The Simple

New words: Callow, graven, atheromatous, vituperative, recidivist, omerta, boondocks, avuncular, pastiche.

This week on A Stray World:

• Little to none women reps, because they don't care what men say,
• Refugees celebrate World Refugee Day, thoughts and comments.

First Issue
Women, Family and Community Development Minister Datuk Seri Shahrizat Abdul Jalil noted the record low numbers of women involved in politics.

For the record, it's:

• 9.6% of Parliament;

• 25% of Dewan Negara;

• 6.9% of state assemblies;

• 12.5% of local authorities; and

• 7.6% of board members of Bursa listed companies.

Proactive steps have been suggested to increase their numbers, but first, we must identify the reason behind the lack of boobs on the board.

Interviews with Mrs Dama, a housewife, suggests it has to do with the men.

“They are callow idiots,” she begins with vicious tenacity. “I have thirteen children and what does my god-damn husband do? He goes and ***** another woman.”

But surely this has nothing to do with Parliament.

“Let me set the record straight,” Mrs Dama said. “I have to handled thirteen bawling children at home with no support from the ******* **** in his ******* *** smoking his ******* weed. Now you are asking me if I want to talk to another hundred or so men trapped in a windowless room without soap operas and television so I can at least pretend I am listening? I think not.”

“What my mother is trying to say is the men in there are just pieces of meat to her,” interjects Susi, the eldest daughter. “You see, my dad treats my mum like the sex toy she was expected to be. So you must understand her less than tolerant attitude towards the MPs who can conjure up classical sexist jokes on the spot in front of the national body of governance.”

The interview was terminated prematurely because the half-naked father who had just woken up was demanding beef stew for lunch. Needless to say, I left before the wife slaughtered the family cow.

Is this true? Do women avoid managerial positions because to them, men are just pieces of meat? They are not worth the time of effort?

“Look, we can't have women leaders because they are distracting,” said KG, a Parliamentarian. “Those bouncing balls in sacks are just too enticing, they make me forget what I am going to say. Every time someone raises an issue and a woman MP responds, I can do nothing else but try and picture her naked. Can you really blame us for making sexist jokes? We are healthy, adult males.”

However, leaders of the nation are expected to be more... mature, about the situation. Surely the old men in power are... 'steadier' than the average Malaysian man.

“We are not 'steady',” KG responded. “Look, there is a reason why UMNO, MCA, MIC and the rest of the gang have women divisions. It's to get them working for us, but never us working for them. We don't have to see them, we don't have to hear them. But we get to joke about them and during the annual party conventions, hit on them. This arrangement also virtually ensures the next president of any party, and subsequently, the Prime Minister, will be a man.”

“Proper women are like toilet seats,” he concludes. “They should learn to support us and take our crap. Not make their own crap.”

Second Issue
At an unknown moment in time during this week, some people celebrated World Refugee Day. Because our former intrepid reporter, Ahn Ser Mi, died from bird flu during an interview with the H5N1 virus, we have replaced her with Ahn Ser Yu, her sister.

This week, Ahn Ser Yu interviews a bunch of KL kids regarding the aforementioned celebration.

Ahn Ser Yu: World Refugee Day. Your thoughts?

Kid 1: What kind of holiday is that?

Ahn: It's not a holiday. At least, not holiday celebrated here in Malaysia.

Kid 2: I know what it's about. It's about people who are refugees. That like, some kind of deviant teaching.

Ahn: Not at all. They don't exactly welcome the refugee status.

Kid 1: So they have been forced into it! Why hasn't anyone called the police?

Kid 2: Don't worry, I have them on speed dial (dials a number on his mobile phone).

Ahn: When I say refugees, I mean people who have ran away from oppressive governments or some other situation that has forced them to leave their homes behind. Like the Karens from Myanmar.

Kid 1: Are you serious? They couldn't spread their deviant teachings in their homes. So they came here to do the devils bidding instead.

Ahn: You aren't listening.

Kid 2: Hey don't worry. I just got off the phone. Apparently the Malaysian government doesn't support the refugees who enter this country although it's a UN thing. In fact, we actively seek to extradite them.

Kid 1: Yeah. That's cool.

Ahn: Kids. I was born into a family of refugees.

Under mysterious circumstances, both KL kids were found dead in a drain a few days after the interview. Ahn Ser Yu claims she was eating beef stew at the time of the incident.

Politically correct profanity:

Instead of “shit storm”,try the more gentile “stinking rain”.

Of Herbs Squenched

This week, a special report on the Medicinal Plant Discovery Award competition.

Your humble servant, this faceless writer of numerous English articles has performed what could easily be described as the unthinkable. Like an American doughnut seller frying char koay teow. Not since the Chinese story telling competition in Primary 3 have I willingly participated in a project that required me to speak perfect, lucid, fluent, perfect, grammatical-error-free, Chinese.

Throughout most of this year, I have been spending a significant amount of my time preparing reports for the said competition. The objective: to build a health product or medicine from any local plant. The limitations placed upon us were that it be an original product, and its mode of application, external.

You may imagine that would be a humongous undertaking. To do what the gigantic pharmaceutical industry does every day every day with the nonchalance of a hungry lumberjack in the forest. We, with an exhaustive supply of research papers, decided to use the guava by sifting through dozens of wide-ranging reports before a cursory description of paste made from the said fruit caught our eye.

Before anyone accuses us of plagiarism, allow me to point out the original report amounted to nothing more than the boiling of fruit juice with the cellulose remnants of the fruit until it attained a gel-like consistency. We took our cue from the slightly exaggerated description of the guava's medicinal properties.

As with any organic substance, heat easily denatures the biological substances within the guava. That was one among many flaws we pointed out in the report which incidentally, didn't provide any empirical data on the effectiveness of the guava derived product as a medical cream.

Countless hours were spent perfecting the processes involved. It began with an ambitious bid to imitate the cream-like substance from the report which inspired us. Unfortunately, we had no expert help in the matter so we pretty much threw various (expensive) substances together with the haphazardness of rats among a hundred different French cheeses. The Internet, gave various details on the steps we needed to take to create a guava cream; and as detailed as the instructions were, we failed to create the light, creamy lotion we hoped to obtain.

This was where Occam's Razor came into play. Instead of creating a terrific product from complex instruction and expensive chemicals in a high school lab with equipment older than the family car; we simplified our steps and curtailed our ambitious pursuits to focus on creating a respectably effective product from high school lab equipment older than the Pentium Celeron.

The product was quickly derived and the report sent between nerve-wrecking exams, concerned parents, worried teachers, and relatively horrible exam results on my part. Not long after the entire melodrama of the first season, the networks renewed our series and we found ourselves in Kuala Lumpur for the finals.

I cursed my bad luck when the call came in telling us we needed to do the entire presentation of our project in Chinese, if we wanted to win. After risking my life by staying up till the wee hours of the morning to get myself stung by Aedes mosquitoes, testing the products on the bumps produced, compiling the English report, and designing the English presentation (which had to be presented using PowerPoint), I didn't find the Chinese language request foisted upon us with the brazen rudeness of Simon Cowell in a gay and lesbian convention singing “You Will Never Walk Alone” as their drunk induced theme very pleasing at all.

After all the public railings (by public, I meant me) against the organizers, the entire presentation was translated and given a face-lift while I attempted to give a credible delivery in a language I have good reason to avoid like a prostitute dressed as a drunken clown.

My team was awfully patient with me. Embarrassment. Supreme, unsurpassed embarrassment is the perfect phrase describing my initial attempts. Finally, on the day we should all be departing for Kuala Lumpur, the teacher and my partners finally teamed up to give me three-to-one voice coaching lessons. The entire morning was not wasted as I finally hit my stride.

I took on the lecturing parlance of a China Central Television (CCTV) and Phoenix TV talk show host. Trust me, it's less embarrassing to to talk like a pretentious, loud oaf than stutter around my materials enough to get me nominated for the Chinese version of Forest Gump.

Friday was a blur of motion, sights, sounds, touch and smell as we rumbled towards KL on one of many commercial buses plying the North-South expressway. Evening traffic jams, taxis and LRTs phased in and out of existence until the final foot powered travel to the First Business Inn. This block of glass and stone, as with many other hotels with ostentatious names, failed to reflect the “First” title bestowed upon it.

It was a two-a-room arrangement in a three by three by three box with lighting that would be as illuminating as Edison's first light bulb. The showers were confusing in their lack of instructions which resulted in two consecutive cold showers at dusk and dawn. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner though not gastronomical art by any lengths of imagination, were delicious and generously served. Considering the entire affair was fully paid for by the event organizers, is was absolutely perfect.

The luck of the draw placed both teams from my school in consecutive order, right before morning tea. Needless to say, we spent all of Friday night and Saturday morning rehearsing our presentation. Nervous wreck wouldn't be the words to describe my state of mind. Silent resignation would be more apt. As with all pessimists, I became more fluent in my part of the presentation the less I thought of my chances of winning.

And by the damnation of fate, somehow I managed to pull it off.

Saturday morning was thereafter irrelevant, and the evening was spent roaming Times Square with my project members. One of whom unexpectedly, turned out to be an avid collector of soft drink bottles and cans. Yes, such a hobby does exist. And according to the animated proprietor of the speciality Coca-Cola store, there are only two such stores in all of Malaysia. And he was the proud owner of both.

Rain poured with the exact intensity of the storms back home in Penang. But somehow, they seem louder in KL. Scientifically speaking, it's probably because of the abundance of concrete, zinc, and aluminium taking the blunt of the raindrops. I prefer to think of it as karma-inspired drumming by the forces of nature.

The evening faded with the heavy rain, and dusk led to the hall of some primary school large enough to fit a aboriginal settlement. There, we feasted among thousands of others upon generous portions of food, water, tea, herbal drinks, herbal vodka, herbal biscuits and herbal sweets. The fact it was organised by the same people behind the Medicinal Plant Discovery Award competition meant the event was peppered with various vendors endorsing diverse products seemingly built out of bizarre uncommon fruit and plant parts. But who would complain when highly competitive vendors despatch overly-friendly ladies in shorts tiny enough to double as underwear.

The results came in. And we, incredulously, won third place. Our juniors won second. Of course, I was probably the only one who felt the essential feelings of disbelief that lend me my personality. I felt our product wasn't really that good. However, the others could not be any happier, which makes me happy for them.

Saturday was driven out of the drains with the pressure of the nights cold to hot shower. Then, a night of celebration by staying up all night with the juniors who had invited some female company. Needless to say, I stayed out of their conversation to concentrated on the go puzzles I have yet to finish even after one year.

The company turned in sometime after 3.00 a.m. Breakfasted at 8, then launched ourselves to Penang. A four hour journey home that was eventful by the artfully carved mountains we passed as we headed North on the expressway. The journey has ended, and we have won something. I suppose I should be satisfied.

Bird & Beats

New words: Monomania, Feckless, Uppity, Bastinado.

This week on A Stray World:

• Bahasa Melayu becomes Bahasa Malaysia, Group Urges Government to Stick to Bahasa;
• Bird Flu Hits Selangor, Deciding to Skip Penang for Health Reasons;
• Dear Prime Minister.

Issue 1
After careful deliberation between a cup of kopi-O and Milo ais, the Man has decided to rename Bahasa Melayu to Bahasa Malaysia, which in a twist, is actually a reinstatement of its former name, which in itself was a rebranding of the original name, which incidentally came from the same language that spawned Bahasa Indonesia.

Confused? Don't be, because for a nominal fee, you can now join the elite group of citizens comprising 99% of the population (the statistics have to right, because they come from uninformed guesses) who don't know anything about it.

“For years I have been calling it Bahasa, because saying the full six syllables reminds me of the devil, and my boss is hell, in the literal sense” says Mr. D, a witchdoctor currently teaching metaphysics at Universiti Sains Malaysia (USM). “Do you know that all of my students refer to it as Bahasa as well? I don't rally see why I should start uttering the full title.”

“Yeah, I agree,” says Faz, a metaphysics student who sells herbal remedies in USM. “Malaysia and Melayu are both three syllable words. They are a mouthful to pronounce. Just look at the Australians. They call themselves Aussies because it's so much easier on the tongue.”

“I did some maths,” a bespectacled young lady enthusiastically chips in.

“It takes one extra second to say Malaysia or Melayu and three more seconds to write it down on our exam sheets. If we have to write on average 30 Bahasa Malaysia in each exams, we will have wasted 90 seconds per exam. Multiply this by 4 and we have wasted 360 seconds. We spend at least twelve studying before coming to university. That's 4320 seconds of our lives gone down the drain. And I haven't even factored in the times we spent writing the extra words in our essays and practice sheets.”

“Now do you see the REAL PROBLEM?” quips Mr D. “That is why we will take this opportunity to announce the foundation of a new NGO. We call ourselves the No-Ma-No-Me, the No Malaysia No Melayu.”

“Our agenda is to get the official policy makers to use only, and exclusively, the term "Bahasa" as the official reference to the most spoken language in Malaysia,” says Faz.

When queried on how this would benefit the nation, they responded: “The reduction in the writing of this long winded but commonly used term will reduce the risk of carpal tunnel syndrome, especially in the writing of an essay of the national language, by two hours.”

“Besides, it aids nation building by allowing the Malays and non-Malays to stake their claim on the language equally because of the apparent neutrality of the word” adds Mr D.

Who knows, maybe one day we too will remove the “Eng” from “English” because of the need to place our stake on that language as well.

Issue 2
Bird flu has struck Malaysia, killing an indefinite number of chickens in Sungai Buluh, Selangor. However, one is puzzled as to how this disease managed to slip through the Northern States without leaving a large number of dead birds behind.

A Stray World now presents an exclusive interview with a genetic expression of the H5N1 virus who calls him/herself Alex.

Field correspondent Ahn-Ser-Mi reports.

Ahn: Good morning Alex?
Alex: ...
Ahn: Um, so why did you skip the Northern States to go straight for Selangor?
Alex: Me... Alex.
Ahn: Yes we have established that, Alex. Why did you decide on Selangor first?
Alex: No... You Alex, me Jesse.
Ahn: (Ahem!) Okay. If you insist, you can call me Alex and I will call you Jesse.
Alex: No, no, no! Me Alex. You Jesse. You Charlie.
Ahn: (Ahem) Sorry I have to blow my nose.
Alex: This Petri dish too small for all of us. I leave. No, I leave! I leave as well! Leave! Leave!Leave!
Ahn: Somebody help! I think I am dying.

Interview suspended due to death of reporter:

Ahn-Ser-Mi (2006 – 2007)

Issue 3
A hearty congratulations to Prime Minister Abdullah Ahmad Badawi for his marriage to Jeanne Abdullah. No cynicisms or ironies attached. I am genuinely happy for you.

Alternative Profanity: Instead of “asshole”, try “proximal chasm”.

Shroud Indiscriminate

New Phrase:
Shit, the sea is cool. (Attributed to a visiting friend who enjoys roaming the watery kingdom of Queensbay, Penang)

This week on A Stray World, we explore culture.

It is a feeling of great anxiety. As if the mind is being ravaged by tonnes of pop-idols and Hollywood remakes. Great goblins of trash espousing the benefits of fame and fortune, arrogance and vanity like a cup of oily, overpriced Columbian coffee served in a Starbucks kiosk.

Yet this is the nature of society as we know it. The Muslims of this country are partially correct about the detrimental influence of the Western nations. The effects have been immediate and far-reaching. An entire generation scarred by the repetitiveness of reality singing contests and pretentious fairytale courtships.

However, one need not blame the West for every deterioration of our national consciousness. We can start by blaming ourselves.

Malaysia is a country rich in heritage and blah, blah, blah. A string of clichés and connectors repeated so often it has attained the same level of effectiveness in expression as the winner of the second Malaysian Idol.

How much do we actually know about our country anyway? First, we should ask ourselves, do we really love our country?

I do love my country. I love the land, I love the people. But I detest the law and its enforcers.

In this regard, I point to the first settlers of this country, the Orang Asli. Specifically, of Peninsular Malaysia.

How many of them can you name? This group of individuals lassoed into the “others” category in the National Registration Department form.

Negrito, Penan, Jahai, Batek are among the strange and wonderful names that have persisted through the ravages of time. As much as I enjoy learning about these people, it always saddens me when I realise there will always be something missing. Like a misplaced earplug when Paris Hilton is playing on the radio.

These people with their own unique language, music, food and culture are being slowly and steadily assimilated into mainstream society. Where women are victimised and children are raped with the frequency of Hollywood making a sub-par sequel to a blockbuster cult classic.

To quote an example of this blatant disregard for our own cultural heritage, just remember the Kelantan government has an active “loyalty points” programme where a Muslim who marries an aboriginal (and the subsequent conversion to Islam) gets RM10,000.

Another example is the rather vacuous excuse of religious purity, invoked for the immediate and future dispersal of any showroom piece of the ghosts and ghouls and otherworldly legends pervading this land of many peoples and faces.

To paraphrase, what sick bastards wouldn't want to see a ghost trapped in a bottle?

It is with great pain that I realise most of my acquaintances flatly refuse to learn anything and experience anything that they are unfamiliar with. Though I can be accused of being prejudiced in this manner, I can flatly state that my prejudices come from direct experience. I have come to detest modern Hollywood movies because of their emphasis on special-effects and explosions, with little regard to the story at hand.

This is a conviction arising from the rebellion of the mind after the umpteenth outing to the cinema to accompany my buddies to watch yet another hyped up million-dollar budget film. I don't mind wasting my time and money for my friends, I just don't like to repeat the process.

It is not the desire to be different that I say what I say and do what I do. It is a desire to learn about humanity. In a sense, to study myself. Though admittedly, it is also a rebellion against sex-induced rap/pop songs awashing the landscape like a plague of Manchester United fans after winning the Premiership.

Variety is a gift to the mundane. And I do welcome the fact that my acquaintances have varied tastes. However, what I never welcome is to close ones mind and heart. Though I try not to judge anyone else but myself, it is terribly hard to do so. Particularly when I know what the flaw is.

Empathy is something we can all learn to pick up. And for the average Malaysian out there who is content to listen to only one side of the story, to make judgements preceding the evidence, I can only hope the damage they will inflict will be limited to themselves. Unfortunately, that is not the case, due to the relative scale of this syphilis-like affliction.

“Read less, watch more TV,” House.

So I see the sharp jagged, serrated mountains of the Andes; and scale the vast deserts of Morocco; and I found myself flying into the oceans and inhaled the blue-blood of the Earth. I find that all entrancing. Wonderful. Achieving an euphoric state incomparable to anything else I have ever experienced. I could do this in person, but TV is cheaper.

After something like this, how can anyone even consider cuddling up in an air-conditioned room devoid of anything but the mechanical precision of modern man pervading every facet of the white bland walls.

On Sunday, I was witness to an event which I regretted paying for. A thousand Chinese orchestra students simultaneously playing to an audience of ordinary folks.

The event was to begin at 2000 hours. It began at 2010, when the VIPs turned up.

When the night was suppose to be about the music of Chinese culture became a brazen political landfill of campaign speeches by our VIPs. At last, the instruments began to hum to the beat of the conductor more than an hour after the designated time.

The lack of harmony was obvious to anyone with an ear for music. The beats were erratic and some sections of the medleys became entire mudflats of dirt and debris. When the organisers awarded themselves the Malaysian Book of Records for the most number of musicians in a performing band, I had to exit to the toilets before the mediocrity and absurdity of the entire event liquefied my mind and damned my soul.

Is this what our culture has become? A series of Crazy Frog ringtones? Where insane acts of blatant disregard for culture and decency have become our culture? Where we choose to selectively blame the West for our forsaking of our culture, yet ignore the fact that Western culture actually encourages their people to discover and learn about others.

Rap didn't just come about. Its roots can be traced back to Ghanaian music. It was a profound form of poetry and art that has since evolved into the superficial land of music videos filled with guns, girls and gyrations. Yet this is American culture. More sex. More booze. More fun.

What about us? What about our culture? What of our music? What of our people?

It's a wonder that it is the work of foreigners who seek to protect our culture. While we busily scramble to remove every trace of it.

Alternative profanity for the week:
Try the more feminine "cow dung" instead of "bull shit".

Cold and Wet

New words: Fillip, Caulk, Gunwale, Apercu, Callisthenics.

This week on A Stray World:

• What men think women want men to think what women should wear;
• What Parliament Thinks of Members of Parliament;
• Substitute Profanity of the Week.

Issue 1
We come back to the alleged issue of discrimination once more, against the fairer sex. This topic has been explored before, but then, I did it from an egalitarian socialist point of view.

Now, for the benefit of macho men out there who think women should be seen (preferably covered with black window curtains), I bring you: Mr. Makan Kaki.

"Women are naturally modest. And besides, we are Asian. We shouldn't be pressured to follow the corrupt Westerners with their short-stringed bikinis and low cut tops," opines Mr. Makan Kaki, a fictional representation of the Malaysian macho man.

"But sir," I said, "Don't Orang Asli women whose ancestors have lived on this land for many generations wear almost nothing but loincloths and beads? Surely that's an Asian culture."

"They must have inherited it from the West," retorts the red-faced Mr. Makan Kaki, "They are immigrants from the Burmese region of Asia. Any map will show that region lies to the West of Malaysia."

"And besides. Those women know their place in society now after the Malays emigrated en-mass into the Malay Peninsular from Sumatera," continues our affable friend. "Back then, these women had equal rights as men in inheritance, power, knowledge, respect and social status as men. They even had the right to walk about half-naked and reject suitors! What kind of sick society was that?"

"Luckily, the new immigrants brought with them paternal rights and they instilled those values into those women."

"But sir," I began with good reason, "By 'instilling their value' as you say, they began pillaging the villages, killing the men, raping the women, and capturing women and children to be used as sex slaves. This trading of humans didn't come to an end until the British came to power."

"They knew nothing about us! They destroyed our culture!" he spluttered. "They removed our Sultans from power and tried to give equal rights to every one with their Malayan Union nonsense. If it weren't for the rise of national consciousness, who knows what our nation would be like today?"

"But didn't the Malays did the same thing when they established Melaka and subsequently proceeded to invade Orang Asli territory? Didn't they 'destroy culture' as well?"

"Oh don't be so high and mighty. You Chinese did it too when you came here with your opium," snapped Makan Kaki. with increasing ferocity "At least we gave them religion."

"I admit, my ancestors did unsavoury things as well," said I "By the way, your point also brings up something interesting as well... You just acknowledged your immigrant status as well. Besides the fact the Orang Asli had a belief system of their own as well which the Malays tried to wash away with Islam after the raping and enslaving."

At this point in the interview. I found myself with a royal keris stuck 12 centimetres deep into my abdomen. Needless to say, I died a horrible death.

Issue 2
What do you mean I didn't die?!? Don't you know how much I was looking forward to it?

Anyway, our next session begins with Parliament.

"So Parliament, what do you think of our elected representatives?" I questioned the august building.

"Their are smart MPs and polite MPs.
Stupid MPs and rude MPs.
There are greedy MPs and generous MPs.
There are hard-working MPs and lazy MPs.
There is a disabled MP and able-bodied MPs.
There are women and there are children MPs.
But at the end of the day,
The elected representatives,
are your MPs."

Issue 3

Beginning this week, I will start giving suggestions for popular profanity.

Today, I feature the rather mild: "Holy shit!"

Instead of "Holy shit!", try "Ecclesiastical excrement!"

That all for the end of the week.

As the Jahai say: The spirits are are listening. The Earth is listening. The people are listening. Be well.

Hard Knocks

Swale, Trellis, Arbour, Riposte, Peripatetic, Battue, Creel, Pekoe, Deke, Mastic, Chancre, Calcifuges, Fetid, Nadir, Alarum, Tipple, Atavistic.

This week's edition of A Stray World features:

• The buildings of Malaysia

The inherent architecture of a country is a mirror of public consciousness.

As the majestically decadent structures of Paris represent her people's obsession with the luxuries of life over the plights of the impoverished, stark contrasts are seen with the single-story circular buildings of old Beijing streets emphasising family unity over outward opulence.

What then can be said about the buildings of Malaysia, which admittedly, can't boast much in terms of history, as most of the historical buildings are in the process of being torn down, if not in severe disrepair?

It is by choice, by the dictation of the voice of greed that our seniors in power have chosen to build over the old with supposedly modern infrastructures of development. As we compete with our enemies, imagined or otherwise, to build the tallest towers as a symbol of class and culture, it would do to take note that in Italy, the arguable centre of fashion and lifestyle, some cities have enacted rules forbidding buildings to grow beyond a certain height.

Enactments in place before the advent of skyscrapers!

Does modernization hold the chains of hope for this land, or will it be the anchor that pulls us all into a quagmire of cultural monotony?

In little less than one month, no less than four reports have been filed on our pride and joy, the modern buildings of governance, of breaking under the weight of time.

Barely a decade into service and cracks have broken through the ceilings, burst pipes have flooded entire floors, and red-faced ministers have spluttered out blame on anyone but themselves.

Apparently, maintenance of the structures is one of the reasons, though correctly pointed out, not the chief reason. Which begs the question, what form of government would employ lazy monkeys to staple water pipes into administrative buildings?

It is an open secret government contracts are given to bumiputera contractors simply for being bumiputeras. When that happens every single day, every month, for every year since the NEP, you can't blame these people for shucking the responsibility for the job.

After all, if you possess the distinct advantage of living on the sale of personal responsibility, wouldn't you be tempted too?

The government has taken note too, seeing from their press statements in Malay entrepreneur development forums and whatnots.

Not surprisingly, nothing has been implemented so far to fix the broken sprocket. Policies have to take the racial factor into account. While an egalitarian solution is definitely preferable, election results won't reflect the satisfaction derived from strong, long-lasting structures of governance.

It is with sad reflection that old wooden kampung houses in rural areas have outlasted modern plastic and PVC.

Why is that the case? Perhaps the only satisfying answer lies with the builder.

At the end of the day, we are left with nothing more than the hope that these buildings will outlast their creators, to serve a future generation as well as they are serving the present one.

I(m)jok(ing)

Ethology, Antiphonal, Polyamory, Kinesics, Divigate, Tangentially, Sinecure, Halcyon, Rapacious.

This week on A Stray World, we explore, by-elections!

The bane of humanity, governance.

Where there are people, there exists hierarchy. The only difference is the form of hierarchy. In this instance, it is known as democracy, though kakistocracy does come to mind.

Through a fortunate series of events known as 'hitsuzen' we have enjoyed the staging of two by-elections within the span of two months.

First the Batu Talam by-election.

Let's see. Citizens deprived of a great leader. Check.
A multi-racial contractual party contests again. Check.
A Chinese majority opposition party that is multi-racial in principle. Check.

Looks like a clear cut victory for the good guys then. After all, they came in promising lots and lots of goodies and swag, stuff you would never receive if you voted for the DAP.

Watching TV3's Berita Utama, all I heard were good things about the Barisan Nasional while the reporters painted the opposition as inept simpletons out to "raise issues for votes".

To quote Datuk Fictional: "Don't vote for the opposition. The rakyat knows only the BN can bring developement to the people. We have so many component parties representing all the various races led by the very capable UMNO."

"The only thing the opposition knows how to do well, and very well they do so, is to raise issues in Parliament, Now what use is that to the government to raise issues in Parliament? They should kow-tow to us for even allowing them to speak in our godly presence."

"Once again, I say, vote for the mega-super-party BN. Because your constituency will only receive funds for developement if you vote for us."

Well, that was what he said telepathically.

Truth be told, my trust in all forms of media has been reduced to "edit" status, where my mind does its own reconstruction of events portrayed, sans the patriotic messages.

Every moment in time The Star reports on the sanctity of the Barisan Nasional, I flip the page. I would not have done that if they gave a balanced account of the opposition parties at the same time.

Prime example: Kelantan.

I was surprised by a sudden article on the Islamic state by The Star a few months back. The state government actually gives land rights to the non-Malays. Couple this with my own National Service experience, where those opposed to my views of a fair-and-square policy were not opposed, if not downright supported by my Kelantanes friend there, I can safely conclude Kelantan is more Malaysian (in terms of equal rights) than the BN can ever be.

To Ijok, and the same issues are being played about.

What's interesting this time is the amount of goodies promised by the government. Sudden unveiling of grand development projects and promises to fix long damaged public amenities come to fore, provided the people vote for the ruling coalition.

And there you have it.

A supreme ruling party with no suitable challenger steam-rolling and browbeating every one else into rakyat-layered kaya. I see little reason to register as a voter, since the only choice I have is the only choice given.

Defiance/Compliance

Bivouac, Middlemarch, Shindy, Fatalist, Enid, Mauser, Mien, Escudo, Ordinal.

As the general Malaysian blogosphere knows, a few Malaysian politicians age twenty something and above has been throwing about choice words regarding the Malaysian blog community.

A quick recap:

Politician A claimed most bloggers were unemployed women and blah blah blah.

Politician B called for the registration of all Malaysian bloggers.

Politician C, and D, and E, and F, and G... ad infinitum, agree with one or the other.

There is a common consensus among the politicians (in power) that the views of people who are considered 'extremist' or 'a threat to social harmony' expressing opinions that offer nothing more than a drop of oil into the ocean that is the Internet, should be printed and shredded to strips of paper noodles.

Since we all know the government is all about social harmony, besides being a bunch of people who take our money whether we like them or not, it is relatively inevitable the Barisan Nasional govenment will start a nationwide drive to register bloggers in Malaysia.

How will they carry out this form of intellectual suppression?

I can only guess it will start with a voluntary program at the beginning of the year, where Malaysian bloggers will be invited to add their names to a growing database for a Malaysian Book of Records entry, because the only other motivation involves money and free food, which would be contrary to the government's healthy lifestyle drive.

The devious plot thus carried out, the government will then release statistical figures manipulated so it would seem Malaysia is the number one country in blogs per hundred citizens.

Very soon, there will remain only a hardcore group of bloggers hosting their puny sites of resistance on American servers with the paranoia of Fox Mulder and Gregory House.

They will form an online cult dedicated to the preaching of Freedom of Speech and Freedom of Expression. Twin gods considered illegal by the National Fatwa Council, who will issue a verdict: "We condemn any online activity of any kind involved in the spread of lies, slander, and inconvenient truths which most people are smart enough to distinguish anyway."

"This is a further expansion to the trading of stocks online, which is completely unacceptable although it is not much different from trading stock in the Bursa Saham."

"Haram. Absolutely 150,000,000% haram."

Here then is a brief guide to all bloggers out there who will one day, meet expensively dressed government officers with gold laptops at your doorstep asking for your DNA sample:

1. If they ask you if you are a blogger, answer 'yes' if you are female and 'no' if you are male. This will appeal to their logic and hopefully, result in a less violent treatment of your anus once you are safely hidden behind concrete walls.
2. If you are given a form to fill, add as many details as possible. If your name is a continuous strings of 'son of', make sure you add the names of your grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather... for at least two hundred generations. If you are asked to fill in your address, fill in your work address, your parent's address, your girlfriend's/boyfriend's/partner's/mistresses'/married-sex-partner's/ex-wives' address, the Prime Minister's residence, your Parliamentary representative, and your home address.
   The logic behind this is the known fact that government bureaucracy will result in the most detailed forms being filed under the "We will look at them after a decade cabinet".
3. Don't have children. They might want to become the government servants wearing expensive Armani suits paid for by grumpy taxpayers.

I am really looking forward to the government clamping down on us bloggers, really I am! Just to see how badly their screw up taxpayer money this time.

Note to Self

Colonnade, Bower, Mestizo, Paucity, Commode, Leitmotif, Awl, Ingle, Hooch.

"Where have the jokes gone?" You may ask. "Where is the vindictive appraisal of society and its misgivings? Where is the honest reflection and where are the bloody fake news?"

A while back, I responded to what I deemed unnecessary demand on the part of my friend to return to a more personalised version of a blog when I began experimenting with fake news - with a parody entry of myself using profanity not usually heard in this continent in the entry otherwise known as I, Rewarp.

After all, this was my, MY, part of the world that I was devastatingly proud to call my own. To write as I please and to hell with what others thought. I refused to cater to the whims of my audience and to write for my own pleasure.

The irony was, my audience began enjoying and even welcomed my new direction. Eventually, I fell into my own proverbial trap, eventually writing what I thought would please the readers.

People grow and change, and I eventually grew tired of the fake news medium, finding that little change regardless of my work, however funny or thoughtful. The year barely begun when Innocence blew away the pretensions that shrouded my consciousness. I begun to look at the world in a different manner.

I began to analyse the way I interacted with the world at large. How the simple slip of a few chosen words like "I will be a celibate for life" influences the nature of interaction between individuals.

I realised, the further I distanced myself from life, the more of it I saw.
I belonged to the world, I helplessly beheld in awe.
If I ever held it in disdain,
I only need to remember, it was here before.

I began to prune my philosophy and thoughts accordingly. For a very long time, I observed I didn't need gods to protect and guide me, and thought the same rule must apply to everyone else. I concede defeat in this opinion.

I don't need gods, but most of humanity does. After all, human punishment only goes so far, and is subject to the caprice of human laws and lawyers. There is no legal respite after death, as the ideal soul finds sanctuary in the heavens while lawyers go to hell. A sin is no wrong, it is damnation.


In lieu of this development in my hideously limited mental capacity, I found myself hoping gods do exist. And then, an epiphany!

Humans are Gods.

We have created life.

What is life?

1. Living things need to take in energy
2. Living things get rid of waste
3. Living things grow and develop
4. Living things respond to their environment
5. Living things reproduce and pass their traits onto their offspring
6. Over time, living things evolve (change slowly) in response to their environment

Consider the computer. This is the universe we conceived with the fundamental building blocs of 1's and 0's. We write software for this universe, populating it with nebulae and stars. We give this universe fundamental laws which can never be broken, unless we rewrite the laws.

Then the programs grow, not just in number, but in variety. They consume energy, more and more of it with every passing generation. If you plugged in an Apple 2 into any household socket today, it would most likely explode in a shower of melting plastic and glass.

They changed beyond recognition, leaving behind the detritus of obsolete parts. They became specialised.

So far in this retelling of computing history, humans still input the changes, like gods with malleable dough, we write our aemaeth on the clay to create artificial life to serve us. But arguably, this A.I., as we continue to call it, has fulfilled all six criteria for life, just in a form we may not comprehend.

Consider the computer virus. Unlike the Pakistan Brain, today's viruses can perform multiple tasks simultaneously, besides performing numerous acts of vandalism and theft.

Their coding is now so advance, they actively make choices to preserve themselves. Some even change and add strings of code from the machines they infect to become stronger, tougher, more resilient.

Is this a manifestation of life?

"No, God forbid!" You may argue.

Though if you think about it, isn't that how you live? By following the rules enshrined in tablets, scriptures or books defining the do's and don'ts.

And like me, even if you don't, those same rules contain punishment, retribution for those who defy the fundamental laws. Abnormalities which will eventually spiral out of control, just like the Muslim extremists.

Disturbing isn't it, to consider we may be Gods without realising it,
Then to see, we may be nothing more than creatures made to service feet.

Toss and Roll

Himbo

This week on A Stray World:

• Trip to USM.

Trip to USM
For the sake of a medicinal-herbal-traditional plant competition, I earned a trip to Universiti Sains Malaysia last Friday, no mean feat in itself, until you add the skipping four-and-a-half periods of classes, meeting the people who run the place and a free meal from the teacher in charge of our group.

In truth, this was my first visit to USM, if not my first visit to a university of any nature in Malaysia.

For starters, the land in which the seeds of campus USM sprouted on is HUGE. The terrain of gently inclining hills and steep drops made driving a rather dangerous affair, which means the recent order forbidding everyone affiliated with USM from driving within campus except PhD scholars and lecturers perfectly reasonable, considering the above average speed my teacher was eliciting from her Perodua.

Initial impressions of a capable, respectable institution were supported by a swimming pool close to the entrance while further down the narrow road, a homely, glass-walled building for the alumni greeted us modestly among the randomly sprinkled buildings of research.

Further down, I realised USM's architecture wasn't old as in colonial-charm old, but blocky apartments which would fit into any cuboidal box with nary a space in between if someone invented a shrink ray. If the oversized three alphabets representing the university weren't emblazoned onto the grass overlooking the road, the streets choked with parked cars and coldly technical signboards would fool any would-be-visitor into thinking he had just stumbled into Putrajaya on a weekday.

Finding a spot close to the Chemistry department, we entered the rather cramped first floor smelling of government hospital - a rather distinct cologne if one has ever set foot in a public health institute.

USM Fact No. 1: USM prefers to employ Malays.

Tudung wearing Malays, beard growing Malays, you get the picture. Frankly, the breakdown of the various races in USM I saw that day was greatly skewed from the breakdown of the nation's races by population. While I have no problem with qualified personnel, nobody is naive enough to believe the 'others' aren't qualified to hold administrative positions in USM or any public university in Malaysia for the matter.

Thankfully, USM at least took great measures in employing the best Malays. The administrative charts upon the walls of the Pharmaceutical department revealed an almost disturbing tendency to hire Malays who have graduated with honours from United Kingdom institutions of higher learning; along with the odd foreigner and obligatory 'others'. Though this measure is to be greatly admired, it still means our own local institutions aren't producing individuals who are brainy enough to lead the very universities they studied in.

USM Fact No. 2:Dean's List Students are predominantly Chinese

As much as the politicians who play the racial card claim a 'great Malay rising', the truth is, they are falling further and further behind. The floodgates have been forced open with iron bars for them while the 'others' had to slip by between the ruined walls yet a quick glance of the best of USM revealed only two Malays out of thirty or so Chinese names.

Kudos to USM for revealing the papers to the public, granted, a very limited public. If these numbers were ever published on national newspapers, we would see UMNO and PAS leaders joining hands and waving the keris all the way into campus to oust more Chinese descended scholars.

USM Fact No 3:USM lecturers are qualified

Repeating the same point, USM does employ capable lecturers, even though they be mostly Malay.

There were two professors who took their time to explain the various concepts and ethics (ETHICS!) regarding our medicinal plant project. At least some of the government sponsored Malays have not disappointed our taxpayers.

Both professors were gaily helpful, pointing out flaws in our project as well as lab work we might wish to consider. This was the next best thing to meeting the professor-in-charge of medicinal plants, who was ironically, not available because he was attending a medicinal plant and herbal remedies expo in Kuala Lumpur.

In conclusion, USM is not the place one would wish to study in, unless one enjoys blatant discrimination, and being forced to admit the people hired through discrimination are highly qualified, every single day.

Studying, Ending, Humanity.

Weir, Dyke, Prognostic, Apotheosis, Effulgence, Bosky, Apocryphal, Spurious, Prodigious, Garret, cum grano salis, Sorrel, Perforce, Gimlet, Vim, Bugger.

Something to Live for,
Something to Die for,
Living to Die,
Dying to Live.

This week on a Stray World:

• Global Warming/Reset the World?

Global Warming/Reset the World?
I caught a snippet of the naysayers in The Star over the week. The discussion was centred on global warming, or rather, the lack thereof.

I should probably add the total number of naysayers were ten divided by ten strong, and the reply one hundred minus ninety-nine in amount.

Basically, the gist of the letter quoted a few facts and figures which apparently support the idea global warming is a myth. Where the rising temperature is actually a natural progression of natural climate change by Mother Nature.

Here's a low down on what the naysayers say about global warming:

• An increase of 1 degree Fahrenheit over two decades is irrelevant because the measurements were taken from local micro-habitats which have undergone severe changes over the years;
• What the greenhouse gas producing countries spew out from their industries is nothing compared to what Mother Nature expels from her gut, e.g., volcanoes, decaying vegetation, etc.
• Global warming is actually delaying the next ice-age;
• Carbon trading schemes are essentially useless due to governments setting lax carbon-emission targets;
  
• With several million members worldwide, the 'greens' or environmentalists are an industry upon itself bent on profit,
• Environmental movements are hampering human right efforts worldwide by emphasising on the protection of the environment above all else.

It must be made clear, first of all, global warming is a science, not a fundamentalist struggle by environmentalists. Decades ago, during a period in the middle of the 20th century, a cold spell led many to believe the next ice age was upon us. Today, probably the very same climatologists are vouching for global warming.

While this may seem contradictory at first, we must remember the application of scientific methods is important in any scientific study.

To quote Gil Grissom from an episode of CSI: "When the evidence changes, so must the theory."

New studies and surveys of ice cores throughout the world have revealed several periods of warmth and cold throughout Earth's history. Cold periods are known as glacial periods, separated by warm, temperate interglacial periods.

This would then explain the up and down patterns of the Earth's climate during the past centuries.

Here is where it gets weird.

There is a Great Ocean Conveyor underneath the choppy waters surrounding the continents. Without making things too complicated, imagine a snaking line of hot water flowing from the equator to the poles, where they are cooled and sent back to the equatorial regions.

Science 101: Hot water is less dense than cold water. Hot water will therefore travel all the way up North before sinking to the bottom as it cools. Cooler water returns to the equatorial regions, completing the cycle.

That is why Berlin isn't as cold as Edmonton, even though they are located on the same altitude.

Global warming isn't so much the illness as the catalyst for an eventual ice-age. As the seas warm up, the polar ice caps begin to shrink. Shrinking ice caps don't just raise the sea level, they reduce the concentration of salt within the worlds' oceans. This is because most of the water trapped in the polar ice is freshwater.

Reducing the salinity of the seas means cold water becomes less dense than it should be. If cold water can't sink to the bottom of the oceans, the Great Ocean Conveyor comes to a standstill.

The result, instant ice age for the Northern Hemisphere.

Of course, this is all just theoretical. Nothing in science is absolute.

But it doesn't stop me from hoping a great tragedy like that will occur. Imagine a poor, derelict, starving Europe and America, and the rise of a powerful block of warm-climate agrarian countries in Latin America, Asia and Africa.

As depressed as I am about life, I would live to see that.

To answer the point raised where Mother Nature spew out more trash than all of humanity combined in a year, first we have to put things in perspective.

As usual a reminder, global warming as a science involves the study of various disciplines combined, and any individual component shouldn't be taken out of context.

It is irrefutable that volcanoes produce an amount of toxic gases greater than humans do every year. Additionally, industrial nations have cleaned up their practises and procedures over the decades.

However, one may be urged to forget the wholesale cutting of rainforests, highlands and other carbon absorbing structures on this planet. While industry practises may become cleaner, you can't expect Mother Nature to become more efficient by growing faster can you?

While plants may grow faster with increasing levels of carbon dioxide and warmer weather, as more forests are being levelled than being replanted, the efficiency of each plant in processing carbon dioxide must increase to make up for their fallen members.

To put it in perspective, Naruto using kage bunshin no jutsu to fight Orochimaru during the first season before the episode fillers.

In essence, Mother Nature may spew out more stuff than us, but unless we can eat our own vomit like her, humans become net contributor to greenhouse gases, however insignificant certain factions may describe it.

Criticism on the carbon trading scheme is valid.

Here's a run-down on carbon trading using suicide-bombers as a metaphor.

Imagine two Al-Qaeda cells with suicide bombers. Cell A contains 100 suicide bombers while Cell B contains 2 suicide bombers.

Due to management crisis as a result of multiple assassination and arrests of senior Al-Qaeda members, the number of suicide bombers in each cell must be capped so more can live on to take up administrative positions.

Let's say Osama only wants 50 suicide bombers in each cell, and Cell A needs all its suicide bombers to carry out bombing operations as it operates in a particularly busy Baghdad street; Cell A will either reduce the number of suicide bombers or, purchase the free membership for suicide bombers in cell B.

This means Cell A includes Cell B's quota in its numbers, with an extra two men.

If Osama states penalties for every man that exceeds the quota, Cell A will only need to pay for the two extra men.

Substitute the industrialised West for Al-Qaeda Cell A, the undeveloped third world countries for Al-Qaeda Cell B and carbon emissions for suicide bombers and that's carbon trading in a nutshell.

As the demand for carbon emission allowance increases from the developed nations, carbon credits (allowances for carbon emissions) increase in value, resulting in a very lucrative industry for all.

Smart, ingenious. Doomed to fail.

Even though carbon trading is supported by the EU, non-signatories of the Kyoto protocol such as the USA and China, who are the top two carbon emitting countries of the world, do not engage in carbon trading as actively as they do in Internet pornography.

Critics also point out local governments often set carbon-emission targets that are higher than what would be considered prudent and effective. This has resulted, not surprisingly in an increase of carbon emissions from countries who have delivered their John Hancock's to Kyoto such as Ireland.

Next point of contention in the global warming debate, environmentalists are nothing but imperial capitalists exercising every available measure to ensure undeveloped nations and communities stay undeveloped and poor.

Apparently, this is the reason various organisations wish to preserve local culture, to keep the black man in Africa and the Asians in their jungles.

Without rapid development (i.e. deforestation for industrial purposes) these countries will never compete on a level playing field with the heavily industrialised countries who can now supposedly, afford to reforest their raped lands.

Correct me if I am mistaken, but isn't America, THE most developed country actively implementing deplorable environmental policies?

Oil-fields in the Alaskan wilderness and overfishing of commercial fish-stocks aren't the standard practise for rehabilitating the environment.

Here, the critics are as naive as the environmentalists who believe the masses will come to accept the extinction of a species as a greater crime than murder.

Besides, there is an Asian country which has proven beyond a doubt it is possible to be an industrialised developed nation in harmony with traditional cultures and nature: Japan.

The country boasts the second largest economy after the US (developed), boasts master sword makers who still craft swords for a living (culture), and boasts an astounding 68.2% forest cover (environment).

I am all for shutting down their whaling fleets but you can't deny they still have a higer percentage of forest cover than Malaysia!

If they can do it, I fail to see why the rest of Asia and the world can't. Maybe we are just so lazy, we would rather swim in our own muck than clean up.

As usual, treat all this info with cum grano salis, as evidence continues to pour in regarding the effects of global warming will (not may) change facts into myth.

Rifts

Plage, Phrenology, Propitiate, Circumlocution, Sophistry.

A journey of darkness,
Begins with light.

• A1
• Sojourn

A1
The denouement of a long struggle is a sense of closure. Of finality. How then, should one feel after grand achievements that amounts to further public criticism?

This week, Malaysian society was abuzz with news of outstanding students achieving extremely favourable results in the SPM and STPM, especially the former, which is quoted as a benchmark of a student's performance through secondary school.

Having underwent a brief soul-searching of sorts has given me a new perspective on the issues at hand.

While a year ago, I berated society and the government at large for suppressing individual desire in pursuit of unrealistic national agendas; today I realise society has actually conditioned a new generation of single-minded photocopiers intent on pursuing life goals that echo social propriety.

The epiphany was echoed by reading the comments made by the successful students in the national dailies. Virtually every single remark and "secrets of success" had been mentioned the previous years and the years before.

The one most often mentioned by my teachers and fellow classmates, seniors and friends is to drill oneself in the intricacies of questions past. In fact, the only reason I got the highest grade possible for my Geography and History during the PMRs was due to five hours each of past year questions.

While in a way, this certainly proves the efficacy of the formula, it also implies there is only one certain route to go about life.

If life were about taking as many past year questions as possible, shouldn't we be pouring all our free time into the study of human history, on debates of morality and spirituality?

For Buddhism, the study of past lives is an intricate and necessary path to enlightenment. While I do not profess membership of any occult or religious institution myself, this is a disturbing point to ponder upon.

In an ironic twist, we are told and advised to disregard certain worldly affairs from our past for fear of arousing discontent, distraction, and disturbances. We are given lessons on the history of Islam in depth, yet disregard the Malaysian-Singaporean history. Little surprise why dealings with the island nation have always been contentious and confrontational.

Racial segregation is not given its full treatment, where the "parental mindset" of our leaders have deemed the public too immature for open debate regarding the subject.

They quote the constitution, and remind us of the social contract for peace and prosperity. Yet here we are, producing a new generation of Malaysian students who are found wanting when engaged in public debate, in society.

What is the value of an "A1".

Here, it is the epitome of success. The character of the person is rendered irrelevant. What they have become is a string of numbers and algebraic conformation.

Numbers and letters.

"She is a 16 A1 student."

"I got 9 A1's"

"Your future depends on your UPSR/PMR/SPM/STPM."

That is what we have become: a nation rich in culture and history made barren by education.

Sojourn
Actions are a result of thought, to state the obvious. Though sometimes, thought follows action, as the following suggests.

Last Saturday, after a brief discussion on certain school projects, I was left with four hours on the clock before my mother could make time to pick me up from school. As the route between my humble abode and school was split by a few hills and busy roads, human power alone is inadequate for commute.

With the state of public transportation as it was in Penang, to even suggest taking the bus would be akin to rowing a boat up the Himalayas with spoons and forks.

Nevertheless, one can attempt Biology past-year questions for only so long, which was when I decided to do a spur of the moment trek to the massive rain tree bordering the school compounds overlooking the Sixth Form blocks.

A few minutes was all I needed to reach the river's edge, where I followed the bank as closely as I dared. The bank was raised to a moderate 1 to 2 metres above the river level.

Thick grass thickets had been trimmed, however, most of the grass were still piled where they were, offering immediate sanctuary to any denizens nearby.

Immediate reptilian concerns were answered by the appearance of a juvenile monitor lizard, which under the thickets, resembled a section of a python. Closer inspection frightened the creature into a Olympic dive into the murky river.

Further trekking brought me to the quaint houses hugging the riverbank's edge. The rain tree was unreachable as the houses shielded whatever trail I could identify.

No doubt, further inspection would have brought me to the tree, but the forlorn playground overlooking the cemetery caught my attention.

The monkey bars were wrapped in netting of some sort, obviously for football. The swings half-broken and in real danger of collapse. One of the seats was angled in a perpendicular position, apparently defying the laws of physics as no objects other than the chains which held it were in contact with the contraption.

The sight of the dead-blocks of epitomes dedicated to people long consumed by the earth lay silently opposite the swings on that Saturday morning.

As I left, a sudden metal clanging brought my attention to the warning signpost, which forbade anyone under 12 years of age from using the facilities.

The metal plate, unscrewed at one end, banged against the post it was nailed to a second time, as if professing the disturbing neglect and disuse of the playground.

The sky was suitably morose, alternating between moments of moderate heat and complete darkness. The rain fell a few times, but not heavy enough to warrant a home invasion.

While I pondered the weight of issues burdening my thoughts, the feet kept walking. Soon, I found myself wandering Air Itam market.

I entered a book cum stationery store, and left unmoved by the titles on offer. 50 cents was spent on a Chinese snack, you za gui, if you can read Pin Yin. The rainy drizzle intensified for a brief moment before ebbing away completely.

I walked on without any general purpose. Trawling the streets of Penang for any new experiences on offer.

The Forest Ranger office was as usual, closed.

But the plants inside were thriving, so someone presumably enters the building occasionally.

The lives of the common man was exposed. An explosion rocked the town - a firecracker in broad daylight.

Grass mowers trimming the herbaceous side-walk beside the cemetery.

A man having lunch in the homes of the departed.

A bus driver beginning his journey around the island.

A couple in conversation.

And me, reaching the foot of the hills which led to my home.

A quick call, and my mum picked me up 45 minutes later.

The World in a Tram

Charnel, Abeyance, Indubitably, Sepulture, Sepulchral, Suppurating.

It's ranting time again on A Stray World. Pure unadulterated rush of blood-lust to satiate my hunger for vengeance.

• Snakes on a plane, to Hong Kong probably;
• Real life: Scottish Tourists in Penang.
  

First matter of the week is the successful reacquisition of of a few not less than 2400 banded rat snakes bound for the dining table of the ravenous Chinese.

Believed to be from Thailand, the hissing reptilians believed themselves saved from the awful fate of experiencing gastronomic disembowelling only to find themselves being auctioned off to be consumed by the same individuals who crave their sacred meat.

Apparently, these snakes are a "protected" species under the Wildlife Act 1972 and the Convention of Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora. Which amounts to a warning letter from the authorities with symbolic punitive measures.

Is there meaning to this outrage?

"We cannot simply release such a great number of snakes into the natural habitat in Penang or anywhere else in the country," says Hasnan Yusop, State Wildlife and National Parks Department director.

But surely that amounts to nothing more than being too lazy to supervise the return of the snakes to their country of origin.

"If the snakes are released into the wild, they might die or breed and become a pest," he added.

Correct me if I am mistaken old chap, but you shouldn't talk about your children that way. I mean, that would be tantamount to calling the entire human race a cancerous plague of flesh devouring parasites.

"We also cannot keep the snakes for long, as we would have problems feeding them. Plus, wild animals in captivity suffer from stress," said Hasnan.

Kid, I know the way people look at you when you walk out of that run-down shoe-store you call a house. However, the Wildlife and National Parks Department, as a government agency, surely receives substantial funding in carrying out its duties to protect all wildlife.

It isn't rocket science. The snakes are believed to be from Thailand.

That means there are fellow banded rat snakes slithering around in Thailand.

That means someone collected them from Thailand.

So it is too much to ask to return the snakes to their homes in Thailand?

"Yes it is," says a G-man. "You know the adage, 'if you can't beat them, join them'? You do? Well, we have changed our enforcement policy from 'we don't give a damn' to 'steal from crime, to profit from crime'."

Isn't that unethical?

"No way! We are the government, we wouldn't do anything illegal or wrong! We will just write a few more federal laws to legalise this campaign."

You mean there is more to come?

"Certainly. We will adapt the 'Endangered Wildlife for Sale" campaign for the "Seized Drugs for Sale" programme. Instead of combating the drug menace, we will start general distribution of any and all forms of therapeutic (Wink! Wink!) medication to the general public."

"We cut out the middleman, generate income for the state, and give good weed at a discount to the public while the bad guys get warning letters and fines. It's a win-win situation if you ask me."

Next up on the menu features some actual, real life encounters with Scottish tourists from your polemic blogger.

Yesterday evening (Sunday), I went along blissfully unaware of the actual objective of heading to the top of Penang Hill with five other blokes (I suppose I shouldn't term the only reed-thin girl in our group a bloke) to get this, snap emotive pictures of Penang hill.

Expecting an expert photographer to accompany us to the top to presumably advise us on the proper manner in which a photo should be taken, we were less than amused when he became, allegedly, too sick to turn up.

At the uppermost station, the team went to a wooden platform overlooking the magma like trails of Penang Island, and proceeded to snap the said scene with cheap digital cameras.

Having experienced the terror of film photography for most of my life (my family still uses film), I was less than amused to discover the lack of any proper cameras to capture te scenes before us.

How do you expect to take good pictures with a camera as flat as and narrow as the PAS government or a half-hearted attempt at a D-SLR with the pretensions of this countries inter-racial harmony.

More events occurred during the night to fuel my growing cynicism regarding the entire affair.

The guys actually started posing the girl and another guy in a seemingly romantic fashion underneath the neon lights along the main trail.

This scene of manufactured pretensions stopped just short of liquefying my internal organs followed by violent retching and paroxysms which would have resulted in a piece of foam-like polymer spread across the black tarmac with a piece of decayed orange where the brain should have been.

Fortunately, the night didn't end on that meaningful note.

While taking the last tram down Penang Hill, I found myself engaging a Scottish couple about topics ranging from global warming, Scots and Irish, Malaysian history of affirmative action, my school holiday, Welsh, and forestry practises in Malaysia.

The slightly weathered middle-aged man was seemingly engaging with the thick Scottish accent making every moment of a conversation an exercise in concentration.

Thankfully, all those hours spent on BBC Entertainment haven't been in vain.

At the middle station, we switched trams, and I found myself with the son of the Scottish couple.

He was the typical backpacker. Having travelled Europe, Russia, Mongolia, China, North Korea, South Korea, Vietnam, Cambodia, and now, Malaysia.

He had apparently stumbled into his parents during a leg of his unplanned, carefree journey. Saving up for the trip of his life, he had every right to regale me with tales of buying illegal DVDs in China (apparently, you choose your DVDs by choosing your clothes; just like the agents in Alias) or visiting the DMZ from both ends of the Korean border for a look at what international co-operation means (the North Koreans string up a fence barricade; the South Koreans string up a line of gunmen).

In Cambodia, they use American Dollars for daily transaction, which means our intrepid backpacker found Cambodia to be quite costly!

Yesterday evening, he went up Penang Hill. Yes, I concur, that doesn't sound very appealing, nor exciting.

Depending on the availability of cheap tickets to Japan, his next destination is between Japan, Singapore, and Borneo.

My guess is, he will choose the latter over the other two because visiting Japan alone will be expensive while Singapore is culturally dead (when he asked my opinion of places worth visiting in Singapore, I could only quote the Singapore Science Canter and the operas on Esplanade; not exactly cheap backpacker stuff).

He presumably ends his trip in Australia, where he will reacquaint himself with some distant relations.

We said our goodbyes and I went home to a victorious Koo Kien Keat - Tan Boon Heong.

A happy ending for once.

Of Dignity & Chastity

Shrift, Transgression, Colliers, Choler, Maidenhead, Pernicious, Posterity, Forsworn, Tetchy, Stinted, Prolixity, Lath, Masque, Alderman, Trencher, Disparagement, Perforce, Prorogue, Distemper

This week on A Stray World:

• Cleric recommends chastity belts, group to take up challenge;
• More spying Mat Skoding, extra protection for all;
• Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin, as good as they get.

"Women should wear chastity belts to prevent rape, incest and other sex crimes," said Abu Hassan Din Al Hafiz, alledgedly prominent Muslim Cleric during a speech on the 16th of February in Terengganu.

That was the absolutely brilliant idea pushed to the forefront as a result of substantial surveys and follow-ups conducted by the coalition of Muslim clerics.

The greater incidences of rape as a result of provocative clothing, a postulation that has since met its end has resulted in a commendable backtrack by the conservative clerics.

Realising their foolhardy mistake, they have embarked on a separate branch of thought, that it is the men that are to be blamed when women are raped, as opposed to their former postulation, where the women are blamed when women are raped.

Just what exactly is a chastity belt? What form does it take?As one may observe from the image above, there are two holes at opposite ends of the metallic strap for the passing of body wastes. Sharp edges prevent the insertion of the male appendage for sexual pleasure. Sexual gratification through other means though, seem probable given the relative size of the holes.

This medieval device demonstrates how effective the common padlock is in securing a woman's dignity, which is exactly what the clerics are aiming for.

It is therefore rather perplexing on their part when public outcry against the device has pushed them once more, back to the drawing board.

It is rather interesting to note, chastity belts are rather popular in Indonesia. This is a country who's inhabitants have displayed acute flexibility and pragmatism in their willingness to purchase chastity belts.

Rather than fret about the inanities of the inhabitants of this nation, we move on to another topic that has gripped the nation amid a sudden economic boom - the Mat Skoding.

Terengganu State Islam Hadhari and Welfare Committee chairman Datuk Rosol Wahid, suggests the establishment of a respected body of busy-bodies to weed out men and women who commit immoral offences. Such as the khalwat, or close proximity offence.

Among the advantages attributed to the formation of the Mat Skoding are,

• reduction in cases of men and women dating;
  
• reduction in cases of men and women copulating; and
  
• reduction in cases of men and women getting married.

Obviously, the Mat Skoding themselves must display nothing but the most admirable of human qualities. To achieve this end, the Terengganu government has seized upon the previously defunct idea of chastity belts and have issued a state directive for all Mat Skoding to attire themselves with the "armour of dignity".
The above picture would be an example of this joint venture between the state government and BDSM entities across our fair nations borders.

Mat Skoding who fail to purchase a chastity belt of their own will be compelled to make their own.

With their morality firmly secured, the people can rest assured, the person video-taping your movements is certainly dignified to the extreme.

The final article of the day features none other than the rising star of the state clerics, Dr. Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin.

He has given the following suggestions to legalise khalwat detecting:

• THE operation must not stir the development of tajassus (spying to find fault) offences in Muslim society and as such the informer has to ascertain that he/she actually saw or heard the offence being committed;
• THE operation itself must not be conducted merely to spy for the sake of finding fault;
• THE operation must not be based on doubtful information;
• THE enforcement authority should not encourage people to lodge complaints on actions which can cause embarrassment among Muslims, and in this case the practice of giving rewards to informers in close proximity cases should be stopped;
• DETAILS of the offence committed should not be revealed prior to sentencing; and,
• OPERATIONS which are deemed to have adverse effects like infringing on the individuals' rights and privacy; an operation suspected of being carried out with malicious intent and creating hatred towards the religious enforcement agency should be abandoned.

Yes folks. This is the one who will bring all Malaysian Muslims into the 22nd century. The fact that he drew up the guidelines one must adhere to while snooping is not more significant than the actual acceptance of the act.

Well, I suppose this is as good as they get.

Chinese New Year 07

And we are back. It turns out the troubled landline dial tone was due to Telekom's (Malaysian telecommunications giant, by monopoly) new voice mail service for landlines.

After a technician came by and declared the phone lines were fault free, I decided to do some belated fiddling to the dial-up settings on my loyal 7-year-old Windows ME machine.

Changed from tone dial to pulse dial = no dial tone detected.

Unchecked the box to dial after detecting dial tone = Incorrect password

Frustrating isn't it. One month after my last visit to the web using my TmNet account and after solving a relatively easy but befuddling problem, and these pigs tell me my password is incorrect!

Who do we summon in this time of need?

Our clan know of one weapon,
Who's power is so great, company CEO's have offered free gifts to salve its murderous anger,
Who's ferocity is such, that pimply-faced office boys face death by the end of scissor blades at a word wronged,
And who's price is high, to the point our clansmen wield it at risk of eternal damnation,
My mother.

Six hours later, I was on-line, updating my anti-virus definitions and spyware protection lists.

Since this is my first post for a very long time, and on the first day of Chinese New Year at that, expect not white lies, foul knave, for thy words draw wounds on the soul, not carvings on webpages.

A time of peace and new beginnings shall commence, with the path of eternal rest still dimmed, shall we all seek the one tunnel to return us to sanity, and freedom.

Have a meaningful Chinese New Year.

Dearly Departed

Final Dead of the Week: 71
Final Death Toll (Since 12th Jan 2006): 1047

I leave it to you, ladies and gentlemen, to ponder on the grotesque nature of the mass media.

For more or less a year, I have faithfully logged the number of humans flatlining on television. Whether their death was as graceful as a lump of clotted blood stuck in the brain, or being chewed to pulp by giant bugs, one things for certain - a creative and sadistic method of murder and torture, should that be my intention, is mostly guaranteed.

How would you like to drown in a puddle 3cm deep, that can be arranged.

What about - hold on, I might be indirectly incriminating myself in any future homicides.

And on that suspicious note, I end today's entry.

P.S. My monitor is still dead, so I got a new one. However, as fate would have it, my phone's dial-tone has mutated into a heartbeat from a dead tone.

This funnily enough means I can make calls from my landline, but the modem interprets the beeping dial-tone as silence.

This post was published from stolen bandwidth at an international organization.

And The End

My monitor flickered,
Then it whimpered,
Before it turned black,
Now hit the sack!

Folks, I'm sorry. But its nigh impossible for me to update my post with a dead monitor. So until then, A Stray World will be on hold.

Unless of course, someone out there wishes to contribute articles.

Only requirement:
You have to write parodies.

Happy non-denominational Winter Holidays and a Happy New Year.

Fashionable Joys

Poulaines, Egress, Ingress.

This week on A Stray World:

• Storming Doha, Koo Kien Keat - Tan Boon Heong;
• KBMC No Longer Tolerates Indecent Dressing, Fines for Out of Season Attires;
• Kota Baru, Kuantan Most Porn Surfers, State Governments Declare Success.

Good day, and welcome to your weekly edition of A Stray World. We begin our coverage with the mostly underachieving badminton squad in Doha.

From the day I was born, badminton has always occupied a special place in my heart, even after my friendly neighbours actively isolated me from their social activities which included the sport.

For the first few years, I grew up with the mistaken impression that my generation's badminton players were world beaters. However, 18 long years of defeat after defeat (with occasional, rare victories) has left me understandably, less than hopeful of a success in Doha.

Every time I read "Malaysia hopes to avoid China" in the sports section of The Star, I can't help voicing my thoughts out loud: "If we are world beaters, why must we actively seek avoiding the strong teams?"

Fortunately, the wait for genuine success finally ended for me early this morning.

The young pair of Koo Kien Keat - Tan Boon Heong clinched gold in the doubles event; after destroying the world champions from China, and two formidable and respected Indonesian pairs.

Genuine success! I haven't felt this happy since the Republicans lost the mid-term elections.

Though it was almost two hours after midnight, I was punching and kicking the air with every point earned, earned!

Congratulations to the lads! I hope this won't be a one time only performance. Remember Hafiz and the All-England Tournament?

Back to stately affairs, we focus our lenses on Kelantan, the most Taliban-like state in Malaysia.

Due to intolerable fashion sense, the Kota Baru Municipal Council (KBMC) has taken the unenviable task of fining repeat offenders.

"These women are courting disaster," said a low ranking official from the KBMC. "When I was Afghanistan, the women dressed in-season all year round. Their all black and all blue burqas were stunning to say the least. The heavy black cloth covered every square centimetre of their body, hiding their feet, eyes and hair."

When pointed out these raiment were standard attire ever since the Taliban regime came to power, he had this to say: "Don't you know, black burqas have been the in-thing for the past 10 years. We are only trying to catch up."

He continued: "The things women wear these days are completely disrespectful to Islam. The clothes they wear now are clearly too comfortable. We men of Kelantan have to avert our eyes whenever one of these prostitutes strays in front of us. While the t-shirt, skirt, jeans, headscarf and Mickey Mouse socks cover the skin, we can identify them from the bulges in the fabric that they are female. We want to ensure these women resemble walking bedsheets as much as possible to prevent them from becoming objects of beauty and desire.

Ultimately, we want them to follow our commands so they won't be attacked or raped by law-abiding men. The fact that we are even talking about this subject shows how much we care about the dignity and respect of women.

Ask yourself, don't you think the men of Al-Qaeda are a lucky bunch when they don't have hear that utterly hateful question: Honey, do I look fat in this dress?"

On a separate note, Google Trends just released a report on porn related search in Malaysia.

Evidently, Kota Baru and Kuantan top the list for most porn related search.

State officials have taken this opportunity to congratulate themselves on not just bridging the technological gap between the traditionally backward East Coast states and West Coast states, but trumping the West for the very first time.

"We are so proud of ourselves, we couldn't have achieved this without everybody's contribution," said a state religious official. "For may years, I have always whipped my sons whenever I see them looking at naked women, now I regret those awful moments... Knowing now I should have been more supportive of his behaviour.

"I know. I will begin browsing those sites too from today onwards," said another state official. "The report even says Kelantanese use English terms such as 'sex' and 'porn' while the other states only use Malay terms. Some states even displays specific searches targeting Malay women. This shows the people of Kota Baru, the first Islamic City in Malaysia, are more open-minded than the people in other states. This also vindicates our state governments active gender discrimination policy, which seeks to wipe out women or anything resembling the female anatomy from the streets of Kelantan."

There are, however, a few disgruntled voices from the Kelantanese.

"I don't go for porn," a bold teenager stated. "My dad and his pals have been doing it for years. Ever since the state government issued edicts preventing my mother from undressing, my father and other husbands have been forced to 'seek the female form' elsewhere."

"They tried Thai prostitutes," he continued, "but the state government arrested him. Now he knows better, he surfs for porn using my Internet account."

Dead of the Week: 14
Total Dead (Since 12th Jan 2006): 976

See the Light

Scoliosis, modus vivendi, Dialectics, Assignation, Simoon, Tarn, Idolatrous.

This week, on A Stray World:

• Rufaqa Corp, a Study of a Study.

Modern society is a pain in the perineum. Therefore, it is understandable why people would slip into the comforting cot of religion to seek solace and meaning to the inanities of life.

Religion, no doubt, has been a huge contributor to humanity's follies, and successes.

Follies:The crusades, Al-Qaeda, Iraq, Tamil Tigers, Pope Benedict and his misquoted reading of the evils of Islam.

Successes:Mother Theresa, Dalai Lama.

As they say, things come and go, and that has been the way in the evolution of religion. First came deitified inanimate objects, e.g., Ayer's Rock. Then, god organizations, e.g., Zeus, his wife Hera, his children, stepchildren, brothers and sisters etc.

Finally, we were introduced to the soloists.

After a few thousand years of warfare as a direct result of religious differences, we have finally found peace in warfare as a direct result of religious differences.

It is therefore, quite understandable why the powers that be would wish to put an end to the development of new religions.

As ancient history has shown, how the image of Buddha was adopted from the Greek god Apollo, Al-Arqam adopted an image of Islam.

Al-Arqam, and its succesor, Rufaqa' Corporation, are centred around Ashaari bin Muhammad bin Idris bin Ali bin Malae bin Abdul Kadir (AbMbIbAbMbAK).

According to his personal website on www.rufaqa.com, AbMbIbAbMbAK was a person born of noble blood, which means no cattle blood had ever been introduced into his family, unlike the rest of us.

Apparently, a well known but unheard of teacher of Islam predicted after his death, all of us would be as aimless as motherless chicks until the appearence someone named Ashaari...

After a few decades, a boy was born, and he was named Ashaari after daddy dreamt about an island. He grew up in the unmodernized village of Kampung Pilin.

Just like the ancient fable of racial unity through selected injustice the government has foisted onto us, Pilin was an untouched Utopia. Here, in a rural impoverished stretch of dirt where any hope of watching The Sound of Music died like birds with SARS, the villager's children are equally shared.

Everyone in the village was a parent, and any child may be apprehended and beaten while tied to the end of an ox.

In abject poverty, these people would cannibalize the weak until trees bore fruit, where they would become docile creatures upholding the traditional Malaysian values of giving and sharing the bounty.

By the time AbMbIbAbMbAK was 17, he had learnt everything he needed to know about life in a creepy rural village.

He went to the best school he could think of, pre-9/11 Arabian school. After attaining his Certificate of Enlightenment, AbMbIbAbMbAK decided it was time he became a leader to all the motherless chicks in Miami.

A wrongly purchased plane ticket later, AbMbIbAbMbAK set foot on the godless land of Malaysia, where he began running his "true path of God" business through Al-Arqam.

Soon, the Malaysian government and their misguided Islamic arm declared AbMbIbAbMbAK's teachings as deviationist, and with the grace of another god, pulverized Al Arqam in 1994.

AbMbIbAbMbAK though was a man possessed. He would not give up his vision of leading motherless chicks. Rufaqa' Corporation was established in 1997, and by practising the tenets found in God's Guide to Business for the Carzy and Maimed, saw his company grow by 1000% every year (at the expense of a few praiseworthy people who willingly parted with their life savings for a reach-god-quick-scheme).

Rufaqa expanded worldwide, and held nasheed concerts throughout the world. Even Prime Minister John Howard was touched by the soul enhancing and human illuminating concerts in Australia.

Rufaqa also busied itself holding brainwashing camps for young men and women and creating AbMbIbAbMbAK approved developments throughout the country.

It has also launched a book detailing the miraculous birth and life of AbMbIbAbMbAK, handicraft approved by AbMbIbAbMbAK, herbs patented by AbMbIbAbMbAK and AbMbIbAbMbAK friendly tourist packages.

So after exhibiting nothing but excellent acumen in business and a life lived in the image of god, the government has seen fit to shut AbMbIbAbMbAK down once more.

But fret not, like that cynical god-bashing skeptic who believes in the natural predisposition for all living things to freely select mates with preferable traits to be passed on to their children and eventually incorporated into the species so they may adapt more successfully into their environment, AbMbIbAbMbAK will be back.

Dead of the Week: 11
Total Dead (Since 12th Jan 2006): 962