cookie-cutter comments

Affection’s a funny thing. She got the news yesterday and I was already planning to be home late. A quick phonecall and I was marvelling how close people are with handphones. I sound like a caveman, sure, but you learn to appreciate the really important things when the need and anxiety’s great. So she’ll go under the “ray gun” device thing for five weeks, then spend another five years popping an inexpensive pill to prevent mutations. Mutations. Isn’t that what happens? I wouldn’t know.

For a moment there I felt the urge to expound on enviromental problems and such, but realized I didn’t have the stomach to do it: you get enough of a dose watching crazy anime like Gilgamesh and Akira and such. I’ve never really understood this Japanese obsession with broadcasting these public service messages.

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It was close to 4.00pm, hot and my air-conditioning wasn’t working. I didn’t care, I was tripping on an adrenalin high. I was on my “circuit”, and I was weaving about with my beat-up car.

I was oblivious till I saw her in my rearview mirror. Black Toyota Vios, black suit, Chinese: an Oriental Psylocke with wisps of hair trailing and waving like black flags in high wind, only in slow motion. A frown, piercing eyes and pert lips pursed in irritation, I thought. The lights were still red, and the satria I was trailing threw out a few revs in anticipation.

A quick glance in my rearviews, and I saw her don her shades. It was a trick of slow-motion, maybe a trick of the sun making its way to its own grave: she was a picture of calm as the shades went on. An explosive, orgasmic being getting primed for some action.

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I can’t say I’m impressed with the hottestblogger deal, but hey, those girls are cute. I can’t deny that, and I can’t deny the fact that I wouldn’t have found such ravishing beauties on the internet if it wasn’t for his site. So, yes: I’ve patronized Kahsoon’s blog. Let’s get this particular hypocrisy out of the way first.

Then consider the fact that Kahsoon’s gone all out to sue Wingz, after having legal action threatened against his posting of lilacwine’s photos himself, and then consider the ensuing fireworks. Kahsoon’s been a pest for quite some time now, pinging PPS with abandon.

(I noticed just now how I’ve been using the phrase “with abandon” quite a bit lately. Some freudian, psychobabble thing or am I that limited? Ooh.. incriminating questions.)

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PM Abdullah has called on Malaysians to learn from Dr Azahari’s example and eschew violence, over here. He says, among other things:

Prime Minister Datuk Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, in urging Malaysians to refrain from resorting to violence, said Azahari was a good lecturer who had chosen the path of self-destruction.

The path of self-destruction. Isn’t that tautological? Because if you’re a suicide bomber you will, by definition, blow yourself up. What self-destruction is he talking about? And these suicide bombers desire their own self-destruction, they want to go up in flames and little pieces for the greater glory of whatever brand of pot they’re on at the given time. It isn’t going to help us very much if we’re told not to be suicide bombers, is it?

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They hate each other and we popcorn-consuming, bedazzled bystanders are, get this, the shitnitz. My dear friends and non-friends, please allow me this moment to regress momentarily to my childhood: “Boo-fucking-hoo, people”. Exchanging barbs: not so bizarre, but between friends, it’s just enough material to get the blood going, ya know what I’m saying? Why pay Astro to watch some lame-assed television show about cute blondes saving the world from vampires, eh, when you have your own set of vampires here in “blog-o-blah-land”! It’s fun for the family, people, and we should watch with rapt attention!

Not only are innocent bystanders given the shaft, it appears we should write long, boring socio-political commentary for it, since quite a bit of ire is reserved for such worthies, eh? Wah, where should start? Let’s see:

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We have had a rare treat over the past few days. We’ve been able to sit back and watch mobs tear apart Dawn Yang for having gone under the knife. I’ve recently wondered if these inquisitive assholes have a right to know everything about her. For all those who’d love to mourn Princess Diana publicly, well, let’s just remember she got killed while speeding away from papparazi. Maybe celebrities deserve papparazi because, after all, people think they deserve to know.

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So how do you explain the banners UM put up in the recent days? I was reading theSun weekend today, discussing findings over at educationmalaysia. I choked on my breakfast when I read the write up, then stared incredulously at the findings, not because of the lack of accuracy, but rather for the sheer coincidence of the findings. That Chinese and Indian students were seen as foreigners is just too funny to swallow.

But the glorious reaction from UM is what caught my attention; 2 full entries with photos on the Screenshots site and I wondered what the fuss was about. Then I saw the banners and I was even more amazed: are we in the habit of celebrating failure? Because that’s how it looks to me; we’ve ‘progressed’ from institutionalizing mediocrity to, now, openly celebrating it. Is there a certain twisted logic to this? Who would UM’s current rankings impress? My dearly departed grandmother?

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Maybe I’m looking at the problem in an obtuse way. Well, firstly goals are necessary. The goal or set of goals defines the area in which the scenario should be planned. For example, if I want to rise in ranks, then the situation is, automatically, the office. If I want to ensure the safety of some X, then the situation in which X arises is the situation to consider. Hmm.. no, that’s wrong.

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Thinking of going the biodiesel way? The increase in oil prices hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice. There’s only so much you are willing to pay before it becomes a bleed on your resources. What’s mroe, with the gradual reduction in government subsidies, I think it’s time Malaysians really consider the alternatives seriously.

A friend I was talking to about a few weeks back described the situation succintly: if you want to get rich in Malaysia in a few decades, invest in palm oil production. Apart from that piece of advice, what intrigued me more is the possibility of going the biodiesel route. Malaysia’s setting up three major biodiesel plants, news from here. As you can see, this is old news, and I should have picked up on it. Another newsbit over here.

Canada and India are moving toward biodiesel in a big way, and there are now biodiesel pumps scattered in almost all states in the US. For more information on biodiesel, check out HowStuffWorks’s entry over here.

As is usual, the Internet has turned out to be the first stop for biodiesel advocacy, I suppose. You might want to check out this blog, aptly named the ‘biodieselblog’ for more newsbits.

All in all, we might be exchanging a 10% reduction in power for a considerable drop in fuel spending and dependence. There are one or two downsides, but weening ourselves off the reliance on petrol is already a huge plus.

When I was in my late teens, I was begining to get into strategy games on the computer. My friend, through our examinations, had this addictive game running but I can’t remember its name. You played the part of a Russian president making decisions that had an impact on your relations with the rest of the world in the quest to become the most powerful nation.

Before that I was really into the then-revolutionary Dune 2, the first strategy game I’ve played to really layout tactical combat on a larger scale. Ever since then, I’ve loved watching out for consequences and trying to map them in my head for given situations.

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Capitulating in the name of religious tolerance, ethnic tolerance, just tolerance in general. That’s what the Cabinet’s urging IIUM to do, funnily enough. Yes, I think logic would dictate that if IIUM is an islamic university, then it follows strictly speaking that it should prescribe islamic rules as far as dress codes are concerned. What’s this with showing a more moderate muslim face to the world? Moderation in this instance means capitulation, doesn’t it? It means compromise.
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I’ve often wondered if getting cancer is like getting news that you’ll die in a few days. I’ve never had the misfortune of facing that problem, since my youth makes me care less about mortality than grubbing after every last dollar to feed myself. But soon, I may be in the position to know. Unfortunately, I’m not the one currently afflicted with cancer, but if I had the opportunity to spare her the pain and confusion, I’d gladly carry her onerous burden now.
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I waited five minutes past our appointment before I called.

“My directors were down for lunch and I was inevitably delayed,” I said over the phone, after the crackling monotone on the other end projected a more human voice. Wait for it, I thought.

“But you were supposed to be here at 2.00pm and it’s 2.10 already!” he said. His voice was pitched high but thick, carrying a certain timbre. The inflection of his words felt accusatory, and I smiled. “I know,” I said, “and I’ll be there in 5 minutes, I apologize”.
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The idea of studying numbers on a sheet of white never appealed to me. I’m still carrying the effects of last night like a bad drug run. I came home today with a throbbing head. The bosses in KL turned up the pressure and both of us succumbed; it wasn’t an urgent need, but my boss over here didn’t know the difference.

And like all good Horatios, I got dragged into the mess. Papers were drawn out, invoices stacked and a slew of instructions followed: take this tabulation and slice and dice; take that tabulation and correlate; take this sheet of paper and try to make sense of it. On top of the avalanche from last night, today began like a slow crawl up a steep hill. The work was done, but ‘fine tuning’ is a much hated phrase around here: it usually means re-doing work you are told can be done better, or more elaborate.

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It always boils down to the smell.

The smell of stale coffee, bad breath and bodily odours. A long night last night, too much work and exasperation: I entertained thoughts of a mini-riot but decided to hunker down and get the work done, so what the heck. I’ve been assimilated, and spent hours last night performing Borg-like tasks and functions. Ugh.

Take a total opposite situation in Paris. Almost two weeks of rioting by “disenfranchised” youth and immigrants. If you’re looking for an interesting take on the situation, head here. I browsed through some of the articles he had compiled and found myself reading this. Check this out, it’ll sound familiar:
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