Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Initiate Launch Sequence
It's a while since my last post, but that's because I now subscribe to the content method of writing my articles, compared to the episodic method I once favoured.Regardless of the reasons, I will now make another monumental announcement:
I shall be leaving Balik Pulau, for Kota Kinabalu.
After six months, I finally received confirmation of my acceptance into Universiti Malaysia Sabah to study International Tropical Forestry.
How and what does it mean by "International", when I can find no in-depth details of the programme on the UMS homepage, remains to be seen.
How will this affect you? Well, it means I am one step closer to becoming Environment Minister of Malaysia, whereupon I will do everything possible to make your life a living hell if you so much as toss a plastic bag onto the streets.
Finally, a link to a fascinating blog discussing the issues of anime fansubbing. I would prefer you read it and understand the issues before you download your next anime.
In fact, I hope you will forever be dogged by feelings of guilt (like me), about downloading anime. But that would mean I would expect you to care.
LOL.
ROTFLMAO.
LOL
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The EverAnime Stink
I wish to share something personally painful.My pride and joy.
My first Cowboy Bebop CD, is a bootleg.
Okay, the pictures:
Here's Cowboy Bebop: No Disc
Here's another view.
And here's the moneyshot.
Know why?
Ever Anime is a known bootleg producer, as refered to from this site.
And here's the EverAnime wikipedia entry.
Don't make the same mistakes I made.
Avoid EverAnime (and also SonMay) like a Taliban fighter touring the USA.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Gunslinger Girl Bootlegs in Queensbay
Gunslinger Girl, as everyone who has experience the discomfort of listening to me talk about anime knows, is my all time favourite must-watch-must-buy anime.So before we proceed with my latest findings, please visit the wiki. Trust me, you will be referring to it in a while.
Queensbay is home to an anime shop on the same floor as the cinemas, you can't miss it.
Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the latest season of Gunslinger Girl (Il Teatrino, with all 13 episodes no less!) being sold for not more than RM20.00.
The Japanese television broadcast (on Tokyo MX TV) for the series, as you can read in the wiki, ended on the 31st of March, 2008.
This is an important date, because Japanese broadcasters demand a 90 day monopoly on the anime series being broadcast:
"When we're dealing with a TV series, very often Japanese TV networks...[demand] a 90-day monopoly on that product. From the day that it premieres on whatever TV network in Japan, for the next 90 days, absolutely no one is allowed to show that product anywhere else in the world,"In essence, this explains why most legal anime you see being sold come in blocks of 3 episodes, as the 90 day limit lapses on each individual episode.
While this is a moronic distribution method, it is absolutely legal.
So unlike the bootleg 13-episodes-in-one-DVD Gunslinger Girl Il Teatrino (with a Gun X Sword logo emblazoned above it for some nefarious reason), this would be what a typical legal DVD box set from Japan would look like.
Of course, I checked this site out to view its legality, and you can read the ratings here.
Though the reviews are rather disparaging, the words "illegal", "piracy", and "bootleg" do not appear.
In conclusion, don't buy any illegal or pirated software. Okay, I know the majority of you folks out there think it's your god-given right to buy cheap VCDs and DVDs.
But the truth is, you can survive without these item, because they are being purchased with DISPOSABLE INCOME. The moral thing to do if you believe the item is overpriced is not to buy it at all. Being a software/web design company employee has made me regret many of the statements and actions I have made regarding pirated software, and I am now striving to rectify these mistakes.
What galls me isn't the prevalence of pirated products, but pirated products being passed off as the real thing... in large national book stores and video outlets. This essentially means consumers don't even have an obvious choice for legal products.
It may be a difficult decision for many, but the choice to purchase pirated products is one of those tiny judgements in life that defines you as a person. For:
Though the soul be single comprehending,
Man is but the sum of things him.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Technically Legal?
Through hours of web trawling, I have discovered a certain trade agreement known as the Berne Convention.Apparently, this convention is an agreement that protects the intellectual works of art from theft by unscrupulous individuals. However, this is only the case if both countries are members of the Berne Convention.
Interestingly enough, Taiwan is not a signatory of the convention.
Since I have yet to finish reading the entire document, I can't come to any conclusions yet. But from what I have read, it seems the anime being sold everywhere in Malaysia as original products which are actually imports of bootlegs from Taiwan, may be technically legal because Taiwan is not a signatory to Berne.
Until then, happy reading!
Related Links:
Berne Convention pdf document
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Case of the Cheap Bleach Boxset (aka CBB)
The case began with a friend of mine, Tommy, showing me a 60 episode boxset of Bleach which was bought for the phenomenal price of RM 59.90.I had no suspicions of it being illegitimate, seeing as it was bought from Popular, a well known book chain firmly rooted in Malaysia. So I let the issue go.
However, the lousy subtitling brought to mind stories of Hong Kong pirates selling bootlegs of anime as the legitimate thing.
After some time, I posed my suspicions to members of the #Japanator channel on irc.irchighway.net who subsequently answered that the products could not be legal, as bootleg versions of anime sold in their country (the USA) were still more expensive than the allegedly legal ones here.
I finally met the people manning Popular (Gurney Plaza branch) yesterday, on the 27th of March 2008.
Since I carelessly forgot to borrow a recording device of some sort, I will present at least 3 witnesses to the event if anyone should ask for one in a court of law.
I have posted my preliminary findings on the Japanator forum under the thread Too Cheap to be True, so it would be rather repetitive of me even if I rephrased them here.
Anyway, a summary of my findings up to today:
- Box sets being sold by anime distributors in Malaysia are crushingly cheap compared to distributors in other countries.
- There is at least one confirmed distributor of anime DVDs in Malaysia, Technogram (according to this site, which happens to be a blog), which is the Malaysian branch of Odex, the Singaporean company now suing Internet users who download anime from the web illegally. Since they are suing people downloading anime from the web, and haven't been sued by any Japanese company for wrongful claims of Intellectual Property, the evidence weighs heavily in Odex's favour that it is a legitimate anime distributor.
- If however, Animedia Entertainment is a legitimate company, I have no qualms purchasing stuff from them. This is after all, an inquiry into the legitimacy of the product, not an accusation of guilt.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Finis
New words: Barrette, Enfilade, Oast.
The title is in Latin, and it means boundary or end.
It isn't very healthy, and runs in direct contrast to my personal aspirations to rid myself of negative emotions. As much as I like writing about other people's follies, it has to stop.
This blog has to stop.
I remembered taking a vow to myself not one year ago (I am an atheist, so the only thing I can swear upon is my own honour and conscience), to judge no one but myself.
As the days and months pass, this has become rather hard a demand, as I always have an opinion, mostly one that reduces my target to a ludicrous three-dimensional piece of molecular interaction that happens to speak.
This is not only unhealthy, it is unhelpful.
Enough is enough, and if I must stick to my vow, to judge no one but myself.
There is only one inevitable solution. To stop playing the hypocrite, and start behaving like a grown man. The time for words in an inconsequential blog is over.
I want to change the world, but I can't write change into existence. I must study it, discuss it, work it into existence.
By the end of the day, maybe I will stop hating myself.
The title is in Latin, and it means boundary or end.
- Reality sets in.
It isn't very healthy, and runs in direct contrast to my personal aspirations to rid myself of negative emotions. As much as I like writing about other people's follies, it has to stop.
This blog has to stop.
I remembered taking a vow to myself not one year ago (I am an atheist, so the only thing I can swear upon is my own honour and conscience), to judge no one but myself.
As the days and months pass, this has become rather hard a demand, as I always have an opinion, mostly one that reduces my target to a ludicrous three-dimensional piece of molecular interaction that happens to speak.
This is not only unhealthy, it is unhelpful.
Enough is enough, and if I must stick to my vow, to judge no one but myself.
There is only one inevitable solution. To stop playing the hypocrite, and start behaving like a grown man. The time for words in an inconsequential blog is over.
I want to change the world, but I can't write change into existence. I must study it, discuss it, work it into existence.
By the end of the day, maybe I will stop hating myself.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Short, Shot, Shoot!
New words: Prestidigitation, Taproom, Cocksure, Quiff, Brigid, Servile, Rondo, Bollard, Parser, Doeskin, Aslope, Contumacious.
This week on A Stray World:
This week has been particularly hectic.
Oil hits $100.
Jon Stewart returns with A Daily Show.
And Malaysia, the second largest producer of palm oil world, ran out of palm oil.
Fascinating. Almost fictional in fact. It's like saying Thailand has ran out of prostitutes, or Kelantan without muftis, or George W. Bush without lies.
Without realising it, we citizens have failed to notice the convenient subsidies on cooking oil quietly nestled in place somewhere in the bowels of this immature democracy. Keen to keep prices low in our favourite char koay teow stalls, proprietors seemed to have caught on to the subsidies placed upon store bought cooking oil.
The larger barrel-like ones woefully forgotten.
Incredible as it seems, people refused to buy anything but cooking oil for the first two days of the apparent oil crisis. Like the geopolitical factions at play for its non-edible distant relative, storekeepers were accused of hoarding attacks were carried out by government officials, and general chaos from media coverage and frustrated oil-dependant citizens brought about a final agreement to raise production.
Alternative to oil-fried food - water.
People are addicted to oil.
Quite fascinating.
Bullet
Datuk S. Krishnasamy. One slug to the head. Close range.
Reading Gunslinger Girl has given me morbid insight into the mind of professional assassins.
The set-up was perfect. Here's my theory.
This mid-ranking member of the MIC was murdered in an MIC branch. Not on the road in some secluded junction. The building would be guarded, and with elections around the corner, very likely to be rather busy with human traffic.
Why take the risk? Why kill him in an elevator in a political building buzzing with pre-election activity?
This implies a political message.
A straight gunshot to the head implies rather obviously, an intent to eliminate, not intimidate the victim.
Since the MIC could easily replace one of their fallen with another mid-ranking representative, it could be postulated that this was a warning.
It would be naive to assume Datuk S Krishnasamy was completely innocent in the entire affair. He was embroiled in some business with some dangerous individuals.
People who aren't afraid of public execution as long as the message is delivered clearly, vividly.
The question now becomes, what is the message?
Stray Thoughts
One of the most senior members of The Star, A. Asohan, whose work I have acquainted myself with since his In Tech days has been awarded a column in the Sunday Star.
I have no hard feelings that he used the phrase above in bold as the name of his column. After all, Stray isn't a patented word.
However, it does make me wonder whether or not I should request a trademark for my blog's name when I move it away from Blogger.
This week on A Stray World:
- Oily skins missed;
- Not the face! Not the Face!
- A. Asohan goes Stray
This week has been particularly hectic.
Oil hits $100.
Jon Stewart returns with A Daily Show.
And Malaysia, the second largest producer of palm oil world, ran out of palm oil.
Fascinating. Almost fictional in fact. It's like saying Thailand has ran out of prostitutes, or Kelantan without muftis, or George W. Bush without lies.
Without realising it, we citizens have failed to notice the convenient subsidies on cooking oil quietly nestled in place somewhere in the bowels of this immature democracy. Keen to keep prices low in our favourite char koay teow stalls, proprietors seemed to have caught on to the subsidies placed upon store bought cooking oil.
The larger barrel-like ones woefully forgotten.
Incredible as it seems, people refused to buy anything but cooking oil for the first two days of the apparent oil crisis. Like the geopolitical factions at play for its non-edible distant relative, storekeepers were accused of hoarding attacks were carried out by government officials, and general chaos from media coverage and frustrated oil-dependant citizens brought about a final agreement to raise production.
Alternative to oil-fried food - water.
People are addicted to oil.
Quite fascinating.
Bullet
Datuk S. Krishnasamy. One slug to the head. Close range.
Reading Gunslinger Girl has given me morbid insight into the mind of professional assassins.
The set-up was perfect. Here's my theory.
This mid-ranking member of the MIC was murdered in an MIC branch. Not on the road in some secluded junction. The building would be guarded, and with elections around the corner, very likely to be rather busy with human traffic.
Why take the risk? Why kill him in an elevator in a political building buzzing with pre-election activity?
This implies a political message.
A straight gunshot to the head implies rather obviously, an intent to eliminate, not intimidate the victim.
Since the MIC could easily replace one of their fallen with another mid-ranking representative, it could be postulated that this was a warning.
It would be naive to assume Datuk S Krishnasamy was completely innocent in the entire affair. He was embroiled in some business with some dangerous individuals.
People who aren't afraid of public execution as long as the message is delivered clearly, vividly.
The question now becomes, what is the message?
Stray Thoughts
One of the most senior members of The Star, A. Asohan, whose work I have acquainted myself with since his In Tech days has been awarded a column in the Sunday Star.
I have no hard feelings that he used the phrase above in bold as the name of his column. After all, Stray isn't a patented word.
However, it does make me wonder whether or not I should request a trademark for my blog's name when I move it away from Blogger.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Lovely.
New words: Headland, Ineluctable, Martinet, Bunco, Gumshoe, Kindling, Ingenue, Simper, Dint, Palaver.
Scandalous? Indeed.
But the study here isn't really about Chua Soi Lek, but the nation as a whole, and why it matters.
The people have Judged
Sex scandals are nothing new. If one were to look back further, a mistress was even considered a symbol of success.
The concubines of Chinese Emperors certainly weren't cheap.
And if our so-called Muslim leaders were to reflect on the Ottoman empire, I am sure they would find no solace in picking upon a man who kept a measly one.
Let's not kid ourselves here.
This is but a private matter gone public. To lose one of our better leaders in such fashion is simply wasteful.
Let's do a quick recap on other crimes that surely deserve or exceed the same measure of public disgust.
Wasteful Spending
Right, so what happened to all those government departments implicated in the Auditor General's sweep? A few low-level, mid-level executives questioned and sacked?
Imagine gallons and gallons of liquid gold spent on such essentials as:
After the rape of Nanjing, our leaders probably decided to up the ante and stage:
The Rape of Lojing.
An entire mountain range was given the greatest haircut in Malaysia (Malaysian Book of Records) when a few state government officials decided to sell all the trees to loggers and plant, ostentatiously, ferns.
Yes. Those itsy-bitsy-teeny-greenish-weeds that kids (both human and animal) step-on on their way to the local municipal playground.
The White House
Not suggesting someone would go so far as to build a replica of the symbol of American democracy in Malaysia. Only going so far as to suggest flagrant flaunting of wealth and power.
So what happened to the politician who steamrollered his way to a new house and a satay restaurant sans official approval?
Apart from the now familiar official denial of any wrongdoing ("The architect did it!"), the man with a face thicker than the length of the Great Wall of China decided to invite a few dozen orphan to stay over at his new dig for one night.
Only thing he lost was his eatery, not is job.
Hmm...
Have Sex, Will Tell
This article is in no way meant to defend the good doctor from further jibes. What he did was wrong, if one subscribes to the Koran and Old Testament.
Secular-wise, he broke the unspoken laws of social propriety. Malaysian laws of social propriety.
But when left with two obvious choices, to keep quiet and his job, or to speak and get out, Dr Chua did the unthinkable.
He admitted his mistake, and left government.
That is a remarkable thing, considering Barisan Nasional could just as easily preserve his job by withholding comment anyway.
Alternative Future
Imagine this.
He had no charisma, but Dr Chua was a reassuring figure.
In a country that officially denies the existence of gays, lesbians, transvestites, transsexuals, bisexuals and any other word ending with -sexual, he pushed for the use of condoms; the distribution of condoms.
Whatever his fallacies, it would be prudent to note: Dr Chua's mistake did not cost the nation taxpayer money, or taxpayer time (though we all know that's not really high up on any agenda here).
I don't believe the same fingers now pointed at him can claim the same.
Scandalous? Indeed.
But the study here isn't really about Chua Soi Lek, but the nation as a whole, and why it matters.
The people have Judged
Sex scandals are nothing new. If one were to look back further, a mistress was even considered a symbol of success.
The concubines of Chinese Emperors certainly weren't cheap.
And if our so-called Muslim leaders were to reflect on the Ottoman empire, I am sure they would find no solace in picking upon a man who kept a measly one.
Let's not kid ourselves here.
This is but a private matter gone public. To lose one of our better leaders in such fashion is simply wasteful.
Let's do a quick recap on other crimes that surely deserve or exceed the same measure of public disgust.
Wasteful Spending
Right, so what happened to all those government departments implicated in the Auditor General's sweep? A few low-level, mid-level executives questioned and sacked?
Imagine gallons and gallons of liquid gold spent on such essentials as:
- Screwdrivers,
- Digital cameras,
- Computers,
- Pencils, and my personal favourite
- Car jacks.
After the rape of Nanjing, our leaders probably decided to up the ante and stage:
The Rape of Lojing.
An entire mountain range was given the greatest haircut in Malaysia (Malaysian Book of Records) when a few state government officials decided to sell all the trees to loggers and plant, ostentatiously, ferns.
Yes. Those itsy-bitsy-teeny-greenish-weeds that kids (both human and animal) step-on on their way to the local municipal playground.
The White House
Not suggesting someone would go so far as to build a replica of the symbol of American democracy in Malaysia. Only going so far as to suggest flagrant flaunting of wealth and power.
So what happened to the politician who steamrollered his way to a new house and a satay restaurant sans official approval?
Apart from the now familiar official denial of any wrongdoing ("The architect did it!"), the man with a face thicker than the length of the Great Wall of China decided to invite a few dozen orphan to stay over at his new dig for one night.
Only thing he lost was his eatery, not is job.
Hmm...
Have Sex, Will Tell
This article is in no way meant to defend the good doctor from further jibes. What he did was wrong, if one subscribes to the Koran and Old Testament.
Secular-wise, he broke the unspoken laws of social propriety. Malaysian laws of social propriety.
But when left with two obvious choices, to keep quiet and his job, or to speak and get out, Dr Chua did the unthinkable.
He admitted his mistake, and left government.
That is a remarkable thing, considering Barisan Nasional could just as easily preserve his job by withholding comment anyway.
Alternative Future
Imagine this.
- If Dr Chua kept his flap shut and asked press aides to deny everything,
- and Badawi spoke of the lack of evidence,
- and the press were directed to the greater issue of our floundering education system, flood mitigation tactics, the Royal Commission, and other more pressing issues,
- Dr Chua Soi Lek would remain Health Minister.
He had no charisma, but Dr Chua was a reassuring figure.
In a country that officially denies the existence of gays, lesbians, transvestites, transsexuals, bisexuals and any other word ending with -sexual, he pushed for the use of condoms; the distribution of condoms.
Whatever his fallacies, it would be prudent to note: Dr Chua's mistake did not cost the nation taxpayer money, or taxpayer time (though we all know that's not really high up on any agenda here).
I don't believe the same fingers now pointed at him can claim the same.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Honestly?
What is honesty?
A faint concept of truth. Truth interpreted through ones mind in a fashion so vivid, it becomes seething, icy pain.
Honesty is a curse. It pains us to hold it all in. Completely subservient to the needs of the conscience. Honesty, nay! TRUTH! That's what I meant!
The truth is what pains us. TRUTH is the curse. It lies beneath our skin, seeking release. Yet we hold it in, despite the pain. Because we believe that greater pain will come if TRUTH is released from its living cage.
The conduit of TRUTH, is HONESTY.
Honesty invites greater pain. But does that matter if the soul is cleansed of pain?
Then, and only then, we ask... Why should we fear pain?
Good people. Another arbitrary orbit around the yellow star that we know as the Life-Giver will soon pass. It is a wonder our entire lives are planned by it.
Even the thundering wildebeests heed the waning light for the countless orbits around the Life-Giver.
Without knowing. Without questioning.
And so we mark the end of the year as the end of another chapter of our short lives.
This is a time of reflection. Though time for reflection may be found throughout the year. This is a special moment of reflection.
For some, it marks the beginning of a new chapter. For others, it means another year to waste. For the courageous, new battles await.
For the honourable, it means more time to resume the Noble Purpose.
A force that drives us from within. Unnameable. Unfathomable. Unexplainable (but many enigmatic souls have tried).
Burst into torrid cynicism if you want about this post. I know I am not a smart man.
I don't want to be smart.
I am only smart enough, to aspire to be wise.
And here is proof I am an idiot.
Sixteen (16) roti canais in one go with four friends. The fourth guy didn't want to be remembered in this fashion by his grandchildren.
He still ate with us.
A faint concept of truth. Truth interpreted through ones mind in a fashion so vivid, it becomes seething, icy pain.
Honesty is a curse. It pains us to hold it all in. Completely subservient to the needs of the conscience. Honesty, nay! TRUTH! That's what I meant!
The truth is what pains us. TRUTH is the curse. It lies beneath our skin, seeking release. Yet we hold it in, despite the pain. Because we believe that greater pain will come if TRUTH is released from its living cage.
The conduit of TRUTH, is HONESTY.
Honesty invites greater pain. But does that matter if the soul is cleansed of pain?
Then, and only then, we ask... Why should we fear pain?
Good people. Another arbitrary orbit around the yellow star that we know as the Life-Giver will soon pass. It is a wonder our entire lives are planned by it.
Even the thundering wildebeests heed the waning light for the countless orbits around the Life-Giver.
Without knowing. Without questioning.
And so we mark the end of the year as the end of another chapter of our short lives.
This is a time of reflection. Though time for reflection may be found throughout the year. This is a special moment of reflection.
For some, it marks the beginning of a new chapter. For others, it means another year to waste. For the courageous, new battles await.
For the honourable, it means more time to resume the Noble Purpose.
A force that drives us from within. Unnameable. Unfathomable. Unexplainable (but many enigmatic souls have tried).
Burst into torrid cynicism if you want about this post. I know I am not a smart man.
I don't want to be smart.
I am only smart enough, to aspire to be wise.
And here is proof I am an idiot.
Sixteen (16) roti canais in one go with four friends. The fourth guy didn't want to be remembered in this fashion by his grandchildren.He still ate with us.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
To Fill the Banks
New words: Subedit, Teasel, Repine, Bumptious, Plaice, Slake,Verisimilitude, Stucco, Asinine, Liszt.
I respectfully bequest thy forgiveness, for thou hast been betrayed. Tardiness is inexcusable and I seek the most severest of punishment thou may dream of.
Seriously, I have been quite busy. With the affairs at my tech company at full steam (after a hibernation period long enough to remove Harith Iskandar's barrel of oil), and the inevitable cleanup of my room which has become a top rated 5 star hotel for rats and roaches after the disaster known as the STPM, I find myself starved of time to read my 60 or so e-mails... Let alone blog.
But you aren't here to hear my wimpers about my life... You are here because you are bored out of your mind and someone pushed you with a hot rod up your arse to this site.
I sincerely thank you.
Now, onwards Brother.
Flooding Everywhere as Planned
Last week, A Stray World sent a bunch of my new minions into the new Inbound-Oceans of Malaysia (trademark pending).
Of the six, one was killed by drinking too much bottled water.
The second was killed by irate villagers when he used up the flooded towns only source of energy while charging his laptop to play Warcraft.
The third was dismissed after he began eating the two dead journalists with mayonnaise. The company simply cannot afford to subsidise unhealthy condiments.
The fourth quit to protest the dismissal.
The fifth killed the sixth to claim the cash bounty I offered.
Finally, I had to terminate her because she still watches Survivor.
So of I went alone. Trudging through mudflats and rivers to some flooded village in East Malaysia.
The sight, as usual, was depressing. No open mamak stalls! What a travesty. A few villagers offered me their services for cash, but I declined as the authorities have advised about talking frankly and truthfully with the public.
Not more than six hundred kilometres away, I was warmly greeted by the grossly overpaid nephew of the local state assemblyman at his dry and cosy villa. "This way tuan," ushered the tuxedo toting youth.
With a genuine smile, the assemblyman, Mr Lam Bhat Dah, shook my hands and drew out a wooden chair adorned with ancestral carvings. "So, have you done it?"
"Yeah. I have visited the villagers."
"And?"
"And they pointed me this way."
"Don't joke around. What did you get?"
"I got athlete's foot from trudging though all that water. But don't worry, I don't think you are at any risk."
"Look here!" One finger on my chest, Mr Lam breathing heavily. "Have you delivered the posters?"
"Yes, I can see there is a leech attached to my chest! But what does that have to do with delivering posters for you."
"The general election of course! This is the only real chance I get to show people I actually give a damn!"
""What about actually preventing these floods from occurring in the first place? Wouldn't that show people you care?"
"Of course not. Who the hell remembers which minister forbidding hillside development, illegal logging, and restrictions on riverside developments? The rakyat only remembers the ministers who visit flood victims, fire victims, and heart-transplant patients."
"Are you saying these floods were preventable?"
"Of course they were. Let me tell you something. There are no such things as natural disasters. Only environmental hazards. What we are doing has everything to do with deliberate manipulation of environmental hazards so they may become what we call 'natural disasters'. After that, we can make sweeping proclamations that we are the only people capable of preventing natural disasters."
"Very smart. Thank you Mr Lam. I have delivered your posters, but I think the post office won't deliver the parcels unless you pay them extra. You know, floods and all. Bye"
----------------
Now playing: Yui Horie - LIFE (PV Rip)
via FoxyTunes unhealthy condiments.
I respectfully bequest thy forgiveness, for thou hast been betrayed. Tardiness is inexcusable and I seek the most severest of punishment thou may dream of.
Seriously, I have been quite busy. With the affairs at my tech company at full steam (after a hibernation period long enough to remove Harith Iskandar's barrel of oil), and the inevitable cleanup of my room which has become a top rated 5 star hotel for rats and roaches after the disaster known as the STPM, I find myself starved of time to read my 60 or so e-mails... Let alone blog.
But you aren't here to hear my wimpers about my life... You are here because you are bored out of your mind and someone pushed you with a hot rod up your arse to this site.
I sincerely thank you.
Now, onwards Brother.
Flooding Everywhere as Planned
Last week, A Stray World sent a bunch of my new minions into the new Inbound-Oceans of Malaysia (trademark pending).
Of the six, one was killed by drinking too much bottled water.
The second was killed by irate villagers when he used up the flooded towns only source of energy while charging his laptop to play Warcraft.
The third was dismissed after he began eating the two dead journalists with mayonnaise. The company simply cannot afford to subsidise unhealthy condiments.
The fourth quit to protest the dismissal.
The fifth killed the sixth to claim the cash bounty I offered.
Finally, I had to terminate her because she still watches Survivor.
So of I went alone. Trudging through mudflats and rivers to some flooded village in East Malaysia.
The sight, as usual, was depressing. No open mamak stalls! What a travesty. A few villagers offered me their services for cash, but I declined as the authorities have advised about talking frankly and truthfully with the public.
Not more than six hundred kilometres away, I was warmly greeted by the grossly overpaid nephew of the local state assemblyman at his dry and cosy villa. "This way tuan," ushered the tuxedo toting youth.
With a genuine smile, the assemblyman, Mr Lam Bhat Dah, shook my hands and drew out a wooden chair adorned with ancestral carvings. "So, have you done it?"
"Yeah. I have visited the villagers."
"And?"
"And they pointed me this way."
"Don't joke around. What did you get?"
"I got athlete's foot from trudging though all that water. But don't worry, I don't think you are at any risk."
"Look here!" One finger on my chest, Mr Lam breathing heavily. "Have you delivered the posters?"
"Yes, I can see there is a leech attached to my chest! But what does that have to do with delivering posters for you."
"The general election of course! This is the only real chance I get to show people I actually give a damn!"
""What about actually preventing these floods from occurring in the first place? Wouldn't that show people you care?"
"Of course not. Who the hell remembers which minister forbidding hillside development, illegal logging, and restrictions on riverside developments? The rakyat only remembers the ministers who visit flood victims, fire victims, and heart-transplant patients."
"Are you saying these floods were preventable?"
"Of course they were. Let me tell you something. There are no such things as natural disasters. Only environmental hazards. What we are doing has everything to do with deliberate manipulation of environmental hazards so they may become what we call 'natural disasters'. After that, we can make sweeping proclamations that we are the only people capable of preventing natural disasters."
"Very smart. Thank you Mr Lam. I have delivered your posters, but I think the post office won't deliver the parcels unless you pay them extra. You know, floods and all. Bye"
----------------
Now playing: Yui Horie - LIFE (PV Rip)
via FoxyTunes unhealthy condiments.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Rallying or Railing?
New words: Plainspoken, Erne, Lea, Cuckold, Busker, Spackle, Esparto, Mendacious, Frisson, Perchance, Sloop.
Foreword: As promised, here is the last of this weeks articles. Due to time constraints (I have been attending band practices so I may enter the annual Battle of the Bands competition... For the very last time), I will combine the two Bersih and Hindraf protests and others of the same ilk into a single article.
March of the Lawyers
A few months ago, lawyers took to the streets of Kuala Lumpur to demand justice. Consequently, hell froze over (but a quick injection of American-bought Saudi-fossil-fuel kick-started the soul torturing furnace once more).
This all boiled down to a very simple issue of judicial impartiality, or rather, lack of.
I don't need to state the seriousness of this issue. Without impartiality in the Judiciary, we are at the mercy of an unchecked and unbridled Executive. Until 1988, the Judiciary was among the most respectable institutions of its kind in the region.
Now, it is not only vulnerable, it is corruptible.
However, our good friend in Parliament, MP Nazri Aziz has saw fit to not only condemn the actions of the Bar, but to obfuscate its true purpose by claiming Opposition aping.
The true purpose of any rally is to show a united face, especially when facing an enemy whose position in power would prevent any other (legal) means of meaningful protest.
Bersih
Not all marches are altruistic in nature.
And so, we have the Opposition linked Bersih, which is calling for free and fair elections.
So they gather all these people to demand:
The second demand, quite reasonable. But evidence of such acts have amounted to nothing more than rumours, wild claims, and speculation. Unless the Opposition acquires solid evidence (like the now infamous lawyer video), they won't be doing much except perhaps embarrassing themselves.
The third demand is ridiculous, plain and simple. If, as they claimed, the bosses of civil servants overseas would browbeat their subordinates to vote in a certain fashion, the Opposition should be making a claim of infringement of the Constitution.
They should be demanding a permanent solution to this problem that won't allow any government-paid civil servant to force his subordinates to essentially, vote to keep him in power.
Under Article 5 of the Malaysian Constitution,
And Article 6:
Every citizen deserves a right to vote. It should never be rescinded in such fashion. And because of the way the Opposition has put forth such argument, their motives are suspect to say the least.
Hindraf
Now we descend to the ludicrous. But ludicrous with a caveat.
So we got this group of ethnic Indians, see? Demanding in a nutshell, for the Queen of England and Great Britain, to appoint a Queen's Counsel, to sue Her Royal Highness, the Queen of England, for bringing indentured Indians into Malaysia.
Now, anyone would be quick to dismiss this as pure naivety. Who the hell would pay anyone to sue themselves? Particularly with the added claims of ethnic cleansing.
But who is reporting the news? The Malaysian media. And they aren't being very impartial about it.
The government even claims the violence began on the protesters side, forcing them to disperse the crowd with tear gas and water cannons. This may be true, however, the circumstances of the report on TV3 news would suggest government forces acted first, when they reported police forces were "forced" into using water cannons and tear gas to "disperse" the intransigent crowd.
Read between the lines, brothers and sisters.
And the temples in Batu Caves were not damaged.
Until I researched this story myself online, I did not even realise the amount of obfuscation employed by the government to gag the media and pull a fast one over the public.
However, my opinion still stands: Hindraf as an institution for justice in ludicrous.
It is borderline terrorist in its claims. Ethnic cleansing? Do they even know its definition?
What happened was simply a happy confluence of greed (Hindraf promised RM1mil settlements to every individual who signed up), ignorance, and frustration.
The two latter factors though, are the result of one man:
Sami Vellu.
He is the old man of politics, and therefore, has loss touch with the new generation of Indian voters.
Indians are like any people, they have diverse views on a myriad of subjects. Unfortunately, their views cannot be expressed as long as that man remains in power in the MIC.
Which is why we now see a general mushrooming of Indian based parties.
Racial politics is negative politics. It dilutes the strength of a community.
Racial politics coupled with differing ideologies further divides. Eventually, any form of power accumulated amounts to a teacup of salt collected from a jug of seawater.
This is the caveat. Frustration, not reason, brought the majority of Indians to march with Hindraf.
Without a genuine outlet to voice their concerns, which include education, religion, human rights, and such, people, not only Indians will gladly accept any opportunity to stick it to the man.
March To the Streets!
To resolve these so called "un-Malaysian" behaviour, one must first realise demonstrations are in our blood. The pre-independence marches for one brought about change in government.
Like it or not, the British colonial masters were legitimate leaders of then Malaya. Ah, the power of treaties...
So one could argue without pro-independence marches, and by going through the slow bureaucratic Colonial masters, we would still be working under the Union Jack today.
These are the permanent ways to resolve the issue of "illegal" gatherings as I see it:
----------------
Now playing: Delgados - The Light Before We Land
via FoxyTunes
Foreword: As promised, here is the last of this weeks articles. Due to time constraints (I have been attending band practices so I may enter the annual Battle of the Bands competition... For the very last time), I will combine the two Bersih and Hindraf protests and others of the same ilk into a single article.
March of the Lawyers
A few months ago, lawyers took to the streets of Kuala Lumpur to demand justice. Consequently, hell froze over (but a quick injection of American-bought Saudi-fossil-fuel kick-started the soul torturing furnace once more).
This all boiled down to a very simple issue of judicial impartiality, or rather, lack of.
I don't need to state the seriousness of this issue. Without impartiality in the Judiciary, we are at the mercy of an unchecked and unbridled Executive. Until 1988, the Judiciary was among the most respectable institutions of its kind in the region.
Now, it is not only vulnerable, it is corruptible.
However, our good friend in Parliament, MP Nazri Aziz has saw fit to not only condemn the actions of the Bar, but to obfuscate its true purpose by claiming Opposition aping.
The true purpose of any rally is to show a united face, especially when facing an enemy whose position in power would prevent any other (legal) means of meaningful protest.
Bersih
Not all marches are altruistic in nature.
And so, we have the Opposition linked Bersih, which is calling for free and fair elections.
So they gather all these people to demand:
- Use of indelible ink in future elections;
- Clean-up of Registered Voters Roll;
- Abolition of postal votes;
- Access to the Government controlled print and broadcast media for Opposition Parties.
The second demand, quite reasonable. But evidence of such acts have amounted to nothing more than rumours, wild claims, and speculation. Unless the Opposition acquires solid evidence (like the now infamous lawyer video), they won't be doing much except perhaps embarrassing themselves.
The third demand is ridiculous, plain and simple. If, as they claimed, the bosses of civil servants overseas would browbeat their subordinates to vote in a certain fashion, the Opposition should be making a claim of infringement of the Constitution.
They should be demanding a permanent solution to this problem that won't allow any government-paid civil servant to force his subordinates to essentially, vote to keep him in power.
Under Article 5 of the Malaysian Constitution,
No person shall be deprived of his life or personal liberty save in accordance with law.Voting for the political party of your choice is a form of liberty. It can thus be argued, that a loss of free will in voting would amount to gross infringement of this clause in the Constitution.
And Article 6:
No person shall be held in slavery.I admit, I may be pushing the clauses of the Constitution to the limit here, but as I recall, slaves weren't allowed to vote.
Every citizen deserves a right to vote. It should never be rescinded in such fashion. And because of the way the Opposition has put forth such argument, their motives are suspect to say the least.
Hindraf
Now we descend to the ludicrous. But ludicrous with a caveat.
So we got this group of ethnic Indians, see? Demanding in a nutshell, for the Queen of England and Great Britain, to appoint a Queen's Counsel, to sue Her Royal Highness, the Queen of England, for bringing indentured Indians into Malaysia.
Now, anyone would be quick to dismiss this as pure naivety. Who the hell would pay anyone to sue themselves? Particularly with the added claims of ethnic cleansing.
But who is reporting the news? The Malaysian media. And they aren't being very impartial about it.
- Three policemen wounded.
- Demonstrations turn violent.
- Temples damaged.
The government even claims the violence began on the protesters side, forcing them to disperse the crowd with tear gas and water cannons. This may be true, however, the circumstances of the report on TV3 news would suggest government forces acted first, when they reported police forces were "forced" into using water cannons and tear gas to "disperse" the intransigent crowd.
Read between the lines, brothers and sisters.
And the temples in Batu Caves were not damaged.
Until I researched this story myself online, I did not even realise the amount of obfuscation employed by the government to gag the media and pull a fast one over the public.
However, my opinion still stands: Hindraf as an institution for justice in ludicrous.
It is borderline terrorist in its claims. Ethnic cleansing? Do they even know its definition?
What happened was simply a happy confluence of greed (Hindraf promised RM1mil settlements to every individual who signed up), ignorance, and frustration.
The two latter factors though, are the result of one man:
Sami Vellu.
He is the old man of politics, and therefore, has loss touch with the new generation of Indian voters.
Indians are like any people, they have diverse views on a myriad of subjects. Unfortunately, their views cannot be expressed as long as that man remains in power in the MIC.
Which is why we now see a general mushrooming of Indian based parties.
Racial politics is negative politics. It dilutes the strength of a community.
Racial politics coupled with differing ideologies further divides. Eventually, any form of power accumulated amounts to a teacup of salt collected from a jug of seawater.
This is the caveat. Frustration, not reason, brought the majority of Indians to march with Hindraf.
Without a genuine outlet to voice their concerns, which include education, religion, human rights, and such, people, not only Indians will gladly accept any opportunity to stick it to the man.
March To the Streets!
To resolve these so called "un-Malaysian" behaviour, one must first realise demonstrations are in our blood. The pre-independence marches for one brought about change in government.
Like it or not, the British colonial masters were legitimate leaders of then Malaya. Ah, the power of treaties...
So one could argue without pro-independence marches, and by going through the slow bureaucratic Colonial masters, we would still be working under the Union Jack today.
These are the permanent ways to resolve the issue of "illegal" gatherings as I see it:
- Education on the rights of citizens to march, how to march, and why people march;
- ACCEPTANCE by the government that democracy means Freedom of Expression;
- Maturity on the part of the citizens regarding the state of affairs of their respective communities. Do these people who claim to have been subjected to immense bias have ulterior motives to their actions?
- Maturity on the part of the people that at the end of the day, globalization will eventually bring racial politics to an end. We should not focus on differences in genealogy and skin tone. But in opinion.
----------------
Now playing: Delgados - The Light Before We Land
via FoxyTunes
Monday, December 10, 2007
LIVE FROM somewhere, ITS A STRAY WORLD
New Words: Lisle, Gratis, Curacao, Errata, Comport, Cheapjacks, Corrigenda.
Returning to our weekly schedule, your very own unknown reporter lost in a sandstorm of blogs, A Stray World.
Because of my now relatively free weekday evenings, I shall divide the blog posts of the week into three separate postings.
So, a quick recap of the most prominent events (of the real variety) which decided to happen while I was spending less time blogging.
A long, long time ago, Malaysians would gaze into space and wonder...
How much money would they need to fork out to purchase sky-torching fireworks from the black market?
Then they would wonder: "How many rockets would meet their spectacular demise in the heavens before the local neighbour calls the police?"
Now, Malaysians can finally look into the sky and wonder: "How many inferior Russian jets must we buy before we get another free ride into space?"
Then after hearing our wise leaders praise the cosmonaut we have sent into space as the greatest achievement since we sent a delegation to London to demand independence - Malaysians wonder: "Who the hell are they kidding?"
First of all, I wish to point out I am a great supporter of this "Malaysian" space programme. There is only so much newspapers, magazines, television, the Internet, word-of-mouth, radio, teachers and scientists can do to promote the study of cosmic science to the Akademi Fantasia/American Idol/Amazing Race/One in a Million/Love Perhaps?/Deal or no Deal crazed lunatics who make up the majority of our nation's youth.
Spend a few billion ringgit on Russian jets we can't even pronounce without thinking of Stalin, then launching a Malaysian into space for a once in a subprime mortgage crisis lifetime, and suddenly, the whole of Malaysia is abuzz with talks on solar storms and Soyuz.
Too bad that was only confined to the people who could look beyond the religious/racial/nationalistic political bigotry connotations of the entire fiasco.
Firstly, the event itself was heavily promoted.
"A Malaysian First!"
"Congratulations!"
"We have reached the stars!"
There is a (officially unrecognised) term known as overhyping. Hyping the benefits of the space programme alone in a non-descript purely scientific method of nation building would have been enough. But the government, wanting to justify the huge expenditure in taxpayer money, decided to turn this into a full blown Malaysian campaign for galactic presidency.
As a result, this turned the entire noble endeavour into nothing less than a political farce. Everything is always clearer in hindsight, which is to say the government has played its cards right, though it was oh so wrong.
By calling this a national project, they are saying it's a Malaysian project = Malay project.
Anyone who would dare speak out would be called a traitor. An unpatriotic turd who should move to America. Someone who doesn't understand the social contract laid down by our forefathers. That should shut the flap of the moderates who only want fair debate.
Unfortunately, the debate works in a God/Agnostic fashion.
Agnostic: I don't believe there is a god, because I don't see the evidence.
Priest: God is present everywhere. But you must believe in Him to see Him.
Agnostic: That's a Catch-22 situation mate.
Eventually, we reach this period of complete apathy, where the beloved people have forgotten the entire issue.
Come on! You should have seen this coming!
Do you still recall the High Performance Centre fiasco. Thank goodness those Londeners know better than to let Malaysians build something on their land.
They would probably attempt to bribe the local officials to fast-track the Environmental Impact Assessment, which would result in an elaborate cover-up, which will eventually stick out like rotten fish among cream cheese when the Thames becomes the largest sewage dump in Great Britain, and bring about a long and unnecessary diplomatic row between Malaysia and Great Britain.
So while I still support the Malaysian cosmonaut, let's take a step back, analyse the issue, cease this perfectly embarrassing "angkasawan" branding blitz, and start our real pursuit to reach the heavens.
----------------
Now playing: Hirano Aya - Lost My Music
via FoxyTunes
Returning to our weekly schedule, your very own unknown reporter lost in a sandstorm of blogs, A Stray World.
Because of my now relatively free weekday evenings, I shall divide the blog posts of the week into three separate postings.
So, a quick recap of the most prominent events (of the real variety) which decided to happen while I was spending less time blogging.
- Cosmonaut from Malaysia;
- BERSIH parade;
- HINDRAF march.
A long, long time ago, Malaysians would gaze into space and wonder...
How much money would they need to fork out to purchase sky-torching fireworks from the black market?
Then they would wonder: "How many rockets would meet their spectacular demise in the heavens before the local neighbour calls the police?"
Now, Malaysians can finally look into the sky and wonder: "How many inferior Russian jets must we buy before we get another free ride into space?"
Then after hearing our wise leaders praise the cosmonaut we have sent into space as the greatest achievement since we sent a delegation to London to demand independence - Malaysians wonder: "Who the hell are they kidding?"
First of all, I wish to point out I am a great supporter of this "Malaysian" space programme. There is only so much newspapers, magazines, television, the Internet, word-of-mouth, radio, teachers and scientists can do to promote the study of cosmic science to the Akademi Fantasia/American Idol/Amazing Race/One in a Million/Love Perhaps?/Deal or no Deal crazed lunatics who make up the majority of our nation's youth.
Spend a few billion ringgit on Russian jets we can't even pronounce without thinking of Stalin, then launching a Malaysian into space for a once in a subprime mortgage crisis lifetime, and suddenly, the whole of Malaysia is abuzz with talks on solar storms and Soyuz.
Too bad that was only confined to the people who could look beyond the religious/racial/nationalistic political bigotry connotations of the entire fiasco.
Firstly, the event itself was heavily promoted.
"A Malaysian First!"
"Congratulations!"
"We have reached the stars!"
There is a (officially unrecognised) term known as overhyping. Hyping the benefits of the space programme alone in a non-descript purely scientific method of nation building would have been enough. But the government, wanting to justify the huge expenditure in taxpayer money, decided to turn this into a full blown Malaysian campaign for galactic presidency.
As a result, this turned the entire noble endeavour into nothing less than a political farce. Everything is always clearer in hindsight, which is to say the government has played its cards right, though it was oh so wrong.
By calling this a national project, they are saying it's a Malaysian project = Malay project.
Anyone who would dare speak out would be called a traitor. An unpatriotic turd who should move to America. Someone who doesn't understand the social contract laid down by our forefathers. That should shut the flap of the moderates who only want fair debate.
Unfortunately, the debate works in a God/Agnostic fashion.
Agnostic: I don't believe there is a god, because I don't see the evidence.
Priest: God is present everywhere. But you must believe in Him to see Him.
Agnostic: That's a Catch-22 situation mate.
Eventually, we reach this period of complete apathy, where the beloved people have forgotten the entire issue.
Come on! You should have seen this coming!
Do you still recall the High Performance Centre fiasco. Thank goodness those Londeners know better than to let Malaysians build something on their land.
They would probably attempt to bribe the local officials to fast-track the Environmental Impact Assessment, which would result in an elaborate cover-up, which will eventually stick out like rotten fish among cream cheese when the Thames becomes the largest sewage dump in Great Britain, and bring about a long and unnecessary diplomatic row between Malaysia and Great Britain.
So while I still support the Malaysian cosmonaut, let's take a step back, analyse the issue, cease this perfectly embarrassing "angkasawan" branding blitz, and start our real pursuit to reach the heavens.
----------------
Now playing: Hirano Aya - Lost My Music
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Post 70
New Words: Commode, Clapboard, Waist coat, Bustier top, Tot, Footbridge, Pall, Tattle, Toxophilite, Cooper.
A minor problem here.
More like a distraction from the serious work.
The STPM is almost here, and thus I need to take a three month break from cyberspace to concentrate (or at least, spend more time) on my studies.
The phrase "meaningless work" doesn't ring any truer than the past few days, where I am expected to work really hard to memorise stuff I presume would be of no help to me later in life.
However, there is no use griping about it now. Because I have already come this far.
Let's end it.
A minor problem here.
More like a distraction from the serious work.
The STPM is almost here, and thus I need to take a three month break from cyberspace to concentrate (or at least, spend more time) on my studies.
The phrase "meaningless work" doesn't ring any truer than the past few days, where I am expected to work really hard to memorise stuff I presume would be of no help to me later in life.
However, there is no use griping about it now. Because I have already come this far.
Let's end it.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Merdeka 50
New Words: Thaumaturge, Timorous, Toroidal, Aril.
The big five-oh. For some women, a valid excuse to increase ones age by three to five years. After all, a middle age crisis is something most people would rather avoid.
In this case, it's to act as if we have been there and done that. Thus, rendering the event insignificant.
Now, to business.
You folks know how this blog works. I pen my thoughts through news items twisted into a slightly funnier form. Unfortunately, like every episode of Extras, this means we are actually amused by the most horrible of crimes. From the rape of the rainforests, to the cutting down of women's and children's rights, it is a wonder people would approve of my method of public discourse.
By approve you did. And I do wonder if that's a good thing.
This week, we will celebrate 50 years of nationhood.
For a very long time, I have been doing nothing else on this blog but write about the bad things that go on around us, and frankly, it is getting rather depressing. So this time, for this year's Merdeka entry, I will highlight the good things in our country.
Although some of them may not actually be a good thing, like Mahathir returning to politics, they have turned out otherwise.
Yasmin Ahmad
Quite possibly the best thing to happen to Malaysian media after P. Ramlee.
It was quite subtle. First we got those wonderful Petronas commercials, which weren't really commercials. Watching them at the right time would send chills down my spine, and even bring me to the point of tears.
Even after half a dozen years, they are still being aired on television. Five minute commercials that do more for uniting us than a five hour press conference by Barisan National politicians.
I have enjoyed two of her films to date, Sepet and Gubra.
For all I know, I could be the only guy in school to watch both movies. Which is a real pity.
Freedom of Speech
Think about it. We do actually have a greater advantage than the Americans when it comes to free speech.
Due to several sweeping laws, the US government now has the almost God-like powers to check e-mail, tap phone lines and other methods of communications throughout the country without needing to get the tiresome but necessary court order.
And let us not forget, the US government brandishes the word "Unpatriotic" like garlic before a horde of vampires if anyone should protest.
Here in Malaysia, we can count of our inept and lazy enforcers to sip kopi-o and talk about moving their fat arses off the mamak stall into the streets to haul in some poor soul who wrote Allah and bomb in the same sentence.
Unless you do something seriously brainless, like say, singing a rap song to the mashup of Negaraku with your face on display without bothering to apply makeup - you are safe to express whatever you want.without fear of public lynching.
Because, the guys you are so willing to punch out, aren't exactly too thrilled about their positions either.
Fashion Free
Unlike some place like Paris for instance. We don't need to bother about our dressing. Anything goes in Malaysia, in fact, my mum wears her hand-sewn clothes to work.
Granted, not captivating enough.
How about walking into a posh restaurant in generic t-shits and shorts (and slippers) to order beef steak.
Sure, some places don't allow certain kind of clothing. Particularly if you are female and have two large brains. But overall, you can get away with clothing skimpier than a Gwen Stefani costume at a Malaysian concert.
Food
Enough said.
Happy 50.
----------------
Now playing: Giovanni Mirabassi - Le Chante Pour Passer Le Temps
via FoxyTunes
The big five-oh. For some women, a valid excuse to increase ones age by three to five years. After all, a middle age crisis is something most people would rather avoid.
In this case, it's to act as if we have been there and done that. Thus, rendering the event insignificant.
Now, to business.
You folks know how this blog works. I pen my thoughts through news items twisted into a slightly funnier form. Unfortunately, like every episode of Extras, this means we are actually amused by the most horrible of crimes. From the rape of the rainforests, to the cutting down of women's and children's rights, it is a wonder people would approve of my method of public discourse.
By approve you did. And I do wonder if that's a good thing.
This week, we will celebrate 50 years of nationhood.
For a very long time, I have been doing nothing else on this blog but write about the bad things that go on around us, and frankly, it is getting rather depressing. So this time, for this year's Merdeka entry, I will highlight the good things in our country.
Although some of them may not actually be a good thing, like Mahathir returning to politics, they have turned out otherwise.
Yasmin Ahmad
Quite possibly the best thing to happen to Malaysian media after P. Ramlee.
It was quite subtle. First we got those wonderful Petronas commercials, which weren't really commercials. Watching them at the right time would send chills down my spine, and even bring me to the point of tears.
Even after half a dozen years, they are still being aired on television. Five minute commercials that do more for uniting us than a five hour press conference by Barisan National politicians.
I have enjoyed two of her films to date, Sepet and Gubra.
For all I know, I could be the only guy in school to watch both movies. Which is a real pity.
Freedom of Speech
Think about it. We do actually have a greater advantage than the Americans when it comes to free speech.
Due to several sweeping laws, the US government now has the almost God-like powers to check e-mail, tap phone lines and other methods of communications throughout the country without needing to get the tiresome but necessary court order.
And let us not forget, the US government brandishes the word "Unpatriotic" like garlic before a horde of vampires if anyone should protest.
Here in Malaysia, we can count of our inept and lazy enforcers to sip kopi-o and talk about moving their fat arses off the mamak stall into the streets to haul in some poor soul who wrote Allah and bomb in the same sentence.
Unless you do something seriously brainless, like say, singing a rap song to the mashup of Negaraku with your face on display without bothering to apply makeup - you are safe to express whatever you want.without fear of public lynching.
Because, the guys you are so willing to punch out, aren't exactly too thrilled about their positions either.
Fashion Free
Unlike some place like Paris for instance. We don't need to bother about our dressing. Anything goes in Malaysia, in fact, my mum wears her hand-sewn clothes to work.
Granted, not captivating enough.
How about walking into a posh restaurant in generic t-shits and shorts (and slippers) to order beef steak.
Sure, some places don't allow certain kind of clothing. Particularly if you are female and have two large brains. But overall, you can get away with clothing skimpier than a Gwen Stefani costume at a Malaysian concert.
Food
Enough said.
Happy 50.
----------------
Now playing: Giovanni Mirabassi - Le Chante Pour Passer Le Temps
via FoxyTunes
Monday, August 20, 2007
Corroded Baby
New Words: Kvetch, Bunting, Orrery, Apotheosis, Emmenagogue, Chevon, Cabrito, Capretto.
This week on A Stray World:
This week on A Stray World:
- Proton Persona Revealed, Best Designs Withdrawn;
- Student Rapper Apologizes, Government Declares Victory Over Internet.
The New Car
Unveiling a new model is always a testy affair, as the folks of Proton know really well. Since their revolutionary Gen.2, which has contributed to the success of the company in generating operational losses, the overpaid car designers at Proton have unveiled their most daring take on car design yet, the Persona.
Here's the lowdown of what you could have expected from the people at Proton:
Firstly, the Persona will be the first ever car in the history of Proton to be marginally more comfortable than a bull-carriage with straw padding. After years of annoying user comments, the engineers have finally consented to improving the vehicle's handling so the process of talking on the cellphone with one hand on the wheel while calming the children in the back-seat will now be an easy matter of turning one's attention to the redesigned front seats and fabric-lined door panels. Apparently, internal studies have concluded that listening to user comments about the unattractive design may result in better customer feedback.
Secondly, the Persona was the first ever national car to have an onboard ion engine. This next-next generation system of powering Persona offers the cleanest method possible to wean us off Middle-Eastern oil. Unfortunately, the instant explosion of an engineer who was working on the exhaust pipe caused Proton to revert to the hybrid engine VW lent them for trial purposes. A second mishap however, involving the appointment of inept and short-sighted management, caused the company to reel in this slightly less polluting design as well. This means the new Proton will be running on fossil-fuel until further notice.
Thirdly, the Persona will be the safest drivable Proton car to date. Unlike the cardboard reinforced bamboo paper Wira it will be replacing, the Persona comes armoured in basic aluminium and steel. Making it utterly outstanding in its consistent approach to boring and dead design. While global competitors are exploring space-age material such as lightweight carbon-fibre and nanotech-powered paint, Proton has decided to stay relatively traditional to appeal to Malaysian drivers (their core customers) who enjoy risking their lives and the lives of those fortunate enough to share the experience with them.
Finally, the Persona is only the tip of the proverbial landmines of future Proton cars. Once you step on the accelerator, there is no turning back. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the explosive force that will send you through the viewscreen like manure dipped into liquid nitrogen when you realise the breaks aren't all they are made up to be.
The Apology of the Parody Blogger
The young man who was stupid enough to show his face while singing an ode the the nation to the tune of Negaraku has apologised for the uproar he caused, bringing an end to what could have been a dangerously meaningful debate on corruption in the police force and the relevance of racial policies that mean zilch in the age of globalization.
"Ha, ha. We win," said Mr. P, a government official as he raised his fist in celebration. "This is not just a victory for racial sensitivities, but also for freedom of censorship and power over the Internet, which until this week, was said to be greater than that of the government."
"We have shown them whose the boss. Next item, which really is the previous item, political blogs."
While the optimistic official contemplates whether to break a religious taboo in front of a blogging reporter, I kindly reminded him the video can still be found on many other sites on the web.
"So what. We will shut them down too," said he, even though that's technically impossible as what gets attention on the net, stays on the net. Besides, the new purveyors of the video are smart enough to conceal their identities.
"So what? We will just shut down the Internat," said he, before tucking into a sumptuous meal paid bought using public funds taxed from the people. Steadfastly ignoring any further questions.
----------------
Now playing: Steve Conte - Nowhere and Everywhere
via FoxyTunes
Unveiling a new model is always a testy affair, as the folks of Proton know really well. Since their revolutionary Gen.2, which has contributed to the success of the company in generating operational losses, the overpaid car designers at Proton have unveiled their most daring take on car design yet, the Persona.
Here's the lowdown of what you could have expected from the people at Proton:
Firstly, the Persona will be the first ever car in the history of Proton to be marginally more comfortable than a bull-carriage with straw padding. After years of annoying user comments, the engineers have finally consented to improving the vehicle's handling so the process of talking on the cellphone with one hand on the wheel while calming the children in the back-seat will now be an easy matter of turning one's attention to the redesigned front seats and fabric-lined door panels. Apparently, internal studies have concluded that listening to user comments about the unattractive design may result in better customer feedback.
Secondly, the Persona was the first ever national car to have an onboard ion engine. This next-next generation system of powering Persona offers the cleanest method possible to wean us off Middle-Eastern oil. Unfortunately, the instant explosion of an engineer who was working on the exhaust pipe caused Proton to revert to the hybrid engine VW lent them for trial purposes. A second mishap however, involving the appointment of inept and short-sighted management, caused the company to reel in this slightly less polluting design as well. This means the new Proton will be running on fossil-fuel until further notice.
Thirdly, the Persona will be the safest drivable Proton car to date. Unlike the cardboard reinforced bamboo paper Wira it will be replacing, the Persona comes armoured in basic aluminium and steel. Making it utterly outstanding in its consistent approach to boring and dead design. While global competitors are exploring space-age material such as lightweight carbon-fibre and nanotech-powered paint, Proton has decided to stay relatively traditional to appeal to Malaysian drivers (their core customers) who enjoy risking their lives and the lives of those fortunate enough to share the experience with them.
Finally, the Persona is only the tip of the proverbial landmines of future Proton cars. Once you step on the accelerator, there is no turning back. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the explosive force that will send you through the viewscreen like manure dipped into liquid nitrogen when you realise the breaks aren't all they are made up to be.
The Apology of the Parody Blogger
The young man who was stupid enough to show his face while singing an ode the the nation to the tune of Negaraku has apologised for the uproar he caused, bringing an end to what could have been a dangerously meaningful debate on corruption in the police force and the relevance of racial policies that mean zilch in the age of globalization.
"Ha, ha. We win," said Mr. P, a government official as he raised his fist in celebration. "This is not just a victory for racial sensitivities, but also for freedom of censorship and power over the Internet, which until this week, was said to be greater than that of the government."
"We have shown them whose the boss. Next item, which really is the previous item, political blogs."
While the optimistic official contemplates whether to break a religious taboo in front of a blogging reporter, I kindly reminded him the video can still be found on many other sites on the web.
"So what. We will shut them down too," said he, even though that's technically impossible as what gets attention on the net, stays on the net. Besides, the new purveyors of the video are smart enough to conceal their identities.
"So what? We will just shut down the Internat," said he, before tucking into a sumptuous meal paid bought using public funds taxed from the people. Steadfastly ignoring any further questions.
----------------
Now playing: Steve Conte - Nowhere and Everywhere
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Immeasurable Sympathy
- 1300 Penang Taxis Strike, Public Stunned by Non-news
Earlier this week, the Penang Federation of Taxi Drivers Association (PFTDA) went on a short lived strike to protest against what they deemed to be unfair harassment from the big men in big suits.
About 1300 cab drivers from the PFTDA showed undying loyalty to the manifestation of the phenomenon which will forever live on as "The Totally Meaningless & Forgettable Day without Penang Cabs". This brotherly loyalty can still be observed today in the taxi driver's staunch stance against taxi metres.
Unfortunately, their efforts and undying love for one another has been in vain, for the majority of the public have completely ignored this event.
"These stupid people and their stupid rules!" Ah Rod bellows, proud cab driver and member of the Taxi Association of Penang Against the Meter (Tax-AssPAiM). "We don't want your stupid rules saying we have use meters and where proper uniforms."
"I own this ruby-red jewel of god," he says, pointing towards a recently repainted Proton Saga. A much celebrated antique model from 1990. "It is my right to wear what I want and to charge as I please for this is MY CAR!"
"Now what do the public know about our plight? Here we are eking out a living by driving you to your destinations in our cars and you have the gall to tell us how we should ask you to pay up and what we should wear?"
"After suffering for so long, we finally organized a strike to tell everyone we won't take this anymore. YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"
"And what do the public do? They have the bloody nerve to take the bus or carpool to work! We had to end our strike after one day because the public would not support us."
Among the reasons sited for the lack of public support were the absolute non-commitment of commuters to take an unpaid leave to share drinks with taxi drivers at nasi lemak stalls, and ungrateful media reporters who have forgotten the numerous times cab drivers have been asked to "Follow that car!".
A city official though, begs to differ.
"This shows the people are undeniably apathetic towards taxi drivers in Penang," states Encik Some Sudu In. "If they were dependent upon taxis for daily commute, we wouldn't be seeing the great rise in the number of personal transport. And more tellingly, we would have received hundreds of thousands of emails other than spam calling us insensitive pigs for harming the innocent, ever client friendly taxi driver."
These are what some had to say about the strike:
MT, student: "My neighbour is a taxi driver. I don't like him. So I keyed his car while he was on strike."
Veronica, tourist: "I only trust Bali taxis. So I made my boss buy me a car while I was on holiday."
Kim, office clerk: "I usually avoid taxis for no other reason other then my intense dislike of them."
Wong, retired: "I have nothing to do, so sometimes I go into a cab and pretend I am a tourist out to kill someone. The cab drivers will always drop me of halfway without demanding pay. I must admit, one day without blowing their minds is quite intolerable and I hope they don't do it again.
----------------
Now playing: SNoW - NightmaRe (final mix)
via FoxyTunes
About 1300 cab drivers from the PFTDA showed undying loyalty to the manifestation of the phenomenon which will forever live on as "The Totally Meaningless & Forgettable Day without Penang Cabs". This brotherly loyalty can still be observed today in the taxi driver's staunch stance against taxi metres.
Unfortunately, their efforts and undying love for one another has been in vain, for the majority of the public have completely ignored this event.
"These stupid people and their stupid rules!" Ah Rod bellows, proud cab driver and member of the Taxi Association of Penang Against the Meter (Tax-AssPAiM). "We don't want your stupid rules saying we have use meters and where proper uniforms."
"I own this ruby-red jewel of god," he says, pointing towards a recently repainted Proton Saga. A much celebrated antique model from 1990. "It is my right to wear what I want and to charge as I please for this is MY CAR!"
"Now what do the public know about our plight? Here we are eking out a living by driving you to your destinations in our cars and you have the gall to tell us how we should ask you to pay up and what we should wear?"
"After suffering for so long, we finally organized a strike to tell everyone we won't take this anymore. YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"
"And what do the public do? They have the bloody nerve to take the bus or carpool to work! We had to end our strike after one day because the public would not support us."
Among the reasons sited for the lack of public support were the absolute non-commitment of commuters to take an unpaid leave to share drinks with taxi drivers at nasi lemak stalls, and ungrateful media reporters who have forgotten the numerous times cab drivers have been asked to "Follow that car!".
A city official though, begs to differ.
"This shows the people are undeniably apathetic towards taxi drivers in Penang," states Encik Some Sudu In. "If they were dependent upon taxis for daily commute, we wouldn't be seeing the great rise in the number of personal transport. And more tellingly, we would have received hundreds of thousands of emails other than spam calling us insensitive pigs for harming the innocent, ever client friendly taxi driver."
These are what some had to say about the strike:
MT, student: "My neighbour is a taxi driver. I don't like him. So I keyed his car while he was on strike."
Veronica, tourist: "I only trust Bali taxis. So I made my boss buy me a car while I was on holiday."
Kim, office clerk: "I usually avoid taxis for no other reason other then my intense dislike of them."
Wong, retired: "I have nothing to do, so sometimes I go into a cab and pretend I am a tourist out to kill someone. The cab drivers will always drop me of halfway without demanding pay. I must admit, one day without blowing their minds is quite intolerable and I hope they don't do it again.
----------------
Now playing: SNoW - NightmaRe (final mix)
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Sphere of Nadir
New words: Plamp, Gewgaw, Gimcrack, Pareo, Bandeau.
This week on, A Stray World,
In all the clamour for ratings and attention, it is very apparent that the Malaysian football team wishes to draw as little attention to itself as possible. That will soon change if a group of patriotic students get their way.
"We are going to blow up Parliament," said the spokeswoman for the Death for Football Soccer Club. Clad in a full length burqa and face veil, she juggles what looks like a packet of plastic explosives wrapped in newspaper clippings of fan mail to the Malaysian football team.
"So unambitious," said the man to her right, identified as a nobody insurance salesman. "I am going to destroy Bukit Jalil Stadium. That's sure to make an impact."
You are probably wondering why these mediocre examples of successful Malaysians are planning acts of terror.
"We are great supporters of the Malaysian football team. All my life, I have been a supporter of Penang. I have never watched an English Premiership match and I have never donned the colours of any foreign football club t-shirt," said the burqa clad spokeswoman. "So it was a gut wrenching experience watching our national squad fall to pieces during the Asian Cup. But the good news was, Iraq won the damn tournament!"
"That gave us ideas. Since the Malaysian government is totally useless in building a proper football team, we, the people of Malaysia, will take up arms, like the Iraqis, to build our own brand of tough-as-nails, never-say-die football players."
"We have everything planned out. First, we will destroy or attempt to destroy every single prominent building or structure in Malaysia. Then, suicide bombers will blow themselves up every day at densely populated areas."
"Then, we will plant explosives in the fields of every single stadium in every state. Hopefully, this will result in the dismemberment of the entire football management which will result in extreme chaos that will, with the grace of god, plunge the country into a pseudo-nuclear holocaust."
"Our talented football players will then, have no choice but to pack their bags and ply their trade in other countries like Indonesia, Vietnam, and Thailand. I am sure they will be treated with the minimal respect and dignity United Nations certified asylum seekers expect in this country."
"While we continue our patriotic acts of terror in the Peninsula, our foreign based football players will have garnered enough skill and experienced enough hardship to finally unite as a team for regular training sessions under a foreign coach in Thailand."
"By then, whether they like it or not, they will become the shining beacon of a civil-war torn country. Their every action will be heavily scrutinized, and every win punctuated by deadly gunfire into the heavens."
"Then, they will go on to win the World Cup, which will unite the entire country under the banner of peace through sports."
"Hopefully, I will be able to shed tears of joy when we finally win the coveted trophy four years after we begin our campaign of patriotic destruction."
----------------
Now playing: LAST ALLIANCE - Shissou
via FoxyTunes
This week on, A Stray World,
- Malaysians inspired by Iraqi win, plans to commit acts of terror.
In all the clamour for ratings and attention, it is very apparent that the Malaysian football team wishes to draw as little attention to itself as possible. That will soon change if a group of patriotic students get their way.
"We are going to blow up Parliament," said the spokeswoman for the Death for Football Soccer Club. Clad in a full length burqa and face veil, she juggles what looks like a packet of plastic explosives wrapped in newspaper clippings of fan mail to the Malaysian football team.
"So unambitious," said the man to her right, identified as a nobody insurance salesman. "I am going to destroy Bukit Jalil Stadium. That's sure to make an impact."
You are probably wondering why these mediocre examples of successful Malaysians are planning acts of terror.
"We are great supporters of the Malaysian football team. All my life, I have been a supporter of Penang. I have never watched an English Premiership match and I have never donned the colours of any foreign football club t-shirt," said the burqa clad spokeswoman. "So it was a gut wrenching experience watching our national squad fall to pieces during the Asian Cup. But the good news was, Iraq won the damn tournament!"
"That gave us ideas. Since the Malaysian government is totally useless in building a proper football team, we, the people of Malaysia, will take up arms, like the Iraqis, to build our own brand of tough-as-nails, never-say-die football players."
"We have everything planned out. First, we will destroy or attempt to destroy every single prominent building or structure in Malaysia. Then, suicide bombers will blow themselves up every day at densely populated areas."
"Then, we will plant explosives in the fields of every single stadium in every state. Hopefully, this will result in the dismemberment of the entire football management which will result in extreme chaos that will, with the grace of god, plunge the country into a pseudo-nuclear holocaust."
"Our talented football players will then, have no choice but to pack their bags and ply their trade in other countries like Indonesia, Vietnam, and Thailand. I am sure they will be treated with the minimal respect and dignity United Nations certified asylum seekers expect in this country."
"While we continue our patriotic acts of terror in the Peninsula, our foreign based football players will have garnered enough skill and experienced enough hardship to finally unite as a team for regular training sessions under a foreign coach in Thailand."
"By then, whether they like it or not, they will become the shining beacon of a civil-war torn country. Their every action will be heavily scrutinized, and every win punctuated by deadly gunfire into the heavens."
"Then, they will go on to win the World Cup, which will unite the entire country under the banner of peace through sports."
"Hopefully, I will be able to shed tears of joy when we finally win the coveted trophy four years after we begin our campaign of patriotic destruction."
----------------
Now playing: LAST ALLIANCE - Shissou
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Tainted Redemption
New Words: Corral, Codger, Nacreous, Gusset, Univoltiine, Edaphic, Fasciculation.
This week on A Stray World...
It wasn't even a particularly interesting subject, but the school people brought in some people from the SPCA. Little fluffy balls of cuteness interspersed with pictures of diseased dogs with cigarette burns.
I was drawn to a crowd of my fellow classmates, around a blown-up picture of a cat with its intestines leaking from its tummy. Its eyes, stretched to thin lines of pain. Though I felt something like horror, I wanted to take a closer look, and pushed myself further into the crowd.
Through collective exclamations of disgust and laughter, I picked out Fry's voice, a nickname he earned from his slick, greasy way with people.
For some unknown reason, he waded through the crowd and shoved me in the chest, saying I was too young for this. He was barely two months my senior!
I was angry, and justifiably so. Why should I stand in a corner when everyone else was tracing the length of the intestine with their oily fingers?
More students were filing into the cramped hall, and our class had to leave. Filled with rage, I ran all the way back to class, or wanted too, but was once again stopped by Fry.
I can only speculate it was for his own amusement, but he had leapt onto my bicycle parked outside the classroom of my little brother. He gestured at me with a mischievous grin.
Rage unlike any other poured forth into my 10-year-old body, imbuing me with the strength to grab the bully by the throat before he could even raise his hands. Everything happened in slow motion, and I was rendered into an impartial observer, while my body acted on its own accord. Dancing to the pulsating melodies of hormones and unbridled emotion.
I pushed him into the glass windows, and the glass cracked. “Not like Jackie Chan.” I remember thinking. The bicycle fell under him and I stumbled.
The element of surprise though, was gone. And Fry, larger and taller than me, effortlessly shoved me onto the ground.
When my back hit the ground, it felt as if someone had shone a high-intensity light-bulb into my face while I was dreaming. Momentarily stunned and fearful.
Knowing what Fry would do, no longer as angry, but nearly as frightened, I kick my fallen bicycle and some part of it caught his oncoming foot. He stumbled and fell.
I got up, ready to run, or fight. But Fry didn't get up.
Cautiously, I moved over to the the red pool growing from the steady drips coming from the bicycle's handlebars.
Someone grabbed me from behind, strong hands wrapped around my body, locking my arms to my side. It was Black Man, my favourite teacher in the entire school. His face was grim, and his eyes looked not at his captor, but at the three or four teachers gathered around Fry.
I heard the words “hospital”, “dead”, and “eye”. Three words that built into a mountain of ice squeezed into a lead weight that now resided in my stomach.
I wanted to say “Sorry”. I couldn't.
Black Man picked me up like a helium balloon and we went to the principal's office.
Again, I wanted to say sorry, but another voice took over. It screamed and yelled my innocence.
“He started it teacher!”
“He sat on my bike!”
“Teacher, he wouldn't let me look at the pictures!”
They ring hollow now.
10 was too young an age for me to understand mandatory death. I asked my father on the way to court what mandatory meant. He didn't reply. Instead, he started reading aloud an Enid Blyton storybook. My mother, who sat beside me, looked out of the police van's window thoughtfully. Her hands rubbing my back in loving, concentric circles.
It was not deliberate, but unintentionally, they were telling me I would be alone.
That was twelve years ago. Then, I could barely reach the keyhole of my cell. Now, I can touch the black ceiling of my cramped prison quarters.
Apart from the prison wardens who sometimes double as my teachers, my parents were my only visitors, and nearly my only correspondence.
I once received a letter from Fry's mother. She cursed me and wished me dead. The words described the many levels of hell I would visit for taking away her son. One of them was to be killed the same way I had killed Fry, with the pointed handlebars of my bike jammed into the right eye. But repeated, again and again, for 100 years.
When I showed that letter to my parents when they visited me in prison, they asked the prison wardens to screen all letters (except theirs) addressed to me. And that was how I lost my childhood friends; at least, the remaining ones who had not taken to heart my former teachers' description of me being a naughty, bad boy.
I was still 10 years old then.
I can't really say I am a changed man. Perhaps I am. Because I am incapable of becoming angry at anyone anymore. No. Maybe it's because I am afraid of becoming angry.
Every night except for a few dreamless nights, I would find myself facing Fry, outside my little brother's classroom, with that mischievous grin.
And every night, I would say sorry, and walk away to another sunless morning. Knowing he would be back tomorrow night.
I want to die. But Mr Raj, my prison mentor, said I had to live. To live so I may do good and be forgiven by the gods.
When my shadow finally left the sprawling fortress of silence after twelve, I find myself not living to be pardoned by the gods, but hoping for the late reply from Fry's mother to my letter, sent when I was 10-years-old:
“I am sorry I killed Fry. Please forgive me, I want to go home.”
Monday, July 23, 2007
World Music Festival 2007
New Words: Mediumism, Aspidistra
A bit late, but this week on A Stray World, a very special weekend report.
Friday
I have never before had the opportunity to witness first-hand, world music. For years, I have had to be content with listening to remixed tribal music, African chants, and other healthy examples of culture rape on television. The most authentic world music Astro can manage are squeeze into Discovery Channel and the National Geographic Channel.
For example, Mongolian throat singers on Discovery Travel and Living,
But on Friday, I finally got my big break. The musicians were coming to Penang. From the fiddlers of Portland, Oregan, to the talking drums of Burkina Faso, they all came for one big all night party! To spread the music and show everyone that commercially manufactured factory idols are not the only dominant voice of sound today.
I was there by more or less 1800 hours, Quarry Gardens. It didn't take long to find the prime seats, a row of raised rubble held into a rectangular train by cement had an opening in the middle; right smack in between the two stages. As it was being held in an outdoor park, with all the inanities of Malaysian caprice, good seats were hard to come by; so it was rather surprising that no one else had filled those seats.
There were very few people around, which made me wonder whether reports of the four thousand sold tickets were merely rumours to generate hype for Visit Malaysia 2007. The sudden light drizzle drove those thoughts away, as umbrellas mushroomed from the fields.
There I stayed, watching time shoot past the scheduled opening act, which would not come until 1930 hours. One hour late.
I wouldn't patronise them by saying it was worth the wait and wetness. However, there was much one could find charming about Darsa, the East Malaysian aborigines with their unique dulcets, screams, and bird calls accompanied by traditional instruments that brought one closer to the forest and sea that they called home.
Then, before the appreciative applause died down, strange deep husky voices reverberated throughout the field. There they were, on Stage 2! The unexpected appearance of throat-singers from Tuva! The printing mistakes in the schedules were soon forgotten as the four throat-singers began their strange, alien song. Closing my eyes, I could see their voices were telling of the land of yellow grass plains, that would melt away into snow, white and warm. Then plunge into a ravine, walls of rushing water on both sides cascading into a wide river that began nowhere and ended nowhere.
I considered that my ticket price redeemed.
More goodies were to come, the energetic Solomon Island pan-pipers had arrived. They dance and played gigantic bamboo panpipes. With pulsating drums, spirited dancing, and enthusiastic singing, they started to snip loose the threads of inhibition holding the crowd from joining the festivities.
The catchy fast paced music and driven performance soon had the crowd on their feet. And with a dozen half naked dudes on stage strutting their muscular legs and tone biceps, the more party-ready portions of the audience soon made their way up front to participate in some tribal dancing.
The momentum was however, cut short by the next performance, Malay Drums. While it was an admirable performance, with an impressive demonstration of circular breathing by the serunai maestro, it was a bit of a let-down, as the crowd was quite prepared to do some much needed square-dancing to forget the drizzle that was fast becoming a storm.
Americans to the rescue! Hailing from Portland, Oregan, (now on Stage 1)the Foghorn Stringband! A mixture of Midwest, Appalachian mountain music and Bluegrass, their quick fiddling, typical spirited playing soon got the party started. Shedding all inhibitions, everyone started dancing in the rain. Everyone but those who had good seats, like me.
It didn't matter that the Americans used up a lot more time than was necessary (at close to 40 minutes), the crowd were lapping up every moment, constantly asking for more. The repetitive tunes were little to no difference from one tune to the other was however, getting on my nerves.
With a final slash of the violin, we finally left America for Italy. They kept saying Palermo, so I will hazard the Tammorra Special were from that said province on Italy as well. They kick-started the event with two HUMUNGOUS tambourines; each almost as large as the Italians playing them. I have developed quite a liking for Italian music, so it wasn't with great effort that I found myself clapping to the music.
Meanwhile, the crowd of dance addicts had made their way to Stage 2.
Unexpectedly, one of the Italians came forward with a single tambourine – a normal sized one – and began playing a TAMBOURINE SOLO! The way his hands danced around the instrument elevated the folk music status of the membranous device to the epitome of musical godhood. He made the tambourine look, and sound, cool!
Too bad they had to cut short their performance. But it was getting rather late. I can only find fault with the organizers who had started the event one hour late. The logic was understandable. Malaysians, known for inveterate procrastination, would only arrive some hours later than what was decided.
True enough, Quarry gardens was soon choke full of bipeds, some time around 2100 hours.
That didn't matter anymore, the final denouement was at hand. From Burkina Faso – Farafina!
Two gigantic xylophones that weren't xylophones, talking drums, and an assortment of other exotic instruments began to cry their ecstatic beats with melodious violence. Two of the six members, a man who did most of the speaking and singing, and a woman, playing African instruments and dancing with the frenzy of a hurricane played to the crowd.
It was a mad rush to midnight, and whatever reservations I had about missing The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya were soon overpowered by a group of black girls screaming Africa behind me.
Soon, all too soon. It was over. The end of a great party, sans disco music.
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