incognito!

Did I actually go to the PPS Bash incognito?

I am not going to answer that question!

If I answer “No”, there will always be people doubting me. The first thing that people ask when they come to this blog is “What unbelievable bullshit is Viewtru going to tell us this time?” I’m a victim of my own inane image!

If I answer “Yes”, people will spend time pouring over all the pictures wondering which guy is me standing in the background. This is unproductive time spent, because you will never know! If you really have so much time, may I suggest that you spend it in a more exciting manner, such as rock climbing, or sex, okay?

And another thing; whether I attended or not is not even relevant. The point is, you people had fun didn’t you? And you can’t deny that you had fun! Wasn’t this the chief reason why you people read and write blogs? Having good clean fun, okay?

Okay, I want to quickly write my Malaysian Idol post now. Because I have this driving need to write a really intellectual article once in a while.

My congratulations go to Kenny Sia for taking the PPS Blogger of the Year Award, Simon for getting the Neophyte of the Year Award, and Jeff Ooi for the Ping of the Year Award. You are all deserving winners.

It looks like everybody had fun. I wish I could have been there to see the action.

But never mind. My guest blogger, Chin Tu Lan, is updating me on the details. And Kenny, you deserve to win. Don’t let my guest blogger tell you any different!


Disclaimer: The rest of the post is meant for adults only. Minors are requested to go to a more suitable site, like Yahoo.

Chin Tu Lan blogging the PPS Bash

Last night I went for a quiet dinner at this restaurant, Charlie’s Place. Wah lau eh, so many people. Like a bloggers’ convention or something. But the waiter said that it was some blogger’s birthday or 2nd anniversary. Got nowhere to sit, so I simply sit at other peoples’ table and said that I am also a blogger. Got use my head a bit mah.

I wanted to order the grilled butterfish but the waiter said got no more. So I ordered the lamb. I was hungry, so I told him “fasta”. He misheard me and came back with pasta. Like that also got. Don’t eat also have to pay money, so I ate lor.

I dunno what kind of birthday it was, but seemed like nobody wanted to become the M.C. People kept asking this specky girl in a black top, who looked like a school headmistress, to come out and take charge. But she kept resisting. In the end only they manage to get one fella to come out to tell some jokes and also organize the meeting. And much later on, they started giving out awards.

I was so surprised that the underground blogger, Viewtru, did not win anything. Not even a singlet. Like that how can? I think ah, these people don’t know how to vote one. This is a third world country, mah, so they don’t know how to prioritize. In a democracy, you should always vote for the one with the biggest scherlong. Like in the first world countries.

Last time during the American elections the time, the people had to choose between Senator Kerry and George Bush. So people want to know if they got good scherlong or not. You know lah, these are both old men. So they need a bit of help from Wiagra.

So the reporter asked Kerry, “Senator, you take Wiagra, got effect or not?”

Then the senator answered:



Got some improvement leh.

Then the reporter asked Bush, “Mr President, you take Wiagra got effect or not?”

Then Bush answered.



After that the public went to vote for Bush. Like that mah! These first world people know what is important. Not economic policy or foreign policy. But physical dimensions!

I think our people here don’t understand the proper concept of democracy. Viewtru, with his big scherlong should have won big. How can you base your voting on inconsequential stuff like blog content, blog presentation, blog ideas and blog layout? These things are not important one, mah. No wonder people say we got first world infrastructure but third world voting mentality. Okay, Viewtru not paying me enough. Otherwise I rant some more.

Then they passed around the birthday cake. One girl from Penang offered me some. So I said to her, “I don’t like cake. You got rotiboy or not?”
She looked at me one kind.

Anyway, I looked around a bit and saw this cun chick in red striped long sleeved T-shirt. I tried to talk to her but out every 10 words she said, nine are 4-letter words. Eight I can stand, but not nine. She said she very stressed. Fuck the stress, I told her.

Then I walked around summore and saw this other girl in a light blue sleeveless thing. I don’t understand why people can wear a T-shirt and still claim that they wore nothing. Cheating one. I looked properly and I know that underneath the T-shirt she also got wear something. Like that also got. I want to look some more, but the specky school headmistress came and blocked the view. Fed up.


So I walked around hoping that some more babes may be impressed with the bulge in my pants, maybe pick me up and take me home. But the babes all ignored me. Why like dat? Like I said before, they all got third world mentality one leh.

So I went home lor. And I removed all the 5 pairs of rolled up socks I had stuffed down the front of my underpants. Waste of time only.

Oh, somebody was passing around a piece of paper and the bloggers wrote their phone numbers on it. When it came to my turn, I put it in my pocket and forgot about it. So now I have all the cun babes’ private phone numbers. Maybe I will give them a call.

This is Chin Tu Lan signing off.

Tonight is the PPS Bash night! A night where bloggers meet to discuss intergalactic events while feeding their faces. Have you noticed that every time Malaysian bloggers meet, there has to be FOOD? I mean, they don’t hold their meetings in badminton halls or tennis courts. The meeting is always held in a makan place. ALWAYS!

I see that the agenda for the PPS Bash is not yet out, but the MENU, including prices, is already out on several sites! Hahahahaha!!! I tell ya, these bloggers have got to be my favourite kind of people!

Did I hear that Minishorts is turning up wearing nothing? Oooooh….the press is attending, they’ll luv that! I hope Suanie doesn’t gross everybody out by eating worms as she threatened! Will Kenny bring his coconuts? Yeah, the press will have a field day!

I wish to announce that I have a guest blogger tomorrow in this blog to write on the PPS Bash at Charlie’s Place. So behave yourselves okay? Or better still......don’t behave yourselves!

If you’re not sure what food to order for tonight, well, the lamb shank looks good!

I need to get this off my chest.

My regular readers know that I have studiously avoided mentioning all these while that I am a finalist for the PPS Blog of the Year Award(winner to be announced tonight). That’s because I’m practicing to be a Jedi, and therefore has to be totally indifferent. That’s also the reason I have not even asked any of you to vote for me. (In case you’re wondering, Jedis can have sex. Yes they can!)

However, I think that total silence is also not appropriate, since this is supposed to be a fun occasion. And boy, did we have fun!

Therefore, I want to go on record to thank those bloggers who nominated me. One day, when I read back my old postings, I want to be reminded that these fellow bloggers thought well enough of my inane postings to think of me as their peer. Some of these bloggers, like 5xmom and Suanie, are already recognized as national blog celebrities, having appeared with their faces in the newspapers. Others, although not fully featured in the papers yet, are also big names in the Malaysian blogosphere, and you know who they are.

The full list of bloggers who nominated me is as follows:

Chew Xy
suanie
lucia
vbglau
davidteoh
loonatik
Belacans
leonamanutd
CHiQ
Yuen Li
michaelooi
ryuu
Gina

Thank you guys. To be thought that I can be good enough to be nominated by you is a very big honour for me. I should also mention that another blog celebrity, Minishorts, campaigned a bit for me as well. Meme style. I am sorry that I do not have the readership numbers to put up a good enough fight to the likes of the other two finalists, famous bloggers Kenny Sia and Mack, so I hope you won’t get too disappointed at my results tonight. You guys have to face reality mah. Also, since most of you have nominated Kenny or Mack as well, it is okay with me if you had not voted for me. But I should be able to muster 5 votes! Unless some of you were sleeping! I sure hope that it’s good enough for all your efforts! Heheheh!

But we did have fun. Lots. You nominated me for all three categories, Blog of the Year, Ping of the Year(by ChewXy for the ‘when Blogs die’ article), and Neophyte Blog of the Year. Holy shit, me a neophyte? Next year, I want to be nominated for the Neophyte Blog of the Year category again. Okay, Suanie? Yeah, that was fun alright!

Some time in the future when events are gone and forgotten, I wish to look back and read this post to be reminded of the honour that my peers have generously heaped on me. A generosity that surprised me to the roots, and I want to put it on record lest I forget the magnanimity of my fellow bloggers.

This entry appears for recording purposes. I am unable to disable the commenting system for this post so therefore, I have to request you not to leave any comments.

I learned this from my school physics teacher.

1 + 1 = 1

I bet most of you have already forgotten what it means.

Yesterday was a day of fuss in the local blogoshere.

Bloggers Suanie, Minishorts(aka Claire), Kenny Sia and Peter Tan were featured in a one-star local daily. Well done you guys!

Then Minishorts put out a Plug-My-Friends post and described me as the main ACTION figure in a bedtime erotica. It sounds naughty of course, but not exactly scandalous.

Suanie followed suit and described me as having “uncanny skills” and that “he often hints that he has a big schlong”. Whadyamean by “hint”? You mean you have doubts? Now, that’s obviously scandalous.

Kenny and Peter did not try to describe me. Thank the stars.

Yes, it was a big day of fuss. So I went back home to quickly look at the newspapers. Of course, the newspaperman delivers the 5Star to my house. And the 5Star news in 5 times more scandalous than the one-star news. The article wasn’t about blogging; it was about glogging.

Now read and compare:





Peter, who drinks only fruit juice while sitting in front of the television watching Hong Kong Cantonese serials said, “A good health drink should also benefit other people, and give people something to think about."

*glog, glog, glog*

Claire, who leads a secret double life, declared, “If my mother found out about my grog, I’d be dead! I think a grog is worth glogging when the glogger drinks with honesty and eloquence, and does not try to glog all out just to become famous or to earn revenue out of it.”

She went on to quote a little known Eastern philoshophy, “The grog is a part of me – I am the grog.”

Very, very profound.

*glog, glog, glog*

Kenny, who is a coffee drinker takes about one to two hours to come up with a good pot of coffee, sometimes feels obligated to put out a cuppa every now and then for his readers.

He has also discovered that “fame” can be a double-edged sword – he’s had strangers coming up to him asking whether he is Kenny Sia the coffee maker, an experience he described as “freaky”.

*glog, glog, glog*

"Don’t take me too seriously," warns Suanie, "I express myself better in grogging because I can drink twice about what I’m going to grog about.”

Since nobody who knew the English language could understand what she was talking about, she went on further to explain, “Growing up is a very personal experience, and the grog gives me a voice and place to vent my thirst."

Ah, now that was much easier to understand.

*glog, glog, glog*

Note: Readers may find that the words and phrases used here almost similar to that of the one-star feature article. We didn't copy them. They copied us.

The SPG nude blogger issue has attracted a lot of attention from potential copycats. Noting that the blogger, who put up her naked picture for the purpose of art, has a readership of 3000 daily, a lot of female nude blogger wannabes are writing to the 5Star paper for professional advice.

In the interest of the blogging community, Ms Lai Ma, our 5Star columnist and formerly a karaoke lounge singer, will give her expert advice on the concept of nude blogging and art. Those who wish to seek out her professional advice must send in a nude picture of themselves. This service is for female bloggers only. Please note that any naked pictures sent in will remain the personal property of the owner of the 5Star.

5Star

Dear Lai Ma
I want to become nude blogger. I heard that a sarong party girl nude blogger has 3000 site visitors a day. So I did some statistical analysis. If 10% of them are ang mohs, then I will have 300 ang moh friends potentially. And if 20% of them are rich and handsome, I will have 60 rich and handsome ang moh boyfriends. Wah piang eh!
Dollar Mau

Dear Dollar Mau
Statistics don't work like that. Not say I say one, but I am damn expert in statistical analysis. Last time when I was a karaoke lounge singer, I just look at a group of humsup men, and my brain can work out how many per cent I can korek for tips. Based on my experience, I can tell you how the statistics will work out.
Of the 3000 readers, half are women. Of the remaining 1500, one third is underaged, and one third is old and senile. So now you only have 500. Of that, 80% can talk with one kind ang moh slang, but are acherly hor, not real ang moh one. The bluff ang moh you don't want, rite? So now you have 100 remaining, out of which 50 % are married and 20% are poor, which you also don't want, rite? That leaves only 30. Of that, 20 will not be interested in you. Because they are interested only in simple simple women who don't know how to write out a full sentence.
But luckily, still got 10 remaining. Out of that, 9 are damn argly. The tenth one is probably a gay who went to your website by mistake. If you want to become a sarong party girl, you must be prepared to work hard. First, keep your hair long long, use Rejoice shampoo like in TV commercial, then go to a hotel and sit at the bar. Then wait for a humsup ang moh to offer you a drink. After that you pretend to be drunk. Forget the nude blogging idea. There are no shortcuts.



Dear Lai Ma
My blog got no prospeck. Two years already and I orso not many readers. Sometimes 3, sometimes only 2. Like nobody want to read me. How can? I blog with branded computer and optical mouse you know. And summore my message got suffocating stuff that interesting to peepur all the time without thinking deep deep like well. Using latest technology I get from Imbi Plaza I blog with cutting edge for future understanding. Orso I use powderful English like even President Bush kenot use with his wife. But still nobody come and read. Waste my time only. So I think got no prospeck, better become nude blogger while my figure still fit fit. Then can get 3000 readers. What chu think?
Si Sua Sia


Dear Si Sua Sia
Thank you for sending me your nude pictures. You are indeed a beautiful girl. But people come to a blog to read articles that are well written. Not for naked pictures. Even a nude blogger must be able to express her ideas in a sophisticated manner. We are talking about blogging, not porn. Frankly, from your letter, it is very difficult to understand the rubbish that you write. You write one kind like that, sure lah, nobody want to come and read. I suggest that you enrol in a language class first and learn how to write properly, like me. You don't want people to come just to download your pictures without listening to your fancy ideas, right? Every blogger wants people to read their ideas. There are some exceptions of course, like the notorious underground blogger, Viewtru. That one is full of inane bullshit. And also he doesn't care if nobody come and read his blog. That's because he eat full already and got nothing to do.


Dear Lai Ma
I am a female artist. I would like to experiment with nude blogging for the sake of art. But local culture and sensitivities are a pain to deal with. Would you be so kind as to look at my nude picture and give me a critical review as to its aesthetic appeal?
Gloria Loong

Dear Gloria
Don’t lah, pose with your legs so wide open like that! I showed your picture to my colleague Dick Tomatoski, and he said that you have a few white hairs. You may want to invest in some hair colouring. I can recommend a few good brands. What you are doing is definitely not art. Not porn also. Dick said that one is speleology, or the study of caves. I whacked him for you already.


Dear Lai Ma
I am an old sarong party girl. Already 39 years old but still unattached. I have been going to hotels and sitting alone at the bar for years but no humsup gweilo has offered to buy me a drink yet. So now I think that I want to try the nude blogging idea. Here is a picture of myself naked. I want the picture to have a bit of class. Like arty farty kind. Do you think that I am showing too much skin?
Dunlop Goodyear

Dear Ms Dunlop Goodyear
After I saw your naked photo, I feel your pain. Then I showed your photo to my talkcock editor. He also feels your pain. I know because he started vomiting nonstop. I had to quickly cover your picture or else he may vomit until he become lifeless. After that, all the reporters who hated the talkcock editor wanted a copy of your picture.
Frankly, you look less arty than farty. If you want my advice, I think you must first try liposuction. Please sign up for 10 sessions. No, better make it 20. Then you must remove the “I love Brad Pitt” tattoos from your forearms. And from your butt also. After that you have to go for plastic surgery. This type of thing cannot save money one. As a woman, I wish you the best of luck.
Make sure you go to a reputable plastic surgeon. And not to one of those backstreet bo liao plastic surgeons behind Jalan Muka Celup. Otherwise if the operation cockup, you may end up looking not woman, not man, not animal. Like Michael Jackson.


Dear Lai Ma
I am very handsome. Also a very good blogger. I heard that one female blogger put up a naked picture of herself because of art. If she can do it, I also can do it. I very arty mah. So I took a naked picture of myself with a camera-phone. Then I use Adobe Photoshop to resize it and digitally smooth it out a bit until perfect. I then printed it out and showed it to my art lecturer. He told me to burn it immediately. Why like that? Why the world so fucked up?
Chin Tu Lan

Dear Chin Tu Lan
This category is for female bloggers only. You female meh? Ni na beh…..every time I tell you not to write to me, you still write to me. Summore send me your stupid naked picture. But my talkcock editor said that we are the 5Star and we must not discriminate against people who send in stupid naked pictures. What an idiot. I'll wait until he's having lunch, then I show him the picture of Ms Dunlop Goodyear again.
So okay, listen properly. Art is about balance, form and proportion. I looked at your naked picture and I know that you don’t understand the concept. My advice to you is to pay serious attention to your art lessons. And not ponteng class all the time. Also must use Adobe Photoshop in the proper manner, not simply use anyhow. Wa lau eh.......you are really too much. This is the first time I have seen anybody digitally alter the size of his dick until it's taller than a building.