Thursday, December 20, 2007

140. That Next Place

Hopefully it is pretty wonderful, where you can lay your weary self to rest. It's been a pretty long journey after all, heck, it's been a roller coaster. Just make sure you've enjoyed the ride, and try to keep your eyes wide open, you wouldn't want any niggling regrets once the ride is done, 'cos you only get to ride this one once.

You know you only have this one chance to make yourself some memories, 'cos in the end, it gets kinda cold and grey, so you sure as hell better make yourself some.

Happy holidays, Merry Xmas, and have a grand New Year y'all.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

138. Roar

There's this beast that lurks within all of us, hulking and grotesque. It's hungry, and it needs to be fed.

We try to keep it happy by feeding it now and then, but that only whets its appetite. It's had a taste, now it wants more. It's weird how we can sometimes kid ourselves in thinking that we have it under control, we never do. How could you control a thing like that eh?

These base instincts, it fills us with glee and terror at the same time. Glee because it's always happy when it's feasting...terror because, holy shit, ain't it freaking fearsome to let something like that run loose and unbound?

Question is, do we keep that beast in check...maybe feed it now and then...or do we let it loose upon the unsuspecting world...?

Questions to ponder upon in the cold recesses of night perhaps.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

137. One Moment

In one moment, the world can be yours...or everything can pass you by...if you let it.

When was your moment?

But there is always hope, especially in light of hopelessness. Dark as Radiohead are, it is the overriding theme in their music. Hope amidst the endless gloom, the claustrophobia of our modern age, the cynism and deep mistrust of everything and everyone.

Though they can take you down into the depths of despair...there are always fleeting moments that offer us hope.

I think humankind are like that. We terrify ourselves every day with the things that we are capable of. We are forever shadowed by this deep and unsettling anonymous fear of where we are at any point in our lives. Are we just forging on blindly and indifferent? Do you know where you are with? Maybe one day, you'd even grow wings...a chemical reaction...undoubtedly hysterical and useless....

So what are we to do? Hold true, to that one moment that we can look at with clear eyes...and a full heart...with love in our hearts...love for ourselves and one another....because if you have that moment...it will last with you...forever...

Friday, October 12, 2007

136. In Rainbows and In Love

Lush, melodic, hypnotic, majestic...how else would one describe the soundscape of Radiohead? In Rainbows is pure magic. For those who love music, real music, not that warped garbage manufactured by big studios, this will make your heart sing. It's like touching upon the firmament of the heavens, like falling amongst the stars in the night sky, like basking in the sudden warmth of the sun on a cold winter morning.

This is Radiohead in semi-normal OK Computer mode. No weird bleeps, there are actual melodies here, with real guitar riffs and what not.

And it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :)

Happy holidays and happy birthday!

Thursday, October 11, 2007

135. In Rainbows - Downloaded

Mine, mine, mine. It's all mine. Downloaded it, have I. Listen to it, I will.

134. In Rainbows - Again!

News of Radiohead's new album release is so great that it deserves two posts. Hell yeah. Greatness is just a click away...

http://www.inrainbows.com

For those who manage to download the album, then truly you are blessed...

133. In Rainbows

Everyone knows the best music in the world is classical music. Surely. And that the next best thing after classical music is Radiohead. Then we have anything post rock or trance.

So my heart is full, ladies and gentlemen. It is. Full. Greatness is in our midsts again. G-r-e-a-t-n-e-s-s, Greatness with a capital G.

Radiohead's In Rainbows is upon us. And it's more or less sneaked up on us from nowhere. And I want it, dear God I want it. If only I can download it from their website. Pay as much as you want. Brilliant.

When I am king, you will be first against the wall
With your opinion which is of no consequence at all

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

132. All Along the Watchtower

In Dylan's seminal classic, we are thrust deep into a conversation between two archetypes; the joker and the thief. The joker is in great distress, he senses that there is no way out for him. Hence...

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

Whom does the joker represent? The word does tend to conjure the timeless image of a court jester, someone plying his trade earnestly, a subject of ridicule for an unappreciative crowd. But perhaps the joker could also represent the artist, for artists are more often than not ridiculed and humiliated in their lifetime. No one understands them, and everyone seeks to profit from them. So businessmen do drink the artist's wine, savouring the taste they perhaps are not qualified to understand? Like the cheese-cracker-eating, wine-sipping types that frequent art galleries and plays, commenting pseudo-intelligently on matters that may well be beyond their grasp.

But could it also be that joker is a voice that speaks inside all of us? A voice of the nurturer, who seeks to create and build according to our own vision. And hence is frustrated when many, perhaps the entire world, doesn't understand just exactly what we're trying to accomplish? Be it at work, or maybe how we live our lives.

So the joker is exasperated, for the fruits of his labour are consumed without much appreciation by the masses. But the thief consoles him:

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

Now just who is the thief? Could it be yet another voice raging within us? If so, what does it represent? Why does it understand the joker so much? Can this character, this thief, be even trusted at all? He tells the joker that they both understand that life is not as trivial as that, that they've been through it and know that it is not their fate to be so flippant. There is a clear message here that there is more at stake then the whims of the businessmen and the plowmen. And he ends it on a warning, that the hour is growing late, giving a veiled statement that the time to take action is at hand?

Then the scene shifts, there is a grand watchtower, with princes, women and servants within. Oblivious and happy. However, it is a watchtower, it must have been built in anticipation of an attack.

All along the watchtower, Princes kept the view,
While all the women came and went — Barefoot servants too.
Outside in the cold distance, a wildcat did growl.
Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl.

Then outside, wildcats growl, and two riders approach, and the wind begins to howl, foreshadowing of something major in the offing, just what are two riders' intentions? To seek refuge from the wind, or something else, something sinister? More importantly, who are the two horsemen? Are they the joker and the thief approaching? If so, could the grand watchtower represent the establishment, and them those who seek to challenge it? What are the odds of victory then, just two men against a seemingly well-manned tower. Does the joker partake in this mission because of the thief's urgings? Knowing full well there is no chance of success?

Perhaps we are our own joker and our own thief. The joker being all that is good and virtuous in us, and the thief one that seeks to corrupt and lead astray. But the thief could also mean courage, taking a stand for our values and making things happen, being the change we want to see.

Taken in that context, shall we let the voice of the thief stay silent and unheeded, laying dormant while the voice of the joker rages on, without a hint of action being taken?

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Nobody does it better

Joe is a Chelsea fan.
Joe is my good friend.

With those statements, here is a tribute on his blog for his ex club manager. Though he might have a more elaborate piece of blog in the making!

Quickly off the mark, Jose Mourinho is a lot like marmite, you either love him or loathe him. As you can see in his quotes below later, the least you could say is he made his mark and good luck to his successor. I would like to consider myself lucky as my gf & I managed to watch the Special One coached Chelsea vs Blackburn, in what was his penultimate game in charge. It was drab 0-0 draw i admit, but the man was Macguyver, he made good with what he had. Of all his quotes, this one beats closer to heart, before the last FA cup final he asked his team whether they want to enjoy the game or enjoy after the game? Chelsea went on to prevent another Double by MU. Nobody gets tired of winning, dour or not. Winning as everything in his genius world but Roman dreamt Einstein can be sexy too. The latest news is Jose will be going to US for a while then to Malaysia for a commercial shoot. After which he will be mighty busy counting his multimillion £££ compensation at the comfort of his home.

Without further ado, let's go straight to the quotes:

"Please don't call me arrogant, but I'm European champion and I think I'm a special one" - Mourinho introduces himself to the English press after arriving from Porto in summer 2004

"In the second half it was whistle and whistle, fault and fault, cheat and cheat. The referee controlled the game in one way during the first half but in the second they had dozens of free-kicks. I know the referee did not walk to the dressing rooms alone at half-time" - Mourinho claims Sir Alex Ferguson had unduly influenced referee Neale Barry at half-time during a Carling Cup semi-final against Manchester United in January 2005. He was fined £5,000 by the Football Association for improper conduct

"I don't regret it. The only thing I have to understand is I'm in England, so maybe even when I think I am not wrong, I have to adapt to your country and I have to respect that. I have a lot of respect for Liverpool fans and what I did, the sign of silence - 'shut your mouth' - was not for them, it was for the English press" - Mourinho defends putting a finger to his lips during the 2005 Carling Cup final against Liverpool, an action which resulted in him being sent to the stands

"When I saw Rijkaard entering the referee's dressing room I couldn't believe it. When Drogba was sent off I didn't get surprised. There is something that tells me that in London the referee will be Collina, the best in the world. A perfect referee with personality and quality" - Mourinho claims in Portuguese newspaper Dez Record that Barcelona coach Frank Rijkaard visited referee Anders Frisk's dressing room at half-time in the first leg of the teams' Champions League last-16 clash in February 2005. Mourinho was banned from the dug-out for two matches and fined £9,000 by UEFA for bringing the game into disrepute over his claims

"I felt the power of Anfield, it was magnificent. I felt it didn't interfere with my players but maybe it interfered with other people and maybe it interfered with the result. You should ask the linesman why he gave a goal. Because, to give a goal, the ball must be 100 per cent in and he must be 100 per cent sure that the ball is in" - Mourinho questions the validity of Liverpool forward Luis Garcia' s goal which puts Chelsea out of the Champions League semi-finals on May 3, 2004

"It is not a red card, of course not, and for the second time we have to play 55, 60 minutes without a man and the game is completely different. I shouldn't speak about the game, because the game is not a game" - Mourinho blames a first-leg defeat to Barcelona in the Champions League last 16 in February 2006 on the sending-off of Asier del Horno

"We have played against them four matches in two seasons. (When it was) 11 against 11 they never beat us. That is the reality" - After 1-1 draw at the Nou Camp in 2006 which sent Barca through to the quarter-finals 3-2 on aggregate

"The goalkeeper has the ball in his hands, slides and the number 10 cannot get the ball. He goes with the knee into his face" - Mourinho accuses Reading midfielder Stephen Hunt of deliberately injuring Petr Cech after the pair collide in the first minute of last October's match at the Madejski Stadium

"It is not possible (for) penalties (to be awarded) against Manchester United, and it is not possible (to get) penalties in favour of Chelsea. If somebody punishes me because I tell the truth, it is the end of democracy, we go back to the old times" - The Chelsea boss fumed last weekend after seeing his side's penalty appeals against Newcastle turned down, a day after United were given the benefit of the doubt over a strong injury-time penalty claim by Middlesbrough in their clash at Old Trafford

"A player who wants to be the best one of the world, and he already may be, should have the uprightness and the sufficient maturity to verify that against facts there are not arguments. If he says that it is a lie that Manchester United have conceded some penalties this season which have not been awarded against them, he is lying. And if he lies he will never reach the level that he wants to reach" - Mourinho hit back at Ronaldo after the United winger claimed his penalty rant proved his countryman "doesn't know how to admit his own failures"

"It is omelettes and eggs. No eggs - no omelettes! It depends on the quality of the eggs. In the supermarket you have class one, two or class three eggs and some are more expensive than others and some give you better omelettes. So when the class one eggs are in Waitrose and you cannot go there, you have a problem" - Shorn of the likes of injury victims Frank Lampard, Michael Ballack, Ricardo Carvalho and Didier Drogba, Mourinho cooked up a surreal analogy ahead of Tuesday's fateful draw with Rosenborg

Joe is also a Radiohead fan, truculently and but now aptly.

Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as good as you
Baby you're the best
- Radiohead's chorus for 'Nobody does it better'

There's only one matter we can ask of any genius, is to hope that he will keep in touch with us and perhaps we can be a little more like him. Now will the last person off the Chelsea bandwagon please switch off the lights?

Friday, September 21, 2007

Thursday, September 13, 2007

130. England

Football minnows England pulled a shocking upset last night. They actually beat a decent team coached by a decent coach. How wonderful. The world rejoices. All is safe once more. Osama bin Laden is but a distant memory. The Spice Girls never existed. And George Bush is in his final term as president. It's all just roses and rainbows and mutant midgets dancing upon fields of green.

I hate England. I really do. With all my freaking heart and soul I hate them. Does this mean that we'd have to put up with retarded hype machine of WAGS and wankers (not necessarily in that order) come next year in Austria and Switzerland? I can hardly contain myself.







Famed Three Lions fan and dog-lover, Osama "Big Ben" Laden watches England beat Russia in his comfy pad.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Fedex

Jim Courier got me hooked on tennis. The bended cap, single backhand, his high jump on serve and his power play & serve-and-volley.

Back in my time, if you're a school kid and into tennis, like every kid on this side of the world, my friends looked up to Michael Chang, the dynamo, the first Energizer bunny. He made up on big calves muscles for his lack of height and it wasn't pretty for me.Adam Malik paved the Malaysian way and Michael Chang-style was the only thing on the menu. I hated the chasing after the yellow ball, picking up the ball ALL the time during practices, expensive access to courts and most importantly, it was a wimpsy non-contact sport. I guess, to correct myself, Jim Courier got me hooked on watching tennis.

Then came Pistol Pete. Jim Courier 2.0. No one even came close to knocking this guy off his pedestal, but clay was his kryptonite and there were no Grand Slam in his otherwise brilliant career. Young Fedex soon came along, he was the typical rookie - talented, petulant, moody and plays great tennis when in control (beaten Sampras before he retired). In his company, the other promising up & coming stars were Andy Roddick and Marat Safin. What happened next in Federer's career is well chronicled, but Roger & Marat were very similar when they first started. Geniuses but cranky.

Roger turned 26 this year, and in tennis years, he's 74. Most critics and the public are starting to call him GOAT, they have to go way back in the record books to see if Roger hasn't broken any of them. The one that's been weighing on his mind is breaking Pete Sampras's 14 Grand Slams record (2 away) and oh yeah, another would be winning the French Open.

Many youngsters are waiting to be his successor to Roger's tennis throne, Nadal, Djokovic, Isner are all waiting to pounce, but the master had shown he's not ready to hand over the baton just yet. It was Nadal at the French Open final, this time it's Novak Djokovic whom came close last night in the US Open final.

Watching the final, 2 things came to mind, brilliance conjured in Federer's play was expected and he only selectively ups his game when necessary. The score was 7-6 (4), 7-6 (2), 6-4 to Federer. He was in cruising mode through the games while Novak slugged and groaned. In both tiebreakers, Roger shifted gear to 2nd and Djokovic, for less of a better word, choked.

The match was much closer than the scoreline already offers, if you watched the game, you can't help but think that the game was slowly playing out as how in Federer's mind. He knew.

At one play, Novak's crosscourt backhand zipped across the court inside the box diagonal to where he played the shot, which looked like a winner, and also showing up Roger (the crowd ooh). Roger anticipated, stepped up with his single-handed backhand crossed it back at a tighter angle and a higher degree of Swiss-precision. Mess with best, die like the rest. I can emphatise Novak's play, hey if i can't win a game, i'll try to embarrass the opponent too.

Enough of Roger, Novak is one for the future. He may have lost the US Open trophy last night, but he may have won another trophy whom was sitting in his player box, the lovely Maria Sharapova.

This won him his fans.
http://faniq.com/blog/Video-Novak-Djokovic-Impersonates-Maria-Sharapova-and-Rafael-Nadal-at-US-Open-Blog-4077

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

129. The Suffering...the Sweet Suffering

It's finally sunk in...the pain is piercing, like every single cell in your body screaming...like cold ice flowing through your veins...like your heart being splintered by a million shards of glass...why does the sun go on rising? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don't they know, it's the end of the world...and it ended when Chelsea lost over the weekend to Villa and Liverpool winning 6 nil. Which means that Alf and Adam are plenty happy.

Worse yet, Arsenal won, with ten men. Oh the humanity.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

128. Unfinished Business

Hmmm, this blog has some unfinished business. I still need to finish off my essay on Italy's glorious run in USA '94 that I began sometime in 2005, there's those sordid Halloween tales I promised to tell, and a few film reviews that I really want to write but never really came round to. In due time, just so I can leave my mind in peace for once. I hate unfinished business.

Monday, September 03, 2007

127. That Trance-y Feeling

Everyone has their favourite clubbing experiences. Those memorable nights out that somehow stick with you and makes you grin just thinking about it. If you were to compile one of those top five lists like Rob Fleming did in Nick Hornby's High Fidelity on your best ever clubbing nights out, what would it look like?

For me, no. 1 would be that night out when me and my mates figured we check out this famous East German dj who was spinning in the now-defunct Movement. The dj in question was Paul van Dyk, and it turned out to be the most awesome clubbing experience ever, I shit you not. PvD absolutely and completely ruled over all things that night, and we didn't even have to get high to enjoy ourselves, that's how bloody good he was. You couldn't believe how psyched the crowd was, there was this electricity and energy in the air unlike I've ever known. That was magic man, pure magic.

I've been a fan of electronic dance music ever since. For me, nothing even comes close to having real good house or trance music in a club or going for a good rave. Now, don't get me wrong, listening to a bit of pop or hip hop or rap at a club is fine and all, but it's just not the same feeling. It just doesn't have the same buzz, or the kinetic energy.

Now almost 7 years later, I'm counting my lucky stars that I got to hear him spin again over the weekend, and I'm happy to say that it easily makes no. 2 on my list. The only reason why it doesn't top that night out in Movement all those years ago is that nothing beats the first time. But his show was magnificent, and the crowd was fantastic, well most of them anyway. I'm not even going to get started on some jerk-offs who came in their fancy coats and gowns like they were going to the bloody opera and other creeps who were hunting for drunk or spaced out meat. Other than that, it was way awesome, and I've seen a dj who got the crowd so amped before.

Ok, I'm going to end this gushing tribute to all things trance-y before it turns out to be too gay. I'm partially deaf as I write this, but so blissfully happy, fuck yeah. Lemme just sign off with a top five list of the best trance/house/electronic dance music tracks ever.

1. Halcyon (Airscape Remix) - Chicane
2. Gouryella (Armix Remix) - Gouryella
3. Words - PvD
4. Sunchyme - Dario G
5. Komodo (Tea Mix) - Mauro Picotto

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Dyer Hell

During last season's run in, among Fulham, Charlton, Sheffield Utd & West Ham, Neil Warnock is the reason why my girlfriend preferred the Blades to be relegated. Besides cute behinds and high cheekbone, the manager's attitude and appearance during his post-match interview also counts for points in the female EPL table. Jose would've won the Premier League hands down until perhaps Justin Timberlake takes over a club. As for me, due to geographical reasons, I would prefer the London clubs to stay up too. However, the league needs more colourful characters. I've been subject to the mind games with the same few old men, name-calling, from Arsene's selective eyesight, no-penalty-zone in Old Trafford, the people vs. the Special One, Liverpool's revolving door of managers. But credit given when credit's due : a special mention to Rafa for his gay goatee and dropping the Little Red Riding Hood reference in this current young season.

Back to Blades, Neil was brutally honest to a fault, if you listen to him moan, you get to know the slippery inside track of what went on in EPL locker room of players and managers. Most managers will bite their tongue to spit out what's really on their mind when they're on tv, Neil would occasionally due to rage & overwhelming emo, break that unspoken rule.

That team was always willing to fight and scratch, a genuine 9-5 effort you'd expect from the working class, on the pitch. It's not to say their football is easy on the eyes, Blades football. And sexy cannot to be put in the same sentence. They had themselves all to blame, Carlos Tevez or not, had they not taken the foot of the pedal when they were 10 points clear at a point in time, they would've stayed high and dry. But this you already know.

The Hammers have been collecting bad boys with bad reps, and using a corny line from a corny movie or maybe they've watched Any Given Sunday one too many times, they vowed to use their dark side to become masters of the universe. From cowboys to angels. From New York Knicks to Spurs. From Robbie Williams to Westlife. However since their Icelander owner revolution, the Hammers injury jinx have been well chronicled, starting with Upson, Neill, Ljundberg, Parker and now Dyer (see pic, Ouch! and see what number he's wearing). Somewhere in east London, Craig Bellamy is sweating his pants as we speak.

There's no crying over split milk for Sheffield Utd to West Ham, time heals everything. At the rate of how both clubs are doing, they can knock themselves out in the Championship next year.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Di

There are more pressing issues in the world today - fued over the resource-rich Arctic, climate change, credit crunch, Hurrican Dean, what to buy for my girlfriend's upcoming birthday, etc..

This is another - should one's wife attend the ex's memorial? I love it when payback is a bitch. Pun intended. RIP Princess.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

126. The Scent of Love

From Michael Nyman's The Piano score, this track is probably one of the most moving pieces of music ever written. Utterly and devastatingly heart-rending, but ultimately beautiful. For it is through the song's passages of sorrow that its beauty chiefly arises.

This has none of the calm and reflective majesty of another favourite piece, the second movement, Adagio un poco mosso of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major, but it is nonetheless a remarkable composition. You could almost feel the pain and anguish of the composer's heart as if they were your own, deep and dark emotions boiling and simmering underneath, always threatening to spill over. And as it reaches towards it's climax, those feelings are finally unleashed, amidst an explosion of thunder and fury, of blissful release and wrathful reckoning. The heart is truly an organ of fire.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

125. The State of Affairs

What does it tell us about the state of things in the world when the whole Paris Hilton in jail affair dominated the headlines of mainstream news channels for weeks on end? Not much I tell you. Not much at all.

We're fascinated by celebrity, the power of it both excites and horrifies us. We're as much seduced by it as we are sickened of it. Maybe it's because, to most of us, it will always elude us. Yet it offers us a glimpse of that life we are so quick to judge and abhor, while at the same time secretly yearn? We might even tell ourselves of how we'd be different if we were in their shoes. Yeah right.

Hell, if I were anywhere as rich or famous or powerful as any of them, I'd probably be dining off naked Japanese women and get carried around by my legion of slaves (this entire walking nonsense is surely over-rated) for the rest of my life. And I'd get to watch midgets mud wrestle and people I don't like being fed to lions for entertainment. Oh yes I would.

Just as power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, thus so the same rule could be applied here. And we humans are a corruptable bunch. Just ask any politician in office now. Sure, for every hundred Nixons, you'd get a Gandhi here and there. But whilst Nixon gets a presidential pardon, Gandhi gets whacked. If history has taught is anything is that the more corrupt or morally dubious you are (say a Henry Kissinger, an Idi Amin or a George Lucas) , the more likely it is that you'd escape prosecution for any crimes against humanity you committed, and enjoy to live to a ripe old age in peace. While if you're Gandhi or General Maximus, you're as good as dead meat. So any idealistic and hopeful ones amongst you in the crowd, snap out of it before it's too late ya.

Speaking of idealism, I fully believe that this season Chelsea will shed the negative tactics of yesteryear and add a more dynamic dimension to their game. They'll capture the imagination of the masses, just like the Arsenal of four-five seasons back and the pre-Beckham Madrid team led by the master Zidane pulling the strings and the forceful Makelele in his prime, with Roberto Carlos and Salgado galloping down the wings. They'll make the critics eat their words and bring tears of joy to the eyes of all proponents of the Beautiful Game. Oh yes they would. Now, if only we had Kaka, Ronaldinho, Messi, Eto'o and Henry to make that a reality.







Paris "Gandhi" Hilton: "Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well. Also, buy Burger King!"

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Ol' blue eyes


This photo is the main reason for this post. It's all over Manchester..*shivers*
Yes, Sven is back with City. He spent millions on players he saw on TV only. He asked one of his new signings, 'Why do you want to come to Manchester United?'. Their new owner was recently issued an arrest warrant while on self-imposed exile here. This dodger must be thinking the mud doesn't stick in England.

But the Blues are 2nd in gameweek 2. Let's hope Mr. Ol' Blue Eyes keeps his finger on the trigger. True City fans will say they can afford to lose in their Manchester derby this weekend and still be ahead of the champs. Happy days indeed for the north west blues.
Ol' blue eyes is back....now fill in your punchline.

Saturday, August 04, 2007

124. Convergence

That's the catch-phrase now. Everyone and everything is into it. It seems that we're getting more and more connected. Or are we? Hmmm...

Thursday, July 19, 2007

123. How Sweet, Innocence


It is lost too soon. Now and then kindled. Most times forever extinguished.

Link to Marcus Stone painting courtesy of a friend.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

122. The Mutant

They are easily spotted. Someone that goes against the norm in a group. Different. Strange. Frightening. They threaten because they are all that. Because what isn't known, is invariably feared. And what is feared, is loathed. And fear is channeled into hate, then hate into action.

Thus the mutant is dealt with; shunned, ostracised, destroyed. They become social pariahs, the source of constant gossip and rumour mongering, the end of every joke, a punchline. And we have our laugh about them, feeling smug in our own superiority. But it is a nervous, hollow kind of laugh. Because deep down we know.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

121. Ugly Retard of the Day





"My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps..."

Thursday, June 28, 2007

off the copenhagen wall


i wanted to eloquently describe these pictures, but a picture paints a thousand words.
we should all try to creatively and elaborately use the English language...fuck it*.


* hi ashby!

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

120. Horny Retard of the Day






For being either arrogant enough to think he could get away with it, or being stupid enough to be set-up as a stooge.

119. Retard of the Day Award

For superior achievements in retardation.












"I need something to suck, and I need it RIGHT NOW!!!"

Sunday, June 24, 2007

118. It Ain't Easy

And nobody said it would be. Life that is.

Of course you can make yourself oblivious to it all, but I can pretty much bet ya that it'd come back to bite in the ass. And it would be pretty. No sir, not at all.

Well what can one do? Think about a rainy that sure as hell will come around one day that's what. And you gotta make ready for that one. Or you'll be in so many levels of shit that I can't possibly begin to define. Have seen it happen one too many times to a whole lotta people.

Failing to plan is planning to fail. As retarded as that sounds, I reckon it's true to a certain extent. But of course, I know a great deal of people (blessed fools the lot of em!) who've never planned beyond an hour of their lives and seem to be living free and happy in that fantasy world they've built for themselves. Damn them I say, damn them all to hell! To HELL!!!!

Other than that, if we're but mere mortals, we can only do our best that we're as best prepared for that time when the proverbial shit comes a-visiting and hits the fan. Be it at work or in this merry dance of life. That's all I'm saying. Not a calling to be so focused on what lies ahead till we forget the present. Hell no. Just to sometimes think a little and sweat a lot while we still can and not ever regret one minute later.

Fuck it all, I sound like my friend's uncle, an obese fella named Toby, who was known to have a fancy for live chickens as well as a craving for his own boogers. And every now and then, he'd impart these tiny golden nuggets of wisdom to us unsuspecting children. He'd scare us shitless. Because he'd be apt to pull one of those squishy fuckers from his huge nostril and swallow it before our very eyes. Now that's the kind of advice that a kid has to take seriously.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

117. Wishlist

I wish I was the full moon shining off your camaro's hood.

Quite possibly just about the best line of lyric ever written.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

116. The Home Stretch

We're all on the final leg of our journeys to a certain extent, that final stretch which inevitably begins the moment we draw our first breath in this world. It is a rather morbid thought no, our own mortality? The knowledge that our body is slowly dying as we speak.

At times, we may wonder; are we now as Rome in the noontide of her glory? Or are we as the grey shadows of twilight, slowly diminishing in a dream of what was? Inside are we still struggling to hold on to those fading glories, whislt allowing ourselves to waste away till we are but hollow husks of ourselves?

Damn if I know the answer. Make like a cow and go moo instead. Mooooooo...






Sunday, June 03, 2007

115. Rain

Oh yes. And lots of it. It never ceases to amaze me how it always starts just seconds before you're off for your weekend kickabout. Bloody hell.

Monday, May 21, 2007

114. Ghosts

We are all haunted to a certain extent. The ghosts of old flames, lost chances and past failures remain with us to the end of our days, sometimes tinged with sorrow and regret, sometimes tempered with sweetness. Memories are what we have and what we leave behind, never truth, for truth is always lost amidst the haze of what the heart longs to remember, as opposed to the starkness of reality.

That's why, it's with the upmost conviction that I can say that Chelsea were deserving champions in the FA Cup finals. Even though they were really rubbish. And that it was the worst game of football I've seen in my life. But, I will nonetheless savour this sweet victory in the twilight of my days as if Chelsea played like Brazil and beat the equally gifted opposition in a 7 goal thriller. Sweet is the taste of this day's wine.

Oh yes indeed.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

113. ARRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No Champions Part Trois this time round. No Champions League trophy either for that matter. No complaints there. A victory for either Chelsea and Liverpool in both competitions would've been an indictment on football as we know it. Thank heavens for Milan. Now that's how football is supposed to be played, bloody English muppets the lot of ya. Strange that both teams are coached by Continental types...

Let's hope that Milan win Europe's premier competition then...this is in no way a case of sour grapes or anything, it's just that Milan actually play football, and Liverpool don't. Period. Neither do Chelsea for that matter but I've been cursed enough to have stuck with them through those lean mean years for so long, now that they've actually started winning something, it'd be pretty looney to bail out now. And besides, it's nice to rub it in to those Arse and Liverpool fans once in a while (ok, not Liverpool fans this season) for all the shit I had to take from them in days gone past. So how does it taste, Arse-wipes? A bitter pill eh? You betcha. Snowball that one while you're at it.

Ok, this will be the last footie rant on this blog regarding this pretty disappointing season. Let's hope Chelsea at least win another one to make up for it. And that Milan win the CL for football purists as well. And that next season, things will look up for us all.

Enough already of this muscular powerplay football nonsense. En0ugh about the hyperbole of the EPL. Enough of pansy-assed divers and over-paid and over-hyped players. Enough of local fans orgasming or throwing an emofag tantrum whenever their fav team from a million miles wins or loses, you weren't fucking born there remember, so what's the deal buddy? Do you think that some bloke in Manchester blows his wad whenever Perlis wins in our retarded excuse for a professional league? Hell no. He'd probably sooner fuck a chicken than watch one of our local games live.

And, one last thing, enough about all the whining and whingeing from those so-called top-notch managers over there. You're all fucking paid millions to do the best job in the world, so stop bitching like a street corner hooker already. Just get with it.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

112. Forward

Let's not be disheartened. There's still a final to contest for, and the league is not over by any means, though it will be tough. Well played Liverpool, all the best in the Champions League Finals.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Saturday, April 28, 2007

110. The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place

It only feels like one. Oh, how sweet is this suffering. Man U 0 Everton 1, Chelsea 2 Bolton 1 at half time. Heaven. Then it all changes. Courtesy of a flap by a rookie keeper...and a magnificent own goal by the uglier half of the two brothers ugly...un-fucking-believable...

But it ain't over...nay, for faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens...

Monday, April 09, 2007

109. Remember Me As A Time Of Day

From Explosions in the Sky.

It starts with a ripple, a steady stillness that gradually builds, and builds...layer upon layer, a perpetual simmering beneath the surface, a promise of a coming crescendo that never quite materialises...a still calmness tempered with fire...like watching gathering storm clouds in a distance over wide open fields...streaks of lightning flashing silently in a faraway sky somewhere miles away from where you are...

It's that happy memory of childhood that comes and goes, but never fades, all those times coming home after a long summer's day out with your best bud, your shirt slick with sweat, your shoes caked with mud, grinning inanely as the sun falls lazily behind you. It's having a fag with your pals during your teenage years at the beach, feeling that cool sea breeze in your hair, and talking about nothing in particular like it's the most important conversation you'd ever have (and maybe it is).

It's like hanging round a playground as that magic hour of dusk approaches, the sound of kids laughing and playing somewhere in the background, some guys finishing up their evening kickabout round the field, people doing their warm-down after finishing their lap round the neighbourhood block, all oblivious to the world 'cept that particular moment they're caught up in.

It's building a camp fire in the middle of nowhere and getting eaten by mosquitos but loving every second of it. It's waking up just before the sun rises and to be at a place where people gather before taking a long journey. It's all the things that are great in life, waking moments out of a dream.

108. Crunch Time

Eh, let's all hope, and let us all pray, that these shadows shall pass, and we'll nip it one day. C'mon you Blues, get it done. Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose!

Monday, March 26, 2007

107. Stark Raving Mad

We are all bound to go bonkers at one point or another...in fact, we're all half way there...sometimes when nobody's looking, we make funny faces for our own amusement and talk in strange tongues to ourselves...it could be when we're in the lift, we break out in a little jig that would be immediately disturbing if anyone else were to see us...yep, looney, looney, we're all freaking crazy...crazeeeeee....crrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.....zeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

106. Insomnia

This is getting way out of hand now. The body seeks it but the mind will not relent. Or is it the other way round? Can't really fathom it at this point.

Cripes, hopefully this is not a prelude to one of those dastardly "What does it all mean?" moments. Let's wait and see shall we?

In the meantime, aren't we all just psyched about the next leg of the round of 16 in the Champions League? Well, maybe not. Barca's loss to Liverpool does not bode well for the future of football, neither did Arsenal's loss to PSV. True, Barca were utter crap in the 1st leg, but so were Liverpool (who played as if it were a sin to have more than 5 players in the opponent's half).

Lessons to be learnt? Attractive football does not always prevail (Barca's CL win last season being the exception). So what gives? I guess it's teams like Chelsea and Liverpool that hold the blueprint for the future; big powerful sides that play functional if not unspectacular football. I love the Blues, truly, but I do love the good 'ol days when Chelsea were inconsistently brilliant. This season, Chelsea has been consistently dour and lifeless, with little or no imagination going forward. That with such stalwarts like Ballack and Shevchenko newly introduced.

To me, Arsenal has been the most attractive team by far this season. Led by the brilliance of Fabregas in the middle, the speed of Clichy and power of Eboue down the flanks, the genius of Rosicky and Hleb around the box, and of course, the mercurial if slightly less influential talents of Henry upfront.

I do hope Barca and Arsenal get their acts together, because it'd be a great loss to the competition if they get knocked out. We needs teams like them to add that bit of flair and excitement to the competition.

Just like we need some flair and spice in our lives eh. On another front, 300 is opening this week. Can hardly wait, if there's one flick I've been dying to catch this year, then surely 300 is it. Then we patiently wait for Transformers to kick some ass this Summer.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

105. Jump

Find your stranger and jump. Or don't. It's up to you. But always give yourself a chance rather than think of what if or what could be.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

104. Home

There's no place quite like it eh. No matter how much we complain or moan about it. There'll always be that part of us which will always miss it, warts and all.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

103. Chatterbox #1

Now then, it seems that the nefarious Melvinator has somehow connived his way into this unsuspecting blog. Who is he, and what does he want??? Who knows...all we can do is wait with bated breath and see what comes to fruit from this disturbing development (shudder)...

Speaking of disturbing developments, I've received many complaints (just one) from my loyal fanbase (of just one) that my last post was a tad too mean-spirited. Ahhhh, just makes me want to laugh, cry and stick blunt rusty objects into my eyes at the same time. Ok, considering that it's just after Valentine's, and today being the CNY eve, keeping up in the spirit of these great times, allow me to respond by issuing these very heartfelt words....boo-hoo-hoo...awwww, did big bad blogger man hwurt your itsy bitsy tweeny weeney feelings?

Ah, surely I jest. Right, we're all set then. Let's hope that much fun is to be had over this festive time. Good times eating, drinking and mah-jong-ing (and for some, caving)! Whatever it is, no matter how you spend these days, remember it's those whom you share it with that count most, we're amongst family and friends here :)

Remember to drive safe y'all, and keep fighting the good fight. Bright and shiny things!

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Dude and the office Stud

Dude and the office Stud.

Both of them have their own rooms in the grey matters between your ears ala Being John Malkovich.
One keeps it real and the other lined up his pens and books.
One is an overgrown teenager and the office stud with egoistic demeanour to race up the corporate steps mercilessly.
Dude will look forward to the journey as Stud is going the distance and he’s going for speed to the destination.
One yearns to travel the globe and live with the locals at exotic locations and the other looks over his shoulder for the big room with a view in his office.
One wants to get out of town on a fast car like Tracy Chapman and OS, cos who works in an office without acronym, reasons to collect cars, porcelain & cufflinks.
Dude is skilled to write for the tabloid as he can fit in a message in a 2 by 6 column and Stud will verbosely write half the broad papers to deliver the same message.
Dude by definition is carefree and peacefully embrace for whatever comes in the coming 10 years, where the other saves ahead to paying off his 3rd property and plan for his funeral if he can.
One wants to know he lived and take whatever his experiences when he is called upon, and the stud will take his Rolex to his grave. Oh yeah, Dude would like office Stud not to forget to do his will.
Time is a four-letter word and it's slipping away.

102. Choice

Anyway, I had a both wonderful and disturbing thought the other day. It was about choice, how we all have it, and how we sometimes conveniently forget that we have it to justify certain things.

If you are unhappy at your current job, and incessantly bitch and whine about it, for the love of God, do us all a favour and quit and land a gig that's right for you. There's no point you polluting our space with your shit. Get with it. You're in your current profession by choice. No one is forcing you. You think you got problems? How bout those poor women forced into prostitution? Get some fucking perspective man.

If you find yourself stuck in a rut, don't just fucking complain to anyone you meet on the street. It's just not on. I hardly know you, have some self-respect. You're not on fucking American Idol here right. You bitch about not having meaning to your life, yadda, yadda, yadda. Well fuck you man. You know why your life is meaningless? It's because you're a fucking pathetic retard who can't think or fend for yourself and rely on the sympathy and good will of others to get by. Shape up or just end it already.

If you want to lose some weight but can't because you're too lazy to get your fat ass to the gym, don't bloody complain to me how you're putting on weight every single freaking time I see you. Yeah of course you're putting on weight. Who gives a shit? You could be a hippo squeezed in a ballerina's tutu for all I care. Keep that in mind the next time you whine to me like a little girl. And when was the last time you had a neck, you douchebag?

And for crying out loud, if you're complaining about a chick who ran off with 20 grand of your hard-earned cash because you were stupid enough to loan it to her even though you've only known her for a few weeks, well what I can say? You deserve to fucking die a slow and miserable death you do. In fact, they shouldn't even let you die, but ensure you live as long as humanly possible so that they can inflict as much pain as possible to your sorry ass.

But actually, what if we really didn't have any choice? What if it were just an illusion. What that does define us, already pre-determines the choices we make. It's who we are, how we are built. People don't change, and they keep making the same choices again and again.

It's like how I knew that some friends would make the predictable choices when confronted with critical decisions. You could advise them all you want, but they've already made their choice. And perhaps it's probably the same for all of us. There are people who will always tend to choose the easier but perhaps murky path rather than the harder but lawful one. There are people who will always tend to choose to stand up and be counted rather than fade into obscurity in the background. And of course, there are people who will always tend to choose to pee without raising the bloody toilet seat up and leaving a pleasant surprise for that special someone who uses the loo next.

So, maybe we shouldn't pretend at all on how this thing is all gonna end. We can already gauge it by the predictable choices we'll make throughout this wonderful life of ours. And with that, we'll already know our destination. But I guess the most important thing is, that at the end of day, no matter how much you may moan and gripe, when the curtain falls, and our light is extinguished, we know that we can leave knowing that this is the ending that we wanted.

Our choices brought us there, and it was the choices we made that defined us. Be it if you die a pauper or a rich man, a grandfather or a lonely pervert, a monk or a pimp. Don't look back and ever think you could've been something else or something more. A poor fisherman who's wanted nothing more but to fish and mend nets will definitely be happier than a rich and successful politician who wished he made the right choices for once in his life and had a clear conscience.

So, what are you waiting for?

And a Happy Chinese New Year to all. I choose not to indulge in the festivities this year because it gets quite tiresome sometimes. But I make the choice to still accept ang pows. Don't worry, I know where to find you. And Happy Valentine's too for those who dig it.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

1st love

When you're just a young boy i bet you can't wait to meet the height requirement to get on rides at the theme park. Before long, you were charged the adult fare on public buses, with a sense of pride no less. Then you'll be moving back of the queue when lining up for classes. Most of you would be getting better at sports, hitting longer shots, taking harder hits, you'd make them pay if they cheat you on defense. Soon, you're at your peak, you'd run 10 kilometres in a game. In your mind, you can only get better, stronger & faster. You're what R.Kelly was about when he's belting 'I believe I can fly'.

Your first injury came, but you bounced back so quick that you believe you have no krytonite. Then warm ups became part of ritual. Your body you put to test, but like a rubberband it ain't elastic & tough after wear & tear. Experience gives your game smarts, deft, intimidation and fakes instead of brute physical prowess & quickness. The hours you used to put in your game are now ticking away in cubicles. Your mind tells you to get there, but your legs have other ideas. You shift from being a striker to midfield to defender to godforbid goalkeeper. Your favourite players and them players you follow started to retire one by one. You're soon wearing Cesc Farbegas jersey. You reminisce how you used to get oohs & ahhs. Your body stops reproducing 25 years after arrival. No more quick healing, ankle sprains takes weeks instead of days. When and how do you accept you're gonna have to start playing golf?

It dawned upon me that i have to give up my first love.

Monday, February 05, 2007

101. Pan and Co

Right, Pan's Labyrinth was definitely the best film of 2006. It's unfortunate that I only got to watch it this year. It's even more unfortunate that they're only releasing it over here in March, so it's a while more before we can get to watch it on the Big Screen. Just how good is it? Bloody good I tell ya, in fact, typing or gushing about it over here won't do it justice. But let's save that for a later post shall we?

Another good flick everyone should watch but probably won't is Stephen Frears' The Queen. Bloody brilliant one that. Helen Mirren was majestic in that one. Only a few actors have that presence and gravitas about them, and almost all of them are Brits. You can put her up there with the likes of Judi Dench and Ian McKellan.

Anything else worth watching? The oft-mentioned Babel is a strange beast indeed. On first viewing, it's a difficult watch, with scenes that go into very uncomfortable territory indeed. It's not a very watchable film, but it is powerful, and quite sinister in it's make. If you were to go into the cinema looking for hope, you shan't find it here. Things are utterly bleak here.

More great films coming to a cinema near you or ready for download over the net: Letters From Iwo Jima, The Last King of Scotland, Volver...

Ok, on the small screen, these are the top 5 best things out there at the moment, ranked in order:
1. Rome
2. Heroes
3. Friday Night Lights
4. Lost
5. Grey's Anatomy

I would've put House up there if only I watched more episodes. Noteworthy mentions include The Office, Entourage and Prison Break. PB has slipped a few notches in my book the more 24-like things get, meaning implausible scenarios, but too much time has been invested to bail now. Likewise for Lost, but it's still on the list cause everyone wants to know what the hell that four-toed foot statue thingy from last season is, and they bloody better have a good explanation for it. Entourage is still infinitely watchable but somehow lacks the omph of the 2nd season (which was by far the most brilliant piece of television I've seen).

On a side note, this dreaded month of February is upon. What does that mean to you and me? Shit flicks like Ghost Rider in the cinema, ladies and gents. Summer couldn't come any sooner.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

100. One Hundred

Today marks a momentous event that will go into the annals of history as a day of days, ranking right up there with the discovery of America, the invasion of Normandy, the birth of Christ, the birth of Jessica Alba, and the creation of an artificially intelligent super system that will one day rule the world and harvest the human race as batteries. And what day is that? Why, today is the day Dastardly Musings reaches 100 posts (discounting those mind-numbing postings from Drew that is).

To celebrate this truly historic event, let us share the myriad of emotions we've experienced since being involved with this blog. But before we proceed, have you noticed how we have started referring to ourselves as if we were more than one entity? Truly disturbing isn't it? Yes, even we scare ourselves sometimes.

Anyway, any blogger will tell you that maintaining a blog is a mind-destroying affair. There's just too much effort involved for too little satisfaction. It's like groping in the dark, trying to find your way, afraid and uncertain, but blindly forging ahead for fear of ridicule or humiliation if you don't complete the job. And before you know it, it's all over, much too soon, and much too disappointing. Just like sex for the first time.

Yet through the darkness, there is light yet that endures. Some of the highlights include being able to write utter crap (this post being a prime example, come to think of it, same goes with most of this blog!) and get away with it; having an outlet to be all self-righteous and proper while actually being decadent and morally bankrupt inside; and of course, being able to write the kind of self-indulgent crap this entire sentence is constructed on and still feel mighty pleased with ourselves as if we struck gold on the dance floor and scored with that hot hoochie mama that all the other guys were ogling but were too pussy to approach because we really like to write long sentences that don't mean a thing but is nonetheless pleasing and strangely comforting. Yes, as Roland of Gilead would say, we have truly forgotten the face of our father.

So although a little bit of soul has died in the course of writing this blog, we are still joyous that we've come this far. From the dark early days where we knew not what we were about, right up to the present, where we still know not of what we're about but have somehow reached self-actualisation in between to actually care anymore. What matters is, for better or worse, we're here. And we're here to stay. Some might find that extremely unsettling and retarded, but that's because you're an idiot. If you find it profound, then truly you are blessed. And in extreme to get out more often.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Michael Jackson just applied to be the new manager of Liverpool Football Club.

Why did he apply?

Cos he loves the idea of being spanked by 11 kids at home.

99. Women

Now when it comes to chicks, I'm as clueless as the other guy as to understanding what they want. I guess it's because we're so different. It's not like I believe that men are from Mars or that women come from your anus (or was that supposed to be Venus?) or anything. Nor do I believe in making sweeping statements that men are creatures of reason whilst women are creatures of emotion. That's utter bollocks, I've known a great deal of men who weep like small children and who talk without thinking and who go off on bitchy episodes for no rhyme or reason. So no, that statement doesn't apply at all. 'Cause there are plenty of men who act like women. It's just that, well, men are different from women. And it's clear that men are superior to women in many, many ways.

Not that I'm a sexist or anything. No, nothing like that at all. Heck, I'm all for women getting to vote (just as long as it's worth only 25% of a man's vote) and getting equal pay (equal to 50% of what a guy earns that is) and all that. I'm just not for them being allowed to speak unless spoken to. It's obvious that in an ideal world, a woman should be seen and not heard. One day, and what a glorious day it'd be, society will be reshaped to follow the following hierarchy: Men = The Masters, Women = Those Who Serve The Masters. Imagine such a time. That's like finding a land of milk and honey all over again or having Christmas everyday. Utopia.

Think about it, the many lives that would've been saved if only mankind (notice it's mankind and not womankind? You did, didn't ya?) were smart enough to have put women in their rightful places much sooner. History has shown us that a great many wars would've been averted if only women understood that men were smarter and hence, obeyed their every command. If Helen of Troy had half the brains of a guy, she would've known enough to obey her husband and ignore her craving to get a piece of that pretty boy Paris. And such, the deaths of heroic warrior-men like Hector and Achilles would've been avoided. Think of all the things that they would've gone on to do had they lived, real important things that only men can do.

Ok, so maybe the Trojan War is the only war I can think of that was caused by a chick. And maybe it never happened at all in the first place, but let's not let such minor details get in the way shall we? What's important is that the entire thing was written up by Homer, who was a man. Yes, a man. Who the man? He the man. If you replace man with woman in that line, it wouldn't sound so nice. Who the woman? He the woman. I mean, that's so lame right. Ah, another bit of insurmountable proof that men are superior to women.

Oh yeah, I just thought of another thing. There would've never been a Darth Vader if not for a woman. We all know that all those cool Jedis died because Anakin displayed girly-like tendencies, like love and emotion, and allowed his manliness to be diluted because of a chick. Then again, Darth Vader was the king bad-ass of the universe. Especially when he chopped those pesky Jedi kids into bits (if only he didn't stop with them but continued with that bitch Jar Jar). A woman would've never done that. No, she'd let things like compassion and her maternal instincts get in the way of light-sabering a few defenseless kids into half for fun.

Here's another bit of conclusive evidence to make my case air-tight. Chuck Norris was a man. And we all know how bad-ass Chuck Norris is. He could like, make you his bitch by just looking at you and, ummm, punch through walls and stuff and roar real loud like a lion. Lions are cool. And everyone knows that all lions are male (those other over-sized cats without a mane don't count as real lions). Roarrrrr. Imagine if Chuck Norris was a woman. That'd be too horrible to think about right? A chick with a beard and mullet. Yeech. And if Chuck Norris was a woman, her name won't be Chuck Norris anymore. It'd be like Charlene Norris or something. That'd be so lame. We all know that guys' names are cooler than girls'. If Brad Pitt had a girl's name, it won't sound as manly as Brad Pitt you know. It'd be something like Doreen Pitt. And Doreen is a horrible name for a guy. So there, I've managed to make two points for the price of one. A girl wouldn't have been able to do that.

But seriously folks (not that I wasn't serious earlier, just that I'm more serious now), if there's one thing that any guy should know about when it comes to dealing with a woman is this: he who hesitates...masturbates...

Night y'all. Boy that was fun.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

98. Blood, Guts and Glory

Today, Mr Bush declared that he would be committing 21,500 more troops to Iraq, hoping to stabilise the increasingly turbulent country.

Based on this study, there have been approximately 655,000 casualties since the Iraqi conflict began in 2003, with most of the deaths being violence-related (attributable to gunfire and bombings). However, worsening health and environmental conditions also contributed to thousands of deaths. Since March 2003, 2.5% of Iraqi's population has perished above what would have occurred without the conflict.

Comparatively, 3 million civilians died over the course of the Vietnam War.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

97. The Circle Opens

We're about a week into 2007, and I reckon that many a New Year's resolution has already been broken (it took me all of three days to succumb to that unearthly craving for a fag). So many a resolution broken and hangover sustained, we're really off and running this year.

Right, having already borne witness to a great many and dastardly thing, I've come to the overwhelming conclusion that this will be a good one indeed. Age and numbness of the mind has yet to dim my enthusiasm for life (but ask me again next week and I might answer differently).

There have parties a plenty towards the tail end of zero six, celebrating the return of old friends and to give farewell toasts to departing ones. There has been vows of matrimony exchanged for those poor deluded fools who have somehow found that it's entirely necessary to consummate their love for one another by getting hitched. Alas, those poor sods, God bless their souls the damned fools!

All that good vibes has carried on to zero seven, and fuck yeah, don't we know that it's gonna be a hell of a ride! So stick around folks, and let's partake in this adventure together, and refrain ourselves from partaking in acts of severe retardation (at least till it comes to our birthdays, and we can acted as fucktarded as we want).

It'll only be too long before that shit starts hitting the fan...till then, let's ride this wave of goodwill for a bit eh?

96. Evolve


Evolutionary theory entails that we have yet to reach an end point to what we can become. There might come a time when humanity has evolved to a higher plane of existence, where we shed our physical coil as we have no need for it, and all that is left is the mind.

If you were to strip away all our attachments to material things and our dependence on technology, all we have left is our humanity, and our inherent affinity for one another. Perhaps that this all we need. And maybe in that sense, mankind has actually regressed in the evolutionary process.

But rather than think of what we are to become thousands of years from now, let us have a think of what we could become, starting today.

How do you spend most of your days feeling? Are there feelings of bitterness and hate? Perhaps a bit of spite or jealousy? And what of arrogance and hubris? Do you really think you are better than any of your fellow man? If so, in which way? Was it because you were better educated? Smarter? Richer? Stronger? That you belong to a certain race? Your history? Your culture? Your friends and family?

We each of us have our preconceived notions of who we are and it is those same notions we us to view others. Be it with a sense of self-importance or loathing, be it unspoken or assertively demonstrated. And in it, we feel comfortable and protected. Because this is how we perceive our own sense of self-worth in the world, and how differentiate ourselves from others.

Maybe it is only when we experience great loss that we are filled with this great sense of humility that perhaps should have never left us from the day we knew how great and wide this universe was as a child. When everything has been stripped away, we become altogether human in our vulnerability. There and then, do we feel the essence of how who we are, in the face of overwhelming grief. And we are confronted with the only emotions that matter; sorrow...and compassion.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

95. Cry Havoc


“Cry 'Havoc', and let slip the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial”
- William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Maybe there will come a day when wars are fought between the men who start them and not the poor young sons of a nation. And it will come to pass that the only casualties of war are the soldiers who fight them and not the innocent. Maybe there will come a time when both victor and vanquished are equally culpable and punished for crimes committed against humanity.

But that will leave none innocent. For all war is crime.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Quotes, Part Deux

Continuing Part 1.

My hairy friend’s replies when asked the following questions.

‘Tok kok’ – my hairy friend replied about his hair growing back on his dome.
‘Tok kok’ – my hairy friend replied to him putting on weight.
‘Tok kok’ – my hairy friend replied to joining us at karaoke at 12am.
‘Tok kok’ – my hairy friend replied to his handicap of 12 had been inflated by 5.
‘Tok kok’ – my hairy friend replied when his boss was bitchslapping him while gesturing Triple-H signature move on his crotch ( just checking if you’re still paying attention).

‘Yehr right’ – my recently pregnant friend in Melbourne in answer to my suggestion of 'clean' Phuket/Thailand trips.

'It's been raining every damn day since i came home..'
'Yaa, u should go under the sun more - u looked pale & fair like a girl.' - yes mom.

Overheard and seen on the Tube

‘There is no story plot in Mamma Mia’ – err..

Bunny ears/halo hair band.

Yellow leather boots.

Piss.

Burger from last night.

Today’s dinner (purged).

‘Oo, I heard there’s a scene of Daniel Craig with his swimming trunk’ – girls just wanna have fun.

‘I wonder what Michael Jackson is up to these days’ – a beautiful ‘curious’ mind.

Men wearing silk scarf.

‘Boyzone are regrouping, when is Spice Girls coming together?’- 2007 is looking up already!

‘Everytime I see Peter Crouch, my mind tells me to hit him!’ – I’m not alone.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

94. The Long Defeat




"Please allow me to introduce myself,
I'm a man of wealth and taste,
I've been around for a long, long years,
Stole many a man's soul and faith"
- The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil






We've been fighting the long defeat for ages. Most of us anyway. It's a strange sort of war this one, in the sense that the ending is already pre-determined. There may be some sweet victories to savour in minor skirmishes and even large battles, but victory in the war will be forever unattainable. Yet we shall fight it. With tooth and nail, with every sinew and muscle. Till our hands bleed and our hearts ache, and our brains pound and our eyes tear.

Which war do I speak of? But you know the answer to that already. Our fall will be the fall of the ages.

93. Bright Shiny Things

It's official folks, 2006 has been bound, gagged and safely bundled away to be stored in the cold recesses of time in memoriam.

2007 is here. For better or worse. Let's just hope that it's for the better now. We've seen a quite tumultous end to the year, closing as how it began. Natural disasters, terrorist bombings, raging war in the Middle East, an underending cycle of violence in Africa. We've even seen the execution of a dictator.

If there's one thing that we can be sure of in 2007 is more of the same. There will never be peace in the Middle East, at least not in our lifetime. The underending devastation and starvation in Africa will never cease, unless we actually become the change we want to see. There will always be earthquakes, floods, storms. And politicians will always keep doing that thing they do, which is really nothing when you think about it.

There will be rape, murder, pillaging, profiteering, racketing, corruption. Oh, you can bet on that. There will also be more people getting oppressed and exploited, pawns in a powerplay from those who wield or seek power. The upper middle class will get richer and richer, till there is no more upper middle class as the gulf widens between the haves and the have nots. Capitalism is working just fine and perfect ladies and gentlemen.

Oil prices will continue to soar. Interest rates will continue to rise. Prices of everyday things will get inflated. Hollywood will keep churning out crummy soulless films. The fake will keep faking it. And that darn shit will still keep hitting the fan.

Yup, all that we can be sure of happening. Undoubtedly so. And you know what else? There will be a great many number of people who will fall in love, and be enraptured by the passion and fire it brings. And there'll also be many who will share those sacred vows of matrimony, with their hearts filled with love and hope for happiness everlasting. A mother will cry as she craddles her baby in her arms for the first time. Someone's life will be saved by a total stranger; a firefighter perhaps, or maybe a cop or a nurse. A starving child in Africa will be given hope through donated funds used to buy medicine and build schools. Old friends and family will be re-united, and so many laughs will be shared and many tears shall be shed. And people will find faith, in God, in their leaders, in their family, in their friends, in themselves.

That's a certainty folks. It's just so incredible to see what a predictable year 2007 will be. It truly is. But it will nonetheless amaze us, for there's just nothing as grand as experiencing those bright and shiny things for ourselves. You betcha.