Navel Gazing

Two Deaths in Silence

2009-12-26T18:02:00.002+08:00

We have a friend who is dying. It was sudden. There he was entertaining us, fake punching us, there he was passing out the cards, or ordering the eighth beer tower between the three of us while we're puking our guts out on the floor.

Now he is lying on the bed comatose. Distant, unreachable.

We are sitting on opposite sides of his death bed. Sometimes we glance at each other, hesitantly, never knowing what to expect.

I feel like telling them. The one dying. The one living.

That she has left. That my heart and soul has been ripped asunder. That there is a void in the centre of me so large, so massive, so powerful that it feels like everything might fall in.

But I cannot speak it. It would feel like a mockery.

To speak of living death before the dying.

We both of us die in the still tense silence.

New Nike Ad

2009-12-18T11:20:00.001+08:00

Manners and Murder

2009-11-03T21:52:00.005+08:00

They say manners are a good thing. Manners bring polish and politeness. These in turn bring amiability. And that is useful to lure good fortune and seal favours. People generally like those that possess if not inhabit manners.

But manners prevent me from the sayings the things I need to say. I cannot call you a fucking murderer. I cannot accuse you of being a slimy scum sucking ball licking piece of shit. No. Manners demand that we respectfully dance around the massive gargoyle in the room that whose upper body has crashed through the ceiling and the pieces are raining down on us. It demands that we presume a person so unworthy of humanity to have a good reputation. The more loathsome the person, the higher their presumed reputation. So even though everybody knows what you did, we have to smile and pretend it didn't happen. 1984 in 2009.

Manners demand I politely remark in the words utterly devoid of emotion of your impropriety. We can only accuse you of that when you have betrayed and ruined us and still hold our beating hearts in your hand. Manners demand a considered and reasoned reaction to your intended madness when I want to choke the living shit out of you with my bare hands. Manners forces my mouth when my fingers want to dig into the softness of your neck and rip out your spine by tearing off your head. Manners forces a handshake when my hands wants to murder your entire family in front of you while you lay dying as you have done to so thoughtlessly to many others. So the last thing you are able to comprehend as you fade is your complete annihilation. So that when you are faced with death, you will long for it. And when you finally beg for it, pray for it, long for it like a fresh love denied, I want to keep you alive. But only just enough for you to comprehend you are living death.

And maybe after that, perhaps we can use manners a smidgen more meaningfully.

Solitary Walk

2009-10-30T21:33:00.000+08:00

It is a pleasant thing sometimes to walk alone incognito in sprawling deteriorating and decrepit streets.

Nobody to wait for. Nobody to catch up.

To look at those dirty chipped walls sometimes stained with beautifully unappreciated art. To see the rats quickly dash by as if we couldn't notice it. It need not worry. We are mutually indifferent.

There is more life in the areas of developmental entropy. There are flies, mosquitoes, cockroaches as there are weeds, little flowers that struggle up from the cracks of broken undulating concrete.

Last night I walked past a scrawny wrinkled who looked too old with a child sleeping in her lap. His head was on where her thigh should be. His legs dangled from her other thigh. She had called out to me from the darkness. The bowl in front of her sat empty. Symbolic more than useful.

I didn't know what she said in her foreign language. But I understood. Completely.

She played on my mind even as I walked on. Even though I didn't see her clearly, she weighed so heavily on me. Eventually I returned and pressed more than I usually did into her hand. I felt the wiry thinness of her fingers clumsily grabbing the money from my fingers as if afraid I would change my mind.

At the least it should spare her a day off the streets and a decent meal.

So why did I feel worse after that act of charity?

The Morning Assembly

2009-10-29T20:44:00.004+08:00

The morning sun cast glowing yet cool shafts of light through the thick clouds, softening the edges of everything it touched. The dew still hung precariously on the edges of the flowers and leaves. The birds had not finished their song nor the butterflies their dance.

King Baloo was already standing on the pavilion with Prince Balroukh on his right perched above a massive armoured war elephant, which stood at least a head taller than the largest in the platoon. A golden aura glowed from the many fine gold threads carefully laid their breastplate and sewn into their fine splendid garments.

Before them not too far away were the prisoners they had captured after a 10 year battle with Tuk'aranth. They were hemmed into an irregular rectangular crowd that stretched into the horizon by the row of soldiers on both their sides. They were bloody, filthy, ragged and yet despite their misery there was not a sound from any of them or the soldiers. Silently the stood. All the eyes in the crowd were riveted to the two glowing figures they could barely make out, even those at the front of the crowd.

The commander after what seemed an eternity of silence turned to King Baloo and said, 'Your Magnificence, they are ready.' After King Baloo acknowledged him and the commander returned his gaze to the crowd.

King Baloo turned to the mass of bodies before him and finally turned to the Prince touching hi

m on his left shoulder.

'The time has come, my son,' he said gravely.

Prince Balroukh turned to him with a searching look. And King Baloo saw the silhouette of his head mirrored in his son's eyes.

u need MEGA panadol

2009-09-17T12:18:00.001+08:00

Before the Crash

2009-06-06T21:21:00.000+08:00

Phuket, Thailand

January 2007

Muzium Negara Bersifat Subversif!

2009-06-04T21:01:00.002+08:00

Sign to Gallery D

Muzium Negara, Kuala Lumpur

26 January 2009

Flesh and Blood

2009-05-11T21:04:00.003+08:00

Only a thin veil of flesh
divides this earth from the evil within
wrapped by a thin plastic film of rationality
and perhaps good even

But it's there

The blood coursing through these veins
animate
manifest
my murderous malignant intent
Can you feel my evil when I smile and shake your hand?

it's there
it's there
it's there

Oh porn, why doth thou beckon?

2009-04-21T00:22:00.009+08:00

An example of porn

When I think about it I just don't get porn. Perhaps porn should just be seen and heard but not thought about in much depth. After all, porn movies rarely demand much, or if any, intellectual rigour or emotional depth. The plot is usually easy to follow that even our local politicians can understand them in one sitting, or may even have acted out some of them out themselves unknowingly, of course. And like the usual Hollywood summer blockbusters, we all know who is whom, whom does what to whom and how it ends. Yes, there are some variations in terms of where the limbs are placed, or whether one is standing, kneeling, on all fours or lying down but when you come down to it, there are just two main working components with a straightforward two stroke motion. Forward. Backward. Isn't it strange the amount of complexity people go through to seek for such an embrace in such a manner as pleasurable (generally anyway, Navel Gazing recognizes that there are occasional performances so dismal in quality that it would have been better for both participants to have not engaged in the act) as it is simple?

So we can understand the act itself and the reasons for doing so. (And if you don't please stop reading the rest of this article immediately. Read only what is in within these brackets. If you stay in here, you will be safe. Now, very slowly, press the reset button. Keep your eyes on the words in these brackets. Got it? Good.) Now that we've got rid of those fellas, as I was about to pose a question rhetorically, why do we enjoy porn, or in another way, watching other people copulating?

We are not engaged in the act with them. We do not know them. And they are not performing it live in front of us, it's recorded. In an immediate sense the performers don't care what we think. In most cases we will never meet them. It's not as if we haven't done it before, or done it in that fashion, or know how it feels. What is more they could make us feel inferior with their better bodies, better looks (okay, maybe not for most of the guys), better staying power, and are skilled at their craft to do some fonky positions like the verticle 69 and helicopter (novelty factor: 10 cool factor: 0). We are also less likely to perform the act in heels, with a bowtie around our neck, or crotchless underwear in a room filled with other people. The loudness of the moans would usually be less because we are embarassed if other people hear us having sex (what's so bad about hearing other people having a good time? Enjoy it like you would good news off the radio-ish, unless of course their dirty talk sounds up like some filthy DJ banter then turn the volume down. They are, after all, not there to talk). Our facial expressions would more likelier be less intense and pained looking than those on screen because we are not performing for people we would never meet and need to impress them with the intensity of our performance.

So what is it really? Why ah?

I mean aside from the fact that it's nice to watch every now and again in reasonable doses.

Dali-nesque

2009-04-15T17:15:00.002+08:00

was walking along Lonely Lane
saw venus north of the sky
smiling and shining ever so bright
heard the owl laughing loudly

hey nightghost what’s so funny

guitarman , you are the funny one

venus ain’t smiling she’s grinning
ask the sun he’ll tell ya…

the water rippled in the River Faith
thought the sun was rising early

but it was just the water boiling hot

saw the moon she was crying

at a base of a tree a squirrel somersaulted

the owl flew above my head

seek the sun coz he knows all
he shines on both venus and the moon

as i turned to Hurtful Avenue

i saw a thousand souls

making calls on their cell phones

the joke is on you guitarman

and the sun ain’t gonna tell ya…

nothin’!

050307/10:45am

On the Outside

2009-04-07T00:03:00.001+08:00

It's cold and lonely where I am.

On the outside looking in.

In a white out blizzard.

I cannot see.

So I press my face as closely as I can to the window but taking care not to break it.

From what I can make out and guess from what is spared by the web of ice covering the glass, I can see the main door which opens into the living room. There is a warm comfortable glow about the room. Two big and deep cushioned recliner chairs glance at each other in front of what could be a lively cackling fire. A huge tan brown bear rug on the dark brown stained wooden floor lay between the recliners and the fire. Behind the recliners is an oval shaped table with a few chairs around it. On top of it is a black suitcase with what looks like silver or white gold tasteful but understated trimmings. A pair of thin round shaped spectacles rests overturned on top of the suitcase. Then I see a man and a woman walk into the room happily talking to each other as the walk towards the fireplace. After sitting on the recliners and chatting for a while they end up making love on the bear where they fell asleep in each other's arms.

It looks how it has always been. It is pleasant to remember what was.

But I no longer hunger for it now. So I turn away from the scene.

The web of ice quickly creeps over, freezing me out.

As I close my eyes in readiness to welcome and passionately embrace the piercing cold once more, a smile slowly creeps into the opposite edges of my lips.

Proton is diversifying into car accessories.

2009-03-31T11:01:00.002+08:00

Tuesday 31st March:

In an announcement made yesterday, Proton MD proudly announced that the national car manufacturer is diversifying into the huge car accessories market which is as yet untapped on a large scale by car manufacturers. The Proton MD confessed that a walk around Sunway one day had inspired him to suggest to the Proton management to take a plunge into this market.

"I was walking around Sunway one day and I was awestruck by how lively the auto aftermarket products scene is. There are tonnes of people modifying their cars with aftermarket products. The place is littered with turbos, superchargers, stickers and what have you. The people just like to personalise their cars, be it the engine, for more power or the body, for a distinctive look," enthused the Proton MD. "Of course, Proton is not going to manufacture turbo chargers, super chargers, exhaust pipes or aftermarket pistons, conrods and the likes, not as yet. We will start with body kits."

For a start, a new subsidiary company called Proton Body Kit (PRO-BOD) has been established. "We are starting with some nice body kits for upmarket cars like BMW and Mercedez. That is because the owners of these cars would have the means to purchase these nice upmarket kits."

"We believe PRO-BOD will take the aftermarket scene by storm. This will also ensure Proton's ability to ride out the current economic meltdown,", said he.

The PRO-BOD's Brabust Body Kit Series. Only for serious enthusiasts.

The Economy: A Stimulating Idiot's Guide (Reloaded)

2009-02-25T21:30:00.019+08:00

Art originally wrote this piece which is published at Articulations and Loyarburok. We thought of putting it up again here with the pictures he actually wanted to use. I volunteered to undertake this. In return he graciously permitted me to '[f]eel free to re-write whatever is deemed fit and necessary.' So with this license, I thought I'd try doing something I've been wanting to try out: an Art/Daef collab. So here is the piece, reloaded! We hopes you enjoying its.

So, we're supposed to be insulated from the global economic meltdown like a turgid penis fully sheathed in a skin tight condom with the little tip flopping about impotently at the end. Like, uh, awesome dood! When countries with bigger metaphorical penises like America, Japan and Germans suffering economic-tile dysfunction so badly they're almost diagnosed as koro, we on our mishapen penile peninsular named Malaysia smiled like a pimp after his hoes turned good tricks all night. When the biggest economies were foretelling complete and utter financial disaster, our guys are telling us that you, me, and yeah you too, that we would be insulated because of our "diversified economy and strong foundations". Not only that dood. We not just gonna maintain our hard on, but we gonna grow it even bigger and better... 4.5% of penile growth they proclaimed. Forgetting that even with the condom on, their balls are still exposed.

Despite trenchant criticism from sounder economists that our Finance Ministry is living in Najibland, we are also insulated because of the wide spread mental therapy our Home Ministry has implemented known as 'Repeat Therapy'. Unfortunately, it does not apply to sex. For the virginal, Repeat Therapy is a process where we convince ourselves of the truth of something by repeating it until we cannot think of anything else. We have one of its most profound practitioners of this mind techonology with our beloved outgoing Prime Minister, the inimitable Dato' Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi. Remember when he repeatedly said "I am in control" as he was being shoved out the party? Or when he repeatedly chanted "I will be fair" when he was at best only in skin colour? Or in those private moments when he whispers consolingly to himself repeatedly, 'I know what I'm doing.' before falling asleep soundly. Stuff like that. So let's do the Badawi and keep chanting (unless you are Muslim then you can only chant in Arabic, because then it doesn't count as chanting even though it really is) 'Malaysia's economy is insulated' as our nuts hang out for the global financial epidemic to wipe it clean off.

The truth is the world economy is bad, getting worse and going to hit us like one big bad fiery meteor from hell up the arse. Check this. The International Labour Organisation projects that 23 million people are going to lose their jobs in Asia this year! (see here) 1% of that is 230,000. Even if Malaysia "contributes" 0.5% of that, it would mean 115,000 Malaysians would lose their job! Insulated? Like a condom with the head ripped off more like. And what about the approximately 300,000 Malaysians crazy enough to work in Singapore? If even 10% of them are retrenched, that means 30,000 people without jobs.

Now factor in the reduction of working days due to production cut-off, cancellation of over-time, forced holidays, compulsory masturbation and the freeze on bonus and salary increass; has our government given any thought what the cumulative effect of all that would do to our economy?

Condom with the head ripped off? Na'ah. 4.5% GDP growth? Ha ha. More like A bulldog ran over and slashed at our nuts and ripped off our no longer turgid penises with one savage yank (no I don't mean American). Just recently, Citibank Group forecasted that our GDP will in fact shrink to -1.5% this year! Economic koro dood. The big R. The Mama Kahuna. But remember what Abdullah Ahmad Badawi and Nor Mohamad said earlier this year? No. We will not be in a recession. We will do fine. We will grow wings and halos will appear on our head as our genitals grow larger and wider. So repeat after them and it will be alright, okay?

The numbers are creeping out now. Malaysia's export has shrunk. In December 2008 alone, our export shrunk to 46 billion ringgit, which represents a 14.9% decline year on year (see here). Our biggest trading partner, America, is in a financial black hole. Japan, our traditional trading partner is seeing their consumer index dipping southward at an alarming rate. And we are insulated. Roight. The only guy who can probably pull insulated off in such an environment is David Copperfield but it's a shame he didn't do finance and economics.

So let's discuss economics in easy to understand terms. We want to use terms that can reach both the lowest and highest common denominator.

Lesson One: The Economy is Like a Set of Tits

God, aren't those awesome. Uh, where were we? Oh yeah. Tits. Big ones. We think we like 'em big. Because big means more and in this age of capitalism, bigger always means better. But the thing is, tits are generally not naturally big. Well, most of the time, that is. To make the economy big, we would have to do something to it like if we wanted to make a pair of tits firmer. We gotta stroke it, love it, want it. But they definitely ain't getting firmer or bigger just by staring hard at them. Plus, it's rude to stare you know.

No. That wouldn't do. We have to bring them to the operating table, cut them open and inject silicon to prop them up so that their nipples start pointing skyward and stitch 'em back discreet.ly Then they will be big. But no, we cannot just do that. That would be wrong.

We at Navel Gazing will always examine our subject matter thoroughly first. From this extensive examination, we can then determine what is wrong, or not quite right with them. Then after a shag or two, we go to the drawing board and plan. We would have to imagine then start sketching out modestly the kind of tits that we crave or may need. We cannot just make do with any old tits which are big. And we certainly cannot be mechanical about it by either injecting and injecting until the nipples start staring back at the owner or stimulate, stimulate and stimulate until the nipples get sore. If we did that, we'd have Frankenstein tits - monstrous, ugly and totally useless because they are so frightening!

Lesson Two: The Economy, Like Tits, Must be Proportionate

Just because big is good, don't think that the bigger they are, the better they will be. That is why China had to actually control its economics growth. They try to control growth around 8-10%. Sometimes it exceeds to 11%. But there must be control. Why? Because if we do not control the growth, the economy would grow too fast and a bubble effect would ensue. The bubble then, when it is too big, like tits, would burst! When it burst, it would ruin the hard on, dooood.

Lesson Three: Look at the Whole Body, Not Just the Tits

This is very important. Just imagine a 36FF on a 4'8" body with big hair. Whoa nelly!

So just like a woman's hawt body, the economy must be looked at as a whole. Not in selective spots here, there if not everywhere. We have micro economics and macro economics. Both must compliment each other the way our respective reproductive functions of both sexes do. Micro policies must be optimised to support the macro ones, like the various limbs and body work to support the breasts.

Which brings us to our next point. The economy does not exist in a vacuum. It is but one element in a bigger circle consisting of the society and the international community. And in that respect, politics plays an important role into the equation. Hence the economy cannot be detached from its direct impact on social and political life, or as we would happily argue sexual life! When planning the economy thoughts must be given to its societal impact.

What for instance are we going to do about the people who lose their jobs? What about retraining? What about creating small business opportunities? Or new job skills? And have we thought of the rising criminal activities which are induced by economics uncertainties or difficulties? What about health problems afflicting the people due to the economics downturn? What about health care system? Are we going to sacrifice educations in favour of a quick financial gain elsewhere? And what are we going to do when all these turmoils are over? Back to the same old game? Or new games? If it is the latter, do we need new rules and regulations? Are we going to diversify in something else? New and uncharted economics territory?

Lesson Four: Stimulations Must be Total

Don't just concentrate on the nipples! Just as a woman needs to be pleasured thoroughly and completely before she hits a multiple orgasm, those so called stimulus packages should be spread throughout the various economic sectors. They certainly should not be targetted solely at heavily politically connected industries like the construction industry. Just recently we heard that Road Builders (a subsidiary of IJM) was awarded the extensions of a road by 12 kilometers immediately after the concession of the toll road it operates expires! Hmmm... one expires and another one springs to life. Like an irrepresible hard on. Interesting.

Anyway, as we were saying, the stimulus plan must be wide ranging and holistic in nature. It mustn't be a stop gap measure. That's like being able to obtain a hard on easily but then suffering acutely from pre-mature ejaculation. Little point in it. Stimulation must have direction and work towards a goal, and must not be spaced too far apart. You just don't warm up the breasts only to go off for an hour and then come back for the main course. The economy just doesn't work like that. The fact that we have to announce a second stimulus just about 4 months after the first one shows that the first one was insufficient and not sufficiently thought out. We do not want a 3rd stimulus after this. Or a 4th one. There must be one holistic stimulus. Have we ever heard China launching a second stimulus in 4 months? Or Germany? Or wherever? Oh wait, maybe Chad... oh wait, they don't give a shit.

Our Government has a bad habit of introducing stop gap measures. While these may seem good at first, problems will continue to arise like a nasty ex-gf you just cannot get rid off. Any stimulus package must appreciate all angles. In particular, it must address all the issues raised in Lesson Three above. If not it is more useless than stimulus. And that is so not the very cool, dooood.

Thought of the Minute

2009-02-19T23:43:00.001+08:00

When faced with annihilation, relief is found in sweet, transient oblivions.

in line six...

2009-02-19T17:10:00.001+08:00

What kinda man are you?

2009-02-13T07:00:00.000+08:00

And your choices are: tits, ass or leg.

As if women could only be served up in three pre-packed choices like supermarket chicken, only without the shrinkwrap and foam bottom. But I suppose those choices tend to be the primary ones because they are the most visual ones. And the theory for the moment is that us men, on average, tend to be more visual than women in their sexuality, supposedly because we are wired different. This I think is reflected in the quality of porn men and women enjoy.

What we know as porn - everybody's shaved smooth, perfectly proportioned (all the guys are huge cocked and the women with at least Cs, a fine looking ass and shapey legs that look great in heels), minimal story line (oh no, I have no money to pay you with. Maybe ...), the focus is mostly on the woman (there she's enjoying going down on him, now she's riding him cowgirl, now reverse cowgirl, her face close up showing her what I call overmoaning) or the scene of penetration (close ups of the mechanics from the standard set of angles), alternating between the two with an occasional five to ten second shot of the guy either with his eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open or silently repeating some phrase that definitely has the word 'fuck' 'yeah' and 'baby' in it or with his aggressive look when he's going at her hard and fast asking her whether she enjoys it that way. All that. That's the kind of porn men generally enjoy.

Women, or those that I happened to know (or perhaps I don't know enough!), generally don't tend to get into that (unless of course they are extremely horny at the time, then you can put on Tom and Jerry and still get it on). For them, the problem with male porn is there is no interesting plausible well thought out story that is borne out by an excellent cast of well acted characters. There is no artworthy demand made of the actors other than to coo, scream or hurriedly demand that they be fornicated, licked, sucked or sodomized in a harder and faster fashion, and so to them, that is not acting. They think its tacky to keep heels on whilst having sex in bed. They dislike how it usually ends. And would not like it in real life either.

So sometime in the 90's a new more auteur generation of porn film makers looked towards catering to the women's market. So now women don't buy porn. They buy erotica. That's made for women porn. It's more focused on the characters as people, they have motivations, there's a story, the sex scenes are more tastefully done - they are shot softer, with decent music, more shots of the couple together, better looking guys, and with less intensity and frequency on the shots of the scene of penetration, and focus more on the, you got it, foreplay.

Or maybe it's because it keeps with our simple lifestyle we simplify our choices: T A L.

But that's the problem with simplicity sometimes, its restrictive, confining, especially where it concerns women, these mysterious exquisite creatures capable of such mesmerising beauty and charming qualities. Yes, I concede that those areas tend to be the main thoroughfare, and yes sir, I can appreciate their visually aesthetic aspect but surely, surely, a lover of woman cannot be satisfied with just that immensely satisfying though it may be. Her entire body in the right circumstance can transform into a finely tuned instrument of a sexual passion (and maybe love!). Her entire physical being is open for exploration, experimentation, stimulation, emancipation and climax.

And there are many interesting less travelled routes and visited areas that possess their own particular charms and are worth more than a quick casual glance, in terms of popular culture. At the top and just behind her earlobe, the bottom of her earobe, the front of her neck where it meets her jaw, underneath her jaw, that cleft between her chin and the bottom of her lip, or the back of her neck, my glades of tranquility. Then there is her back, like a mesmerising vista of the changing unchanging ocean winking here and glittering there in the sunlight. So much to explore, to trace, and always, always too little time: the craggy region of her shoulders; the neglected, side from her chest to her hips; the length of her spine down past the small of her back til just a spasm into the vally of her ass; and both left and right sides of her back. Then there is delicious slide from the top of her ass down to her smooth slender calves. Or lingering at the peak of her toes. Or the back of the length of her arm. Or an unbroken straightline from her chest until the tip of her chin. Or the inner of her thighs. For example.

The best part is that there are many modes of transport down these neglected thought immense charming routes. One can travel by nose, lips, tongue, a single hair, side of the face, and of course, hands. They all yield different facets of the routes fascinating both for traveller and route every time. Heh. Which is why if someone asked me that question these days, I'd tell him. 'Journey man, son. I'm travelling all the time.'

(Puts on a dark grey fedora and breaks into a folk song on a guitar)

The Journey

2009-01-29T14:11:00.001+08:00

I have journeyed much. Much to realise that my journey is not as much a movement from a place to another as it is a struggle to change from one form to another; a shift from one position to another; a climb of one step to a step higher and a constant fight between one force against another. Now in this state of non-physicality, I know that I was created from the lowest element existing under my feet; the soil, the lowest element. After I have been shaped into physicality, into me was blown the highest form in Your creation, and beyond; Your spirit. I am therefore a mixture of the lowest and the highest; darkness and light; bad and good; evil and Godliness. Although it is obvious that I start from the lowest; the darkness; the badness and the evil. The journey is therefore the struggle to shift from the lowest element; the darkness, badness and the evil to the highest element; Your spirit. And only when I reach the highest form will I unite with Your spirit, giving me a glimpse of You and Your Greatness. And that would be my victory.

a pedant's first paragraph

2009-01-22T10:12:00.004+08:00

It was a dark and stormy night. It was so dark, the darkness of which you would have never seen. But of course, come to think about it, one could never see darkness. Lest it would not be dark. Or dark enough. And the darkness of this particular night is one of those. It was a type of darkness that one could not even see one's palm even if one holds it up an inch from one's eyes. Really dark. Pitch black dark. And there was nary a ray of light. None. Absolutely none. Not a single teeny weeny bit of light anywhere. The sky was black. No star. No moon. Hence the total darkness that night. I did a test. I closed my eyes and then I opened them. It was the same. The sight was absolutely totally the same as when my eyes were closed and when they were opened. I could not see anything. It was that dark. But to say the sight was the same would imply that there was a sight or an ability to see. The truth was there was no sight at all. I could not see anything. Because the night was so dark. Pitch black dark. And it was stormy too. Well, not really a storm. No. Not really. It was raining heavily. And the wind was blowing. Not the kind of wind which would be classified as a storm. Just strong wind. The kind which would make the tree branches sway left and right, up and down. Not the kind which would cause the lamp posts to fly or the trees to be uprooted though. It was a strong wind. But not a particularly strong wind as to qualify it to be a storm. Stormy it might be. But definitely not a storm. The rain was heavy, although it was not the kind of rain which would cause a flood in a minute or two. Heavy. But not overly heavy. It wasn't really a storm then. It was just a heavy rain with a not particularly strong wind. In other word, it was a mild storm. Very mild storm. Thunders could be heard of and on from afar. And although the thunders were not particularly loud, the darkness of the night made them sound more pronounced that they actually were. In actual fact, they were not even sufficient to jolt me out of my sleep, if I were asleep. That kind of thunder. Occasionally, there would be lightning bolts. Which would light up the nights as and when it happened. Well then, it wasn't really a dark and stormy night. It was a dark night, littered with lightning bolts - which would illuminate the night with lights - and stormy, in a not very stormy way, night.

I had to leave the place fast. I walked briskly. Well, I was almost running actually. Not a sprint but.....

co da.

2009-01-15T10:56:00.004+08:00

the fat lady took a bow
amidst screams for encores
bouquets were thrown about
as some hurriedly walked out

I took a walk along the Strand
candles in cardboard boxes
empty souls in winterland
lying down waiting for god

walked my way down to Soho
watched some gals in the nude
ended up in Hyde Park
where cold wintry winds
grabbed and squeezed my soul
a thousand shadows in dancing mood
oh, where were you my lady luck?
and why must the moon grin?

I thought I saw the fat lady
waving from a black cab
yeah she's finished singing
now it's just loneliness and me
with sadness on my lap
I am the heart break king

Kung Fu Fighting (Part Fu)

2009-01-12T20:45:00.002+08:00

How to Kick Someone Properry

Before Double M had fully erected himself upon standing up, Fu Yoh had launched himself into the air with his slim though powerful legs using the legendary Elephant Flying with Fire on Ass technique and spun the staff so quickly and masterfully above his head appearing momentarily like an early prototype of a machine to be created 500 years later known as the 'helicopter'. His clothes trembled and shook as he landed not five feet from where he landed stylishly with both feet solidly on the ground.

'Ah, so you know some kung fu,' chuckled Double M casually.

'I AM Kung Fu!' declared Fu Yoh angrily as he felt his chi building up around his points of power and struck the threatening Wounded Tiger Taking A Breather Before He Rips Your Face Off pose, his magnificent wooden staff held out in front of him. He could feel energy coursing into his arms down to his hands.

Double M stood unmoved though his grin grew broader until it was a shade short of being reasonably described psychotic.

'Kung Fu indeed. When I'm through with you, you'll be Kung Fool!'

'Yaaaaahhhh,' Fu Yoh screamed as he lept (Psychadelic Toad on Coke Jump) and dashed through the air, staff pointed resolutely at Double M's head, his feet running quickly on an ascending invisible stairs. Even as Fu Yoh rushed closer towards Double M, he made no move to deflect the blow. Suddenly, Fu Yoh felt worried even as he flew through the air. He could see the end of his staff almost touching Double M's head. Why was Double M not even moving? His gaze was fixed firmly on Fu Yoh's eyes and seemed to notice nothing else.

Suddenly his flight ended. Double M had caught the pointed end of his staff with his right palm and held it in place with Fu Yoh still clinging to the staff.

'It's time for you to meet the earth, little sparrow,' said Double M. When he flung the staff, Fu Yoh somersaulted on to the ground and struck the Tequila Grasshopper stance, both fists cackling with power. He rushed towards Double M and opened his attack with a wave of quick relentless punches known as the Thousand Kisses of Your Mother in Law an alternating it with a few Father In Law Loving Embrace long pull back punches. But Double M was not fazed; he met every blow with either a block or harmlessly redirected his punch.

Few could stand up to Fu Yoh's Parents in Law techniques, which usually brought a quick end to his fights. He learned it from his former wife's parents, who though were not trained showed remarkable natural ability. It was not his force that was deadly but his quickness. He could wear most opponent's down in several breaths because after a while they would not be able anticipate him. But Double M didn't even seem to break a sweat. And all the while his eyes were fixed on Fu Yoh's.

Then it happened. When Fu Yoh lost track of Double M's eyes and caught sight of his broad grin, it happened.

It was the blurred rushed haze. It was the feeling of an immovable object flying at great speed crashing into his chest and then another immovable object crashing into his right ribs so hard he heard a crack. It was him then flying through the air again on an entirely different trajectory not of his choosing. The grass below him rushed into a smooth uniform green. It was him landing from a great height on to the ground with another crack. It was him feeling something warm and wet spill out his mouth that was faced down on the ground. It was him reluctantly embracing the darkness he tried so hard to escape. It was the broad grin that he saw even when he could not open his eyes.

It was Double M.

The last words Fu Yoh heard in the distance before the darkness claimed him was:

'Kung Fool. Who's next?'

iS tHIs sOnG lIKe hAppEnINg oR sOMeTHIN'?

2009-01-09T15:05:00.002+08:00

Hey yawl. Like wazzup dude? Like waz are yawl up to dood? I been listenin' a lot lately. Like listening to MP3 and my iPod stuffs like that. But lately it got me thinkin' you know, this chix Avril, is she happening or what?

I dunno man. But they say she's a punk rocker. Well, I like, like tawdally man, I like have a bit of problem with that. I mean, if she's a punk how could she be a rawker man. My dad told me that's not possible dood. And then like, if she's a rocker how could she be a punk ey? I mean, like punk rocker. Isn't that like so mixed up like Obama or somethin'? I dunno man. Yawl tell me. But she's one hot gal man. I must say. Like, yo man, she's hawt or what?

This song you know, I'm with you thingy. Wadayawl think about it ey? I think it's oh so crap dood. I mean, that song like make no sense man. No sense. Like toawdally dood. So not happening man.

Like first she says:

"I'm standing on a bridge,
I'm waiting in the dark,
I thought that you'd be here by now".

Fine dood. That's okay by me. I mean, she waz like, waiting on a bridge. But why on a bridge? Nemind man. She waited on a bridge. Then she says:

"There's nothing but the rain,
No footsteps on the ground,
I'm listening but there's no sound".

Is she like deaf or somethin' dood? No sound? It must have been a really small drizzle dood. Must be. Or like there would be sound otherwise, no? And then how would there be footsteps on the ground when she was waiting on the bridge dood? I have problem man. This is like so out of my area man.

"Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?"

Like why would anyone try to find her dood? I mean she's hot and all that. I know. But when she's standing on a bridge, in the rain, why would someone try to find her rite? Unless her mom or somethin' has lodged a missing person report or somethin' I would have thought. This one escape me man. Like so tawdally escape me.

"It's a damn cold night,
Tryin to figure out this life.
Won't you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new?
I don't know who you are, but I...
I'm with you.
I'm with you."

This is too deep dood. Tawdally man. This shit is so deep it makes Obama seems shallow man. Really. I mean. Like she was trying to figure out her life or somethin', on a bridge you know, and there was this rain you know. Then she figures, oh yeah, she figures why don't you take my hand man, take me somewhere new man. Coz ya know you might be the answer to all this questions she has about her life you know. And a new place might just be her life ya know. Yeah man. Dood, that shit is so deep man.

But then man, she said she doesn't know who it is man. That is so confusing dood. Coz then she said she's with him already. I mean, she was there rite. Thinking about life and all. Then she was asking someone to take her hand and all. I mean she doesn't know him or her but she is with him or her already dood.

Tell yawl what. I think she like, smoking some heavy stuffs dood. Like tawdally heavy stuffs.

Ciaoz.

Kung Fu Fighting (Part 1)

2009-01-07T21:13:00.011+08:00

A cool gentle breeze whispered through the large almost empty swaying field of long grass. A few white and light yellow petals occasionally floated by on invisible waves. Though not a cloud tarried in the deep blue sky, it was not hot as the sun was nowhere to be seen. A single large knotted trunk and densely leafed tree stood almost in the centre of the field, its twisted gnarled roots like tortured hands grasping something, anything, desperate for escape.

This is a good day to die, mumbled Double M.

He wore a simple robe that used to be light brown. It was less tattered and frayed around the edges with patched here and there. Double M sat on one of the thicker twist of root leaning against the deeply wrinkled trunk. His eyes were closed. His right hand held a tiny sharp blade which he scraped along a side of a thin though long slightly crooked branch.

He was about to break into a whistle of a distant melody when he suddenly heard three men treading very lightly at the edge of the field. They moved with purpose. They all wore cloth though one wore some metal armour. None carried swords, though another had a long wooden staff and another a short knife. From the sound they made, it was obvious that they took pains to conceal their presence. They had some skill in doing so too. Just not enough.

Though Double M heard the three men deliberately make their way to the tree, he made no effort to stir himself or open his eyes.

'Hail resting traveller!' called out the chocolate skinned man who wore singlet, dark green sarong and a light blue short sleeved shirt which lay open.

The little elusive smile that crept on to Double M's face at the greeting disappeared when he blinked his eyes open, like shadows in sunlight. He waved his right hand and returned the greeting. 'Where are you headed?' he asked.

'Over there,' he said as he pointed past the large tree into the forests in the distance.

'Ah, you still have some way to go then! Why don't you rest a bit?' said Double M breaking into a smile.

'Thank you for your kind offer traveler. I'm afraid we are on an urgent errand. Our quarry moves fast and so must we. Perhaps you could help us with our errand.'

'I'm always happy to help those in need, good sir! But in our haste, we must not forget our manners. Courtesy demands that we introduce ourselves first. I am Double M, traveller.'

A look of momentary surprise flashed on all three men's faces. To his right, the light yellow skinned man dressed in a simple deep scarlet shirt and pants slowly planted his tall wooden staff to the ground. To his left, the bald ebony skinned man swathed in white cloth to his left grew more still. The expression of the brown skinned man who stood in the middle gradually grew more blank.

'Greetings Double M. I apologise for my earlier lack of couth. I am Mat Pawer. To my right is Fu Yoh. To my left is Terror Lingam.' Both Fu Yoh and Terror Lingam bowed slightly at their introduction.

'Ah, the fearsome Technique of Three Heavens! I am honoured by your presence. Tell me, how can I help you fine gentlemen?'

'By your death, Double M,' replied Mat Pawer. 'Prepare yourself.'

At that, Double M's smile turned into a broad grin as he began to stand up.

Pontifications of the Penis

2009-01-05T21:48:00.008+08:00

A cross section of the penis as we know it

I have a penis so it goes that I'm man. That adores women. And admires men. So it means I'll get on my knees for the former. Not the latter. And for the most part, I enjoy wielding a penis. My penis. Not yours. Or yours. You sick bastard. I admit it's not the 15 incher most guys in their first flush of porn would crave for, but you can bet it's not something to pick your teeth with after you eat. More like a slow melting ice cream that doesn't melt ... kind of thing.

Actually, I don't like the word 'penis' because it sounds so clinical, so formal, so I need to wear gloves before I use it sorta thang. I like 'cock' better. It sounds dirtier. More sinister. Infinite possibilities abound. And it also rhymes with 'rock' and partially with 'fuck'. The downside is that it also rhymes with 'lock' but who cares. I'll never rhyme cock with lock because it sounds a little offensive, and I just fucking hate sounding like some offensive 15 inch cock wielder.

Which I'm not because I don't have the number. 15 to be precise. These days I've learned to be happy with what I have. Which means not having 15. That's what experience does to you. Or rather growing old. Sometimes though I can't quite tell the difference where one ends and the other begins or if it even started in the first place. And experience has taught me why I won't be content with 15.

Firstly, the surgery would hurt a lot. What's more, if I grafted a 15 incher, I might just get a massive stroke or heart attack whenever I get a boner, so that's no fun. 'Hey watch it honey, you don't want to turn me on! I might just die on you. But you can ride me after if you're into that.' What's more, if I had a 15 incher, it'll in all probability be black in colour. Like the Macbook out now. If you want a bigger hard drive, we only got them in black honeh! I may be Asian and all but big cocks are black. That's that man. I've never seen a 15 in any other colour. And, and I'd have to be all rapper like, wear big gold chains, swap my teeth for gold ones and get tattooed up. I'm just not into all that. Plus my rapping sucks and I can't play basketball or run really fast. So even if I had 15, it might be wasted on me.

And the vagina can only fit up to about 6 inches. So what's the point of having a 7 course meal when the diner only wants 3 satisfyingly full courses? Yes, a vagina can stretch much wider to accomodate a child but let's not dismiss comfort and extraordinary circumstances so readily shall we. That niner is not just excess... it's waste. And I abhor waste! Having a 15 incher swaying on a windy day will just conflict with my intense sense of moderation and reduce me to schizophrenia, if not multiple personalities for me and my cock. The latter may have psychological problems pretending to be a stout 8'er when he really is a hefty 15. There are somethings you just cannot fool yourself about.

A 15'er will never get the whole thing unless he's into horses. Even then, watch out for the kicks, cowboy! And, and, he won't be able to wear shorts in public that end at the thighs cos then the package will be showing. He would have no career in speed sports be it swimming or running because of the drag his cock caused. He cannot be terribly clever because most of the blood is usually swirling around his tower of cock. He would have to take many breaks to read, especially erotic stories. Even if 15 can be considered a super power, he can never have a cool superhero name because all of them will sound funny. Nobody will want him in their superteam and he will end up doing straight to video porno and die a lonely death naked in the tub in some cheap motel after overdosing on a potent mixture of viagra, cialis and cocaine with cheap German porn repeating silently on the television.

I guess it's hard being a 15'er too.

Poor chaps.

Spare a kind thought for the 15s yah? They're human too.

Back to Basics

2009-01-03T18:31:00.001+08:00

Ulu Yam
September 2008

New article at ARTiculations...

2008-12-31T18:43:00.004+08:00

Hi everyone, ARTiculations... is launched in order to publish articles on contemporary issues. Navel Gazing will be kept for writings on other topics, as originally intended. Both myself and Mr Daef are the contributors to ARTiculations...

The latest entry at ARTiculations... is here.

Happy new year everyone.

Death

2008-12-24T12:21:00.001+08:00

I am here. I do not know whether I am lying down, standing up or sitting down. I can just feel my existence although I cannot feel the usual rush of blood through my veins nor do I inhale and exhale. I feel like I am constantly floating, from a place to another, without boundary. I am sure I am in a room although I could not feel the constraints of 4 walls, a floor and a roof. If I look in front, I could see far and yonder although not before long I would be at the place I was looking at a moment ago. I seem to move, and move fast at that, although I feel I am stationary all the while.

If I proceed to touch the walls, I would know of their existence. But they lack stature as walls and as physical boundaries. The room is lighted. White, blue, bright and dark, shades of gray and black, dawn and twilight, constantly interchanging as my mind wanders and my emotions vary. Speaking of which, the only tangible matter being present was my mind, and probably my emotions. The others are intangibles. It is as if I had lost all physical and biological matters. It is as if I am defying all laws of physic. It is as if there is no physicality to anything anymore.

After some time, I realise that I am free. I am free from all physical constraints. I am soaring. I am wandering in this huge matter of nothingness although at the same time I am aware of its fullness. I feel I am alone although I don't feel lonely. And although it is quiet I am not moved to seeking companionship. It is like I already have whatever and everything that I need. It is as if I am deeply satisfied. All my hopes, my expectations, my aspirations, dreams and fantasies are fulfilled just as I think of them.

And just as I am aware of my existence, I could feel Your presence. But I am not moved to seek to see You. Nor do I feel the need to touch You. Nor do I speak with or to You.

I finally understand You just as much as You finally embrace me.

Something out of Nothing

2008-12-23T22:16:00.005+08:00

Expectations. They cost nothing to conjure. It can be meaningful. It's usually whimsical. and plentiful. They are more easily felt than grasped, like gravity. Though it has no corporeal form, it has a great deal of force. The amount of force or weight of an expectation depends on the quality and/or quantity of persons. The more significant a person or the greater the number of persons, the heavier the expectation. The weight of an expectation can rival the weight of Atlas. Once an expectation is brought into existence it takes a life of its own. Sometimes it merges or fuses with the expectee's personality and lifestyle to the point that when the expectation begins and his life ends cannot be detected. It is possible to live entirely in an expectation, but it is not encouraged because there is no air in an expectation. Suffocation or asphyxiation is common within the expectation atmosphere if the weight does not first grind one's knee into the ground. An expectation is often misunderstood as a right. This is incorrect. An expectation is a wrong thought right. It can be about something impossible or possibly unnecessary. It is nothing but we make it something. We are good at making something out of nothing. We are not so good at making something into nothing. There is more litter in our attempts at annihiliation than the fruits of our creation.

Temple

2008-12-22T20:59:00.004+08:00

Her body is my temple

Where I go to worship
To offer my body and soul
In return for Her sighs

The Space in Between

2008-12-01T23:59:00.000+08:00

Thank you
for being
the space in between
the relentless drive for perfection
and my not caring a damn
for being
that pause in between
the deafening din of dreariness
and the sensual allure of flattery
for being
that long deep breath
that inhales you into me
and feel you as I would my second skin
for being
that fine line between
What it means to live
and what it means to be alive
Thank you
for being

a question of approach...

2008-11-26T11:40:00.003+08:00

Just imagine, for one moment.

Press statement for immediate release by the National Fatwa Council of Malaysia.

"Fatwa 101/2009

The National Fatwa Council of Malaysia hereby announces a Fatwa passed on 25th November 2009. This Fatwa is passed unanimously by the members of the Council during its meeting on the same date. The full members of the Fatwa Council are as stated in the annexure to this announcement.

The Council is mindful of the highly stressful environment that many Malaysians, in general, and the Malaysian Muslims, in particular, are in at the present time. Work and family commitments, financial and business undertakings as well as various other factors tend to put a lot of stress on many of us, Malaysians. In the light of the economics meltdown which economists and analysts are predicting to take place in the near future, the Council expects the stress situation to get worse.

The Council acknowledges that as a result, many Malaysians are now more conscious about their health and issues relating to the same. The mushrooming of fitness centres and health spas are testimony to the growing interest among Malaysians on health issues. The Council is of the opinion that this is a healthy development.

Islam encourages the "ummah" (the society) to live a healthy life. The mandatory prayers in itself consist a set of flowing movements which have scientifically been proven to promote the well beings of its practitioners. The highly stressful environment that we live in in the present days may result in high blood pressure, cardio vascular problems, stroke and a host of other health problems which could, if untreated, be fatal.

It is therefore necessary for all of us to look after ourselves and our health. A healthy body is after all necessary for a healthy mind. A healthy mind is would be able to effectively and positively contribute to the betterment of the "ummah" .

The Council notes that one of the various forms of exercises which are preferred by Malaysians, including Malaysian Muslims, is the practice of yoga. Concerns have been raised by some members of the public, as well as the members of the Council, that yoga is a form of exercises practiced by and originate from the Hindus and that such practices may include certain religious rituals which may be repugnant against Islamic principles.

The practice of yoga, to the Council's understanding, may consist of 3 elements, namely:

a) physical movements or exercises;

b) chanting or uttering certain mantras; and,

c) meditation.

It is therefore imperative that Muslims who practice yoga do not inadvertently or unknowingly transgress Islamic principles which may cause them to commit unpardonable sin in Islam, such as the practice of idolising a god other than Allah s.w.t.

After much research and deliberation, including hearing the opinions of various yoga practitioners and experts - the references of the Council's research and the names of the various experts and yoga practitioners are annexed to this announcement - the Council would like to encourage Muslims to continue engaging in physical exercises whenever possible in order to ensure good health. The Council would like to however remind that some yoga movements are complicated and may instead be hazardous to one's well being. The Council therefore advises Muslims to engage a proper trainer in order to ensure an effective and safe physical exercises sessions.

In so far as the yoga practices consist of mantras and chanting in the form as recorded in the enclosed compact disc, it is the Council's opinion that such mantras and chanting ought not to be practiced by Muslims as the same consist of words or phrases which is praiseful of idols or gods other than Allah s.w.t. Such practice, in the Council's opinion, should be immediately stopped as it is a cardinal Islamic principle that a Muslim ought to only worship one God, Allah s.w.t.

Other mantras or chanting, which may take the form as recorded in the enclosed compact disc (disc "B"), which consist of only words, phrases or sounds which are relaxing in nature may be uttered as the Council does not see any religious significance in them.

The Council wishes to impress on all Malaysians, especially our Hindu friends, that this fatwa is not intended to decry the yoga practices among Muslims. It is just intended to be a gentle advice to Muslims on a question of Islamic faith. Muslims may call the Council or e mail the Council at the numbers or address provided on the Council's web site if the need arises.

The Council wishes all Malaysians Muslims all the best in their pursuit of physical and spiritual health.

May God bless all of us and our good deeds."

The fatwa on yoga, as announced by the National Fatwa Council, in my opinion, was a top class failure in public relation. The Council gave a short statement. That was it. Till today, I have not read the actual "fatwa" or decree, which I, as a Muslim, am supposed to adhere. All I had read was newspaper reports. Many of us, me included, do not have a clue as to who the members are and quite how these members arrived at their conclusion that yoga is unIslamic. It might as well have been a decision by the Star Chambers for all we know.

And quite why all the fatwas issued by the Council have to be in the negative form (as in, Muslim cannot do this and Muslims shall not do that) is frankly beyond me. They sound so unfriendly. And they make Muslims sound so...stupid and recalcitrant, as if we have to be told what NOT to do all the time.

I am not going into the correctness or otherwise of the fatwa. What I am saying is, why can't a fatwa be issued in a positive light, like the one I have taken the trouble to write above? For once I think, Muslims would like to be told that what they are doing is alright but in areas where they might be wrong, they would be obliged for some tender guidance and fatherly advice. Not a stern "you SHALL NOT do this and that"!

I think, had the Council issued the fatwa on yoga in a more humane and friendlier manner - like the one above - it would endear itself to Malaysians and such fatwa would not have kicked up the totally unnecessary storm as it did.

Public relation. Have you all ever heard of that?

Memali - a democracy in rubbles

2008-11-20T16:41:00.003+08:00

“In the absence of justice, what is sovereignty but organised robbery?”: Saint Agustine

Date: November 1985.

Place: Malaysia.

The Prime Minister was Mahathir Mohamad. Musa Hitam was the Deputy Prime Minister and Home Minister.

Malaysia was going through a bad recession. The price of its 2 main natural resources, tin and rubber, was at rock bottom. The Mahathir-induced “look east policy” was not working to Malaysia’s advantage. All it managed to do was to invite Japanese and South Korean contractors to undertake massive development works such as the then ground breaking Dayabumi project. Little else was being achieved from the policy apart from the mushrooming of Japanese restaurants around town. “Privatisation” and “sogo sosha” were the in-words at this time. On the other hand, the policy only managed to isolate Malaysia from its customary ally, the Great Britain and consequently, the United States.

Economically, Malaysia was struggling. Nothing was happening. Graduates, local and from abroad, were finding it hard to find jobs. In order to help the graduates, a “graduates scheme” was implemented where graduates were assigned jobs as clerks and junior executives in the civil service and government agencies circa 1986. Things were bleak.

Mahathir Mohamad had managed to consolidate his power base by winning the general election in 1982 after a “power transition” - which UMNO is so well known for – from Tun Hussein Onn. He appointed Musa Hitam as Deputy Prime Minister, a pairing that was so glorified as the “MM” leadership. Both of them were even presented with a motor bike each bearing registration number MM 1 and MM 2 respectively. It looked like a pairing made in heaven. Although history would later show that Mahathir Mohamad’s political marriages would never stand the test of time, for various reasons which could only best be described as Mahathir-esque.

Elsewhere, something earth shaking and of more sinister nature, was brewing. In 1979, the Shah of Iran left Iran under cover of darkness leaving Shapour Bakhtiar, his Prime Minister, to fend off the Islamic fundamentalist with the help of the Supreme Army Councils. The exiled Ayatollah Khomeini - whose preaching and sermons were smuggled into Iran in cassettes tapes – came back to Iran on February 1 1979. On April Fool’s day that year, after a referendum in which only one choice was offered - Islamic Republic: yes or no – saw a landslide vote for the Islamic Republic, Khomeini declared Iran as an Islamic Republic with a brand new constitution. The Iranian Revolution was thus complete.

Nobody in Malaysia - not even Mahathir Mohamad - gave 2 sens to the Iranian Revolution and the effect it would have on the world in general and on Malaysia specifically. The truth was that the Iranian Revolution would be the catalyst for Islamist revivalism all around the world. Soon, its effect swept throughout the world, the wind of Islamist revivalism sweeping east through India, Afghanistan going downwards towards Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia. To the west, it blew through Turkey, Europe and crossed the big pond to the United States of America without even being noticed nor realised.

In Malaysia, the Islamist revivalism saw the Islamist party, PAS, going on a fundamentalist rampage throughout Malaysia. This coincided with the return to Malaysia of firebrand such as Ustaz Abdul Hadi Awang, who would soon climb PAS’ power hierarchy on fundamentalist ticket. In the early 80s, PAS, taking advantage of the Islamist revivalism elsewhere throughout the world and with Iran as the central catalyst, embarked on a series of political assaults against UMNO and the Barisan government in such intensity as yet unseen.

In short, PAS’ agenda was to equate UMNO and Barisan Nasional with infidelity and a vote for UMNO or BN was a vote against Islam. Those who did that would be the enemy of Islam and would consequently go to hell. It was a simple message. It was as basic as it comes. The mass media referred to this propaganda as the “kafir-mengkafir” (branding people as infidel) issue. The infamous “Amanat Hadi Awang” ( Hadi Awang’s Decree) was laid by Hadi Awang in 1981.[i] Loosely translated, Hadi decreed:

“My brothers, believe me. We oppose UMNO not because its name is UMNO, we oppose the Barisan Nasional not because its name is Barisan Nasional. We oppose them because they continue with the Constitution of the colonial, continue with the regulations of the infidel, continue with the regulations of the ignorant. Because of that we struggle to fight them. Believe me brothers, our struggle is a divine struggle (jihad). Our speech is jihad, our donation is jihad and because we struggle against these groups, if we die in our fights, our death is martyrdom, our death is an Islamic death. We do not have to join the Jews, we do not have to profess Christianity, we do not have to profess Hinduism, we do not have to profess Buddhism, but we will be infidels if we say politic is a quarter and religion is a quarter.”

Hadi Awang was, and still is, a brilliant and fiery orator. His was a potent mixture of oratorical skills and political savvy-ness unashamedly laced with religious fervour. His audience were the farmers, the padi planters, the young Malay in the rural areas, the young impressionable university students and those who were unknowingly caught and swept away by Islamist revivalism. In other words, he appealed to the poor non-urbanites as well as the impressionable intellect who were tired of the Barisan Nasional’s policies and were looking for alternatives.

The Barisan Nasional, under Mahathir Mohamad, did not lack leadership. However, Mahathir was too much of a leader as much as he was a listener. Polemic was a dirty word. Dissent, political or otherwise, was even a dirtier word. As a result, it was a government which lacked any kind of intellectual input. It was a government which lacked any kind of opposite ideas which would provide the impetus for any counter-reactive steps when faced with political assaults based on rural popularism. Thus, the Mahathir led government was at a loss on how to counter PAS in general and Hadi Awang in particular. The effect of the Islamist revivalism caused by the Iranian revolution was slowly, but very surely, sweeping the nation under Mahathir’s nose without him even sniffing it!

The government tried to counter the sudden revival of Islam by portraying itself as an Islamist government. The Barisan Nasional’s or more specifically, UMNO’s brand of Islam saw the emergence of the various Islamic authorities, Islamic school, Islamic attire and a more Islamic oriented civil service. Thus, where there were no female students wearing a tudung in school in 1979, the tudung became almost an identifying factor in the early 80’s. Efforts were made to show that UMNO was in fact a more Islamic party than PAS. And UMNO’s Islam is a better Islam than PAS’ Islam. That was the agenda.

However, the government’s efforts to “Islamise” the country as a counter-reaction to PAS’ populist political assaults has just resulted in PAS gaining more and more momentum in their political assaults. In Kedah for example, a village would have 2 mosques, one for UMNO’s supporters and another for PAS supporters. Families broke up just because the father was a PAS supporter and the son was an UMNO supporter. Marriage could not take place because the bride to be comes from an “UMNO family” and the groom comes from a “PAS family”. PAS supporters don’t attend a khenduri by an UMNO supporter and vice versa. Even the dead would not be prayed for by PAS supporters if he or she was an UMNO supporter! These were the scenes at the height of the kafir-mengkafir controversy.

In the universities, the full force of the Islamist revivalism, which translated itself into a war of political idealism slowly seeped into student politics. As a student who was active in student politics in the University of Malaya in the early 80’s, I went through hellish moments and countless confrontations with students who leaned more towards the PAS political ideologies. (There is no doubt that the development in the student movements, both locally and abroad, in the 80’s laid the premise for the current political climate in our country. I don’t think this is realised by the powers that be).

Hadi Awang and the PAS agenda were therefore left largely unchecked. On the social front, Islamist organisations, such as Al-Arqam, were gaining momentum, recruiting not only rural Malay folks but also young Malay intellects as members. The Mahathir led government was at a loss to deal with this sudden rise of a concept which was almost alien to this country. Suddenly, wearing a skirt was deemed anti-social in Malaysia. Going to work or school without a tudung was deemed immoral in Malaysia.

Memali was a sleepy little village near Baling, Kedah. Surrounded by rubber smallholdings, the villagers were mainly rubber tappers, odd jobbers and farmers. These were among the forgotten people of Malaysia. Ensconced within an impoverish surroundings, these were people who had never seen development. The benefits, if any, of the New Economics Policy only spread within a small circle of the Malay elites and the people of Memali were too far away from even the edge of that circle. They were the modern proletarians whose only concern was to find enough to eat and to survive on day in day out.

When hope was not a part of life, what else was there to look forward to, other than to hope for the best in the after world? In death, if one could go to heaven; bath in rivers of milk and surrounded by virgin nymphs, what wouldn’t one give to ensure such heavenly achievements? Thus it came as no surprise that PAS’ ideologies, encapsulated by Hadi Awang’s decree, won the hearts of the people of Memali. UMNO after all was the antithesis of life in Memali. UMNO was rich. UMNO was in the big towns. And of course, UMNO was infidel! And we fight them, we are on a divine struggle. And if we die, we are martyrs.

Ibrahim Mahmud was a graduate of the University of Tripoli (thus was his nick name, Ibrahim Libya). He also studied in Al-Azhar. When he came back, he even made some appearances on national television. But back in Memali he was an orator in the Hadi Awang’s mould. Fiery, enthralling, charismatic and full of religious fervour. Obviously, he jumped onto Hadi Awang’s martyrdom formula to gain his political mileage. And in Memali, where life was hard and mired in hopelessness, heavenly promises would be the only hope left. The people of Memali embraced the call for jihad and Ibrahim Mahmud aka Ibrahim Libya became a religious leader for whom the Memali people were ready to die in order to protect him from the neo-colonialist-imperialist-infidel UMNO led government.

The Mahathir led government meanwhile had no clue on how to deal with the likes of Ibrahim Libya. It branded him a criminal and set out to arrest him and detain him under the ISA. Just how various attempts to arrest and detain him failed is beyond my comprehension as the government has on numerous occasions shown that when it wanted to arrest or suppress the people, it would somehow succeed. On the 19^th November 1985, after Subuh prayers (morning prayers), the police surrounded Ibrahim’s madrasah. When attempts to arrest him failed, the police fired guns and killed 14 villagers, including women and old folks. Most of them were rubber tappers, farmers and oddjobbers who were armed with parangs, spears and one or two hand guns. Four policemen also perished.

Memali is proof that the New Economic Policy doesn’t benefit the forgotten people of Malaysia. It is testimony that the politics of hatred, much more when the hatred is based on religious differences, would soon terminate in a colossal debacle. Memali is also about a government which had lost its plot, which had no idea how to deal with oppositions in a proper and democratic manner, in an area where it lacked clear ideals and plans. Never in the history of independent Malaysia has the might of physical power been so nonchalantly and casually executed on the helpless and weak. At the very least, the usage of brute power against the villagers was reckless, if not downright wrongful and illegal.

In true Mahathir fashion, Mahathir Mohamad sometimes later insinuated that he was not responsible for the Memali incident as he was abroad on 19^th November 1985, when it happened. That also insinuated that Musa Hitam was responsible as he was then the Acting Prime Minsiter and Home Minister. Whatever it was, it was during the administration of the Barisan Nasional government, of which UMNO was the leading party, that the incident happened.

What does Ketuanan Melayu mean to the people of Memali, then and even now? What does the New Economics Policy mean to the people of Memali, then and even now? If the Judges who were wrongfully sacked and suspended by the Mahathir regime in 1988 could be paid a total of 10 million ringgit, perhaps the Memali people deserve even more.

Mahathir Mohamad. Musa Hitam. And the whole cabinet in 1985. Please visit Memali and feel the pain of the forgotten people of Malaysia. And if the Memali incident does not tickle even the edge of your conscience, you are perhaps a lesser human than you think you are.

Al-Fatihah to those who died in Memali on 19^th November 1985.

[i] Saudara-saudara sekalian, Percayalah! Kita menentang UMNO bukan kerana nama dia UMNO, kita menentang Barisan Nasional, bukan kerana nama Barisan Nasional. Kita menentang dia kerana dia mengekalkan Perlembagaan penjajah, mengekalkan peraturan kafir, mengekalkan peraturan jahiliah. Oleh kerana itulah kita berjuang melawan mereka. Percayalah saudara, perjuangan kita adalah jihad, Ucapan kita adalah jihad, derma kita adalah jihad dan kerana kita berjuang dengan puak-puak ini, kalau kita mati kerana berlawan ini, mati kita adalah mati syahid, mati kita adalah mati Islam. Kita tidak payah masuk Yahudi, kita tidak payah masuk Kristian, kita tidak payah masuk Hindu, kita tidak payah masuk Buddha, tetapi kita menjadi kafir dengan mengatakan politik suku agama suku.” : Haji Hadi Awang, 1981.

Of Self Suspicions

2008-11-18T20:03:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, when I am doing something charitable for example, I wonder about my sincerity in doing so. Sincerity I feel occurs when the actual act of charity and the motivations of the donor are aligned i.e. that the former actually needs and the latter genuinely wants to do that act of charity without any underlying motive. So when earlier I said I wondered about my sincerity, to be more precise, I meant I contemplated my motivations because they seemed to me vague and obscure. Why did I feel the need to do this? I have many theories all of which at first glance applicable and at second, incomplete. So there is no point in pursuing this.

There is little point in considering a genuine charitable motivation situation because there is no mystery there. There is more interest in considering the 'false' motivation, in the sense that there are other more primary motivations involved, such as to boast about it later, to use charity as a cover for fraudulent purposes, etc. Is an act of charity stained by false motivation? Does it and should it matter to the donee? Are they really in any position to question an act of charity? Can the starving man turn away food from an asshole? And perhaps it is because I don't know I tend to theorize that since I am unsure, the answer was likelier to be found in the 'false' area instead of the 'genuine' area because I cannot say with certainty that I know what it truly means to have a genuine motivation, as I often tend to feel that genuineness means remaining unconsciouos of your motivations, and so the mere act of contemplating it, destroys that genuineness.

All that is left from this is a vague sour feeling sense of guilt but that is easily accounted for.

of permits and licenses...

2008-11-12T16:43:00.002+08:00

The fracas caused by the ever over-reacting Polis di Raja Malaysia during the candle light vigil at Amcorp Mall last weekend brings to light, not only the people's fundamental right to assemble - a right which is guaranteed by article 10 of the Federal Constitution - but also the complete misunderstanding of the purposes and functions of permits and licenses by the authorities.

I have said it before and I will say it again. And this time, let me type this real slowly, just in case the authorities could not read fast enough. The purpose of permits and licenses is not to prohibit but to regulate. Get it? Not to prohibit. But to regulate.

There are some businesses, for example, which, if left unregulated, might affect public order. Take the serving of alcohol. If not regulated, people would be serving alcohol at a stall in front of my gate. Drunk people might then make so much noises in front of my house in the wee hours of the morning. They might even puke on my car! Because of that, the authorities require licenses to be obtained by those who would like to serve alcohol as a business. Thus, the business of serving alcohol could be regulated. For example, they must be done in an enclosed shop. The shop must close at 1 am. Whatever.

In Amsterdam, marijuana or weeds - or grass as it is also well known for - is legal. But the business of selling and serving weeds in that city is regulated. They can only sell and be smoked in an enclosed shop. Only people above the age of 18 can buy, sell and smoke it. As such, you don't see peddlers at some back street in Amsterdam harassing people to buy weeds. Neither do you see stone-faced weeds-smelling larger louts puking in the drain and jumping into the river at 2am in Amsterdam.

In Singapore, prostitution is regulated. The leisure women go for regular medical check-ups and carry a yellow card (or is it green, I am not too sure). And they can only ply their trade in a certain area of Singapore. That regulates the oldest profession in Singapore.

I am not, of course, advocating the legalisation of weeds or prostitution in Malaysia. I have to say this. Because otherwise people like Zulkifli Nordin would say I am a bad Muslim. I am just pointing out the role, purpose and function of permits and/or licenses. To add to it all, the authorities could also collect fees from the issuance of the permits and licenses.

Another business which is regulated is money lending. It is a fact that people borrow money. And there are also people who lend money. On purely unjust and unfair terms, that is. You borrow money, give them your land title, and if you fart more than 3 times, they would take your land and sell it! That kind of terms. But the authorities now require money lenders to obtain license. And so the business of money lending is regulated. Interest rate is regulated. Methods of recovery is regulated.

The problem is this. In Malaysia, however, permits and licenses are not issued even if the applicants qualify for the permits or licenses. If you don't trust me, try to get a money lending license. You can't get one. Even if you satisfy all the requirements. So over here, permits and licenses are not tools of regulations but rather they are used to prohibit people from doing the business.

The result is the people who could have been lawful money-lender now become Ah Long. They would charge 50% interest. Pain your gate red if you don't pay. Spray rabbit's blood on your windscreen if you don't pay after the red pain on your gate. Then they would shyte in front of your gate before shooting the bejeezus out of your brain with a silver bullet! That's what happen when permits and licenses are used as a prohibitory tool rather than as a regulatory tool. The people who fail to get permits and licenses would go underground.

Prostitution here goes underground. It is controlled by triads and heavenly gods! The business churns millions everyday. It is wholly unregulated. I have heard reports from NGOs of 12-13 year old girls being involved in prostitution in Chow Kitt! I don't know whether the authorities know about this and if so, what they are doing about it.

Gambling is big business in Malaysia. And not only at Genting, mind you. EPL bets go to the tune of millions every weekend. They have odds published via text messages. Manchester United versus Arsenal? How about half goal to Arsenal with a draw at half time without a goal and a full time score of 2-1 to Manchester United. Rooney will score first. Three yellow cards. No red. The referee will not get a cramp. And Wenger will lose a tooth. They bet on anything. And it is all unregulated!

So. What have all these to do with the fracas last weekend? Simple. The law provides that anybody who wants to assemble a group of more than 3 people in Malaysia, must obtain a permit. Stop here. Can you imagine? Every assembly of 3 or more people in Malaysia without a permit is in law an illegal assembly? Can you all imagine that? I mean, 3 people shyting in a KLCC toilet could, on the face of it, be arrested for an illegal assembly? Amazing!

Anyway. I was saying, every assembly must have a police permit. Otherwise it is an illegal assembly. Sounds simple? Yea...rite! Try obtaining the permit. And especially when you are wearing a free RPK black t-shirt or Repeal ISA red t-shirt, you can forget about obtaining the permit. Regardless of the fact that all you want to do is to gather, sing some songs, read some poems and burn some candles. No. You just can't get a permit.

The police chief said that they have asked the organisers to obtain a permit. Since they didn't, the vigil was illegal. That was why they had to jump on them, with baton and all, arrested them and detained them till 3am.

When permits and licenses are used as a prohibitory tool, that is what's going to happen. People will assemble illegally. Take the Bersih and Hindraf rally last year. It was so simple for the police - who I am sure only has public order in their mind - to control the planned rally. Issue a permit. Impose a condition or conditions. Tell the organisers you all can only assemble at Dataran Merdeka. You can't move. You can have one big speaker. Can make noise but cannot exceed 150dB. You can bring banner but cannot be as big as the Malaysian flag on the biggest flag pole in Asia. And you all must wear an orange shirt with green pants. Women cannot wear pants. Things like that. Than the police can control the assembly.

But no. They didn't issue a permit. The people assembled anyway. And so water cannons were used. Batons were used. Malaysia became instantly famous. CNN. BBC. Al-Jazeera. What more with the Mydin guy crucifying the English language on international TV. Great!

What is so difficult about giving permits and imposing reasonable conditions to maintain public order? Why must permits and licenses be used to curtail a fundamental liberty instead of to regulate and ensure a peaceful exercise of it? I really don't know.

And the thing is, the exercise of the arresting power for the so-called illegal assemblies is not even consistent. Why, for example, the police did not jump on Zulkifli Nordin and his band of Islamist yahoos when they were kicking up quite a ruckus at the Bar Council building during the conversion forum? Why were they not baton-ed or arrested? And what about the long march to the American Embassy by Khairy Jamaluddin last year? If the peace loving Malaysians carrying candle must be so forcefully treated in order to maintain public order, why were the yahoos who were shouting, screaming and acting in a very threatening manner not so arrested?

Sorry. I am just a simple minded person. Perhaps there are some reasons for the different treatment meted out to different people at a different time. Perhaps.

Just perhaps.

RPK's Release: A Tapestry of Thoughts and Emotions

2008-11-08T20:53:00.003+08:00

After having a "super kow" Nescafe tarik at the Pelita restaurant near the Shah Alam Court, I drove back to my office in Kuala Lumpur for a lunch appointment. RPK was ordered to be released about an hour before. I was elated. I was emotionally drained. I was satisfied.

The scale of what Imtiaz, myself and the battery of lawyers involved in the RPK's habeas corpus application had managed to achieve had however yet to fully sink in. On the Federal Highway, I received calls after calls and text message after text message. News traveled fast in these days and age. Barely 45 minutes after the order was made, for example, an old schoolmate of mine called from Kedah to congratulate me. He said he saw the news on TV.

I was pumped up with adrenalin. I was oblivious to whatever things which were happening around me. The slow Friday crawl on the Federal Highway gave me time to really ponder and reflect at what had just happened in Court that morning. But the main feeling was one of disbelief.

It was when the coffee lady was serving me coffee in my office that the full magnitude of it all began to sink in. The whole office had known of the RPK case was won earlier. In-house e-mails were sent to everyone in the firm as soon as my secretary received the news from me. I took a sip of the hot coffee. The coffee lady stood there, not leaving my office as she would usually do after putting my obligatory mug of coffee on my desk. I looked at her. She smiled.

"Boss, you menang itu Botak punya kes ah?", she asked.

Before I could answer, she followed up, "saya tadak tau Boss buat itu kes. Itu Botak sekarang sudah keluar ah? Itu macam bagus ah..."

The "Botak" was of course RPK. There she was, a coffee lady, who could barely speak Malay or English, whose function in my office was to serve all of us coffee, twice a day, expressing her happiness that the "Botak's" case had been won!

I said, "ya, itu Botak nanti petang mau keluar".

She smiled and walked towards the door. Almost thankful to me. Almost grateful to me for making her day.

At that moment, it all sank in.

***************************************************

Raja Petra Kamaruddin aka RPK.

I did not know him. Although I knew of him, by virtue of the fact that his web site, MalaysiaToday, is a site I visit everyday. Neither have I ever met him. Before yesterday (7th November 2008), that is.

I received news about the policemen visiting him at his house to pick him up under the ISA rather early. It was around 12.30pm. I called up Harris but his mobile was not turned on. So, I called up Imtiaz.

Imtiaz confirmed the news and told me that Harris was either on his way to RPK's house or already there. The feeling that I had then was one of disbelief. And that feeling quickly transformed into one of anger. If a government had to resort to a detention without trial in order to "protect the country from a security threat" caused by all but ONE person, than that government does not deserve to govern. It was a blatant abuse and misuse of power. An abuse which was reflective of the government's inability - or unwillingness? - to engage the people in connection with every grievance which the people had. An abuse which was reflective of a governmental mindset that did not respect criticisms; did not listen to the voice of its own soul, ie, the people which it sets out to govern; did not give 2 sen to the people's rights and freedom. An abuse which was vile. And depraved.

I quickly told Imtiaz that he could consider me to be on board with whatever legal maneuvers which were deemed necessary to procure a quick release of RPK.

***************************************************

Marina Lee was like a Goddess. She would stand outside the Court, holding the hand of her two daughters; hugging and shaking the hands of RPK's supporters and well wishers; smiling to the crowd and answering questions from the reporters with a degree of calmness that belied the enormity of the situation.

After the hearing in the morning of 22.10.2008, she was waiting for me at the lobby of the Court. I have been introduced to her at Imtiaz's office the week before. And I had, by then, grown to be accustomed with her poise, her calmness and her patience. She was a towering lady of steely nerve. As I came down the stairs of the Court lobby, she came to me. She held my hand and looked me into the eyes and said, "can I give you a hug?" I said "of course".

She stepped forward and gave me one of the most memorable hugs I would ever have. She held me for some time and said, "thank you". At that moment I suddenly felt the pressure and the weight of the task that has been thrust on me, Imtiaz and the whole team. I felt proud. I felt sad. All at the same time. And deep down in me I was asking myself, "what would I do if we lose the case?"

I did not think I would have the heart to face Marina in that situation.

Yesterday, (7.11.208), I had a drink with RPK and Marina's daughters at the Court canteen while waiting for RPK to be produced in Court. Two lovely daughters he has. Intelligent, smart, fully aware of the situation concerning their father and Malaysia as a country. They were calm. Although beneath their eyes, I could detect the waves of emotions running through their veins while waiting for RPK to appear. "Is he going to be re-arrested?", they asked.

I looked at them and almost in an indiscernible voice, I said, "I don't think so."

The truth was that I didn't think I would be able to stay sane had that happened.

***************************************************

He was produced in Court at about 3.25pm. He looked haggard. And tired. I stole a moment to take a picture of him sitting on the Court bench waiting for his freedom to be officialised.

He was soft spoken. And the look of his face said it all. I approached him. Imtiaz was talking to him and I was later introduced to him. Finally, I was meeting my client. He looked at me, took my hand and I said, "Ungku, I am Azhar".

He smiled and he hugged me. A hug which I would not forget. A hug of a free man. His tears were streaming down his cheek. He looked around, as if he was measuring freedom. "How are you, Ungku?", I asked.

"I am just relieved. Thanks to you. I don't think I would be able to last another day there", he said.

"You know, last Saturday, Marina came to see me at the camp. I told her next Saturday I don't want her to come to the camp anymore. I want to be home with her by then. And you know, yesterday I was allowed to wander around the solitary confinement block. I was looking at Bukit Larut from inside the camp. I was telling myself, tomorrow I want to look at Bukit Larut from outside of the camp", he said with a smile.

"Well Ungku, your prayer and wish have been granted", I replied.

With that I moved to the Bar table. The Judge came in and His Lordship officially noted RPK's presence in Court. His Lordship then set him free. The crowd in the public gallery gasped in disbelief. Somebody was about to break into an applause but remembering what the learned Judge had said in the morning, the applause was halted.

Just as the learned Judge retired into his chambers, Marina and her two daughters stood up and grabbed hold of RPK. There they were. Four of them, lost in their own little world, hugging each other while tears flowed freely even among those in the public gallery.

Freedom. Free from a purely abusive and tyrannical act of a government which feared it's own shadow. Free from the clutches of an impotent executive, whose bravery was only limited to executing acts of blatant cowardice against its own people.

Freedom.

***************************************************

I arrived at La Bodega at around 5pm. It was supposed to be a celebration of sorts. But when I walked into the Lounge upstairs, the air was subdued. Imtiaz was sitting in front of me. Reflective. Brooding even.

RPK made an appearance later in the evening. Again he thanked me. I had to tell him that I think it was the learned Judge and the Court which were the real heroes of the day. It was the learned Judge's courage that had won RPK's freedom. He was courageous.

I took a picture of him again. Just look at him and compare to the picture of himself in the Court a couple of hours earlier. Look at how fresh he appeared to be in the red t-shirt. And look at the smile. And that focus in his eyes.

That's what freedom could render to a human being.

***************************************************

RPK's release meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people.

To RPK and family, it would be the joy of regaining freedom and liberty. Of being with each other once again. Of enjoying togetherness, which was so abruptly and wrongly taken away from them, once again.

To the lawyers - me included - it was about the satisfaction of being able to contribute to the attainment of freedom and liberty of a person. It was also about a fight against repression. I was glad to be a part of it all. And to leave a small mark in Malaysia's pursuit of a just and fair society, a society which is able to live freely and without fear of oppression.

But the real hero, as I had said earlier was the Court and the learned Judge, His Lordship Dato' Syed Ahmad Helmy bin Syed Ahmad. While we travel in this dark age of uncertainty, he shines like a beacon.

The tyrannical regime of Dr Mahathir Mohammad had taken away judicial power from the Court by amending the Federal Constitution. They had tried to usurp the power of the Court by ousting its power of review over ISA detentions.

But yesterday, the Court, through Justice Dato' Syed Ahmad Helmy bin Syed Ahmad, rose to reclaim it's position as the ultimate balancer; the ultimate dispenser of justice and the ultimate institution which would check and balance out the abuses and excesses of the executives.

Yesterday was a day the Court, the peace loving people of Malaysia and justice embrace each other and walk alongside each other on the same road.

The road to liberty.

Ketuanan Melayu

2008-11-04T15:09:00.003+08:00

I have refrained myself from writing about politics for the whole of October. I was so muak of Malaysian politics that I felt I had to get away from it all. It is now November. And here I think I should say something about this subject.

I am normally very good at grasping a concept, understanding it, differentiating it from other not dissimilar concept, identifying it's positive and negative points and using it. However, try as I might, I just could not understand the concept of Ketuanan Melayu aka Malay Supremacy aka Malay Dominance. Let alone identify it. Now I wonder whether I have lost it. I have lost my intelligence. That could be it. Or perhaps, just perhaps, there is no such concept to begin with. And that is why I can't identify it.

Throughout my years in government schools and later in government university, as well as my one year in a Mat Salleh university, I have not come across the concept of Ketuanan Melayu. And that despite the fact that history was my favourite subject. That also despite the fact that I took not only the Malaysian Federal Constitution as a subject, but also the Malaysian Administrative Law as well as Comparative Constitutional Laws as optional subjects. Not to mention the Study of Politics paper which I also took in the Economics faculty for fun.

No. I did not come across that concept in all my school years. Nada. Zilch! I must have missed the lectures or tutorials when the subject of Ketuanan Melayu was being taught or discussed (which is likely) or I was then asleep (which is likely too!). Or, it could be that that subject was never ever taught or discussed. And if it wasn't so taught or discussed, the most likely explanation to that omission would be that there is no such thing as Ketuanan Melayu. That is my logical mind at work. I can't put illogical reasoning to this conundrum because I am a logical person. Perhaps YB Zulkifli Nordin has a different view. I don't know. He probably has one. And then some. Because he is a clever fellow. Sorry, I digress.

So, if Ketuanan Melayu was never ever taught or discussed in my 18 years of studies, when it was a fact that I took subjects in which the matter would have ordinarily been discussed, I can make a reasonable conclusion that the concept never existed. If it did, it was insignificant or irrelevant to our history or laws so much so that it was not worth a mention.

How then this so called concept manage to infiltrate our socio-politico scenes lately? Dr Mahathir talked about it. Zaid Ibrahim said the concept was a failure. Shahidan Kassim said Zaid should repent for saying what he said. Syed Hamid Albar asked Zaid to apologise and branded Zaid a traitor! Shahidan went even further to say that Zaid should cease from being a Malay and that he should repent!

The question is, if Zaid was or is a Malay ,(is he? Am I? Are you?) how could Zaid cease from being one? How does one un-Malay oneself? Or was Shahidan talking about the legal concept of being a Malay? Under our Federal Constitution, a Malay is defined as being a person who:

i) practices the Malay adat and ways of living;

ii) professes the religion of Islam; and,

iii) speak Bahasa Malaysia (aka Bahasa Kebangsaan aka Bahasa Melayu which later became Bahasa Malaysia and then turned into Bahasa Melayu yet again and now is known as Bahasa....well...I don't know).

Following such definition, I suppose Zaid can un-Malay himself by not doing either or all of those things. We should pause here for a while. Note the first criteria above. One is a Malay if one practices the Malay adat and way of life. That's like saying one is an English if one is an English. Like how are we going to know what Malay adat is and Malay ways of life is when the word "Malay" is not yet defined? Jeez... The Malays used to carry the keris all over town. Nowadays no Malay in his/her correct mind would do so. Does that mean there are no more Malays around? The Malays used to be able to visit their neighbours without an appointment or pre-set date. Now most Malay urbanite don't even dream of doing that. Even the hari raya "open house" is only "opened" to invitees only. Does that mean most Malay urbanites are not Malays anymore? I don't know. I am just asking.

Back to Zaid and Shahidan Kassim. I was saying, rather, asking, how does Zaid un-Malay himself?

Then, apparently Zaid should "repent". Repentance connotes an act which is religious in nature. One repents if one has committed a sinful act. If so, since when, may I ask, has disputing or "challenging" the efficiency of Ketuanan Melayu become a sin?

Shahidan was also quoted as saying Zaid should leave the "rumpun Melayu". Yea...rite. Typical. Remember the MP's remark in the parliament not so long ago? "If the "pendatangs" don't like it here, then "they" should leave the country!". Very intellectual. Very stimulating engagement. What a polemic! Shahidan, ur da man.

Lets just for one moment accept that Ketuanan Melayu exists factually and conceptually. And let us all hypothesise that the Federal Constitution was premised upon such concept.

Question: what is the use of the Malays being a Tuan all the way if the Malays are still lagging behind in all aspects of achievements in their "own" country?

Question 2: how does one reconcile the "dominance" or "supremacy" of the Malays with the fact that the Malays, according to UMNO and our leaders, still need subsidies and preferential treatments - in Dr Mahathir's words or terminology, this is called "affirmative actions" - in order to make them successful?

Question 3: when we speak of the Malay Dominance or Malay Supremacy, what is the subject over which the Malays are supposed to be dominant or supreme?

In the phaleo-worlds, the concept of "dominance" connotes the physical power to assert control over a subject matter. "Supremacy" on the other hand is a state of being supreme. In terms of socio-politico outlook, the Malay Supremacy would mean the installation and maintenance of the Malays as the supreme authority of the society or the land. Historically, we would probably have to go back to the 1400s, during the era of the Melaka Sultanates, to find, if at all, such a level of dominance by or supremacy of the Malays.

The arrival of the Portuguese, Dutch and later the English as well as the Japanese had completely destroyed such socio-politico status of the Malays and their rulers. History would show that the English made our Rulers agree to the appointment of various advisors, the advice of whom must be accepted and implemented by the Rulers. That completely banished any iota of dominance or supremacy of the Malays over the society and the land. If the effect was immediately felt in the socio-politico arena, soon it would also have an economical consequences as well.

The Japanese were however more accommodating to the status of the Malay rulers and the Malays in general. However that was borne out of the necessity to win the support (or at least the acceptance) of the Malays as the Chinese was far more physical in their opposition of the Japanese. That was due to the historical animosity between Japan and China. And so preferential treatments were accorded to the Malays and even their rulers by the Japanese.

That was however to change when the British came back. The proposed Malayan Union would render the Malay rulers, and the Malays, as normal and equal citizens as the British were more interested in establishing a Westminster based democracy. The British ideals were however not well met by the Malays, who claimed historical dominance and "supremacy" in the phaleo-world.

Here lies the claim for the "social contract". This hyphotesises an agreement between the Malays and the British - some sort of a modern aged Magna Carta - whereby the Malays would agree to the Chinese and Indians being granted citizenship to the fledgling Malaysia as long as certain Malay rights and the position of the Malay rulers are preserved. Hence the provisions of Articles 152 and 153 in the Federal Constitution.

If we accept therefore the existence of the "social contract" - and I have no doubt that it existed - surely the concept of Malay Dominance or Supremacy could not have existed anymore. That is because such concept would have been superseded by the "social contract" which our politicians so readily embrace and protect as a sacrosanct deed as well as the provisions in the Federal Constitution. Surely the establishment of a Westminster styled Federation and democracy would run repugnant to the concept of Malay Dominance or Supremacy as the two could not walk with each other on the same road.

A lot has been said about the social contract. But what is being focused at is the citizenship rights which have been so graciously granted by the Malays to the non-Malays (some called the non-Malays "pendatangs" or "immigrants"). However, no effort is being done to look at the social contract from the viewpoint of the non-Malays. Surely the non-Malays, in accepting the social contract, also had their own expectations. Surely the social contract is a contract which impose obligations and rights to both the Malays, on one side, and also the non-Malays, on the other side.

Consequently, would it not be unreasonable to argue that in entering into the social contract with the Malays, the non-Malays would have expected that they are not going to be dominated by the Malays and that all citizens are to be equal before the law and that no particular citizen shall be regarded as supreme?

I would have thought not.

my first kiss....

2008-10-31T09:46:00.003+08:00

And so we spoke again. After all these years.

That soft easy voice. Those little infectious giggles precipitating a wholehearted laughter. God. You are still the 17 year old I had known all these while. Easy. Fun to be with and to talk to. Soft. And loving.

Probably you grew up too early. Or it was just me who refused to grow up. Perhaps I was scared shitless to be away from you. May be deep down inside you saw what I might become. Or perhaps we were just too young and things were just not to be. If you had asked me, well, I don't have the answer. Frankly, I think I suddenly had the urge to be free as a bird. I don't know really.

Whatever it was, one day, I took your hands, looked into your eyes and said, "this is goodbye"! It must have hurt, I know. You were grasping my hands and squeezing them strongly. And I could see the tears welling up. Suddenly you released the grasp and let go of my hands. It was as if you had no energy left. It was as if you had no will left. I still remember those hurts in your eyes. Those little sobs in between whatever words you were trying to utter. It hurts, I know. And I wouldn't even dare to think how long you carried it with you.

It might sound plain apologetic for me to say this. But I must say it. You are gracious to even speak with me. For that I am grateful. I just want to say I am sorry. And I am glad you are living well. It would be a cliche for me to say that I wish I could erase that moment from your life. But I do.

Because I can't bear the pain of hurting you, my first kiss.

Dara #7

2008-10-23T16:56:00.003+08:00

dalam sepi begini perlukah kau bersuara
biar saja mata dan senyum melukis rasa
aku hanya mahu duduk kaku merenungmu
membelai helaihelai rambut lembut dibahumu

dalam dingin begini perlukah kau berselimut
biar saja nafas kita panaskan suasana
aku hanya mahu duduk rapat memeluk
mengintai rahasia mahu mengerti semua

dalam gelap begini perlukah kau terangi
biar saja kuraba dan kurisik segala rahasia
aku hanya mahu genggam jari jemari
mendakap erat mimpi mimpi lama berusia

dalam sunyi ini perlukah kau bernyanyi
biar saja aku duduk bersamamu di sisi
aku hanya mahu merenung bulat mata
menyentuh seluruh gemuruh di dada

dara,
sepi pun tidak aku kesunyian
dingin pun tidak aku kesejukan
malah,
gelap pun kadangnya tidak aku kekelaman
dan sunyi pun aku masih tidak kebuntuan
kerana sebenarnya
kau selalu saja
ada...

In Silence

2008-10-19T22:42:00.006+08:00

I feel like a dam full of emotions which you ignited, pregnant until bursting. I want to explode into you. Passionately, violently as you ripped me from the fabric of life's drudgery, its weariness, its cynicism. It was complete acceptance or eternal banishment. There was no compromise. Compromising meant being untruthful. Everything that came before was forgiven and everything thereafter accounted for. That you filled me. Reshaped me. Breathed me life anew. You make me invincible.

Sometimes I wish I could say these things to you.

But I'm just not good with words. Just not good at them.

They just don't come out right.

without and with...

2008-10-10T09:04:00.000+08:00

Without flash...

And with...flash.

The face a woman looks best in

2008-10-08T22:58:00.006+08:00

The face a woman looks best in is when she is in the throes of pleasure. That look of vulnerability and sensuality on her face, of a willing and utter surrender to the pleasures assailing her every pore. Those closed eyes spoke of wanting to achieve a depth of feeling, of being able to trace the faint outline of the contours of her pleasure. That frown of indescribable pleasure. Sighs that slowly emerged and rose into a crescendo before gently fading away, washed over like a fresh wave on the beach by her full throated mouth wide open moans that tittered at the knife edge of pleasure and pain, betrayed by a body that could not contain the pleasures coursing through her, demanding that she vocalize her enjoyment. Occasionally, she manages to restrain herself by biting her lower lip only to surrender to her soulful cries again. Each one a lick more sweeter than the last. And there is a radiance to her then, as if pleasure itself glowed in her and overflowed out of her every pore. As if she were made for just that one moment of inconsolable pleasure.

She is never more beautiful than she is then.

(The real wan ah! Not the fake wan!)

Tarts in Bondage

2008-10-07T16:20:00.002+08:00

Home
October 2008

Bonzo and the Raging Moon (Part 1)

2008-10-06T09:22:00.005+08:00

The date was September 24th, 1980. The place was The Old Hyde. He was picked up by the band's assistant, Rex King, that morning and was to be brought to the band's rehearsal at Bay Studios. It was a part of the band's preparation for an upcoming tour of the United States, the first US tour since 1977.

At that time, he had just overcome a heroin problem. He was taking a drug to treat his anxiety and depression. While on the way to the studios, he asked King to stop for breakfast. Legend has it that he downed 4 quadruple vodkas (which is of course equivalent to 16 vodkas!) and ate a ham roll. Taking a bite at the roll, he said to King, "Breakfast!"

When he arrived at the studios, he was obviously drunk. The band's singer remembered that he was "tired and disconsolate". He continued drinking throughout the rehearsal and the band later called off the rehearsal. He would tell the singer, "I don't want to do this. You play the drums and I'll sing."

After calling off the rehearsal, the band convened at the lead guitarist's house in Windsor. He drank some more double vodkas before he finally passed out at around midnight. The band members moved him to a spare room. The next day, in the afternoon, the bassist together with the band's tour manager, Benji LeFevre, went to wake him up. He never did. They found him dead. Apparently he had rolled over in his sleep, vomited into his lungs and choked to his death.

John Henry "Bonzo" Bonham. The drummer of Led Zeppelin. He was born on May 31st 1948. Found dead on September 25th 1980. He was 32.

*** *** ***

Apparently, when Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck, who were then in the Yardbirds, flirted with the idea of forming a group with John Entwistle and himself as the drummer, he jokingly remarked, "it will probably go over like a lead zeppelin!" He was non other than Keith Moon, the drummer for the Who, a group consisting of Entwistle, Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey.

Keith John Moon was born on August 23rd, 1946. As a teenager, Moon was into surfing music, such as those which were popularised by the Beach Boys. He joined a surfing music band called the Beachcombers and became part of a club circuit to which, coincidentally, the Who also belonged. Moon's drumming style was unorthodox, to put it mildly. He was loud! He later realised that he was kind of out of sync in a band which emphasised tight-knit harmony. The fact that he could not sing well served only to exacerbate the situation. The band would ban him from singing although sometime, in the heat of the moment, he would instinctively joined the chorus to disastrous result. While performing "Behind Blue Eyes", which requires precise harmony, Moon would be sent offstage just in case he forget that he wasn't supposed to sing!

At the time he joined, the Who was known as the Detours. The band consisted of Townshend, Entwistle, Daltrey and Dougie Sandom as the drummer. The Detours later became the Who, the High Numbers and later, the Who again. Upon hearing that the Detours was having problems with Sandom and had later sacked him, Moon "laid plans to insinuate myself (himself) into the band", to borrow his own words. He went to the Oldfield, a pub where the Detours was playing, had several drinks and summoned up enough courage to go on the stage to tell Daltrey and gang that he could do better than the sessions drummer who was standing in for the night. The band told him to go ahead and play and he then played drums in one song, "The Road Runner".

In an interview with the Rolling Stones in 1972, Moon vividly recalled what happened. "I'd had several drinks to get me courage up, and when I got onstage I went arrrrrggGHHHHHHH on the drums, broke the base drum pedal and two skins and got off. I figured that was it, I was scared to death." While sitting at the bar later, Townshend came to ask him whether he was free the next Monday as there was to be a gig. He said he was and the rest, as they say, would be carved in stone and hung in Rock 'n' roll's historical archives. "And that was it. Nobody ever said, "You're in." They just said, "What're you doing Monday?", said Moon.

*** *** ***

Suddenly, there was no Zeppelin. Robert Plant said later, "the band didn't exist, the minute Bonzo died." The band was in a stupor. No statement. No news. No plan. The music and history were left unfinished. "It was so . . . final," Plant said. "I never even thought about the future of the band or music."

Finally on December the 4th, Atlantic Records issued a one-sentence press release: "we wish it to be known that the loss of our dear friend and the deep respect we have for his family, together with the sense of undivided harmony felt by ourselves and our manager, have led us to decide that we could not continue as we were." It was simply signed, "Led Zeppelin." The world lost a truly great band that day. A band which had managed to infuse super stardom with real talents and British white rock and the North American deep blues culture and music. A band which had managed to marry Plant's rasping voice with Page's emotive riffs backed by the towering musicianship of John Paul Jones and of course, the power, energy and anger of John Bonham on the drums.

Twelve years earlier, in 1968, Jimmy Page was in the Yardbirds with Jeff Beck on guitars. Beck's temper tantrums caused all the band members to leave the group in the middle of that year. Page assumed the band's name and he set out to find new members. His search for a singer brought him to Terry Reid, a former singer of the group Jaywalkers, which had then disbanded. Reid declined Page's invitation and suggested that Page check out Robert Plant instead.

Plant was from the English Midlands and was a singer who dabbled in American country-blues. While Keith Moon had a deep interest in surfing, Plant had a thing for Lord of the Rings, which explained his band's name, Hobbstweedle. Listening to Plant's rendition of Jefferson's Airplane's "Somebody To Love", Page immediately knew that his search had come to an end.

Meanwhile, John Paul Jones, a well known arranger for the likes of Donovan and the Rolling Stones, to name but a few, called up Page and asked to join even though that would mean he had to leave his lucrative cheques as an established and accomplished sessionist.

Bonham was then already known as the loudest drummer in Great Britain with a propensity to break drum heads. He was so loud so much so that he was often asked to leave studios and clubs. He was once asked to leave a studio in Birmingham for being too loud for the owner's liking and 10 years later, he sent a card to the owner which said "thanks for the career advice" accompanied by a Led Zep gold record! Throughout his early career, he once joined a band called Crawling King Snakes whose singer was non other than Robert Plant. The band broke up without an album. Later Plant formed Band of Joy and Bonham joined in as the drummer.

It was Plant who told Page to try out Bonham for the new Yardbirds. History was in the making. Page; Plant; Jones and Bonham came together for the first time in a room below a record store in London. They played "Train Kept-a Rollin", a song popularised by Johnny Burnette and given a new lease of life by the Yardbirds. "As soon as I heard John Bonham play," Jones told the drummer's biographer, Chris Welch, "I knew this was going to be great—somebody who knows what he's doing and swings like a bastard. We locked together as a team immediately." Plant has said that was the moment that he found the potential of what he could do with his voice, and also that it was the moment that defined the band: "Even though we were all steeped in blues and R&B, we found in that first hour and a half that we had our own identity."

With that the New Yardbirds was formed. Legend has it that Page later changed the name to Led Zeppelin in reference to the remark made by Moon earlier. Peter Grant, the band's manager, apparently took out the letter "a" from the word "lead" because he was worried that the Americans might pronounce it as "leed". And Led Zeppelin was born.

Rock 'n' roll was never going to be the same again. Ever!

*** *** ***

The Detours was changing its name to the Who at that time. The eighteen year old Moon brought a whole new dimension to the Who with a completely different drive from the rhythm section. Moon complimented Entwistle's bass drives and that gave a new sense of musicality to the Who's music. Pete Townshend later said, "From the time we found Keith it was a complete turning point. He was so assertive and confident. Before then we had just been foolin' about."

That was the start to a roller coaster world they called rock 'n' roll. Moon bashed up the skins so hard that the whole rock experience was going to take a rolling like never before. Initially, the Who was playing a lot of rock and blues, drawing inspiration from the likes of BB King, Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry. Moon said they would take up songs cover and they would "Who'd" them. "Summertime Blues" was one of the song which was being "Who'd".

He has an interesting story about Daltrey's stuttering "effect" in "My Generation" though. According to him, Townshend - he was the primary composer for the band - came to the studio with the song and gave it to Daltrey one day. Daltrey, who was not familiar with the lyrics stuttered and Kit Lambert, who was producing for them then, decided to leave the stuttering to see what happen. "When we realised what'd happened, it knocked us all sideways. And it happened simply because Roger couldn't read the words," said Moon.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Moon actually revolutionised the drums. He was the first to treat the drums as an equal to the guitars in a rock band. In fact, during the early days in the Who, Daltrey recalled that Moon had wanted to be placed in front during shows. Before Moon, drums were just a part of the rhythm section of any rock band but Moon changed that image and brought the drums to the front of the rock culture. In doing so, he inspired other drummers, among whom, was Bonham.

Daltrey says the energy in "I Can See For Miles" - in which Moon's accelerating drum rolls and cymbal smashes seemed to compete with, but perfectly complemented, guitarist Pete Townshend's power chords - " is just unbelievable... He sounds like a steam locomotive at full pelt. His speed is incredible." Moon combined a variety of styles and made very much his own thing out of the drums."

"Keith was the first to treat the drums as though they were a lead instrument..." Tony Fletcher, author of Moon: The Life and Death of a Rock Legend, says. "He really made the drums an instrument that spoke very much in the same way that a lead guitar does."

Off stage though, Moon was just as explosive.

*** *** ***

After a brief visit to Copenhagen and Stockholm, the band was ensconced in the Olympics Studio for their first album. In November 1968, Grant visited New York and procured a contract with Atlantic Record. Atlantic made a modest announcement about the company having signed "the hot, new English group Led Zeppelin" and that it was "one of the most substantial deals Atlantic had ever made". It was indeed a substantial deal as Grant had procured a USD200000 advance for a band which was then unknown and whose album nobody had ever even heard of. A tour of the US was then in the offing.

Led Zep opened in Denver, Colorado on 26th December 1968 as the third act after Vanilla Fudge and Spirit and was promptly welcome in the usual US manner, namely, as a doormat! The promoter even deducted the cost of the backstage grub from the band's pay. Page had to operate the PA system himself and Bonham even had no mike for his set (which did not really matter as he was loud enough even without them). In Detroit, a newspaper ad announced the band's appearance as "Led Zeptlin"! It looked like Grant's worry over the word "lead" being mispronounced by the Americans was justified after all.

But that was not to last. Page recalled, "you could feel something was happening - first this row, then that row. It was like a tornado, and it went rolling across the country." By the end of 1969, Led Zep had toured through the country 4 times, each time to a bigger, sold out audiences. In Britain, they quickly followed Cream into the Royal Albert Hall, filling it in June 1969 and again, in January 1970. In that year too,the eponymous album, Led Zeppelin and followed by Led Zeppelin II, were released. Rock 'n' roll was changing its face and sound. The basic premise of hard rock was being redefined and the fundamentals of heavy metal were being laid.

*** *** ***

It was with Daltrey that Moon had his first clash, among many clashes, in the Who. Daltrey described the relationship among the band members in the early days of the band as a clash of egos. To him, Moon especially, did everything in excess. "He was the most generous, the most mean, he was the funniest... he could be the most unfunny, everything — the most loving, the most hateful... Everything about him was extreme," Daltrey says.

When asked by a reporter in 1965 about the flare-ups in the band, Moon innocently blurted out, "Yes, It's Roger, he hates me!" The reporter asked why and Keith replied, "Because I told him he can't sing. . . I don't like half our records and Roger is the reason."

Daltrey even knocked Moon out one day in the dressing room after a terrible performance. Apparently, Daltrey flushed out all of Moon's pills - Moon was taking pills for his alcoholism problems then - and Moon had wanted to beat him up for that. Moon was actually kicked out of the band for a while. He was brought back when Daltrey promised to be more peaceful with him.

By this time, Moon had a new love. He loved bashing up and breaking his drum sets. Finally Townshend would join him in destroying their respective instruments on stage. In America, during the Smothers Brothers show, he bribed a back stage hand to allow him to load explosives into his bass drum. At the conclusion of "My Generation" he blew up his kit and pieces flew everywhere. Moon got a piece of a cymbal embedded into his leg and Townshend temporarily lost his hearing. The guest on the show, Betty Davis, fainted into Mickey Rooney's arms.

Moon's and the band's appetite for destruction became stuffs of legends. Together they would wreak total havocs in every hotel they checked in which resulted in the band incurring loads of claims from the hotels. "It was fucking expensive. We were smashing up probably ten times if not more than we were earning. We've been going successfully for ten years, but we've only made money the last three. It took us five years to pay off three years, our most destructive period," Moon told Rolling Stones in 1972.

Trying to explain the band's knack for destroying hotel rooms, Moon said, "I get bored, you see. There was a time in Saskatoon, in Canada. It was another 'Oliday Inn, and I was bored. Now, when I get bored, I rebel. I said, "FUCK IT, FUCK THE LOT OF YA!" And I took out me 'atchet and chopped the 'otel room to bits. The television. The chairs. The dresser. The cupboard doors. The bed. The lot of it. Ah-ha-ha-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHA! It happens all the time."

The most famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) of Moon's antic was of course the car-in-the-pool legend. Tony Fletcher said in the book that Moon had never driven a Rolls Royce into a swimming pool in his biography. Daltrey disagreed and said had it not happened, he must have been living in someone else's life. Both of them were only half correct.

It wasn't a Rolls Royce. And no, Moon wasn't driving.

They were in Holiday Inns, in Flint, Michigan when the record company booked a nice big hall to celebrate Moon's birthday. Moon was presented with a 5 tier cake. Soon the party generated into one big booze fest and everybody was dead stoned. They were all dancing with their pants off! Moon of course had to excel at this stage. He threw the whole cake onto the carpet and a slanging match ensued. When the hotel manager walked in, he noticed everybody was dancing without their pants and the carpet had all been stained with the cake and its icing. He called the sheriff. Moon was in his underpants when he saw the sheriff and he made a dash. He got into a brand new Lincoln Continental parked somewhere near and released the handbrake. As the car was on a slope, it just rolled down, smashed the swimming pool fencing and went down straight into the pool with Moon in it. He managed to escape.

He than ran into the hall again, streaming in water and still in his underpants! Moon recalled, "The first person I see is the sheriff, and he's got 'is 'and on 'is gun. Sod this! And I ran, I started to leg it out the door, and I slipped on a piece of marzipan and fell flat on me face and knocked out me tooth. Ah-ha-ha HA-HA-HAHAHA!" He later spent time at the dentist with the sheriff and also in jail the next day. The whole band was packed off in an airplane the next day and while boarding the plane, the sheriff apparently said, "Son, don't ever dock in Flint, Michigan, again," to which Moon said, "Dear boy, I wouldn't dream of it."

Moon's sense of humour - which was at times rather warped - was also well known. After forgetting an interview which was due to take place at 3pm one day, Moon phoned in to say sorry that the hospital had delayed him (when in fact he was at a pub!). He told the managers that a bus had actually run him over on Oxford Street. "I was just crossing Oxford Street and a Number Eight from Shepherd's Bush 'it me right up the arse and sent me spinning across Oxford Circus,", he told the managers.

He then asked his driver to bring plaster and bandages which he wrapped around his legs. An arm strap and a walking stick then completed the whole charade. He then made the managers and some assistants carry him down four flights of stairs down to the road. While being carried across the road, a truck almost hit all of them leading Moon to curse the driver, "you 'eartless bastard, can't you see this man's injured! 'Ave you no 'eart, 'ave you no soul, you bastard! Trying to run over a cripple!"

Telling the finale to the story with his usual humorous manners, Moon said, "We went on to the interview and in the middle, after about four brandies, I just ripped off all the plaster and jumped up on the seat and started dancing. Ah-HAHAHAHAH-ha-haHAHA! HAHA!"

In the mid-60s, Moon met Kim Kerigan (when she was only 16) and married her. They were blessed with a daughter, named Mandy. On this Moon recalled that Kim was a 16 year old girl who used to hang out at the club where he and the band used to play at, in Bournemouth. According to him, "Sometime later when I went down to see her, I was on a train and Rod Stewart was on the train. This was about ten years ago. We got chatting, and we went to the bar car. It was Rod "The Mod" Stewart in those glorious days, and he'd just been working with Long John Baldry. He was playing a lot of small discotheques and pubs, doing the sort of work we were doing. I said to Rod, "Where are you going?" He said, "Bournemouth." "So'm I," I said, "I'm going down there to see my chick." he said, "So'm I." So I showed Rod a picture of Kim and he said, "Yeah . . . that's 'er." HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

*** *** ***

"It was a series of dynamic crescendos, one right after the other ," Plant describing Led Zep's first American tour in 1968 and '69. "There was no room for letdown," added Plant. That just about encapsulated Led Zep's approach towards their music and was reflective of their aspirations to be the biggest rock band of the time. Led Zeppelin, the 1st album, was recorded in 30 hours - claimed Page - and Led Zeppelin 11 was recorded during off days in between shows in nearly a dozen different studios in the summer of '69. Considering the gems which could be found in both of the albums - the thunderous "Good Times Bad Times'; the ultimate journeyman-who-can't-be-at-one-place-and-with-one-gal-for-too-long- ballad "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You"; the psychedelic "Dazed and Confused" in the 1st album alone - this must have been a band with superhuman powers and some talents!

Meanwhile, Bonham came into the forefront of rock drumming with his mastery of the grooves, sense of timing, rhythm and of course the sheer loudness of it all. The signature grooves in "Whole Lotta Love" and the sheer speed in the hard hitting "Immigrant Song" from the second album marked Bonham's entry into super stardom. He was not afraid to experiment either as he was the first known drummer to have included in his kit the congas, timpani, and drum synthesizers. He was also fast gaining a reputation for ecstatic drum solos with so much power, speed and variation.

Meanwhile, Plant was learning fast to exploit Page's masterful guitar riffs and chord movements with his voice. "I am not a guitarist as far as a technician goes - I just pick up and play it. Technique doesn't come into it. I deal in emotions'" explained Page. Such raw emotions shine in his crazed slashing outbursts in "Whole Lotta Love"; "Heartbreaker" and in one of the most emotive and heart wrenching rock and blues riffs ever to be recorded, in "Since I've Been Loving You" on Led Zeppelin 111. Plant was also adapting to Page's wailing and weeping on his guitars by exploring and adopting various vocal landscapes. "I had a long way to go with my voice then. But at the same time, the enthusiasm and spark of working with Jimmy's (Page's) guitar shows quite well," said Plant while explaining the obvious chemistry between the two. Amidst all these super virtuosos and abundance of masterful display of talents was the towering skills of the "Quiet One", John Paul Jones. Not unlike Richard Wright - the keyboardist of Pink Floyd - in character, disposition and musicianship, Jones was the backbone of the band, providing the solidity of craftsmanship, his quiet and almost intellectual demeanor providing the band a sense of stability. He was the element which had glued the band together. He provided sanity in a band which, in terms of hard rock 'n" roll life, was far from sane.

The album which would elevate Led Zep to rawkenroll God-like status soon came.

...to be continued...

in one short sentence...

2008-10-04T12:01:00.003+08:00

Akademi Fantasia
The musical version of UMNO election.

Dr Mahathir (when he was the PM)
Nasty.

Dr Mahathir (present)
Nasty bastard.

Blackberry
What exactly the fuck are you doing to yourself?

UMNO election
The political version of Akademi Fantasia.

Toll roads/PLUS highways/MRR2
Fraud!

ASTRO
Fucking fraud!

Maybank's acquisition of the Indon bank.
Somebody is laughing to the bank.

The Apprentice
Najib Razak.

Malaysian Football Team
A sporting version of UMNO election.

Windfall tax's abolishment.
Somebody is laughing to the bank.

Abdullah Ahmad
A mistake.

Anwar Ibrahim
Long foreplay inducing ejaculation in the pants.

Saiful
Asshole.

Malaysian Judiciary Appointment/Elevation/Promotion
A judicial version of UMNO election.

4th Floor Boys
Penis ring.

Fasha Sanda
Viagra in motion.

Hari Raya dramas on TV
The Malaysian economy.

Proposed 700 billion bailout
Danaharta without Azman Yahya.

Proton and Volkswagen
A corporate version of UMNO election.

Buka puasa buffets
Pigs!

Buka puasa buffet at Shang-ri La
Fucking pigs!

Chua Soi Lek
A porn version of UMNO election.

Viagra
Fasha Sanda

Pink Floyd
Fucking Fasha Sanda.

September 16th
Fasha Sanda dating me.

Jeko doughnuts
Get the insulin ready.

Men/women/boys/girls using laptops at Starbucks/Coffee Beans etc.
What exactly the fuck are you doing with your life?

Navel Gazing
Fasha Sanda.

Coming On Strongly

2008-10-01T12:13:00.000+08:00

There are occasions when some people come on strongly.

To explain, take the following example. Let's say you meet X at a social function either through introductions or just happen to do so somewhere. You have a pleasant conversation because you find that both of you share common interests at some level - movies, music or whatever. And then you exchange numbers and say, yeah, let's meet up sometime. Although really in truth, you in all probability would not bother calling or meeting up unless X is a hot, sexy and horny babe\stud\[whatever] who flirted with you and grabbed your crotch\stuck a finger up your ass\[whatever gets your goat, sicko].

But this time. X calls up next week and asks to meet up. And you're like, uh, really? Wow. Were you that fookin' interesting? But you're busy, really. So you tell him, hey maybe some other time. At this point, the conversation should prepare for ending with the goodbyes and false promises to stay in touch.

But X doesn't get it. He perseveres and says, okay, how about the week after that? I'm good for the week days, blah, blah, blah.

So you check your diary but god damn, for real okay, it's full. Sorry man, you say. I'm full up. Hey, I gotta run, I'll check my diary and get back to you okay?

But X doesn't get it. Okay, how about the week after that one? he asks calm, as a fookin' cucumber, as if he completely missed the bit where you said, Hey I gotta run.

So you reply, Dude/tte/[whatver tf] I said I gotta run, I'll get back to you. Have a nice day.

But X replies and very coolly and calmly almost as if you were the annoying one, Okay, why don't we just fix the date since your diary is open there.

And you're like, what the fook is wrong with this psycho bastard and the shrill violins in Psycho now start kicking up in your head. You now imagine he wants to meet you beause you will be his latest victim. You imagine him spiking your drink and then bundling you back to his place where he saws you off piece by piece. Death claims you soon after he saws off your arm from excessive bleeding. Some of your body parts are incinerated and some are kept in the fridge.

But perhaps you were overdoing it, but his perseverance was becoming annoying if not scary. What the hell you wonder was so interesting about you that X wanted to meet you so badly? It's not like you sucked/fooked/[pon pon] X at any time during the conversation.

So you tell him, I told you X, I gotta run. Bye.

Okay, X replies. You hit the end call button.

You feel relieved. After that stunt, there was no way you were going to meet with him. His coolness was creepy.

Until he calls you again next week. And when you start avoiding X's phonecalls, X diligently leaves voice messages every time to remind you about meeting up with a request to return his\her\[whatever] call over the course of several weeks, with three to four voice messages each week.

Okay, so the point up for discussion is, do you have an obligation to meet up with X after saying in casual conversation that you would? Or to put in another way, could X rely on what you said in casual conversation concerning your interest in meeting up with him? If X could not rely on that statement of interest then what else in that conversation could he or should he not rely on? X may fairly form the opinion that you are a person not to be taken at your word and unreliable.

The dilemma is this: You don't want to take it any further with X but as a parting gift you want to do X a favour. But how do you tell X about this, in the gentlest possible manner, without you sounding like some shitfaced arsehole? I mean to see the X's side would be: how can you without even knowing me, come to the conclusion that I am not worth your time just because I am a little more persistent than others? How dare you be so presumptuous you shitfaced arsehole?

But then why should you give a shit seeing as how you don't want to meet X and X probably (and usually) has no other friends which is why he wants so badly to meet with you after the first conversation? You can't be nice and spend time with everyone, especially those you don't want to or like. Time is your most important asset. You don't want to waste it on people you don't like or don't want to meet.

Right?

However that still leaves the question of why you feel X's persistence to be a turn off to be answered. Perhaps it is because X is making immediate demands on your time over the expected measure of time you expected to spend with him. To give an example. You were only psychologically prepared to spend about 5 minutes with X but because of his persistence, it has upset your mental state because the conversation has gone on for 10 minutes. And because of this upset mental state, it has provoked a negative consciousness which X has come to be cloaked with.

But when you come right down to it - even on this issue of why you feel that way - I think you just shouldn't give a shit.

World Changing Albums That Didn't Get Cut (Another Fantasy Bites The Dust)

2008-09-30T10:02:00.001+08:00

The only album cover I ever designed in my short life.
Album would have been awesome if we did the demo properly.
Serious.

(Weeps quietly in a corner somewhere)

I'm sure there's still opportunity for groupie following, rock superstardom for over 30's.

(Weeps harder in a more quiet corner somewhere else).

(Cue Queen's bass line from Another One Bites the Dust)

How seriously should I consider something?

2008-09-29T00:09:00.000+08:00

Sometimes I think I possess little sense of perspective in my consideration about things. I seem to take seriously things others don't and vice versa. Or finding humour in places where others don't. And of course humour vanishes once explained. Which is why I hate explaining jokes. If you didn't get it, that's it. Sorry. Too bad. Jokes are not like freaking leftovers that you can reheat in retelling. They're like orgasms. You either get them, or you don't. You never say I think I had an orgasm. Because if you do, I got news for you. That wasn't it.

So. Back to the mains. How seriously should I consider something. For example, how much of my thoughtful effort should I apply to a rock as opposed to say a poem or a piece of music or a pen or a planet, for example. Why should I not spend 30 minutes in thoughtful consideration of a garden rock as opposed to a dead bug. I could easily spend more than 30 minutes contemplating about either one for example, where the rock is concerned: what is its' colour, its shape, its weight, its volume, its height, its distinguishing features, where it is placed, where such rock came from, how it was formed, which 'family' of rock does it belong to, how it is extracted, going even lower, its atomic composition, how I could use it in a story, etc. You get the trajectory (if not, please re-read)? An ancillary question would be how deeply should one think about things too. Should we consider some common rock in great depth?

Interest, needs and inevitability would dictate relevance. A natural sense of curiousity and inclinations would have some influence in expanding that area of relevance.

But even then how deeply enough do we know of what is required of and of interest to us?

We can only exist within a plane of middleness.

How I Came to Type Fast

2008-09-28T00:10:00.000+08:00

This is not a boast. Most people are rather impressed with the speed at which I type. Not that I'm that fast lah, but I think I can bang it out at a decent rate in English that is. My speed slows considerably when I'm writing in Malay (or Bahasa Malaysia, to be more precise) or in truth, in any other language. They also tend to be impressed with the fact that I do not have to stare at the keyboard to look at the keys. I realized that typing fast and accurately is a very important skill in the computer age. It may not be so important in the next generation when they have perfected the capturing and transcribing of actual dialogue. And I am often asked how I came upon such a skill. Did I take typing classes? Was there some software that could help train them to type fast? Did I study from a book? Yes, those are all the ways in which you could learn typing but no I didn't learn it that way. I had a more circuitous but fun route. Two words.

Computer games.

Or more precisely, early PC adventure computer games. Lots of it. When I was young, I used to go over to my cousins' house which was five doors down from mine every day to play their computer games. Their parents in their wisdom bought the Apple II which had a lot of excellent games going for it at the time. Games like karateka, loderunner, Saigon, Wyndam Hill, and many others were the rage at the time. I played all of them and finsihed most of them. So my poor other cousins usually just watched me I had no computer at home. For some reason my parents had more important things to do other than to look into this deficiency of mine.

So whilst I played many games on the Apple, it did not develop my typing because most of the controls only required either a joystick (haven't heard that one in a while; and get that grin of your face you goddamned pervert) or a few of the keys on the keyboard to move about. The groundbreaking moment came as a result of my parents foresight and ignorance. They had the foresight to realize that I should be computer literate but ignorant about computers. I should also be thankful that I had no choice in the computer because I would have certainly bought the Apple II as well. As it turned out they bought me a PC. One of the very first around - an 8088 chipset. I don't know what exact microprocessor that was (the 80188 or 80186) but it was definitely one of those because I remembered upgrading to the 286 several years later and it being somewhat a momentous occasion!

Back to the PC. I still remember we went to this shop near my old house in Damansara Utama one afternoon when my parents talked to some guy about computers and pointed at me. I remember being deliriously happy about it even though I would later discover that it was not the computer I wanted. I did overhear that the cost of the computer was around four grand. This was sometime in the early 80's, so now that I look back on it, my parents must have suffered for me to have that computer because they were not earning much at the time. How puny those specifications would be for the current computers. I think even my current PDA/Phone has more processing power than my first computer.

Anyway, the PC came about a week or two later. I jumped on to the computer the moment it arrived and grew quite disappointed when I realized I was not able to intuitively take to it and that it had far less games than the Apple II. I was so disappointed that I ignored the PC for a while and continued to go over to my cousin's house to play on their computer. I found a few games here and there like Digger (a variant of Pac Man) and Pong (which was ping pong) which were uninteresting and little better than those games on console boxes at the time like Atari, Commodore 64, and what nots. This went on until I discovered a computer game for the PC at the Pineapple shop in Jaya at Petaling Jaya. That shop for a long time became my PC game mecca until I graduated to the Pentium and the game I found there was to be the first of many for myself and for the series - King Quest: Quest for the Crown by Sierra Games.

It was one of those rare adventure games that came out on the market which had an great storyline and challenging puzzles. I fell in love instantly. I played the game for weeks until I managed to solve and complete it. Finishing the game of myself gave me a huge sense of accomplishment because I solved all the puzzles myself. The King Quest was one of the several lines of adventure games that were produced by Sierra at the time whom I felt were the masters of their craft. I enjoyed and completed almost all their early adventure games in the other series as well such as the notable Space Quest, Police Quest and Leisure Suit Larry for the same reasons - excellent storylines and challenging (not impossible) puzzles. I suppose that is why even these days, my first choice of game is the adventure one and not the FPS (First Persons Shooters) which I have almost no interest in, except where it concerns the graphics because this is where most of the cutting edge technology goes to.

So how did those games help me out? Although one still used some keys to direct the character in the game, the difference now was that you had to type in the commands for the character. Like 'Get Book', 'Give Book to Sarah' or even longer sentences. I still remember the breakthrough very vividly because it was at a very crucial and difficult part in the very first Police Quest. The quest I was tasked with was to question a particular suspect who was also a biker. What I had to do get his attention was to push down a row of bikes in front of a bar. This was get him out of the bar after which I had to subdue him when he attacked me with my tonfa which my character carried. The difficulty was that the moment my character pushed down the bikes, I had a very short span of time to type 'Use night stick on biker' and the game didn't let me pre-type the words. On top of that it would lock me out the moment I pushed the bikes for a very short while and I could only type what I had to do after that short while was over and there was no indication to show when I could commence typing. So alot of it was hit and miss. I did it so many, many, many times until I could get the timing and accuracy perfect because anything short of it would see my character being beaten to death.

When I finally surmounted that particular problem, I realized that I now had a skill. Sure it was mostly to type that stupid line but it sparked the idea that I could type faster than I did, and all I needed was practise. And practise I did with the slew of not only visual adventure games but also text ones like Planetfall and Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy for example. I think it's a bit of a shame that we don't have any more text based games anymore and it's all just graphics and mouses these days, because I felt those games had more substance on average than games with graphics.

Computer games were not the whole story but it certainly was my breakthrough. I refined my skills to a higher level in University when I would raid libraries with my friend, CS Lim and also transcribe lectures and tutorials from recordings I had my friends take. I spent many hours listening to poor recordings and transcribing faithfully every word spoken by the lecturer or tutor because I had a terrible time waking up for lectures in the morning (anything before 12pm was early). But were it not for those countless adventure games I played, I doubt if I should ever have acquired such a valuable and necessary skill in this day and age.

The Foot Soldier (Reloaded)

2008-09-27T00:32:00.000+08:00

When Qatar was young he wanted to be a soldier in King Urias' royal army. Those regal soldiers with their erect and firm bearing marching in their glistening shining armour and long swords in their intricately designed though much scarred scabbards he saw when he was four years old left a deep and smouldering passion for the military. Qatar, however, did not want to be just any ordinary foot soldier. And no, he did not want to be a specialist soldier either.
He felt his destiny when he was five. He knew that he wanted to be one of those robed and hooded men that had a soft, blue or green, gentle throbbing glow - a spellcaster. To Qatar, they did not just walk, they glided on a . Though they appeared frail or harmless, they wielded great power through their spellcasting and conjuring abilities. Often they made up the bulk of the King's personal platoon of elite combat troops.
But the army recruits spellcasters young, at the age of twelve. Natural spellcasters usually stumble upon their abilities earlier, as early as seven. If the army decides you are worthy and if you wish to pursue a career then you immediately join them. The most important requirement that the potential spellcaster should possess is magick intuition.
From that day he decided he would study spellcasters and learn as much as he could about magick. And so he did until his twelfth birthday when he presented himself at the Royal Academy of Magick Studies only to be turned away. He did not possess sufficient magick intuition. He was a good guesser and successful more often than not, but real spellcasters did not guess. Their intuition guided them through the intricacies of casting a spell with unerring accuracy. This was a necessary ingredient to powerful and higher plane spells. Those without intution would often lose their way amidst their casting. In more complicated spells, the consequences of failure was death or ending up a slave of demons. Qatar could cast a few spells because the less powerful the spell, the less precision was required.
Though he was bitterly disappointed, this did not put him off the army. When he was eighteen, Qatar enlisted in the army as a foot soldier. He had just completed his twelve month training when he heard that war had broken out between King Urias and some warrior king from a distant land. Apparently King Urias refused to have his little flat plained kingdom surrender to the unknown warrior. The battle was to take place at the southern plains of Whoonfey where he and other neighbouring kingdoms supplied their respective armies to fight off or defeat Tanoth there before he invaded their own kingdoms. The unit Qatar was in was one of the first sent out into the battlefield despite their lack of experience.
In the early morning on the day of battle before the sun had peeked over the horizon, Qatar was dressed in his full armour standing in line waiting for his turn to be blessed with physical ability enhancements and protective magical spells by the spellcasters in the highly raised platform before them. A crowd of murmurring spellcasters shimmered in their electric glow stood in a semi-circle, each within their own glowing glassy cocoon as different coloured bolts of lightning leaped from their hands and glow and into the soldiers below and cause the crowd to glow.
At the break of dawn, Qatar's unit marched on to the top of a gentle sloping ridge. On their march there they met many armies that joined them. It was a bright and early morning when the twelve regiment strong of the kingdoms' armies met Tanoth and his eight regiments at the Fields of Narah.
Qatar was at the head of his regiment so he had a view of the front. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew the horn would go soon because Tanoth's troops had already begun their charge up the gentle slope.
Then he heard it.

Right after that he heard the loud whisper of arrows whipped into the air. He saw some soldiers fall in the distance. Then suddenly he saw this fast moving abnormally large shape rushing through the army. Another whisper of arrows. More men fell, but the shape grew larger and larger in its relentless approach, ignoring the arrows as he easily deflected them.

Qatar heard the order to charge.
This was it. This was what he wanted was it not? His hands trembled as his legs did. Everybody around him shouted charge so he did too. But his skin began to crawl. His hair was on edge. This was death, he thought to himself. He blinked his eyes hard.
Everybody whipped out their swords. Automatically, he did too. Then they charged. The large shape now grew larger and larger as Qatar ran towards it and finally saw that it was a large man - more than eight feel tall on a huge powerful black horse that looked his equal.
He heard somebody cry, oh Lord Mala help us. It's Tanoth.
In his right outstretched arm was a large and long serrated sword. He glowed a deep maroon as he galloped towards them, the ground seemingly trembling at its hoof falls.
Tanoth quickly drew close to Qatar's unit. He raised his sword to strike.
Everybody around him were shouting and screaming. Qatar could not hear them. He was completely focused on Tanoth. This was it. He wanted so much to kill him. He wanted so much to unleash all the hurt, the shame and hatred he suffered as a result of his early disappointment on him. Maybe this time, for once he would be a a hero. For once he would be appreciated. People would look up to him for a change. Maybe then Yuna would think more favourably of him. Allow him to call on her at least. If only.
But the last thing Qatar ever saw were Tanoth's eyes; his pupils - which were a deep, dark, burning red, as was the colour of the white of his eyes.
Eyes which burned with rage and hatred.
And then his world fell into darkness.

(This story is related to the Final Battle.)

Conversation

2008-09-25T09:50:00.003+08:00

You had wanted to speak with me, I gathered. And so we met again. Your pale whitish face almost had no emotion. You were almost a pale shadow of the self that I had known. But beneath those eyes I knew you were almost drowned in melancholy. You looked down when I was looking into your eyes. As if you could not bear the thought of being observed. As if you were afraid that your iris might tell me all of your secrets.

You came nearer to me. And you pulled my shoulder. You rested your head on it. And you began sobbing. I could feel the warmth of your tears slowly flowing down my neck. Your hands pulled my body towards you ever closer. Almost clutching me. Like you would never want to let me go. I put my hand around you. And I ran my fingers through your hair at the back of your head. We were like lovers. Long lost lovers who had suddenly met again. I could feel you. Felt all of your anxieties. Your pains. I thought I could see all your hopes, your wishes, your dreams. I walked through the valleys of your emotions, swam in the rivers of your fears, crawled on the sands of your desires. I knew you. I had known you for hundreds of years. And I realised I had lost you for quite a while.

You were trembling. Your hands gripped my back and I felt a sharp pain on my back. I felt something wet running down my spine. It was my blood! Suddenly you shook me hard. You pushed me and I saw your face. Your eyes were filled with thousands of bloodshot veins. Your hair had become unkempt. Flowing down your neck and shoulders. I looked at your hands. Your nails have become long and black.

With a voice that sounded like a growl of thousands of hungry wolves, you screamed, "I am going to take over.....I am going to take you over....."

Dream

2008-09-19T09:40:00.002+08:00

Last night I saw you, in all your naked glory. You were standing there, in the corner, under the dim lamp. You looked content. Almost peaceful. But you were still. And you were silent.

It was when I was about to touch you that you turned and walked away. You stopped by the window and you turned around towards me. You looked intense. Almost angry. Your eyes looked deeply into mine, piercing through all my thoughts, deciphering them, translating them. Suddenly you had a knife in your hand.

You ran towards me. Pushed me to the floor. Sat on me and slashed me. I was bleeding all over. Numbed from all the pains. You dragged me up by my hair. Sat me down on the chair. With your knife at my throat, you forced me. To write this...

digging the grave

2008-09-18T11:14:00.003+08:00

1.1 Malaysia in transit

Malaysiakini.com yesterday reported that Najib Razak will take over as Minister of Finance from the Prime Minister while the later will assume Najib Razak's portfolio in the Ministry of Defence. The raison d'etre for this portfolio swap appears to be the smoothening of the planned power transition, whereby Najib Razak is to be given an "important portfolio" which is traditionally held by the Prime Minister. Abdullah Ahmad was quoted as saying:

"It is an important portfolio, taking into account the current economic situation, the uncertainties and the challenges that we are facing...for all these we need a plan so that we can stay strong economically"

Abdullah Ahmad also left open the prospect of him stepping down as the UMNO President and Prime Minister before the planned 2010 transition. On this, he was quoted as saying:

"I will decide when I want to go... I will not be staying more than 2010 naturally...It depends on the progress of the role I am giving to Najib. Let's see what he can do...Handing over is a process. We will study the process and as it goes along, we will decide accordingly."

The first thing which came to my mind upon hearing the news was a question. And the question is this. When will our so called leaders would act with the best interest of the country, and not the interest of the party or any other extrinsic interest(s) in mind? Lehman Brothers and Merrill Lynch are both in financial disarray and the former is now under Chapter 11 administration in the USofA. AIG might follow suit. The whole world is suffering from the ripple caused by the downfall of these financial giants. Bursa Malaysia might go below the psychological barrier of 1000 points soon. The Ringgit is free falling. The economy is not so hot. Foreign funds outflow for 2008 has far outstripped 2007 outflow. And all our so called leaders are concerned about is the swapping of 2 very important portfolios in order to smoothen out the planned power transition of UMNO.

Just like the various policies taken by the Education Ministry to solve whatever problems the schools, school kids and teachers are having, which would later be reversed, turned over and re-implemented, resulting in the poor school kids being overturned in the process, this latest portfolio swapping is but another furniture moving exercise for which this leadership is so well known. It lacks purpose, objective, direction and of course, class!

What is even more worrying is when Abdullah Ahmad was quoted as saying:

"Let's see what he can do..."

Yes. Lets see what Najib Razak can do. If he is good, than Abdullah Ahmad might step down earlier than 2010. Or whatever. Well, what if he is not good? Oh, not to worry, if he is not good, I would re-take over the Ministry of Finance and he would re-take over Ministry of Defence, is it?

Perhaps it is time Abdullah Ahmad, Najib Razak and their ilk (Mahathir Mohamad included) should be reminded that the various Ministries, which collectively form the Government of Malaysia, are not their private properties, or the properties of their party, which are to be distributed, parked or divided among each other willy nilly.

I have a suggestion. Recently BN MPs were sent to Taiwan and Macau to learn about agriculture, just so that they could argue and debate the 2009 budget well. If there is so much concerns about Najib Razak's ability as a leader, why don't he be sent to somewhere to attend leadership courses?

1.2 Wrong prescription

Dr Mahathir insisted that the reason for UMNO's colossal defeat in the 2008 General Election and the recent Permatang Pauh by-election is not because the people are unhappy with UMNO or the state of things but rather it is caused by the people's unhappiness with Abdullah Ahmad and his leadership (or lack of it). Well, I have got news for him. Dr Mahathir, you are wrong!

The truth is the people are fed up with UMNO's policies. It is just unfortunate for Abdullah Ahmad that he is the President of UMNO when this unhappiness swells to an uncontrollable size and intensity. You can put whoever at the top of UMNO and UMNO would still lose the General Election and by-election. It is not the people at the top. But it is the policies which these people represent which the people are unhappy with. And the policies which these people represent are the policies of UMNO. The are policies which involve the politics of fear, discrimination, unfairness, arrogance, corruption and cronyism which fuel a continuous unhappiness of, if not hatred, for UMNO. And the sad thing is nobody within UMNO's current so called leadership will be able to cure the current malady with which UMNO is infested. Why?

Because 22 years of totalitarianism has produced absolute yes men who can't think for themselves; who are incapable of differentiating the good from the bad; who are unable to see a problem when a problem exists, let alone grasp it, analise it and solve it.

When Margaret Thatcher was forced to resign as Prime Minister and not seek a re-election as the head of the Conservative Party in 1990, the party was in a turmoil. The Iron Lady had until then ruled Great Britain, and the Conservative Party, with an iron fist. She would steamroll her way to whatever decision she thought was correct, even to a point of overriding her colleague's decisions, both from within her own cabinet and the party. She left a weak Tory government in tatters. And also a weak Tory Party. After being challenged by Michael Haseltine for the party leadership, she was succeeded by the nice, straight faced but downright boring John Major. He unexpectedly won the general election in 1992. In 1997, finally, the Conservative was defeated by Tony Blair's Labour Party in a landslide defeat.

If history teaches us anything, the above episode shows that once the people have decided that enough is enough and a party must go, it really does not matter who is at the helm of the party. John Major was the nicest politician the UK had ever seen, a man whose father was a music hall artist; who rose among the poor to just obtain 6 o-levels; who professed to have been educated in the "university of life." But during his premiership, the people's unhappiness with the Tories was at its peak, fueled by hatred towards Thatcherism, a form of economics and political policies which were not friendly to the people on the streets. And the Tory went down like a led balloon (to borrow Keith Moon's expression).

Change Magaret Thatcher to Dr Mahathir; John Major to Abdullah Ahmad; Conservative Party to UMNO; Thatcherism to Mahathirism and the UK to Malaysia. And I really don't have to write more.

Allow me to give some advice. The power transition, regardless of whether it happens smoothly and as planned in 2010 or earlier or whether it happens during the coming December party election is not going to change anything as far as the people's perception of UMNO is concerned. UMNO has far exceeded the people's tolerance level and it will sink like a stone regardless of who its leader is. To win the people, UMNO itself must change. Take a look at the mirror, find out what is really wrong and correct it. In short, UMNO's current policies must change.

A change of faces just wouldn't do.

Pure and simple.

and then there were two...

2008-09-17T11:20:00.001+08:00

Richard Wright, Pink Floyd's keyboardist, passed away Monday the 16th as reported here.

May God bless your soul Rick. May you meet the Crazy Diamond up there. And may both of you Shine On.

*my tribute to the Crazy Diamond is here.

Of Contemplating Myself

2008-09-16T00:01:00.000+08:00

The deeper I contemplate myself and my condition the easier it is to contemplate humanity.

The Final Battle

2008-09-15T01:39:00.002+08:00

The fire cackled and burst sending up little fireflies that barely managed to escape the flaming tongues that darted and flicked lasciviously. Five men sat cross legged around and stared at it. They sat on rattan mats made soft and smooth from prolonged wear.

'They said he can take down entire armies,' said the man in velvet blue robes, His face was hidden by the hood. Little slivers of electric occasionally emerged from one part of his body only to leap to an area nearby.

'They said he does not bleed,' said the man with dark brown leather armour. He had a bow on his back. His sword lay sleeping beside him. 'I know a man who saw the whole length of a sword plunged into his chest. He said Tanoth didn't even flinch. After he had killed the man who stabbed him, he pulled out the sword out with his right arm and went on fighting.'

'He is no man,' declared the oldest looking man amongst them. He was dressed in robes of liquid that gave the impression it was shifting about even as he sat unmoved. He turned slowly toward the young unassuming man dressed in almost plain brown clothes and spoke to him. '
'And that is why Greshen. You are our last hope.

Greshen kept on staring intensely into the fire.

'May I not fail all of you,' he finally said wearily.

'Are you sure Greshen is up to this? He is but a boy who has not seen battle,' asked the man dressed in light chain mail. "And Tanoth is a Lord of War. He has been in the thick of many great battles, if not single handedly brought them to an end himself.'

'What choice do we have Marlock? You have seen from afar how Tanoth has levelled whole armies in a day. If we save Greshen, are you his equal?'
Marlock turned his eyes away from the fire to the night, as if to cool them. The cackling seemed louder all of a sudden. A gentle breeze danced with the fire, swaying it this way and that.
'But neither is Greshen,' he said resigned.
'But the prophecies...' began the blue robed man before he was cut off.
'Damn the prophecies!' Marlock suddenly swore. 'Almost none of them came true. You see how we lost in Minath and Kilonth? You see how painfully and miserably we lost those cities? Nobody could imagine those cities falling to Tanoth. The only prophecy that came true was that of Tanoth.'
'Tanoth was the first of the prophecies,' retorted the old man.
'So it will be the only true one?'
'No, but perhaps Greshen's prophecy is the last and it too will be true.'
'Perhaps. Perhaps. I've had enough of your perhaps, Ti. I have...' raged Marlock before he was interrupted.
'Enough!' shouted the man with the leather armour. 'It is enough that Greshen has to face him tomorrow with our aid. Do we now need to ruin his spirit and ours the night before, Marlock? You think we do not think as you do Marlock? You do not think we have been so disappointed and let down by the failure of the prophecies? But what choice do we have? What other means do we have? Our armies are exhausted. There is no magic or weapon that we possess to defeat him. So do not blame Ti. He has helped guide Greshen this far. And though this is a great gamble. It is the only chance we have. The prophecies he may cling to may be wrong but his heart just like ours is true to our cause. If this be the only topic of conversation tonight, I suggest we all catch what little sleep we can. We leave at the first break of dawn.'

************************

The morning sun shone upon the battlefield that was littered with endless corpses and bloodied body parts that lay between the light green grass and shrubs. The five men gathered atop a little hill beside the battlefield. Below them three large regiments were marching into the battle field with their flags flapping excitedly in the strong wind that blew.
'Commander Ullok will lead the initial attack. We hope to weaken him somewhat or at best distract him before we commence our own attack. He will give the signal for us to attack.'
Greshen watched the three large regiments grew thinner and smaller until they finally looked like little bumps on the horizon. Moments later he heard a brassy horn being blown which indicated the battle had begun. Soon after, Ti directed the party to commence their descent and journey to the heart of the battle. As they got closer to the battle, Greshen could feel a warm sadness filling the air. The screams of sheer agony filled his ears. His feet splashed into puddles of blood. Then in the distance he saw swaths of men falling down just after a large sword flashed in the sun before descending to the crowd of screams and limbs.
Suddenly Greshen could hear his heart beating in his ear. His legs grew weaker and weaker the closer he got. The thin short dagger at his side grew cumbersome and almost loathsome. He tripped over a cleanly severed arm and stained his brown clothes with blood.
He felt a soft touch on his right shoulder.
'Are you ready Greshen?' asked Ti gently.
'I don't know if I'll ever be,' replied Greshen.
'You will truly ever know when it is over.'
'Perhaps it is best that way.'
Then a low mournful horn blew.
'It is time,' said Ti.
The mob of soldiers in front of them slowly parted until Greshen could have a clear uninterrupted line of sight to Tanoth. His other four companions stood beside him on both sides, their weapons drawn and with their murmurs afoot to cast the defensive and offensive magick. Tanoth was tall and large even at a distance. When he disposed of the soliders before him, he saw Greshen and they locked eyes. Tanoth was a massive eight and half feet tall clad in what looked like enchanted leather armour. His black and damp shoulder length hair clung to his deep red face. He had red eye pupils that trembled with rage and hatred.
He lifted his massive serrated sword and pointed it at Greshen, his arm perfectly straight, without effort.
Greshen could now feel his heart beating wildly as his chest swelled. He felt a small bead of perspiration slide down the right side of his face. His eyes suddenly stung and he wanted to cry. He was paralyzed with fear.
It was then that Greshen very carefully drew his dagger.

Other Thoughts On Love

2008-09-14T00:25:00.000+08:00

Those who believe that love at its first flush is representative of love for all time are in for disappointment, said the heavily wrinkled face beneath a cap of brilliant white hair.

Deep disappointment, he added as if his earlier words did not sufficiently impress its depth and ended with a sigh. He looks down at the various shades of pigeons; some stalked about purposefully on the ground, some of them look at him expectantly. He flicks some seeds on to the ground and the volume of cooing immediately swells and there is a rush of feather.

Love in her seduction of us, lures us with her best colours at first. Then teaches us her harder more painful lessons. We learn of her harshness, her single mindedness, her conquest, her encumbrances, her obstacles. Because Love is not easy, he said. You have to work for her. You must be able to offer her reasons when she requires them. There is no respite in your duty to her. There is nothing you can offer in substitute. Blood and tears are the only currency with Love.

The cool twilight wind that blew through the park ruffled his hair with a lover’s careless caress.
Blood and tears, you understand, he says.

And Love’s fickleness and betrayal. I am familiar with those equally influential advisers of hers. She may take you down so deep and mazy a corridor and then leave you there. Alone. And without her grace. She can be cruel like that, he said. But she does that to help us to live without her as we do with her.

The hint of sun was quickly fading. The night drawing back the day, stripping the night of all its deepening and now more vivid colours.

But I never hated her, he thought to himself.

The pigeons have gone. The breeze has stopped.

Never, he said breaking the stillness of the night.

Sleep Over

2008-09-13T00:19:00.002+08:00

Mat was at Ayob’s place tonight.
Mat scored the PS2. Ayob scored the weed.
Mat earlier bought a few sports games to play from their usual pirated software store nearby. Ayob was looking forward to play the games stoned and high as much as Mat.
Ayob hoped Lok scored the better stuff this time.
They played, laughed their asses off and smoked up all night.
Deep into the night.
The weed was moist, potent and calming.
When Ayob opened his eyes, he saw Mat’s arm lying on his bare chest.
Mat too was shirtless.
They were on his bed.
Ayob lay where he was and waited.

Decisions

2008-09-12T08:59:00.002+08:00

They are face to face. He cannot read her face. It's inscrutable.
She is beautiful. He has not seen any one so hypnotic as her. Even when she's upset.
But this time he did not notice her beauty. All he wanted was to know.
After a long silence, she gives her head a short quick shake.
Despite his calm exterior his heart was beating wildly. He forced himself to control his breathing so as not to surrender to his lack of control.
It's going to be okay baby, he said and reached his outstretched right arm to her across the cheap plastic red table, as if in offering.
No, it's not okay, she said a matter of factly.
Come on baby. Hold my hand please, he cooed to her.
Please baby.

nailing the coffin...

2008-09-11T12:18:00.005+08:00

1.0 Lies

When you are lied to the first time, you tend to get upset because you have been lied to. When you are lied to by the same party many times, you would not only get even more upset and angry but you would also develop a sense of distrust of the lying party. However, what is even more upsetting than continuous lies would be lies which are so stupid and so unbelievably astounding that it is a gross insult for the perpetrator to actually think that his or her lie will be believed by us.

The audacity with which the current government is lying to the people would make the ruse involving a certain wooden horse pregnant with soldiers in its belly seems meek, if not downright tame and uninventive. "Bersih rally by 4000 people", screamed the government gazettes last year. It was of course a blatant lie. When the whole world could see the truth from photographs splashed all over the internet, one began not to get upset only by the fact that they have been lied to but also from the audacity of it all. It prompted me to write and send this letter. It of course did not get to see the light of day.

"I don't have anything to do with Jean", said the PM. He of course married her not too long after that. "I am not going to dissolve the Parliament", again, said the PM. The very next day, when the ink on the newspaper quoting him saying so was barely dry, he dissolved the Parliament. Malaysia holds many world records, among which, the longest ikan bakar grill in the Milky Way. Add to that is the fastest time in which a major newspaper headline is proven untrue or incorrect.

The latest is of course the lie about the trip to Taiwan and Macau being a trip arranged for the Barisan Nasional's MPs to learn about agriculture in order to enable them to better argue and debate the budget in Parliament! Why don't they just say that the trip was arranged to enable the BN MPs to visit a UFO site where aliens with solution for our racial integration problems; budget deficit; inter-faith issues; incompetent Judges; corrupt politicians and civil service and men with small dick had landed? It would easier for all of us to swallow.

1.1 Maths and Science - to English or not to English

No less than Khairy Jamaluddin has critisised the "half-baked" (to borrow his own words) policy of improving the standard of English among Malaysian students by teaching Maths and Science subjects in English. I don't really know what motivates him for doing so but the odd thing is he now seems to be critisising his superior in UMNO Youth. As we all know, that policy was mooted and implemented by the current Education Minister, Hishamuddin Hussein who is of course the Youth movement's chief. So, is this a sign of a sudden surge of intellectualism within UMNO Youth or is it some kind of a political posturing or both, one wonders?

Be that as it may, I have been saying all these while that that policy is not half baked but it is actually baked in an electric oven without the mains switch being switched on. Just imagine a 14 year old students in Form 2. For 8 years of his life he has been learning Maths and Science in Bahasa Malaysia. "Add" means "campur" to him. So does "fraction" mean "pecahan". His English is not good. Suddenly they teach those subject in English. How does that help him to improve his English? And we have not even begun to talk about the teachers. These teachers were all from Bahasa Malaysia school. They themselves were taught Maths and Science in Bahasa Malaysia. They were trained in Bahasa Malaysia. And one day, they woke up, brushed their teeth, took a bath, went to school and they had to teach these subjects in English. You don't have to graduate from Oxford to know that that policy will not work! In fact, it is a burden on the students and teachers alike.

The problem with this government is its inability to grasp a problem, analise it and come up with a holistic solution for it. It is so used to sweeping things under the carpet so much so that when it is confronted with problems, it's knee jerk reaction would be to come up with stop gap measures. In other words, it knows next to nuts about governing!

Dear Ministers, please read this. I am no expert in education but I think I am blessed with a slightly clearer head than all of you put together. The low standard of English among our students is a product of a wrong education policy which started in early 1970s. That was the era when the then government suddenly thought that efforts must be made to "mendaulatkan Bahasa Melayu/Kebangsaan/Malaysia/Baku/Kebangsaan and back to Melayu" again. Lets not go into the rationale for that policy. Lets just accept the fact that the result of that policy is that most students - and even graduates - nowadays can't even construct a decent sentence in English. Students did not just wake up one morning and found out that they could not speak English. It was a rapid evolution, if ever there was one. (Well, it could be a slow revolution, if you want to be argumentative).

A holistic approach towards solving this problem would be to start all over again. There is no fast cure -nip-in-the-bud kind of solution. So, what needed to be done was to start training teachers to teach whatever subject in English. Lets say we start doing so next year. It takes 3 years to train the teachers. So, 3 years from then, we would have to start teaching whatever subjects in English and make English more prominent in the curriculum from the standard 1 intake of that year, namely, 2012. Than we continue doing so until the whole system is filled with such curriculum. That is how we should do it.

Mr Prime Minister, you asked the people to work with you. Here I am. I had just done so. When will I be invited for tea?

1.2 The Unholy Trinity

Of all the news this week, this takes the cake. Muhyidin Yasin, a vice-President of UMNO, has managed to persuade Dr Mahathir to rejoin UMNO. Just how much persuasion did Dr Mahathir, the has-been of UMNO, who had left UMNO 3 months ago in disgust over the ineptitude of the Prime Minister cum current chief-in-command of UMNO and who vowed to never return to UMNO as long as the Prime Minister remains as such, need? Did Muhyiddin have to cry like Rafidah Aziz when Dr Mahathir announced that he had wanted to resign on stage before? Or was Dr Mahathir tied up, beaten like Anwar Ibrahim while he was in detention in 1997 and forced to submission? Or was it all it takes was a simple pact involving Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah challenging Abdullah Ahmad for the UMNO presidency and Muhyiddin challenging Najib Razak for the number 2 spot this December? That's all? Or is there more? Something like Dr Mahathir becoming some sort of a Minister Mentor or puppet master or whatever?

Dr Mahathir Mohamad. I just love that name. I love that name in the same vein I do the name Mawi. Or George Bush. Oh, Mugabe too. This is the guy who wrote a really rude letter to Tengku Abdul Rahman in 1969 after the 13th May riot. He was then sacked from UMNO. Then he rejoined. IN 1987, he was challenged for the UMNO Presidency by non other than Tengku Razaleigh. He won by a mere 46 votes (if memory serves me right). 12 UMNO members (later reduced to 11 as one withdrew) brought a court action challenging the validity of the voting process as there were representatives from unapproved divisions attending and voting. The younger generation now do not actually know what happened in Court in that UMNO 11 action. Let me tell you what actually happened. You can make up your own mind whether Dr Mahathir loves UMNO, as he says he does, or whether he is just in love with himself. What I am about to tell here are facts, nothing but facts.

The UMNO 11 action was never aimed at obtaining a Court order to declare UMNO illegal. Remember that. The UMNO 11 were just asking the Court to declare the voting process invalid because of the above reason. That was all. The order to declare UMNO illegal was never asked for by the UMNO 11. The UMNO 11 were represented by Raja Aziz Addruse, if I am not mistaken. Dr Mahathir's camp was represented, among others, by Gopal Sri Ram, who was then a practising lawyer. Now he is a Court of Appeal Judge. During the hearing, it was agreed by both sides that there were in fact representatives from unapproved divisions attending the assembly and voting. Under the law, societies, such as UMNO, must be registered. Not only that, the societies' branches or divisions must also be approved by the Registrar of Societies before they could be established. And UMNO at that time had several divisions which were unapproved.

If unapproved branches or divisions existed, the Societies Act provide that not only the unapproved branches or divisions shall be illegal, the society itself shall be illegal. This ridiculous law was enacted by the BN government than to catch PAS, which was known to have many unapproved branches. So, during the hearing, suddenly, and out of the blue, Gopal Sri Ram submitted that UMNO was illegal! It was not Raja Aziz Addruse or the UMNO 11 who said so but it was the lawyer acting for Dr Mahathir's camp who said so! That lawyer must have instruction to say so or otherwise he couldn't have said so.

Raja Aziz was caught by surprise with that submission. I vividly remember he was reportedly saying in the newspaper that that was a "kamikaze defence"! He then reminded the Court that he wasn't asking for UMNO to be declared illegal. But the Court declared UMNO illegal instead. Dr Mahathir, in all his speeches and writings have always blamed the UMNO 11 for causing it to be declared illegal. But it was Counsel acting for his side who submitted that point to the Judge. And it was through his sheer negligence that unapproved UMNO branches/divisions existed and were permitted to send delegates to the assembly to vote.

Who destroyed UMNO? You tell me.

All Dr Mahathir cared about is himself and his position as the Supreme chief of UMNO, Barisan Nasional and Malaysia. After UMNO was declared illegal, Tengku Abdul Rahman, Rais Yatim (if I am not mistaken) etc out of their love for the party formed a new party called UMNO Malaysia. Of course, the registration of this new party was strangely blocked by the Registrar of Society. The registry comes under the Home Ministry and it does not take any imagination to guess who the Home Minister was at that time. After that, Dr Mahathir formed UMNO Baru and he managed to register it. Strange. The earlier one was rejected and unapproved but the later one was accepted. Funny? Well, you make up your own mind.

Then Dr Mahathir passed a new law which says a new party with a certain percentage of members from an old party can retain the old party's name. Hahah...and so UMNO Baru was back to UMNO. Meanwhile, the rejection of UMNO Malaysia became a Court case. And Dr Mahathir fought that case as if his life depended on it. If he loved UMNO so much, why didn't he work together with Tengku Abdul Rahman, the Father of Malaysia to re-establish the real UMNO? You tell me.

Then he changed UMNO's constitution to make it real difficult for anybody to run for the office of President or Vice-President against the incumbent. This, according to him, was to make sure that only serious contenders would run for such office. Like, wow!

The rest, as they say, is history. Before he retired, he handpicked Abdullah Badawi, in the true tradition of UMNO, the passing-the-baton adat. He thought Abdullah Ahmad would be submissive to him and his ilk. He thought Abdullah Ahmad was a meek lackey who would yield to his whims and fancies. Little did he know what was to come. Now UMNO has lost all credibility and is destined for extinction. Who caused it? You tell me.

He now admitted that it was a mistake for him to pass the baton to Abdullah Ahmad. He asked people to oust him from UMNO. When that did not yield result, he left UMNO hoping many others would revolt and follow him. As it turned out, only one of his son and his wife, and Sanusi Junid followed him. Even baby Mukhriz did not do so! He failed. He then complained that the provision in UMNO constitution, which he inserted, makes it difficult for Abdullah Ahmad to be challenged. Irony personified!

Now, he has ganged up with Muhyiddin Yasin and his old nemesis, Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah to challenge Abdullah Ahmad.The guile of this man. Would make Nicollo Machiavelli proud, this one.

UMNO Baru/UMNO Lama/UMNO Asal whatever is a sinking ship because of Dr Mahathir. All this void in the party's leadership is caused by him. He never appreciate dissent. Any voice of rationale or dissent would be perceived as opposition and would quickly be killed off. UMNO "leadership" has always been, under Dr Mahathir, about listening to and following him and doing what he wants. That creates a big hole in its leadership. When Dr Mahathir left, UMNO was like a headless chicken. That is why UMNO is where it is now. It is not because of Abdullah Ahmad.

But the again, Dr Mahathir will never ever accept this fact.

1.3 Transfer of cases

Under the law the Attorney General has the power to transfer any criminal case from the lower Courts to the High Courts. I think the validity of this law has been argued and determined. It is apparently a valid law. This power is exercised at the sole discretion of the AG. He doesn't even need to give reasons for it. All he needs to do was to sign a certificate of transfer and that's it.

Now he wants Anwar Ibrahim's sodomy case to be transferred to the High Court. Apparently because of who Anwar is (whatever that means!) and because of public interest. Well let me tell you something Honourable AG. Nobody gives two hoots about Anwar's sexuality.

Frankly, this absolute power to transfer is unconstitutional, I think. It gives a lot of room for abuse. It even gives the possibility to the AG to choose a Judge. It should be struck down as unconstitutional because it transgresses the very basis of our legal and judicial system. An accused person is entitled to a fair trial in a Court not of the AG's choosing but in a Court which has the proper jurisdiction over the offence of which he is being accused.

That's my two cents' worth.

Selamat Berpuasa.

Can intelligence be felt?

2008-09-09T21:48:00.004+08:00

This question has occupied me for some time now. I think it occurred a while back when I did or said or wrote something that somebody thought was clever or smart or something like that and complimented me on it. The truth is I forgot how the question came to be asked, but I remember the sensation when it was. It was a sensation of confusion, puzzlement and certainly disbelief. I felt this because I felt the compliment was misplaced in the sense that I did not deserve it. I felt like I wanted to give some super witty retort like 'Heh, really? I know some guys who shit cleverer things!' or 'Thanks, but the truth is I'm like super stupid. Want to colour some books?'

I just could not accept it which is why I suppose I then end up getting into a protracted and occasional vicious bout of me denying, refusing and denying the compliment on my perceived intellect with a barrage of explanations about my limited intelligence to the complimentor who after his patience has worn out has to end up forcing me to accept the compliment. It's like this with all compliments (me looking slim, me supposedly clever, me actually possessing some skill worth announcing to an ant, etc.) I get except those perhaps directed at my hair, which I'd like to think is fully deserved (where it relates to its softness, body and elegant blending of the white with the black) and happily accept.

But coming back to the mains - ever since that schizm of perception , I have been thinking alot about intelligence and whether we can gauge it from a purely subjective stand point without any other comparison. The simple reason why I reject those compliments on my intellect is because I feel stupid most of the time. If I were clever, surely I should be able to feel it, to know it, to be certain of it. Surely, if I had such intelligence, I could feel its weight on my soul, be able to trace the contours of my cleverness, to wield my intelligence like a surgeon would his scapel. And some people seem confident in their intelligence, they walk around with a little swagger, leap into discussions arse first and bounce back on top of everybody. I feel nothing, just the hollowness of my mind, the faint echo of my thoughts that hover like fine mist that disappears at the touch of an outstretched hand. I feel no shape, no weight, no colour. Sometimes I imagine my intellect to be like a multi-faceted diamond suspended in the air and slowly, ever so slowly turning. But I know its not like that. It's not so nuanced. It's like a flat blistering desert where the constant whimsical winds shape and re-shape the endless dunes, never allowing a path to form.

I often wonder, what it must feel like to be like those terribly clever men, like Bertrand Russell, John Kay, Einstein, John Ruskin, John Nash... okay maybe not because he was nuts too, but men like that. No one can deny their intellectual fortitude and magnitude. And they looked it too. Their intelligence resonated in photos of them, there was this personal field of gravitas whenever they spoke or opened their mouth. Hell, I bet they even looked regal when they shat. Our eyes may see the same thing, but what else are they thinking when we look at the same things? How does their mind work? Is it arranged in a particular pattern? Perhaps the gears in their minds are finer, smaller, more precisely made and mine are from make shift bullock cart spare parts. Or its vice versa and they are better able to use their bullock cart spare parts better than I do those small annoying gears.

What's funny though is that you don't need a lot of intelligence to identify stupidity. And I can certainly feel the weight of my stupidity. Perhaps I cannot feel the weight of my intelligence because it is lighter than my stupidity. Or perhaps stupidity is that lightness of intellect that I feel.

Maybe I need a drink.

Dara #6

2008-09-03T12:13:00.002+08:00

kutip
debudebu rindu di dinding sepi kala menyusur malam
dinihari terjaga menjenguk di luar jendela suram kelam
tabur
segala rasa di helaian kertas putih menjadi kata di baca
ganti diri mahu disentuh namun semua impian belaka

dara
saat-saat begini
tidak mampu lagi
aku berdiri
di kakimu aku
jatuh tersungkur

"Mubahalah" By Saiful - a fair trial is now impossible?

2008-08-16T17:35:00.005+08:00

It is reported by Malaysiakini that Mohd Saiful Bukhari Azlan, the man accusing Anwar Ibrahim of sodomy, had sworn on the Quran that Anwar Ibrahim had sodomised him without his consent. He had done so at the Federal Teritorry Mosque in Jalan Duta. During a press conference at a hotel on 15th August, a 2 minute video recording of the swearing - which is called "mubahalah" in Islamic term - was shown to reporters.

The process of "mubahalah" is a process whereby a Muslim would swear to the truthfulness of a fact asserted by him or her as true in the name of Allah and in front of the Quran. Muslims believe that if a Muslim dares to go through the process of "mubahalah" knowing that what he or she is asserting is not true, he or she would be a sure candidate for hell in the afterlife and that various hardship would befall him or her even before death. It would not be an understatement to say that "mubahalah" is almost the ultimate test to determine whether somebody is telling the truth or otherwise in Islam. Almost all Muslims would believe in a person who had asserted a fact through this process as no Muslim would even dare to swear by the Quran - let alone in a mosque and in the name of Allah - if he or she is not telling the truth. (In Chinese tradition, we of course would have come across the act of slaughtering a chicken in a temple to prove that one is telling the truth).

Anwar Ibrahim has been accused of sodomy by Saiful and he was in fact charged in the Sessions Court recently. The fact that there is a court proceeding pending against Anwar Ibrahim is therefore beyond any argument. It is last reported by Malaysiakini that the case is now fixed for mention on the 10th September 2008 on which date an application to transfer the case to the High Court would be made by the prosecution.

The question now is whether a fair trial of Anwar Ibrahim is possible in view of Saiful's "mubahalah". It is arguable that a fair trial of the case is now impossible. Should the case be fixed for trial before a Muslim Judge, with all due respect, it will always be in the mind of the Muslim Judge that Saiful, the accuser, had sworn in a mosque in the name of Allah and in front of the Quran. It would be reasonable to assume that the Judge woud find it difficult to disbelieve what Saiful had said in view of him swearing as such. By contrast, Anwar Ibrahim has not done so. It is not unreasonable to conclude that this would lead to an almost incontrovertible "proof" in the mind of any Muslim Judge that Anwar Ibrahim is guilty of sodomising Saiful without his consent.

In addition, I am sure there will be many Muslim witnesses who would appear for the prosecution or the defence. The same belief will always linger in the mind of these Muslim witnesses. These witnesses would include any expert forensic witness and any other witnesses who would appear in Court to support the prosecution's case or the defence. Regardless of who they are - and for which side of the fence they are appearing for - these Muslim witnesses may have trouble to be independent in view of Saiful's action. It would not be unreasonable for any of the Muslim witnesses to now change their intended testimony in view of the "mubahalah" by Saiful. It would not be surprising that even some of the Muslim Counsel appearing in the case to now have doubt about Anwar Ibrahim's innocence!

Under the law, the case is now sub judice (a latin phrase which literally means "under judgement"). When a matter is sub judice, any comment or action which could prejudice the fair trial of the case or which could obstruct the process of justice is prohibited. In my opinion, the "mubahalah" by Saiful is an action which unnecessarily prejudices the fiar trial of the case. In fact, it could be even argued that it amounts to an obstruction of justice in view of the fact that there would be many Muslims who are directly involved in the case.

Any party who makes any statement or commits any act against the principle of sub judice may have commiteed contempt of Court. Anwar Ibrahim's Counsel, I am sure, will now be looking at the matter closely. But if I were one of them, I would be filing contempt proceedings against Saiful by next week!

Is a fair trial of the sodomy case now possible? I will let all of you decide.

The fading dreams - a true story #2

2008-08-13T10:51:00.001+08:00

During the Khazanah Nasional's "hari raya open house" last year, I chanced upon a Senator from UMNO. We sat at the same table. Talks of the then impending general election was going around the table. The Bar Council's call for a reform of the judiciary was a hot topic at that time. Everybody at our table was talking about those issues.

The Senator was in a very confident mood. It was his opinion that the BN would win the general election comfortably if the general election was held "any time soon". Sipping his drink, he turned to me and asked my opinion. I told him I wasn't so sure about that. In my opinion, the people were not happy about a lot of things. There were too many issues which were not resolved. The undercurrent was then against the BN government. Allegations of corruptions, cronyism and inefficiency were too rife, I said. And I don't see the leadership's willingness to engage the people on all these issues, let alone try to solve those issues.

The senator smiled. He said he disagreed with me. He told me to go to Suria KLCC. People are happy there. They are purchasing things and that means they are doing well financially. Look at the business section of our newspaper, he said. Companies are reporting good numbers, which means good profit. The economy is doing well, he further stated his case. When the economy is doing well, it means the people have money and that would translate into a state of general happiness. That is why the shopping complexes are full of people, he said. When the people are happy, the current BN government will win the election, he opined.

He said only "intellectuals" like me who are not happy. The "normal" people are happy. He then asked me to tell him what was it that I wanted the most. I told him that highest on my list is an independent judiciary. He smiled again. He said independence is subjective. He repeated that the people are all happy because they are doing well financially and that is what that matters the most. "You feed them well, and they will vote for you", said him.

Everybody at the table smiled in tacit agreement. I looked at him and asked, "YB, have you heard of Maslow's pyramid of needs"? He said, "of course".

"You see YB, we, Malaysians, have crossed the first 3 steps of the pyramid. We are now not just looking for food, shelter, education, employment and property anymore YB. We are now crossing those first 3 steps. We are now looking for self esteem, achievements, emancipation and freedom. These are the final 2 steps of the pyramid of needs. We now seek self-actualisation and esteem", I replied.

"That is your intellect talking. The reality is, the people are just concerned about money", the good Senator rebutted.

We then moved on to different topics. He was kind enough to entertain me and all the others at the table. And I must say he did it with refinement, not with the kind of responses we all are accustomed to expect from the Parliament. After we parted, I text him to thank him for the nice conversation we had. He replied to say that it was his pleasure.

After that event, I could not help but conclude that the BN government had lost the plot. The leaders were too mired in their belief that the people were only concerned with financial stability. They theorised that if the people were making money, they would be thankful to "us" and would then vote for "us" again. In the meantime, we can all forget about freedom of religion; freedom of speech; judicial independence; an honourable police force, anti-corruption agency and attorney general chambers. Forget about racial discriminations; controlled news and mass media; inefficiency in the government; corruption; abuse of power; cronyism; and all things which do not have anything to do with money. Because in their minds, the people were just concerned about money, and nothing else.

What Abdullah Ahmad, his band of ministers and minders have failed to note was Malaysia in 2007 and 2008 was not the same Malaysia of the 1960's, 70's or even the 80's. I suppose none in Abdullah Ahmad's cocoon of political blissfulness had ever thought of Maslow's theory. It is human nature to first seek for the basic needs. The very basic needs, like food and water; air to breathe; places to excrete and even sex would be foremost in our minds. When we get those things, we would then be thinking of owning a house for shelter; employment; a family and probably even education. Next on the agenda would be sexual intimacy and friendship or anything which has to do with love and sense of belonging. It is naive, and even downright ignorant, for Abdullah Ahmad and his advisers to think that in 2007 and 2008, Malaysians were all still just craving for these things. I suppose, only the politicians are still seeking for these very basic needs.

The truth is Malaysians have passed all those basic lines. We have taken the first 3 steps of Maslow's pyramid and have progressed far far away from the clutches of basic needs. We are now seeking self esteem; mutual respect of and from each others and achievements. Malaysians in 2007 and 2008 are also talking about morality; creativity and the banishment of any kind of prejudice or discrimination.When we talk about seeking "morality", we are of course expecting the government to take a holistic approach towards preventing corruptions and the provision of transparency in all public dealings. We of course demand accountability and tied to this is a fully responsible government, whose various agencies would not pass the buck around every time something bad had happened. Included in the "morality" category is also an independent judiciary, an essential arm of the administration of the country. Banishment of prejudices and discriminations of course entail the finding of solutions for equal rights for every citizen regardless of their race or religion.

What this government is not accustomed to and what it has failed to provide the Malaysians is intellectual engagement with the people on issues closed to their heart. When faced with difficult issues, this government would choose to be on the offensive. The SOP, in such situations would be:

firstly, deny the existence of the issue - the Senator was a prime example. He denied the people were concerned about various issues.
secondly, if the first step fails, brand the issue as a political one and ask the people not to "politicise" the issue. This is forgetting the fact that almost everything which we do as human beings involves, and is in fact, politics (as politics, by its widest definition, involves act or acts of persuading others to agree with us)!
thirdly, brand the people or body of people who raise the issue as "the opposition party" or "behaving like the opposition". Nazri Aziz did this when the Bar organised the walk for justice to demand an independent judiciary.
fourthly, assume the issue as a "challenge" to democracy or the Malay rights and deem it 'sensitive". The recent forum on the problems faced by some of the people arising out of conversion of their spouse to Islam is a prime example. Another example is whenever the non-Malays raise the issue of equal opportunities for admission into public universities or higher institutions of learning (the UiTM issue yesterday is an example).
fifthly, threaten to use the ISA.
sixthly, ignore the issue altogether and pretend it is not there. Nazri Aziz again, is a prime example of this when he said at a seminar organised by the Bar Coucil last year that he saw absolutely no reason for the establishment of a judicial appointment committee because among others, there was absolutely no problem with the current system.

This failure - and inability - to engage is the most irritatingly frustrating aspect of this government. Abdullah Ahmad had promised in his maiden speech as the President of UMNO to lend an ear to all Malaysians. He had even asked all Malaysians to "work with me and not for me". Lending an ear to Malaysians does not mean he can hear but choose not to listen, and respond, to Malaysians. He failed miserably to listen and respond. Malaysians are ever ready and willing to work with him for the betterment of Malaysia. However, he and his government don't seem to be interested to reciprocate.

What the good Senator said to me last year is reflective of the shallow mindedness of this administration. To think that Malaysians are still struggling at the first 2 steps of the pyramid of needs is insulting to Malaysians and is a sad reflection of the present administration's ability to analise the needs and desire of the people.

If the BN government needs any proof that I was right, just take a look at the result of this year's general election. And if this government continues to ignore the people's wishes and dismiss the people's views - as recent events would show - I am afraid I have to say that the end is nigh.

skirting the issue - the latest court of appeal decision

2008-08-08T14:34:00.001+08:00

Malaysian Insider reported yesterday about the Court of Appeal's (the CoA) majority decision to dismiss a woman's appeal against the High Court's decision refusing to grant her application for a declaration that she has a right to renounce Islam. The CoA apparently, in a 2-1 decision, decided to dismiss her appeal because the name appearing in her originating summons "no longer existed".

This is yet another shallow minded, convenient and fearful approach taken by the second highest court of the land when being confronted by matters involving conversion from Islam by anybody who had earlier professed to be a Muslim. Rather than seizing the opportunity to make a fully reasoned decision by confronting the issue at hand heads on, the CoA would rather hide behind trivial technicalities as if procedures are made to hamper, rather than aid, litigants.

I have lost count on how many such cases have come up for appeals in the CoA or even in the highest Courts of the land, the Federal Courts. Not a single one has been decided on its merit. The most that has been said in these cases is that the matter is within the purview of the Syariah Court and thus the civil courts do not have jurisdiction to entertain the cases. Since when the Syariah Courts have jurisdiction to decide on a Constitutional issue is quite beyond my remembrance.

In this latest episode, the woman had used both her Muslim and her Chinese names in her summons. The purpose of stating one's name on a summons or in any legal documentation is to identify oneself. In the olden days in England, one did not only have to state one's name but also was required to state one's address and/or profession. That is solely for the purpose of identification so that a Robin Hood of Nottingham Forrest would not be mistaken for a Robin Hood of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The practice of stating one's name and address continues to this very day because as we all know, there is no such thing as an identity card over there.

That practice was adopted here. Thus, one has to state one's name and address in any summons and also affidavit. However, our Courts take the matter so seriously so much so that there are Judges who dismiss cases or reject affidavits just because the address is not stated or the name is not spelt correctly. In doing that, the Judges have failed to appreciate the rationale for such procedural rule (I would even say they don't actually know the rationale). They also forget that in Malaysia, an identification could be specifically done just by stating the Identity Card number! Thus, the rule requiring that one's name and address or even profession be stated must be taken in that perspective.

One of the CoA Judges was in the case yesterday was reported as saying "the question before us is who is appearing in the appeal? Is it the Chinese name or the Muslim name?". First of all, the one appearing before the CoA was not the "name" but the PERSON being represented by her Counsel. Second of all, her Counsel had already clarified that the name appearing on the Court papers was the name of the PERSON appealing. So, what was the issue? Where was the confusion? It also speaks volume of the quality of the AG Chambers' advocacy skills when all they could muster in such an important case was an objection of this nature.

The truth is that the real issue at hand is the proverbial hot potato which no one would like to handle. The name or names was just a convenient excuse to pass the buck. One wonders why the CoA did not seize the opportunity to decide on a very importand and almost a cardinal Constitutional issue. After all, the issue is one of fundemental liberties of Malaysians as provided by the Federal Constitution and not about Islam. It so incidental that in this case the religion being professed is Islam but this does not detract from the constitutional issue which begs to be argued and determined. The Syariah Courts clearly do not have jurisdiction over this matter.

Malaysia must be the only Commenwealth country where a Constitutional law issue is being dismissed by the Courts because the litigant has used a wrong name!

That's the inconvenient truth of it all.

ASSTROfornication - a world on repeat mode

2008-08-06T07:00:00.001+08:00

One afternoon, just about one or two months away from my MCE (now known as "SPM") examinations, all of us Form Fivers were called into the hostel dining room for some kind of prep talk. On the raised platform in front were 4 young lecturers from UKM, apparently invited by the school to give us advice on the impending examinations. A question was asked during the Q&A session by a friend who wanted to know why some students managed to remember everything they read about as opposed to some who did not manage to do so. One of the lecturers answered that question by posting a rhetorical question. "How do you remember that the grass is green? Do you memorise it?", he asked.

He then asked why was it that we managed to remember the grass is green even though we did not make any effort to remember that fact. That is the power of repetition, according to him.

Thinking about it, repetition, is indeed a powerful tool. In the olden days, information would be repeated by the King throughout his kingdom as a matter of propaganda, especially during a war. In peaceful times, information would be repeated on perhaps the necessity of paying taxes or perhaps also to put the citizenry on notice that such and such a person was being sought after by the King for whatever offence. No matter what the purpose of the repetition of the information was, the process of repeating was laborious, to say the least. It will perhaps involve men on horses, riding from one village to the other, shouting the information repeatedly.

The oldest hobby of homo sapiens is perhaps the participation in the oldest form of chain e-mails, namely, the act of gossiping. This is of course during the time before gossiping was elevated into an industry worth billion of dollars. Gossiping is, in itself a form of repetition, where a certain unproven matter or matters about something or somebody, which is normally of a very scandalous variety, would be whispered into the ears of a set of people. The recipient(s) would then repeat the same to another set of people, but of course with a certain latitude of additions or omissions, as the repeater deemed fit for his or her purpose. And this process would be repeated over and over again, each time to a different set of audience. The obvious element of this act is of course, first of all, secrecy of the originator. The design of this act is almost always to scandalise or at least embarrass the subject of the act, which could be a person, a household, an institution or a group of people.

Malay folklore are replete with tales of vicious schemes undertaken through the act of gossiping, which almost always ended tragically. The beautiful Mahsuri, for example, died impaled by bamboo sticks because of an unfounded gossip. Hang Tuah was sentenced to death by the King after being gossiped of having an affair with one of the King's female servants. He luckily survived. Hang Nadim, a boy, was sentenced to death and executed, when it was gossiped that he was too smart so much so that he could overthrow the palace!

Thus was the power of repetition in the olden days.

The need to repeat a certain act is also perhaps owed to the nature of human beings, who are of course, blessed with memory, albeit at varying degree. The ability to memorise or to remember results in human beings' fondness to indulge in the act of reminiscing, which is a form of natural recreation. Before the advent of technology, the act of reminiscing was of course restricted to the act of closing one's eyes and projecting images of the acts or things being remembered or reminisced about. When human beings were able to draw or paint, these images would be drawn or painted in some caves or on some stone tablets. The Pharaohs, for instance, would decree that a whole history of their rules be painted on a whole plain of rock to ensure that they do not vanish from the Earth without being remembered. The Incas would paint or inscribed the whole picture of their irrigation system on a plain of rock, just for posterity sake.

When human beings began writing, of course, some of them began recording events on paper which could be in written form alone, or sometime, even accompanied with drawings or paintings. These were borne out of the necessity to revisit events, whether out of personal attachment to the events, a learning activity or curiosity. Whatever it was, the act of repetition was then becoming mildly sophisticated.

The printing business revolutionised the whole act of repetition. The common people could now revisit events just by re-reading the printed material. By this time, technology had also made it possible to record an event in pictorial form. Together, these abilities brought to the world a new economics gadgetry called "advertising". By this time, the masses could already store their nice remembrances in printed forms. So were articles, stories, literature and learned works. All these could be read repeatedly, at one's own time during one's leisure or period of necessity. Repetition became an act done with relative ease as compared to the time when men on horses going about shouting repeated information for the King. The act of mass repeating, other than the act of gossiping, was at last available to the masses at relative ease and cheapness.

If the act of publishing prints of articles, stories etc gave the amenity to repeat reading or visual visitation of events, stories etc, the act of advertising exploited the power of repetition and human beings' ability to memorise and remember, albeit in subliminal and/or subconscious form. The media of communication would be used to print short articles about certain product with a certain message and publish the same repeatedly. These short articles, coupled with images of the product, or the lifestyles to which the product was related to, would be placed at certain strategic places in the publication where it was deemed inescapable from the view and attention of the masses or readers. Subliminally or subconsciously, these articles and their images would "stick" in the minds of the masses or readers, who would later purchase the subject of the advertisements whenever necessary or even unnecessarily. The true power of repetition was, at this stage of civilisation, almost realised.

Just after this, the radio and television, as well as the cinemas, would provide endless avenues for the masses to indulge in repetitive enjoyment of stories, movies and songs. Favourite songs could be played over and over again on the gramophones while movies could be shown, and watched, numerous times. While at first, the images were in black and white, later they were able to be projected in colours. While at first, the gramaphone was an odd looking piece of steel with rotating table which had to be manually turned via a handle, it was later replaced with a motor driven turntable driven by electric motors. Later this gadget became mobile with the advent of cassette tapes. The transistor radios replaced the humongous valve radios and later became mobile too, with radios shrinking in sizes. Repetition, at this time, became so easy to perform and its technology easy to purchase and own.

The digital revolution however pushed the frontiers of repetition to a new level. The masses could not only repeat a certain media at his or her own leisure time (and needs), they could also repeat a particular segment from within that media with modified intensity or speed. Thus, one could repeat a scene in the movie "Untouchables" for umpteen times in slow motion, at a rate up to 8 times slower than the original speed. (I must confess I am one of those who repeated the scene where Sean Connery was assassinated interspersed with the images of De Niro crying at the opera house 89 times, in slow motion too!) The same could be done to songs, although there is not much fun in repeating a song at a slower speed unless one is playing it backwards in order to find subliminal satanic messages. If before, the liberty to repeat at one's whims and fancy was only possessed by the industry, the digital age has altered that to give more power to repeat and to decide in what manner the repeat is to be done to the masses. Pornography, at this time, is taken to a new height, and depth (pun not intended).

Elsewhere, computer games gives the masses to the ability to "interact" with the games they are playing on the computer enabling them to repeat the game by trying out varieties of responses and reactions to a given set of situations provided by the game, each of the responses and reactions coming with a different set of counter-responses and reactions and ultimately, results. Images and stories, articles and works, learned or otherwise, are now not only available via the print media, but also stored in digital form in cyberspace, ready to be accessed at a click of a mouse.

At macro level, a whole new approach to story making, as well as digital gossiping, were taking place. The ability to repeat a scene, whether in "motion" pictures or still pictures has now empowered the industry to create a whole new scene which would be entirely different from the original scene which was being repeated through a process known as "digital editing". At micro level, the masses could also do this, albeit, through less sophisticated methodology and means via a process popularly known as "photoshop". The industry now is equipped with technology to repeat a scene from a series of pictures, splice up some of them, cut them out and "paste" them on a particular scene, doctor them, mutate and morph them out into an entirely different scene altogether. Thus, in the movie Forrest Gump for example, the character Gump was shown to have shaken hand with JF Kennedy. This of course had never taken place. But employing digital editing, this entirely new, and untrue, scene was there for all to see. Repetition is by now elevated to an art form.

The masses was not to be left out either. The "cut and paste" methodology was widely, and cheaply, available. A whole new dimension of digital gossiping ensued. Thus we could see for example, a picture of Najib Razak dining with Altantuya Sharibu on the internet, although it was admitted later that that picture was "doctored" or "digitally processed", to use the digital linggo. The digital camera, which is now cheaply available in every mobile phone, could also be easily and instantly called into service by the masses when events which necessitate or deemed justified for a recording (for future repeats of course) take place. Thus we could now see a proliferation of recording of sexual acts between consenting adults on the computer. These acts (the acts of recording the events and uploading the recording onto a website) is fueled by the knowledge that the recording could and might be repeatedly watched by the masses. Repetition is now a cause of self exhibitionism. Self exhibitionism, on the other hand, is enhanced by repetition. They co-exist in an inter-dependent and inter-beneficial world called the cyber world, the e-world, the world wide webs.

Acts of gossiping has become borderless. Where before, gossiping entails words passed from a person to another, with the minds projecting images as described by words, digital gossiping would come complete with words, pictures and sounds. Chua Soi Lek found that to his chagrin. Invasion of privacy is now just a click away. Voyeurism is now almost too easy and has therefore, probably, lost its sinister edge.

Digital recording and editing has made the act of prying into and revealing a person's private life in all its sordid details all too easy and almost convenient. On the other hand, while digital editing and recording has caught many a person with their pants literally down, it has also provided the masses with a defence whenever they are caught in such situation. Thus we have Ida Nerina saying in her defence that the sexual video showing a woman who looked like her (although we do not know whether she sounded like her) in it is not genuine. Linda Rafar defended herself from allegation of sexual misconduct after pictures of someone looking like her naked with a KRU member appeared in the net by saying that those pictures were a "cut and paste" job. The whole digital editing and recording liberty even managed to cause a Royal Commission to be established in Malaysia, the results of which I am sure is within everybody's knowledge. The same tactic is employed here, namely, the decrying of such recording as a work of ingenuity. Others, like Paris Hilton or Pamela Anderson, on the other hand, reveled in joyous celebrations and probably even benefited both financially and publicity wise after their sexual recordings and pictures appeared. It is obvious that the masses are now in control of repetition and will not be afraid or even hesitate to utilise it depending on their respective needs.

At macro level digital recording technology provides another dimension to security services. The private sectors install CCTV in order to monitor the masses on their premises for security (or might also be for commercial) purposes. The streets and highways of Great Britain have more cameras littered around than a Holywood studio, all in the name of security . Big Brother is now watching every step taken by the masses.

Elsewhere, sports analysis are made through repetitive display of an opposing team's performance. Tactics, strategies, weaknesses and strengths of the opposing numbers are looked into, with minute details, from repetition technology. So are the tactics, strategies, weaknesses and strengths of one team being ascertained and addressed by the same technology, in reverse order.

The world now revolves around and from the employment of repetition. If knowledge is power, repetition is therefore knowledge in itself.

However, nothing can beat the perfection of the power of repetition by Astro. Just the other night I was watching "Death Wish" by Charles Bronson for the 77th time. And that is in this year alone. I have also watched "Home Alone" 35 times. Two weeks ago, in July, they were showing reruns of "The Champion's League Updates" which was originally shown in March this year. And it was repeated complete with March promos which were encouraging me to watch the Champion's League sudden death round! All in July mind you. Here is a company, which turns repetition into a multi million ringgit business. Repetition is now a business on its own. Astro - selling repeats!

Repetition now exists, and justifies itself, by itself. That's what I call ASSTROfornication!

But then again, just imagine the power of repetition being used, and abused, by political powers for non other than political gains. I think I will write about this next...

Comment on Malaysia Building Society Berhad's Promo Material

2008-08-05T07:00:00.001+08:00

I was at the Malaysia Building Society Berhad (MBSB) yesterday on some business and as I had to wait, I did what I usually do when I don't bring a book with me, stroll over to the brochures, take one each and then go back to the counter and read whatever I have. So I have put up there for you MBSB's Personal Finance - i (what's with these stupid names? Just call it what it is lah!) brochure.

Maybe I'm warped but if you read their tag line, it seems to hint at an element of recklessness: We put the money in your wallet, and the rest is up to you. Thankfully they had enough class to leave the apostrophe out. Let's break it down here. MBSB will put money in my wallet and the rest is up to me? Great! Now I can take this loan and finally afford to get into those top class karaokes or get me that dream foursome going, or wait, wait, now I can finally get that kilo of coke that I've been scraping and saving for. It's so easy! Sheesh. What kind of pitch is this? Mind you they went with this angle of pitch probably ignorant of the backdrop of increasing bankruptcies due to credit cards. Bernama reported on 21 May 2008 the following:

As for the number of people declared bankrupt due to credit card debts, Nor Mohamed (ed: the Second Finance Minister) said the number last year was 1,873 people compared with 1,656 in 2006 and 1,479 in 2005 and 1,397 people in 2004.

Then there's the brochure below titled "Exec-Entrepreneur" Financing - i (Pembiayaan Usahawan Muda-i). You may not be able to read what's written on it unless you download the picture and then enlarge it but I'll save you the trouble and put up what they have written in sequence:

(Yellow words) For those determine to succeed. - we make it happen.

Their Malay translation: Untuk mereka yang mempunyai wawasan untuk berjaya.

(Black bold) This package is offered to graduates to start their own business.

Pakej ini memberi peluang kepada graduan untuk memulakan perniagaan.

(I won't put the translations for the ones below)

Payment period between 2 to 7 years
Minimum RM 5,000 - Maximum RM 50,000
Salary deduction from employer, Biro Perkhidmatan Angkasa (BPA), post dated cheque or standing instruction
MDTA Takaful throughout the financing period
One guarantor or collateral is required
Joint borrower

Let's take it from the top:

'For those determine to succeed'

God. You know nobody checked this. They should pull the d out of the editor's arse, turn it around and then stuff it up his arse again. Unless he likes that, of course. Then don't bother. (Sorry, just couldn't help myself. How can you not crack an arsehole or sodomy joke in Malaysia right now?! Pun intended of course!)

Then let's consider their tag line 'For those determine to succeed. - we make it happen.' But how do they do that aside form chucking money at that Usahawan Muda? Nothing. All they talk about is the terms of the loan.

There is no value added service such as some rudimentary advice on what's available to them as a mode for starting their business - partnership, sole trader, company - private or limited, etc and some basics on the areas to keep an eye on (cash flow, regular expenses) and certain common pitfalls that afflict newcomers (selling the same thing without any added value).

This is important since they are pitching to graduates - people who essentially just came out of school. Because really, having looked at the personal financing 'features' and compared it to this one we're discussing - there's little difference in terms of what you eventually get (the former has a higher 'financing' loan amount - RM 75,000 and lower minimum RM 3,000.00). It's like being at a restaurant where they list 50 items on the menu but they all refer to the same dish.

I could tell you also about the MBSB Assist Personal Financing-i, which describes itself as 'an exclusive medical assistance package for UKM KESIHATAN clients/patients to assist their loved one.' but I'd be wasting both our time. The only significant difference from the "Exec-Entrepreneur" Financing - i is that the MBSB Assist option gives you a '5.5% flat profit-sharing rate' whatever the heck that is. We get 5.5% of the profit shared out amongst all of us? Profit made when? What if there's no profit? Argh. Okay, maybe I'm just dumb about this stuff. But if you get right down to it, it's just a slice of salad with the goddamned chicken. All I can say is what lousy financial products they have. Zero added value aside from loaning you money.

Sometimes I wonder you know. Is it just me? Maybe I'm the one who's missing something here. Maybe it actually all makes sense and it's me that's out of the loop of sense, both common and uncommon. Maybe, maybe, I should take some medicine. The type that makes me feel good. Yeah! That type of medicine. Then, then this will all make sense. Or I hope so anyway...

weekend observations...

2008-08-04T10:06:00.001+08:00

I tell ya...my grandma had a tough time deciding which one to buy for my mom's 76th birthday.

A long long time ago, if your family has always been some kinda "smith", ie, locksmith or whateversmith, than your surname might be "Smith". Ditto if your family's been dabbling in witchcraft, your surname might be "Witch". Of course, now, if your family is in the construction business.....

Not Reading

2008-08-03T19:06:00.003+08:00

There will inevitably be those times when we simply do not have time to do even those things that are important for ourselves. It is certainly the sign of the times when in the past, people could not take care of their health because of the lack of knowledge or wealth. These days however, people fail to do so simply because they just don't have the time. Work seems to intrude on just about everything these days that I am sometimes tempted to think that overwork and working over time is one of the greatest social evils of our age more so than illegal substances and corruption. I shall save that rant for some other day. But it is in those times that I tend to find myself not reading something. Although I do read a lot in one day (submissions, letters, cause papers, emails and all the usual routine paperwork), when I say I do not read something I mean something different,. And something different means something either tangentially related to the law (judges biographies, the state of law in other jurisdictions, etc.) or something different altogether - psychology, economics, religion or good fiction (the classics or those that come highly recommended by my more literary friends). And newspapers by the way do not count because they are generally biased, does not provide much food for thought and the quality of writing in general leaves some style and ability to be desired.

I find that after about 2 weeks of not reading and being in the thick of work, I will slowly start to get uneasy about not reading something substantive or substantial or thought provoking. I need something new to keep my thoughts and mind churning over some other matters. If these needs are not met by the 3rd week that's when I start to think and feel that the neurons in my head that are not used begin to implode. Day by day, I become more and more convinced I'm becoming stupid. If this is not addressed in another 2 - 3 weeks (usually because of work and by now there would have been some pissed up parties and hang overs), that's when the fear digs deep. By now I will brook no dispute that I am marginally intelligent than an amoeba and paralysis in my reading and writing sets in. When I try to write, the fear freezes my hands and a little voice whispers in my ear that it's not good enough and never will be. If I try to now actually read something, I find that the words become heavy and no longer can I embrace each word no matter how short because my 'literary arms' have become weak. The words fall heavily and painfully on to my feet. The sentences stab right through my soft head and my eyes are like pools of water mirroring the emptiness of my head.

Thankfully I have never gotten further than that because if I had, I would have probably joined UMNO and started raping goats in the kampung or something with black polish on my body. But I try my best not to go without reading too long because the road back to actually read something substantive and meaningful is a long and painful one, letter by letter, word by word and sentence by sentence. But oh, to read and resonate, how wonderful a thing it is!

Of Selling Stuff

2008-08-01T18:45:00.004+08:00

I often find myself declaring that I could not sell a heater to an eskimo to save my life, not so much because I want to lull the eskimo into a false sense of security before I hit him with my sales pitch, but because it is simply true. I used to dread those times of charity when instead of generously allowing me to make a fool of myself in the attempt to raise money, they gave me tickets to sell. Ugh. Seriously. Ask me to sing. Ask me to dance (take me to France... ... never mind). Ask me to do both in a bear suit. But for fuck's sake don't ask me to sell something. Once when I could afford all the tickets, I bought it out and then give them away. It was easier that way, plus it was a good way to get in touch with people. I mean, the first rule of freebies is that people respond to freebies. The second rule of freebies is that people RESPOND to freebies.*

I have not quite understood this inability of mine because if you asked me for a recommendation for a particular gadget i.e. laptop, cameras, etc. I would in all probability give a better sales pitch then if you paid me wages and had me sell those things. So it's not that I cannot make a sales pitch - I am able to understand and grasp the features of an object and their particular advantage, framing an object and its price, how to create a sales opening, etc because I have read books on how to sell things - but I am incredibly inhibited if paid to sell things. Very strange. Perhaps when I am not paid to give my recommendations it helps me feel independent and not feel particularly beholden to a particular manufacturer, so I feel less inhibited and more enthusiastic in my recommendations to someone. I think it also has to do with me as well - I don't like the idea that I am persuading or encouraging someone to buy something that they may not actually want or need simply to make a sale simply because I dislike others doing that to me. And do unto others as you would have others do unto you kind of thing.

Although, modesty aside, I am pretty sure I could advise him on a tortious claim should the heater end up melting his igloo and spoiling his fine selection of rare caviar.

*(Palahniuk, Fight Club, in case you were wondering)

The fading dreams - a true story

2008-07-30T12:43:00.002+08:00

The turning point in the Malaysian's fight for political emancipation happened last year.

In a way, we must be thankful to the PM for allowing it to happened. Whether such allowance was a deliberate and calculated move, as opposed to a purely accidental one, will remain a mystery, at least for now. However, one fact is clear. Abdullah Ahmad's idea of democracy and his willingness to allow a freer expression of thoughts, whether in the form of speech or physical demonstration, was markedly different from that of Dr Mahathir's.

While Abdullah was more willing to allow a certain degree of latitude for expression of opposing opinions or views, Dr Mahathir would not allow such luxurious "western accessories of democracy" to be even thought of, let alone practised. Before I am accused of being an Abdulphile, I must add that Abdullah's soft approach towards freedom of speech in the initial days of his premiership was perhaps a conscious populist decision which was fueled by the euphoria of his historic landslide victory in the previous general election. I must also add that this "soft" approach has now vanished and replaced by a more "hardcore and traditional" approach, an approach which would make Dr Mahathir smile with pride.

Four years is not a long time in a political time scale. However, if we accept that time is a great healer, than we must also accept that time may also be a great destroyer. The biggest mistake Abdullah had made in his political career is to absolutely miss the significance of and the underlying current which precipitated his victory in the 2004 general election. For the record, he led the BN to a record 90.4% seats in the Parliament with a popular votes of 4.4 million representing 63.9% of the total votes. Out of that, UMNO garnered 2.4 million popular votes representing a staggering 36% of the total votes. The number of seats occupied by the BN increased by 51 from the previous election.

The achievement in the 2004 general election lulled Abdullah, and the BN, into a deep slumber, a slumber which they would ultimately be rudely awaken from, on March 8th this year. Abdullah failed to analise the reasons for his historic win. It was the first general election after Dr Mahathir had stepped down from the UMNO Presidency as well as Malaysia's Premiership. Dr Mahathir was not a likable person and leader. He personified totalitarianism and to describe his period of premiership as a period of totalitarian democracy would be flatteringly kind. If not due to the fact that that term is so widely used, I would even call the term an oxymoron-ic term. How could a democracy be a totalitarian? Or vice versa?

What Abdullah had failed to realise after the 2004 general election was the fact that his and his party's victory was due to the people's perception that he represented a new political order to Malaysia, a political order where Malaysians would finally achieve a certain degree of political emancipation, where opposing views would be respected, where opponents would be engaged in a civil manner, where tyranny would be banished, where the government would finally be accountable and responsible for their actions. Abdullah, in 2004, embodied the crystallisation of a Malaysian political dream, a Messiah of democracy, heaven sent. It was a result which belied the fact that Malaysians looked at him as a Mr Clean; Mr Religious and therefore Mr Upright, morally, religiously and universally; Mr Gentleman and Mr Right. His victory was not due to the acceptance, by the people, of the BN's policies. Nor was it a sign of Ketuanan Melayu. Or of the New Economics Policy or the continuation of the same. His victory lies in the fact that Malaysians finally felt unshackled from the egomaniacal grip and tyrannical antics of the previous Prime Ministers and his cohorts. That was the reasons for Abdullah's victory. He, his people and advisers together with his party FAILED to realise this.

He instead drowned in what he believed as a populist victory. So did his party. Almost as fast as his popularity had risen, he descended into at first, what was perceived as mediocrity, which later turned into a streak of self indulgences, self interest and self rule. Malaysians were disappointed and dejected as we realised that Abdullah, and his party, were slowly but very surely morphing into the anti-Christ of Malaysian politics. Visions of Dr Mahathir and his totalitarian approaches and behaviours loomed large. Allegations of corruptions, cronyism, arrogance, lack of transparency and accountability and sheer mediocrity surfaced. Once again, the ghosts of totalitarian revisited Malaysians. And we fought back.

The difference between the people's fight for democracy in Abdullah's post 2004 election and Dr Mahathir's 22 year rule is only one. Communication. The cyber world, and to a certain extent, and the advent in telecommunication services, provide a platform for Malaysians to share information and news in an effective, fast and cheap way. Ironically, it was Dr Mahathir's government which was responsible for these amenities.

The Lawyer's Walk for Justice in Putrajaya was, to me, a realisation by Malaysians that all of us must wake up from our deep political slumber and fight for our rights. It was to be a catalysts for people's power in Malaysia and for this, I salute all those who walked the short distance from the Palace of Justice to the PM's office that day. To paraphrase Neil Armstrong's famous words, it was a short distance for Malaysians, but a giant leap for Malaysia!

The BERSIH rally ensued. And then the HINDRAF rally. The battlegrounds were being drawn. The war fronts were being marked.

Here comes the second mistake made by Abdullah and his government. Probably misunderstanding the victory in the 2004 general election as a mandate for him and his government to govern in whatever manner he likes, his response to these events could have very well be taken from Dr Mahathir's lexicon of good governance. The Bar Council was labeled as behaving like the opposition parties, said Nazri Aziz. That of course presupposes that being an opposition is not good and that oppositions are also not a good thing. The BERSIH rally was met with water cannon and laced acidic sprays. It was also glossed over by the mainstream media which reported that it was only attended by 4000 people, probably mistaking the number of the policemen for participants! Nazri, in addition, screamed that the participants are "cowards"! Abdullah's spin doctor even had the temerity to say that people should not rally and that if "they" (the word of course signifies that the participants are people belonging to an unwanted group as opposed to "us", the good group) wanted changes, "they" should show it by voting for a government change in an election. That was a challenge to vote for a change in the election. They must be regretting that challenge now. The response to HINDRAF was even harder. The ISA was used to arrest and detain the leaders till this very day. Images of the infamous Operasi Lalang haunted the Malaysians. Here is the man, in whom Malaysians rested the hope of a political empowerment, at last showing his true colour, a colour which is not dissimilar to that of his predecessor's.

That fueled the people's anger. And on March 8th this year, a lesson was taught. But it is not a lesson learnt, as recent events would show.

SILLY QUESTION!

2008-07-18T09:36:00.002+08:00

Syed Hamid Albar asked Anwar Ibrahim what he (Anwar) is afraid of by refusing to give his DNA samples to the police.

"Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim should not worry about giving his DNA samples if he were interested to seek the truth behind the sodomy allegations against him, said Home Minister Datuk Seri Syed Hamid Albar.

“DNA does not lie. Give your sample and let the expert read it,” Syed Hamid said.

He said the PKR adviser could have given the sample at the hospital in the presence of his own doctor if he was afraid of fabrication." (NST - today - 17.7.2008)

Well my friend, Malaysiakini.com also today reported that despite being arrested by 10 masked men, bundled up into a highly tinted vehicle, questioned for 5 hours, detained overnight where he was made to sleep with common criminals on the cement floor despite knowing of his back condition, Anwar Ibrahim is still not given a copy of or even shown the police report made against him by the boy whose anus was famously alleged to have been poked by Anwar. Khairy Jamaluddin seems to know a thing or two about that particular report as he seems to know beforehand that the police wanted to have Anwar's DNA samples. But neither Anwar, the accused, nor any of his family member nor his legal team know anything about it.

May I ask why? Is there such a report in the first place? Or was it a report with blank spots for the police to fill in as the "very professional investigations" are carried out?

Syed Hamid Albar. You have caused the city dwellers to suffer with traffic jam this week. You have caused some students to miss their CLP examinations this week. All because you have intelligence report that there was going to be a demonstration in KL which intelligence report turned out to be several SMS which the police had read. And now you are asking Anwar what he is afraid of? May I ask you, in relation to the police report:

Am I a moron? Or are you?

Humen Against the Mistreatment concerning Sex and Attention to their Penises (HAMSAP)

2008-07-17T09:00:00.002+08:00

I'm sick and tired of a particular species of non-governmental organizations (NGO) in Malaysia. Now I'm not putting them down or the good work that they do - helping oppressed and abused women, providing them shelter, fighting for their rights and all that. Great stuff. I'm all for it.

But I'm sick of them because firstly there are so many of them: All Woman's Action Organization (AWAM), Asian-Pacific Resources and Research Centre for Women (ARROW), Murni Women's Development Foundation of Kelantan (Yayasan MURNI), National Council of Women's Organizations (NCWO), Sabah Women's Action Society (SAWO), Sarawak Federation of Women's Institutes (SFWI), Sisters in Islam (SIS), Tenaganita, Women's Aid Organization (WAO) and Women's Crises Centre (WCC). And if those organizations from civil society are not sufficient to cover women's issues, don't you worry, because the government has the National Council of Women's Organizations, the National Advisory Council on the Inter-Action of Women in Development, the National Clearinghouse on Women in Development (NCWS) which is under the Prime Minister's Department, and the Secretariat for Women's Affairs (HAWA) which is also under the Prime Minister's Department.

In all those women's organizations, there's only one male organization I found - Pink Triangle. But membership there is a little more exclusive. It's for boys that like boys and/or like dressing as girls. So while I have nothing against homosexuality (diversity is the spice of life!) and have gotten over my homophobia (this happened when I realized that gay dudes are better traveled, well read, more sophisticated, usually possess a high level of aesthetics and great conversationalists than the common heterosexual male whose idea of conversation is scratching their balls and taking about their football team), it's not my cup of tit because I like my tits in pairs and if there's any cupping to be done, it had better be me.

What annoys me about these women's group organizations is their complete lack of creativity in coming up with cool abbreviations for their movements. I mean check it out - SAWO, SFWI, WCC - sheehs. You think they just picked out the first letters of their chosen organization name and used those. Oh wait. They did. See what I mean about lack of creativity? And when they actually make an effort to come up with something they use potent penile imagery. I mean, let's take ARROW for example. Come on. Is there even a sliver of pubic hair of vaginal imagery with that word? I think we are all agreed that a long hard shaft capped with a protruding and pointed head strongly suggests the penis. A turgid one at that.

And this brings me to my second point - it's all about women, women, women. And if it's not about that then it's about women needing this, women needing that, that men have penises and are bad, smelly and don't shave and how if they were into pussy they would all be licking and fingering themselves without us. There's nothing about the celebration of maleness, manhood or about men's place and role in society vis-a-vis women. It's gotten to the point where men don't even know how to be men anymore because we are too busy trying to please women.

And if all that is not bad enough, it's not as if women reward us with this greater sensitivity, greater care or thoughtfulness with regular and frequent kinky, creative, wild and noisy sex, daily deep throat blow jobs the moment we step into our castles (that's right boys, don't forget that or who's the king), and indulge our threesome fantasies. If you get even one of them, thank your lucky cock mate, cos most of us aren't getting any of those. Better yet record it on your phone and then email it around to make all of us jealous that you're banging that hottie from Cosmopoint in seven different ways using all the furniture in the room as well as the walls. Dream fucking on mate. Since women are so empowered these days, they will just pat you on the head for your concern and sensitivity and let you go watch football with your friends. If you are lucky she will watch while you wank yourself off and not start flipping a magazine before you cum in your record time of 30 seconds (you fucking loser!).

After a thorough and vigorous anecdotal survey conducted by the staff of Navel Gazing which are legion, I have also gathered that less and less women are putting out for men. One night stands are at an all time low. Casual sex is almost unheard of. The mention of the word orgy conjures imagery of greek men having a go at one another. And there is a strange notion growing amongst the female population that sex is something only men enjoy. If you know any women who think this, they are part of a dangerous anti-sex cult and a police report should be lodged against them. So that's right men. More of us are being fucked or sucked less. If you are a man and don't know this, you are one lucky bastard (although heads up dude, it's not gonna last forever!).

I am resolved to change this sad and terrible state of affairs (pun intended). I am therefore forming the Humen Against the Mistreatment concerning Sex and Attention to their Penises (HAMSAP) to stand up against the wanton deprivation of sex going on to the male species (and more specifically, the heterosexual male) going on in this country (pun not intended). The goal of HAMSAP is to foster, promote and encourage a society and an environment where those in either a monogamous or open relationship are able to enjoy frequent, regular and enjoyable sex. That's right, the word 'enjoyable' is significant because where the female partner reads a magazine, yawns or ask the male partner to hurry up while engaging in sexual intercourse does not amount to sex or fucking by HAMSAP guidelines. It is to foster acceptance and the practise of one night stands, orgies and kinky, wild and noisy sex for the more adventurous males of society. In time, HAMSAP hopes to train men in the art of pleasuring women i.e. eating pussy and enjoying it (that's right, it's not just tweaking the nipples like a radio and slamming the salami), so that women will be more obliging with requests for sex.

If you are male and reading this - you know what this is about. This is the penile clarion call that you have been waiting for all your sex deprived life. If you have been wondering what your life has been about and what direction it should be taking - thank your cock that you have found this posting, because you have found it. Join HAMSAP and make this world a better place. Let's get people fucking, sucking, licking and blogging all about it in their salacious and tawdry details. Because sharing is caring, just like fucking is sharing. So join us today at hamsap2008@gmail.com by telling us why you want to join HAMSAP and how long you have been deprived of sex. If we have enough members, we can even launch a political party and really start talking some cock. We will be the premier political party setting penile policy.

Join us.

Show them that you have the balls to stand up for your cock.

Be a satisfied man.

Kon Low Mee Sg. Besi

2008-07-16T21:00:00.001+08:00

For those of you dying for a fix some good old style Kon Low Mee (KLM), I found you all a joint yo. As you can see from the photo, this particular KLM hails from Sg. Besi where they have been a fixture for a long time now. It's very easy to miss this shop because they only open from 6:00 pm onwards right up until 1:00 am. They are open every day of the month although they are closed on one day of the month and are not at liberty to say when. It's as much of a secret as their KLM recipe. Don't try it. I attempted once and had to fight a vicious kung-fu battle and managed to barely escape with 2 large bowls of KLM in my gut. It was fortunate that I had mastered the wild pig snorting flying fist of oink before I went there, if not I was sure to have lost the honour battle with their resident sifu.

To get there is a bit of a pain because the road you have to be on is the one leading from KLCC towards the Sg. Besi highway/toll. So be aware of the rush hour for that area (hint: morning from 8-9am and evening from 6-8:30pm). The joint is just off Jalan Sg. Besi and next to a car audio shop. In fact, at around 6:00 pm when they first open you will even have trouble spotting it because the stall is inside. Your best bet is to look for a car audio shop next to the road with a lot of cars parked by the side of the road on your left. Once you sight it, I would not recommend parking by the road side because it is a very busy area even though you are very likely to see some impressive cars parked there waiting to have their ICE (In-Car Entertainment) system souped up (and not by the KLM soup that comes with it aight).

Now the first thing I noticed right off the bat was that they are generous with the mee here (it may have well change since the last oil hike because I think the portions have shrunk - especially the chicken - the last time I was there). My first time I here I asked for the large portion and they sent me a fucking mountain. I could barely finish the damn mee and had long past finished off 2 portions of the chicken (I shall explain the significance of this next time if I remember) when I stuffed the last few strands in my mouth. So, even if you're quite hungry, I'd recommend you start with the medium (because the small size is really a waste of time and only good for supplementing an unfulfilling medium). My usual orders are there for display although I left out the damn soup!

As you can see from the pictures, the noodles are excellent and sit in a puddle of sauce when it comes, so you can get a real nice dark texture going with the noodles. After you mix it in good (with a bit of the soup too) that should conjure up something pretty close to them old style KLM those with the char siew. The chicken however tends to drive the KLM here because its flavour is more potent and holds its own against the noodles. I think it's because of those fried bits on the top that you see on the chicken. There's the soup which I don't really count on because it's not very consistent - nice some days and but rather salty on others; sort of like Malaysian politicians but thankfully its not full of shit.

Thoughts on the Infiniteness of Learning

2008-07-15T07:00:00.000+08:00

It is often said that to learn something is to find illumination in that particular area. It is also commonly observed that the only thing one can conclude from a great deal of learning is how little we can eventually learn, retain and apply. The area of the unknown shall always and forever be greater than the known areas. This applies with greater force to an individual as opposed to a society which tends to retain an institutional memory, though it must be admitted that it might not be very accurate or even understandable. Myths are demonstrative of this, but perhaps this as humans we tend to be literal and obvious creatures first and metaphorical ones once we reach a certain intellectual and spiritual plane. We forget that our human illuminations are personal and therefore tend to be singular and that the illumination we train upon an area lights it up as much as it shows how much of the area around it remains in a formidable darkness. These I take as trite propositions in life though I welcome anyone who can demonstrate the contrary evidentially instead of by mere argument, like Xeno's paradoxes.

I am beginning to realize too that there is an infiniteness to any area of study if we really wished to know any and everything about something. Let's take something as simple as a paperclip. Do we know enough if we know how a paperclip is made? It is made from galvanized steel wire and twisted to an meaningful shape to hold a few sheets of paper together. Let's even say we know what kind of machine makes it. Do we know enough of it if we know what it is used for? It is used to hold paper together, but it can be stretched out and used to poke small holes (resetting your phone or PDA) or it can be used to in other creative ways. Do we know enough if we delve into its history, how it came about, the developments and patents that resulted in most of the standard paperclips around today? Do we know enough if we then know what steel is made of on an atomic level? Should we also not know how they interact at that level as well? And sometimes we also notice that these paperclips turn rusty - so should we also not know something about oxidization? Then if we know of the paperclips impact in terms productivity, economically, spiritually (hey, ya never know!) and in literature, can we be said to know everything about paperclips?

But all these are a great deal of things to know about just a mere paperclip which we often do not give much thought of. I am starting to think that there is no end to it; that we can never know everything of even one thing. We as humans are ultimately creatures of great practicality - we need not understand everything about something before we are able to use it, even effectively and efficiently. I am certain many people that drive cars don't even know the science of what makes it move - but what does it matter if they know how to manipulate the vehicle to do as they intend? What added benefit or advantage does a person who knows exactly how a car works as opposed to someone who doesn't though we assume for examples sake they are both equally competent drivers with similar skill levels?

The added benefit is not just in terms of a richer experience when one is undertaking the driving experience, but also the former driver knows how better to modify the vehicle such that his car would be better than that owned by latter driver. It may also perhaps make him a better driver because he knows the exact limitations and advantages of his car.

What does all this amount to then? That we are born into ignorance. That we shall always be partially ignorant. The lesser one is ignorant of something, the greater the possibility of obtaining a competitive or some sort of advantage over someone more ignorant. To be ignorant is a temporary bliss paid in the long run with significant inferiority. But then to be knowledgeable these days also means a greater chance of being obsolete.

This is OUTRAGEOUS!!!

2008-07-14T13:03:00.002+08:00

I stumbled upon this report while browsing at Malaysiakini this morning.

It is a Monday and I thought this was a Monday morning joke. I was still reeling from the stupid traffic jam caused by the police irresponsible act of blocking motorists from entering the city for reasons only best known to them. The city dwellers are already suffering the increase in costs of living caused by the petrol hike and of course the police are not making it any easier for all of us by mounting indiscriminate roadblocks all over the place. Don’t they realise how much petrol is wasted while all the vehicles were caught in the standstill? But I suppose they wouldn’t care less.

Anyway, back to the real story. MV Augusta was bought during Dr Mahathir’s regime for 70 million Euro, which was equivalent to RM368 million or thereabout. When Dr Mahathir was gone, his blue eyed boy Tengku Mahaleel, the then CEO of Proton was also gone. Syed Zainal became CEO. And for reasons best known to only the Proton Board of Directors, MV Augusta was sold for 1 Euro. That is ONE EURO. The entire purchase price of RM368 million was then written off. Exactly how this massive writing off passed the auditor’s checking was quite beyond me. At the very least, there ought to have been a qualification by the auditors of Proton’s financial statements for that financial year for the following reasons:

· If the sale of MV Augusta for Euro 1 was seen as an ordinary and acceptable sale, than the auditors should have queried the purchase of the company at RM368 million as obviously the purchase was at an overvalue.

· If the purchase was seen as an ordinary and thus, acceptable transaction, conversely, the sale at 1 Euro would have to be looked into because quite obviously, it was a sale at a massive undervalue.

· Whatever it was, surely the sale at 1 Euro would have to be queried further as to its methodology and valuation process. Was it at arm’s length? Was it a related party transaction? Surely something which was bought at RM 368 million cannot be sold at 1 Euro without raising an eyebrow. How could there be such disparity over the purchase value and the sale value? It just does not make any sense.

Proton apparently paid RM 368 million for a 57.75% stake in MV Augusta. At the time of sale, it had a debt of Euro 107 million. For financial year ending 31.3.2006, Proton had to make provisions of RM 136.2 million for MV Augusta’s liability. In a statement, Proton was quoted as saying “in the event MV Agusta falls into bankruptcy, Proton would have been subjected to a contingent liability for an amount of up to RM923.1 million”. That was because, I believe, under Italian laws, the parent company (Proton) had to be liable for MV Augusta’s liabilities. If all these are true, surely the purchase of Proton at RM 368 million had to be questioned. What was the methodology used? How was the valuations done? Was there premium paid? Was it at arm’s length?

When the Proton’s Board decided to sell MV Agusta for a mere 1 Euro, it would of course appear that the Board did not view MV Augusta to be worth anything more than Euro 1. It would be impossible for a company to lose so much value just within a year or so of its purchase. If we take the decision to sell at Euro 1 on the face of it, than common sense would have demanded the Board to investigate into the propriety of the purchase of the company at RM 368 million. Was there an investigation done? If so, what was the result?

Under the law, Directors owe fiduciary duties to the Company on which Board they sit as Directors. These duties, among others, entail the duty to protect the assets of the Company. The law also requires the Directors to act in the best interest of the Company at all time. So, it was the duty of the Board of Directors to investigate the purchase at RM 368 million when the same Board was of the opinion that the value was only Euro 1. The duty does not stop there. After the investigation is done, it would be the duty of the Board to take action to recover the losses caused by the previous management. In this case, since the present Board thinks that the value is only 1 Euro, it must then bring action against the previous Board for squandering about RM 367 999 996.00. But that was never done despite them forming the opinion that the company was only worth Euro 1 (or about RM 4).

Now, the sage doesn’t end there. CNN on 11.7.2008 reported that MV Augusta was sold to Harley Davidson for USD 109 million !!! That would be around RM 348 million. It is unclear whether the purchase was for 100% or only 95% of the company. The purchase price includes the absorption of a debt of about USD 70 million by Harley Davidson. That means the nett purchase price was USD 39 million. Whatever it is, it was not bought for Euro 1 or thereabout.

Assuming the report is talking about the same MV Augusta which Proton bought for RM 368 million and sold for 1 Euro, somebody in Proton will, and should, pay for this colossal financial stupidity. If Proton now have a new Board of Directors, than the new Board owes a duty to the Company to launch an action against the old Board which decided to sell MV Augusta for only Euro 1. If there are now new Directors, apart from the old Directors who decided to sell for Euro 1, these new Directors then owe a duty to the Company to take such action.

What if the Board doesn’t change? In that event, no action will be taken because it would be unlikely for the Board to sue itself. Or what if the current Board doesn’t want to take action? Do not fret. Any shareholder can take action on behalf and for the benefit of the Company as a whole. That is called a derivative action. And serious questions should really be asked during Proton’s next AGM on this matter.

Because something just doesn’t seem right.

The Photographer

2008-07-13T07:00:00.000+08:00

I take too many photos these days.

For a long while, I never really consciously thought about creative focusing, interesting angles and other technical matters. I just wanted to click the damn button and get it over with. It didn't take me long to know the routine. Wait for everybody to get in. Let them comb their hair a bit with their fingers. Let them arrange themselves and then re-arrange them a bit. I don't know why those fucking tall idiots always have to plant themselves right in the middle. Go to the side lah! You know you are tall right, move to the side! If there was one thing I could say to them it is, be the frame.

Then give everybody fair warning and count out aloud. If you have a tripod, even better, use your hands also for gesture support, like making a wave with your arm and counting with your fingers. Trust me, it helps. This helps cut down those monkeys that time their lids to shut at just the time your finger nails that button and lets those about to sneeze know when to time it. I can understand those poor buggers because I also have sinus.

Then one day I thought I'd look through some of the more recent family photos and you know what shocked met? That I didn't remember any of those photos. And even more was the fact that I was really taking one photo the whole night. Okay, I'm exaggerating but you know what I'm talking about. Those same family photos that where everybody was properly seated or standing and all smiling obligingly. I now call those photographic evidence because it's just to show who came to the party and who was conspicuously absent. It was so fucking tedious that I was happy to come across some accidental candid shots or some out of focus shots simply because they broke the monotony.

Why do we keep taking the same photos?

sharing the loot...

2008-07-11T10:44:00.003+08:00

I have always thought that there is some kind of a bribe pool within the banking sector. Together, the managers will collect bribes from lawyers or whoever and at the end of the month they would all gather in some dingy karaoke rooms and account for all the collections. They will then distribute the loot. Same goes with the police. I have that impression as well.

And now it is confirmed. The Star today reports:

"GEMAS: A policeman has lodged a report against all his colleagues including his superiors allegedly over dissatisfaction on how the monthly bribes from those operating illegal activities was being distributed.

In retaliation, one of his superiors, a sergeant, lodged another police report against the policeman, a lance corporal, for allegedly selling station property to scrap dealers.

A source said the lance corporal, in his 40s, was dissatisfied with his superiors for allegedly taking the lion’s share of the bribes while the rank and file received very little."

Read here.

If not for the gravity of the situation, that piece of news almost sounded funny! God!

EcoMahaNomics – the warped economics

2008-07-09T15:16:00.001+08:00

Malaysiakini reports today the colossal amount of profits made by the Independent Power Providers (IPP) last year. In total, the 13 IPPs made RM3.37 billion of profit before tax (PBT) last year. On average therefore, each of the IPPs makes about RM260 million of PBT last year.

It is public knowledge that some of the IPPs were awarded contracts to produce power and rewarded with power purchasing agreements with TNB since 1994. The contracts run for a period of 21 years, thus expiring in 2015. Just imagine. On the assumption of a RM200 million of PBT every year, each and every IPP would be making RM4200000000.00 of PBT at the end of the concession period! Just count the zeros. That is RM4.2 billion of PBT ladies and gentlemen! And that is on the assumption of just RM200 million of PBT per year.

Just to rub salt in the already very painful wound, as reported in the same Malaysiakini report, it was disclosed in the Parliament that 10 IPPs, within the period of May 1997 to March 2008 enjoyed a total of RM35.7 million worth of gas subsidies from Petronas. (Is this sum correct? Because it sounds suspiciously understated). In trying to justify the colossal amount of discounts given to the already obscene looking IPPs, Deputy Minister in PM’s Department, SK Devamani said that the subsidies did not actually benefit the IPPs but rather, they benefited the end users as electricity rate would be much higher without the discounts.

Sorry. I am feeling stupid today Mr Deputy Minister. If the IPPs are collectively making RM3.37 billion a year, can’t they afford to pay RM35.7 million for the gas in a period of 11 years, which coincidentally would amount to a meagre RM3.245 million a year? And if your contention is correct, why is it that electricity rates are going up instead of coming down?

The statement that the end users, namely, myself and other Malaysians are benefiting from the subsidies and from this obscene privatisation exercise is an insult to all ordinary Malaysians. Reuters reported last year that 40% of the total electricity generation capacity was NOT USED. In fact, as there is no technology as yet available to store electricity, it means that 40% of the total electricity generated in Malaysia is WASTED! And that is not taking into account the power which going to be generated by the Bakun project.

Under the various power purchasing contracts between TNB and the IPPs, TNB has to purchase power from these IPPs at a certain rate. What does that mean? Well, Reuters very succinctly (and very mildly, if I may add) put it as follows:

“Since Malaysia has a glut of power capacity, Tenaga is buying power no one wants.”

The same Reuters report says that as of last year, the IPPs each pay a tax of 1% of the profit. Well, I don’t know whether this is correct but if it is correct, the obvious question would be why are the IPPs paying such low tax? It looks like the IPPs have it all. Firstly, they produce electricity with subsidies given by Petronas. Then they are guaranteed of income by power purchase agreements with TNB at a certain rate. Then, even unused power is also guaranteed of sale by those power purchase agreements. Then they make billions. Then they only pay 1% tax on profit. As reported also, the Government had proposed to increase this tax but the proposal was opposed by the IPPs concerned. Instead, it was also reported, the IPPs concerned had “sought a five-year extension to current pacts, and permanent licences to operate after the agreements expired.” Read that properly. They want permanent licenses to operate! Jeez, the greed of it all! (the IPPs concerned are mentioned at page 2 of the Reuters report).

The privatisation of the power production, as everybody would have known, happened during the (mis)administration of Dr Mahathir. This was his idea of good management of the economy. If all the IPPs could make a total of RM54.2 billion PBT – and it must be remembered that this amount is after deducting costs, including financial costs - (ie RM4.2 billion average PBT per IPP x 13 IPPs) at the end of the concession period of 21 years, why couldn’t TNB itself produce the power? Why must it be privatised? Dr Mahathir did not have to consult a super duper accountant to figure out the numbers. Let’s just say the plant would cost RM30 billion. TNB could incorporate a subsidiary company for the purpose of constructing, commissioning and operating the plant. It can issue bonds with fixed rate certificate for say, 20 years to obtain finance. As TNB is in a monopoly business, namely, the supply and distribution of electricity to all and sundry in the whole Malaysia, I am sure RAM can give an AAA rating to the bonds. Otherwise, the government could even guarantee the bonds. Why so difficult? After all, the business is a monopoly and there are at least 20 million guaranteed end users! I am dead sure TNB would be making money just as the IPPs are now making money (and continuing to make money).

We now talk about sodomy. All of us Malaysians have been sodomised to the hilt!

What do you call this? I call it EcoMahaNomics.

missing the concept 1.1

2008-07-09T08:56:00.003+08:00

This is our policeman. I thought the purpose of enforcing the law
is to deter people from breaking the law.
If you all fuckin' hide in a fruit hut and nobody could see you, how the
hell does that deter people from speeding? BTW, is the woman in tudung
a policewoman ah?
No wonder they are so good at arresting people for sodomy.

i Am BoRed...

2008-07-07T10:42:00.003+08:00

Bala oh Bala,

kenaper engko camtu

camner aku tak camtu

aku ditimpa bala

bala oh bala

kenaper engko timper Bala

camner aku tak timpa Bala

Bala carik aku

Bala oh Bala

kenaper ko carik bala

bukan aku yang carik bala

bala yang ikut aku

bala oh bala

kenaper plak engko ikut Bala

camner aku tak ikut Bala

Bala suker panggil aku

Bala oh Bala

mengaper engko sker panggil bala

bukan aku sker panggil bala

orang panggil aku Bala

Orang oh orang

kenaper ko sker panggil Bala

camner kiter tak panggil Bala

itu dah memang namer dier

memang namer dier

memang namer dier...

Clinics For Countries

2008-07-01T23:13:00.003+08:00

Jalan Wong Ah Fook, Johor Bahru

July 2008

Footballers

2008-06-30T22:09:00.000+08:00

Though I fell in love with football only recently (circa 2003), it has not taken me long to hate footballers. Generally, of course. There will always be a few shining lustruous pearls amidst an ocean of shite. Now I hate them because most of them now have absolutely no loyalty whatsoever to the club. Those bygone days where footballers were proud of their clubs, even if they didn't win anything, and stayed on year after year in the hope that they did is now becoming the type of ancient history that doesn't make it to the history books. For example, even though I hate Manchester United and think most of their fans are a bunch of twats (except for Art, of course *chuckle*), you gotta respect some of their players like Ryan Giggs who spent his entire career at the club. I don't think we are ever going to see the likes of him anymore. More and more, I see footballers who have one singular good season (despite the earlier ones being shite or mediocre) being proclaimed by the English press as the next Pele or Maradona and then because of all the bloody media attention, they get poached by the Italian or Spanish leagues (read Juventus, AC Milan, Inter Milan and Real Madrid or Barcalona, respectively - bunch of non-English speaking twats). To use the Manchester United example again, in the last season 2007/08, Cristiano Ronaldo had by any standards an outstanding year. He won the European Championship and the Premiership Championship this year. He's 23. So he's got a lot of years left and you would think, he would stay with Manchester United which is as much as I hate to admit it the top club in Europe right now. But then as usual those fuckers Real Madrid then screw all these footballers up by indicating that they are 'interested' (I've got beef with them as well because they are making it a yearly habit to declare their love for Fabregas, may you never leave us!) and the worse part is these footballers then become 'unsettled'. How you can have a 4 year contract or whatever with the club, play so well for a few years, get on with everybody and then at the mere mention of an interest become 'unsettled'. These bastards are paid something like upwards of 50,000 pounds a week and they are unsettled. You pay me that kinda money, I settle wherever the fuck you like Mister and I love you long time oso! And of course you be nice to me then I no reason to leave sorta shite.

Sure you get the usual argument like - footballers have a limited earning time period - about 10 years or so, so they have to make the most of it. So we have to understand that even though they signed a 5 year contract, if some other club is willing to pay more and buy out their contract, they should be allowed to leave so that they can have enough for their retirement. What happened to loyalty? What happened to the contract which basically is a promise in exchange for obscene amounts of money that they would stay at the club for the duration of their contract? A footballers contract is now so meaningless - you can sign up for a 10 year contract, but if the player wants to leave and the buying club is willing to fork out the money, they are sold. And what happened to professionalism on the footballers part? Being professional means that you honour your contract instead of (i) claiming you want to play for your childhood club (do it after you finished your contract asshole) and the engineer to leave (ii) try to buy out your own contract (which apparently is now allowed). Professionalism for a footballer should not be limited to the football field, where most of them fail this test too. So often do you see big strapping lads with limbs like timber diving like a happy dolphin on the ground at the merest touch. Then they are usually clutching their legs or face or wherever it was there were last touched and clutching it and rolling around like a shot gun blew it off complete with the agonized looks. And after their supposed offender is shown a yellow card or reprimanded they're up and about like a happy lamb and back to being their usual arsehole selves.

So where does this leave us when more and more footballers adopt such attitudes - an utter lack of professionalism both on the field and in their contracts? I think it will in time turn off 'neutrals', those who just enjoy watching good football. Clubs and football then will be crushed by the financial expectations of men who really are paid obscene amounts of money for kicking the ball around on a field for the display. They do not create food. They do not solve people's problems. They contribute nothing to science (and being a subject for medical/sports science is not a pro-active contribution but a mere passive one). They do not contribute to the intellectual progress (and on the contrary by their very actions tend to hold back this sort of progress). They kick a ball well and make it enjoyable for us. That they are paid so much for so little, (especially in terms of professionalism), really makes me wonder what our priorities are as a human race. It would seem that pure entertainment is our priority instead of encouraging each other to do as good a job as possible and getting along with one another.

Happy Navel #1

2008-06-29T17:59:00.005+08:00

I've decided to take pictures of any willing navels around and put them up in here.

June 2008

Mont Kiara, Kuala Lumpur

The Fall of the Giant Rambutan Pudding

2008-06-27T14:13:00.000+08:00

June 2008

Somewhere in Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur

a very big storm in a very small espresso cup

2008-06-26T10:22:00.003+08:00

I am talking about the Statutory Declaration dated 18.6.2008 by Raja Petra bin Raja Kamarudin which was published by Malaysiakini on 20.6.2008. It was "mindboggling", as Beh Lih Yi of Malaysiakini described it. Reactions from the netizens were swift. Some believed the truth of the contents and some of course laughed it off as another stunt by Raja Petra.

The Attorney General quickly said that it amounts to criminal defamation. He then lodged a police report against Raja Petra. Malik Imtiaz, in his ever so precise observation of the whole episode expressed his concern at the actions being taken by the Attorney General as it seemed that "the focus of the exercise will be Raja Petra rather than the substance of his allegations in a manner reminiscent of the Irene Fernandez affair", to quote him.

Elsewhere, Karpal Singh urged the Attorney General to investigate the claim made by Raja Petra in the SD. Lim Kit Siang even moved the Parliament to discuss the same. Needless to say, the Speaker of the House found there was nothing to discuss.

The mainstream media of course went to sleep and was loudly snoring, in the blissful, albeit wishful, thoughts that the Malaysian public are ignorant of the whole thing. When the matter was reported about 2 days later, of course, the name of the characters in the SD were blanked out. Rosmah, who was at the centre of the whole thing, was only referred to as "the wife of a VIP" or in Malay, "isteri seorang kenamaan". Contrast that to any guy who is caught for shoplifting. The news will read "Ali bin Sudin, aged 34, from Flat Bahagia, Cheras, was yesterday caught for shoplifting"! Hmmm...the Malaysian mainstream media, love them, hate them, but you will surely be able to live without them.

Najib Razak, Abdullah Ahmad, Khairy Jamaluddin, the characters mentioned in the SD stayed mum for 5 days. Yesterday, they all came out with guns blazing to deny the contents of the SD. 5 days. FIVE days. My cat had bolted out of the house and went to Putrajaya and back. That was how long they took to come out and deny it. Dr Mahathir, in a rare display of public agreement with Abdullah Ahmad, has reportedly said that Raja Petra's accusation was a political ploy.

The police, in the meantime, had stated that they would be questioning Raja Petra. Whether that has been done at the time of writing is unknown. Najib meanwhile was quoted by Malaysiakini as saying that Rosmah had been questioned by the police. Today, mainstream newspapers screamed out the denial by Abdullah Ahmad and Najib Razak.Total lies, they say.

Everybody who is somebody seems to be hot and bothered. They jumped. Some even flipped. It seems that all rationale has been lost. Nobody seems to have any intelligence. All are emotional. A very big storm indeed. Over nothing.

The SD proves, if ever it proves anything, that Malaysians love rumours and unsubstantiated claims. But that is all to be expected in a country where freedom of speech and media are an alien concept although its Federal Constitution guarantees the same. Malaysians can't get accurate reporting of events from the media and so nobody is to blame when rumours are regarded as not true until they are expressly denied. That is our fate, fellow Malaysians. It is sad, I know, but that is the truth. So life goes on.

Has anybody asked what is the probative value of the SD. Zero. That is the answer. What the deponent (Raja Petra) is saying in the SD is that he was reliably informed by someone or some people that Rosmah, together with 2 other persons, were present at the crime scene. He also said he was reliably informed that, among others, a military intelligence report on the matter was given to Abdullah Ahmad, who then gave the same to Khairy Jamaludin for safe keeping. The said report was also given to a Malay Ruler.

That's it. He did not reveal who his informer is. He did not even say that he believes his informer other than to say that he had been "reliably" informed. To be "reliably informed" is one thing but to believe an information is another thing altogether.

The position under the law is simple. This is hearsay. Raja Petra did not and does not have personal knowledge of the matters he was alluding to in the SD. He is relying on an information. Therefore that piece of evidence is hearsay. Being hearsay, it will not be admissible in a court of law for the purpose of proving the fact that Rosmah was at the crime scene or the fact relating to the existence of the military report.

However, although it is hearsay, it could be admitted by the Court to prove Raja Petra's belief in those matters. But what Raja Petra's belief is not relevant. An irrelevant evidence is also not admissible in Court. I may say that I believe Altantuya killed herself. I can swear 4 Statutory Declaration to that effect. But my opinion or belief is not relevant. Because they don't matter. The same goes with Raja Petra's belief. It is not relevant and therefore not admissible. And so we are back to square one.

The question is, why the hoo-haa over something which is so irrelevant and unsubstantiated? And to the Honourable Attorney General and the IGP, why are you all investigating Raja Petra for what he believes? What makes his belief so relevant?

Or is there something more to all these? One wonders.