Blood

Blood is thicker than water.

It is.

I have cousins who live abroad. I don't see them often as is expected. The number of times can be counted on the fingers on one hand. I don't know them. My cousin Sarah flew in and did a mini tour with her boyfriend and it included visiting my parents in Ipoh, my sister in Singapore and here in KL, there's me. As adults, this is only the second time I've seen her and the time before this one was during our grandfather's funeral. Not exactly the best time.

This is my cousin and yet it was almost like meeting someone for the first time. Sarah's father is Norwegian and so she grew up there and now she's residing in London. We played together as kids. A long time ago. When my aunt visited and she came along. I know her brother even less.

We got to chill together. Last night, I brought her and her boyfriend out of KL and to Black Canyon in Centrepoint BU. Dinner and coffee. It was great. But there was no great abandonment in conversation. I don't know Sarah and she doesn't know me. As persons. As individuals. We were only scraping the surface to getting to know one another.

After a good meal, coffee and conversation, I dropped them back at their hotel in KL. As I was driving home, I felt a little empty. Like something had been lost. I probably won't see Sarah again for years and it did make me a little sad. We still don't know each other well. There's only that much can be done with so little time. Blood is thicker than water. I may not know my cousin but last night I realised that regardless, because she is my cousin, I do love her. She's family.

New Light

I'm not sure where the turning point was but I am becoming increasingly less amused and less enamoured with the trials and trivialities of the younger half generation.

I think I'm growing up.

Here We Go Again

The Dawson shootings last year sparked me to write the blog posting below in my old blog. I figured it was only a matter of time before I would post it here. The Virginia Tech Massacre is what happened. Yay! By now don't you think Americans would possibly agree that maybe it's a not such a great idea to have all them shootin' irons. You could probably buy 'em from Kmart!

September 14, 2006

It's Never Going to End

Well, it's happened again. Some looney/dumbass/spaced out clown has armed himself and shot up a school. Yesterday in downtown Montreal, some looney put on the uniform of a looney, a black trenchcoat. The death count stands at one for now. There are those that are seriously injured and may not survive their injuries.

First, there's the trenchcoat. What is with these loonies that they have to put one on before they carry out such lunacy? They way I see it, these dumb bastards put on a trenchcoat like I turn on my Playstation. Yeah! There's killin' to be done! What kind of reality do these people live in?

"Hey Goober! Let's go blast some fools like how we done in Grand Theft Auto!"

"Sure Buford! My cousin Sally done bought me a shotgun for christmas!"

Now, the two lines above itself is a stereotype and a misconception. There are three points to consider. Firstly, you don't have to be a redneck. That's your TV rednecks up there. The majority of these jackasses are young white boys from middle class families. Secondly, anyone brought up right by mum and dad can differentiate between reality and a video game. The third point I'm going to make is, that sadly, guns are that easy to come by if you happen to live in North America.

Robyn Anderson bought the Columbine High shooters their weapons in a straw purchase. The two 17 year olds were too young to buy guns. Robyn, then 18, bought them a rifle and two shotguns by showing the dealer her driver's license proving she was indeed over 18. Now get this, the two piss pots were with this dumb bunny in the gun shop and doing all the looking and asking of the questions. Doesn't take a fucking genius to figure out who the guns are for. Oh yeh, and there was the Tec-9 semi-auto handgun which was sold to one of the numbnuts by Mark Manes who was a friend of the looneys.

What I'm lamenting on is how easily firearms are obtained. Take another situation into account. Nathan Ferris was an overweight 12 year old boy subject to constant bullying in school. The last time he was humiliated in front of his classmates was really the last time. He pulled out a pistol, shot his tormentor and then turned the gun on himself. Shocked? 12 years old that one. Then take Dedrick Owens who took a semi-auto pistol from his uncle's house and brought it to school to show off. He pulled the gun from his pants, yelled "I don't like you Kayla!" and shot 6 year old Kayla Rolland in the neck. She died half an hour later. Dedrick Owens was also 6 years old.
Often enough a kid blasts away in a school as a result of humiliation and bullying. Like Nathan Ferris, Michael Carneal was frequently bullied and had his name published in the school paper claiming he had homosexual crush on another student. Which didn't exactly improve matters for him. He brought a handgun, two rifles and two shotguns to school and fired shots indiscriminately. He surrendered when he saw one of the fallen was a friend of his. He was 14. He is currently serving 3 life sentences and 120 years.

Which brings me back to christmas. Brenda Spencer was 17 when she opened fire at a school causing death and injury. The rifle she used was one of her christmas presents.
All these events just skim the surface. I have no idea what it's like living where there are metal detectors at schools. Not that it always helps. A security guard was killed manning the metal detector at a school when it went beep! for a very good reason.

You know what's brilliantly disgusting though? Jake Ryker, who was already wounded, tackled his shooter, a 16 year old, and held him up enough for more people to come hold down this adolescent looney. The gun crazy National Rifle Association cited as Jake Ryker as "an example of NRA training put to good use." That's not quite accurate. If Ryker had been indeed trained by the NRA, he'd have brought out his own gun and blasted back. Or joined in the fun and games.

Let me give you a quote: The National Rifle Association, or NRA, is a group for the promotion of marksmanship, firearm safety, and the protection of hunting and personal protection firearm rights in the United States, established in New York in 1871 as the American Rifle Association. It sponsors firearm safety training courses, as well as marksmanship events featuring shooting skills and sports. The NRA is sometimes said to be the single most powerful non-profit organization in the United States. It is the oldest and largest civil rights organization in the U.S., considering gun ownership a civil right protected by the Second Amendment of the Bill of Rights.

Also allow me to debunk that with one single fact. Actor Charlton Heston, a promoter of the NRA agenda was presented a presentation rifle at a NRA convention in 2000. He held the rilfe aloft over his head and declared loudly, using years of acting experience for maximum effect, "They'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands!" Well done Charlton. In my opinion you're just another fucking looney but was lucky enough to have the luxury of carrying out your gun-toting fantasies in the movie business. Charlton probably went back to his trailer and masturbated after filming gun fights. And in that one sentence Chuckie pretty much described the NRA to the rest of the world.

Here are your gun looneys in the U.S.:
National Rilfe Association
Gun Owners of America
Jews for the Preservation of Gun Ownership
Pink Pistols
Second Amendment Foundation
Second Amendment Sisters
Citizens for the Right to Keep and Bear Arms
Liberty Belles
Law Enforcement Alliance of America

I have to give you a few interesting facts about the Pink Pistols. It's a gay gun group. Their mottos are "Armed gays don't get bashed" and "Pick on someone your own caliber." To be a member you can either be LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) or own a gun. You don't have to satisfy both conditions. I would like to elaborate on the Pink Pistols but I can't. You can only swim in so much shit. Whether the shit's packed or not, I don't know. I think the mottos say it all.

U.S. pro-gun control groups are:
American Hunters and Shooters Asoociation
Americans for Democratic Attention
Americans for Gun Safety Foundation
Brady Campaign
Brady Centre to Prevent Gun Violence
Coalition to Stop Gun Violence
League of Women Voters

Here's a few bits of info on the Brady Centre. Lead by James and Sarah Brady. James Brady was shot and permanently crippled by John Hinckley in 1981 during the attempt to assassinate Ronald Reagan during his presidency. In 2000, controversy surrounded wife Sarah over a straw purchase when she bought James Brady Jr. a rifle for Christmas. Yay! Christmas again! The rifle fires .30-06 bullets. You bring down moose and elk with those fuckers.

I think I'm going to stop here as it's never going to end.

Let me declare my own opinions over the matter. I'm don't give a rat's ass about pro-gun or gun control and all that shit. That's their fucking problem over there. Here in Malaysia, who cares? You can be in possession of a gun without bullets or bullets without a gun and get into a heap of trouble. You could have a replica gun and get in trouble. You don't have to worry a lot in this country about being shot. It's not likely to happen. It can. But not likely. What I am against though is stupidity. Which is what all this gun shit is anyway. A lot of stupidity with no solution in sight.

The current popular culture does nothing to help. Violence is glorified in media. True life events are dramaticised by the media. Using words like horrific, siege, drama, massacre, perpetrator, conspiracy, suspect, tragedy. You only encourage the stupid fuckers. They want to go out with a bang. Songs written about the events imortalise it and the dumb fucks at the same time. Their names and/or faces become part of popular culture. Metallica's "Ronnie" and Boomtown Rats "I Don't Like Mondays" are prime examples. I love Metallica but that was fucking misinformed. Thanks for saving lots of starving Africans Bob but that was still pretty damned idiotic. The next bunch of losers might commit murder so their favourite bands write songs about them. Time magazine traces their life history. Don't get it? Next time try a news report like this:

"Two dumb bastards with mental and social issues stole guns out of daddy's closet and brought said guns to school in a pathetic attempt to feel superior. No one gives a shit who they are because they're not worth remembering and we don't want to encourage other stupid looneys out there who might do this shit in our town next. They both shot themselves in the end which was the only smart thing they did in their sad sorry lives cos there were a lot of people waiting outside for any form of revenge. Dumbfuck #1 was a sad loner who nobody wanted to be friends with. Dumbfuck #2 liked the way Dumbfuck #1 smelt so tolerated him. Police tossed the looneys' bodies into the nearest crocodile infested lake. Their parents made no attempt to recover the carcasses."

As I was saying, our popular culture does no good. Violence is glorified. Wealth is glorified. Looks are glorified. Popularity is glorified. Athletic ability is glorified. Drugs are glorified. Promiscuousity is glorified. Gansterism is glorified. Materialism is glorified. Did I mention guns? Guns are glorified. Hey, it's the American way!

The world's overpopulated anyway. Let the fuckers in countries with gun issues kill each other. We can refer to it in the future as culling of human beings in predominantly stupid countries/continents. We will then forget the innocent, the victims, the maimed, the dead, the ruined lives and all the mental and physical pain ever suffered.

Comment: Domain Name

"Miracle has left a new comment on your post "My Domain Name":

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I'm wondering what to do next with my newly acquired domain name. I was even thinking of transfering it over to to another company now. But that would mean paying twice for the same thing. If I pay eternalsolutions it will be a difference of 4 Ringgit in the end. It's a matter of principle. I had expected to pay just RM35 instead of over 50 bucks which I'm going to have to do now. I'll cough up the RM24. Next year, I will transfer the domain name to another company. I will also never recommend eternalsolutions to anyone and if asked, I will share my experiences and point people to their competitors.

You reap what you sow.

Well, enough bitchin' from me. I own a domain name. I'm happy about it.

www.brainspillage.com

Coming soon to a web browser near you!

Death in the Family

I wrote the piece below last year. I didn't publish it and it's been in my drafts folder since November last year. I have not publish it for obvious reasons and also it was for my own inner peace. Maybe it's time.

Back then when I wrote this piece, I was probably still in mourning over the sudden losses. I did not have have to deal with death in my childhood. When I was very young my great grandfather and grandaunt died. Then I did not lose anyone till I turned 21. Now, it is a tribute to them. To each and everyone who was part of my life and was taken away.

Over the years I've lost people dear to me. I've been fortunate that I've had many of the elder generation leave this world only when I was much older than a child. I lost a grandparent first when I was in my 20s. Now, all I have left is my maternal grandmother. How fragile life is.

I can never forget my 21st birthday. That was the day I was told my friend, school classmate and roommate, Adrian Cheong had gone missing in the Hawaiian sea. Adrian was my classmate in school and in college. He was also my roommate while we attended the latter in Subang Jaya. Now, 11 years later, no one still knows what happened to him and he was never found dead or alive. I have good memories of Adrian. We passed through adolescence and into adulthood together. I remember staying over in his sister, Bernice's apartment, sleeping in the living room. In the middle of the night and in darkness catching a glimpse of Cynthia, his girlfriend (and Bernice's roommate) sailing by in her diaphanous night dress on her way to what I hope was a right good shag. If she was good for anything, at least Cynthia ensured he didn't go a virgin. It would not be a surprise if one day he is found to be on some remote island lording over it and its natives - complete with topless and grass skirted harem. Such was his personality.

My paternal grandmother died on holiday in Italy. She had ostreoperosis and this lead to tragic consequences when she slipped and hit her head on some stairs. One of my earliest memories is of me telling her at a car showroom in Ipoh that maybe the cars (Jaguars and Mercedes) were a little too expensive for my grandfather. How innocent those days were. I had no idea my granddad could have bought anything in that showroom. My paternal grandparents and great grandparents are some of the original landowners (estates, mines and mills) and towkays in Taiping, Perak. Don't bother kidnapping me though. The money didn't make its way to me. My great grandfather was the Charcoal King of Taiping and a founding director of Maybank. I remember him as a tall, dignified man. He stood at six feet. Not bad for a man born in the 1800s. It was colonial times back then and with that in mind, back to my grandmother. I remember my grandma barking orders at the hired help. Especially this little man named Ramasamy. I suppose I feel sorry for him. He got barked at all the time. Well, blame the English and colonial rule. My grandmother should have been a doctor which is no mean feat for a woman in the 1930s. The war cut her education short and ended her medical career before it could begin. She liked culture and art. She loved us but was from an era where it could not be shown. We understood.

My maternal grandfather died shortly after. He was a rascal. A mischievious man with a sense of humour. He also had three (four? I dunno) wives. A fact we children did not discover until much later and didn't take very kindly to. My grandmother was the first wife. Apparently he was a difficult man to live with. I remember the day he alienated his grandchildren from him. He appeared drunk at my parents house yelling at my mother for telling him my sister and I couldn't see him that day. My sister and I had been so sheltered that we couldn't comprehend such behaviour and for many years we shunned him. Perhaps he regretted this the most of all. He loved all his grandchildren intensely and it must have hurt him tremendously. Reap what you sow I believe. My sister's fury lasted much longer than mine. When I was 16 I began cycling to school. I would go past his neighbourhood at about 6:30am when he'd be on his walk. For weeks I must have been just another kid cycling to school in the morning. One day, for no apparent reason, I greeted him and he nearly died of a heart attack on the spot. From then on I would have breakfast with him every other weekend or so. It was the first real contact we'd had in nearly ten years. By then my sister had left Ipoh to atttend college. When she came back during the holidays, she then decided to join us as well. Perhaps this brought a measure of peace to the old man. He died a few years later, a rascal to the end. No one could take care of him so he was put in a nursing home. When he got bored he'd throw his half eaten char siu pau at the guy in the bed beside his. Just to get a reaction out of him. Which was a lot of funny noises as the guy couldn't speak anymore. If you think that's bad, when he didn't have a pau he'd use the contents of his bed pan! Throughout his life, my grandfather loved football. I am the one grandson who shares his passion. My mother and all her siblings are university graduates. I visited him for the last time before I left to study in Australia. He died while I was in Australia. I never saw him again.

My paternal grandfather was a great man. Uneducated but learned, shrewd, intelligent and knowledgeable. Landowner, car distributor, hardware shop owner, stockbroker and I don't know what else. One of the most touching sights I've seen was at this funeral. When his old business partner who was wheelchair bound wanted to kneel in front of his coffin. He was clearly distraught and upset and my father and uncles had to insist that he didn't have to. They told him that him being there was enough and although there is respect, they were friends. They told him my granddad was his friend and would understand. I wish I had more time with my grandfather. I have so many things I want to ask him and talk to him about. He was a mine of information and as I am interested in my family history and Malaysia's history, it would have been good to talk to him. It's too late and it would have been difficult anyway for the suffered a stroke in his last years and it robbed him of clear speech. He was a strict and stern father but a marvelous grandfather (aren't they all?). I miss him. When he passed I was in KL. Busy with a business venture. I had thought of going back to see him but then I thought I'd wait till Chinese New Year. My grandfather passed away a couple of months before Chinese New Year.

My childhood friend's mother was a lawyer. I grew up in her presence. She always teased me about girlfriends until the day I finally introduced her to my first girlfriend. She was like family. She took her own life after giving in to a long battle with depression. I'm still stunned.

Life is but a spark. Fragile. Singular. One light is all one gets.

Shallow. Irrelevant. Nonsensical.

It only just hit me. While I have been posting regularly, I haven't actually posted anything of proper value recently. Sure, it's fun, it's funny but it doesn't kickstart any grey matter in you, the reader.

It could be where my life is right about now. I have not much responsibility and basically nothing is happening in my life now. Really. Nothing. I have nothing really worthwhile to say and nothing particularly intelligent. While I have not much money, not many people I know have a huge safety-net-slash-back-up-plan. I do. I don't have much money but I don't think I will ever really be wanting of the stuff. I have significant non-liquid assets and zero debt. I've been spoilt rotten and done the classic Malaysian thing. Become complacent. Because I have such a big net I've taken it for granted instead of taking advantage and working off it.

How did it get like that?

I tried the taking advantage and working off it thing twice. The first time was when I quit my steady and safe job. Basically it was steady and safe but it paid peanuts and demanded blood in return. Personally I thought it was thankless and a dead end. There was no reward for resourcefulness, responsibility, leadership, improvisation and dedication which I will boldly declare I had (past tense because I have no idea now) in spades. The new job didn't work out. Basically we were small potatoes who got fucked over by the big boys. Everytime you see an LCD or a plasma TV doing ads in public places like the train stations and malls, remember that it wasn't exactly an original idea.

The second time, I took a business gamble and threw myself into it. I worked myself in to the ground. Despite that, I lost big time and lost it all. Including my self esteem, self respect and temporarily, my sanity. I had the biggest breakdown of my life then. I suppose the money wasn't really the most important thing. I was tired, unhappy, in despair and totally defeated. I did have a really lovely girlfriend (yeah Kev, her) who loved me anyway. What did I do? Pushed her away is what. Self esteem was at an all time low. Picking up the pieces was very very hard. I did have help. Nicolle asked me to get up. Barbsie picked me up and walked with me the rest of the way. Lydia and Luke carried me when I was tired. My family provided the sunshine to walk in.

Go to the crazee.ca.usa shop on the first floor in KL Plaza. Have a look. I died there.

Since then I have impressed but failed to take the opportunities. All for the sake of misplaced loyalty. So here I am now. Still aimless without much options.

How did it get like that?

I have to take quite a lot of responsibility for that myself actually. I had seriously thought of taking a job with a posh coffee, cake, chocolates (I forget the proper term) eatery in the new Petronas Hospital. A friend's (I cannot name her and you'll see why soon) new company is setting it up and will run it. What have I got to show? Not much actually. While I have no doubt I will be highly recommended and I have a great deal of belief in my abilities, I have absolutely nothing concrete to show on my CV. The company employed amongst its staff what is basically a useless twat who surfs gay porn in the office all while being a useless cunt. He has a Masters degree though. My buddy's relief was evident when he decided to quit recently. You know what? He'd gotten a better offer elsewhere. Tsk.

What can a person do, when one is ashamed of oneself? I still dream (nightmares, more accurately) occasionally of failing subjects in university, missing assignment dates, disappointed parents and family and the like. I hate those dreams. They hurt. Bad. My friends during uni days were clubbing, partying excessively, drinking heavily and taking drugs. I didn't. I was mostly at home but in the end, they still did better in uni than I did. Sad isn't it?

I know many of my readers are young and many of you are still students as well. Studying isn't difficult. A Masters for yourself isn't that hard. Mastering yourself is.

Your life starts now. Fucking do it right, okay?

Hang on a minute....

I watched the Manchester United vs UEFA Selection XI this morning. Among the stars on show was Marco Materazzi. According to the commentator, he's the man "who provoked Zinedine Zidane into headbutting him."

Just a goddamn minute.

Yes, Materazzi provoked Zidane. But how come he's "the man who provoked Zinedine Zidane into headbutting him." Why isn't he "the man whom Zidane disgraced himself and his country by headbutting"? Why is everyone so eager and intent on sucking Zidane's dick? Yes, he is a great player, no one will deny the skills. However. Zidane appears to be deified that he is beyond criticism. Last time I checked he's a citizen of planet earth no different from you or me.

Materazzi's only real crime was his chest was in the way of Zidane's head. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against Zizou. I admire the man as a football player. If I were playing a footy game and an opponent gave me serious crap, I'd put my foot in his gonads. However, I'm a weekend player. I wouldn't do it if I were a professional player and playing a game for the team that employed my services. I'd just wish evil on the bastard is all.

Football is the world's most popular game (despite what some Americans think!). The World Cup is the biggest football competition. The final of the World Cup is therefore in my opinion, the biggest single game in the world. What a setting at which to do something like that. I loved the commentator's take on the event. He said it was 'uncharacteristic' and went on to say that Zidane has a 'history of having a short fuse'. Make up your fucking mind you moron. When you do, take the man's dick out of your mouth before you speak.

My point of this posting is that no one should be beyond criticism and justice and no one should be denied equal rights and a fair trial.

Football is just a metaphor for life after all.

In case you were curious as to what Materazzi said to Zidane it was this - "Hey, ci è una certa formula di sviluppo dei capelli sulla parte anteriore della mia camicia!"

It's Italian for "Hey, there's loads of hair growth formula on the front of my shirt!"

Now you know.

No wonder I'm a mess

Flashback #BST47835G

When I was in primary school there was this one question a teacher asked the class. It was during the religious studies period and being a heathen non-believer I was in the class of leftovers. Yes yes, I know I'm going to hell. I've been told many a time already. Don't bother, I've heard it. Even from my own girlfriend 2 relationships ago. She told me with a look that said that it was so sad it had to happen because I was going to burn even if I didn't really deserve to but I could save myself if I wanted to.

Please. Gimme a fucking break.

I told her she's only a christian because she was born into a christian family and she'd been fed propaganda in church all her life. I told her that I thought her sister who's a devout christian was a insufferable bitch and a hypocrite. That got her to thinking because she couldn't disagree with me there. I'm not saying religion is wrong. We'd all like something to fall back on when all that's left is hope. All I would like is a little more thought and brain processing thrown in.

Anyway, back to the question. The question was, what are the world's seven continents. I could name all seven so I put up my hand and provided North America. One down, six to go right? Wrong. The dumb cow screwed up her face, thought real hard and then told me that no, North America is not a continent.

It is of my opinion that if you are teaching primary school, you don't ask little kids a question you don't even know the answer to yourself. I was perplexed. This was a teacher. Scion of information and knowledge. Then another kid put up his hand and informed dear teechur that North America is indeed one of the world's continents. She accepted that from that kid.

When you're in school there are the kids that the teachers tend to favour cos they're more outspoken and hardworking. Hardworking doesn't equate intelligent. All you do in school is regurgitate lessons. I was one of the more quiet ones. I was one of them kids that didn't want attention while wanting it secretly. Self esteem issues you understand.

Anyway I remember one incident involving one of these fucking teacher's pets. The teacher marking the English essays came to show my class teacher one pet's essay. In a word it was shit. There was the teacher pointing out the mistakes, the little bastard giggling and my class teacher tut-tutting. Anyway, conclusion. She 'give chance' to the little bastard. I quote, "Sooooo lucky. I give chance." There were other kids who really tried their best but found it hard going. English isn't used in many a household here. They got a lot worse marks for their essays despite trying while the giggling little cunt got away with it when he didn't give a shit.

Anyway, it ain't over. How this little cunt further improved his standing with the class teacher was to rat on me. I wasn't particularly interested in what the teacher was saying once during class. It wasn't a lesson and I was more interested in a new story book. So I was reading the book under the desk (the book was under the desk Einstein, not me) and this little bitch was sucking up to the teacher by standing by her desk giving her love while she talked and then walked over to my desk and dobbed me in.

I would have loved to have smacked him a good one but that would have only landed me in worse trouble because you don't beat up tattle tale teacher's pets and get away with it. Anyway to top it off, this teacher didn't like me at all for some reason and loved to pick on me. This was pure joy to her. Anyway, I ended up in deep shit and it went all the way to the headmistress. That's how the headmistress, Mrs. Loke came to know me. Two years later, she was probably the only adult in the school to believe in me and my potential. Too bad the very next year I moved up to secondary school where I suppose I sunk again. I also suppose all I needed was for someone to believe in me. I did mention self esteem issues didn't I?

No wonder I'm a mess.

Meow!

I watched again on Animal Planet the '10 Deadliest Sharks' yesterday night. The first time I saw the program a couple of years ago I was pretty pleased with myself for being able to name the top 3 most dangerous sharks correctly. I do know the Bull Shark is a heck of a lot more dangerous than the legendary White Pointer (Great White Shark). The Tiger Shark was third on the list by the way.

Since young I have been fascinated by sharks. They interest me but they also scare the bejeezuz out of me. Which is a rather strange phobia considering I hardly ever put myself in a position where I am in any danger of having my ass chewed on. I did use to swim at beaches in Australia where there were either sharks sighted or an actual shark/human encounter. But you can bet I was never far out at any given time. At this one beach a white pointer bit a two man canoe in half. It crunched the bit of the canoe that is behind the front person's bum and in front of the rear person's feet. How lucky those two blokes in the canoe were needn't be considered. Extremely lucky I would say. They of course ended up in the water and I'm very sure made for shore at a speed that even Ian Thorpe couldn't match. The guy who was at the back no doubt screaming at the other guy, "Just swim ya bastard!!!!" The guy who was in front screaming back, "What the fuck happened mate?"

I was taken to see Jaws 2 at the cinema by my parents when I was about 5 or 6. It left severe psychological scars on me. Yeah mum, if you're reading this, now you know! For a while I was frightened of the bathtub as well. Steven Spielberg has a lot to answer for. At least Peter Benchley did a rethink and set about shark conservation and awareness. For years I thought you could never be safe in the water with a great white without the shark cage. For years I thought sharks (especially the great white) were vicious indiscriminate eating machines. They'd attack (and eat) anything in the water with them. The actuality is is that you're safer in the water with a great white shark than you are in the jungle with a tiger. Of course I wouldn't recommend either situation to anybody.

What it is in reality is my fear of the unknown. In the water especially in deep water, you have no idea what is below you. In water I am out of my element. There is no way water is any persons' natural environment. I have a fear of drowning as well.

But I love the sea. It fascinates me. I love the beach. I went nearly everyday in summer while I was in Perth. It also scares me silly. I'm a person who requires familiarity. Slung into a strange unfamiliar environment and I need adjustment time.

So.

Treading water and my feet can't touch the bottom. No idea what's under me. It's a million to one but what if I just happened to be really really unlucky that one time? Fuck that. I don't want to chance it. I'm a pussy.

Yeah. I said it.

I'm a pussy. I live, breathe and eat pussy.

Get it right dammit!

I was watching The Top Corner with Dez Corkhill on TV the other day and I was pretty appalled. The Top Corner is a program for our regional football. Whatever the case, however well the show is produced there is a glaring problem with it. The Top Corner is not exclusive to this problem. All these idiot presenters, no matter how good they are, cannot pronounce the names of our teams and places.

This has been a pet hate of mine ever since Sepang became a fixture on the F1 and MotoGP circuit. Not a single bloody foreign host or presenter has ever been able to pronounce 'Sepang' and 'Kuala Lumpur' properly. It's not that they can't. They just can't fucking be bothered. They can sure get names like Le Mans, Jerez, Spa-Francorchamps and Paul Ricard right though. Why? I'm pretty willing to bet you they've heard 'Sepang' being pronounced by the locals but I'll also bet you they don't fucking care. The Sepang circuit is good enough to be on the F1 calender. Year after year. Give it some respect for fuck's sake. It's not a hard thing to say right. It gets right on my tits this does.

What is this? Western superiority?

They know it's pronounced differently but they think they should pronounce it the kwailo way?

Goddam dumb Asians not worth the trouble?

Which brings me back to Dez Corkhill and those of his ilk. Foreign presenters working in our region on TV shows for our region. I cringed everytime Dez mentioned Selangor and Pahang. I was so impressed he got 'Perlis' right. The ones he got right on the money were MPPJ and DPMM. Wow. I'd bet he'd have no trouble with Public Bank either. If the team still was in the league that is. I have no hope for him when it comes to Perak though. Well done Dez!

Of course Dez isn't guilty by himself. The chick on channel 82. She that sits next to Andy Penders. Blonde, tits, cleavage, English, from Sheffield probably [10/1 - Charlie Webster]. She once mentioned Selangor. Didn't do much better than our Dez. Our channels are full of kwailos. Why?

I'll tell you why.

Local presenters. They'll get the pronunciation spot on. Don't worry about that. So why aren't there more locals (people from our region) on TV? They all shite that's why. We don't have an Andrew Leci or John Dykes. In about 5 to 10 years I have hope for locals presenters doing a good job. We might have our own Adnand Lassi and Johan Daik. Yeah, I'm having a laugh. Forget the current crop. For now any aspiring talent who wants to be on TV will have to see how it is done, how it should be done. I just hope they don't pick up the pronunciation as well.

Confound It!

I'm the best of friends with a girl. She's tall, attractive and intelligent. We have a very strange relationship. We call each other dah-ling, sweetie and all that mushy mushy stuff. We also think the world of each other. We know each other's deepest secrets and we can tell each other anything including things we can't or won't tell anyone else. Yet we've never been an item, a pair or anything remotely close. Apparently it's because she's afraid we could not have the friendship we have if we took a step in that direction. Oh, and it's the same reason why we've not been to bed together before. Anyway, there's too much baggage on this girl for me. It's not her fault. It's circumstantial. We have this pact we made when we were about 27. If we were still single at 35 we might as well marry each other. You'd think two people that age would have a bit more sense and that brings me to the topic of this post.

I've met a number of really intelligent people who have sometimes done the stupidest things. Take the girl mentioned in the paragraph above. She always and I mean always chooses the absolute wrong man for a boyfriend. They're all fucking mental. You don't know possessive till you've encountered her boyfriends. She seems to like damaged goods and once actually told me she picks these crack pots to try to better them.

What?

What???

The last two are nutters though the most recent one takes the prize for being a complete nutter. Needless to say he wasn't very happy about me. Fair enough. None of my girlfriends particularly like her either. Anyway she did the splitsville on him and he went fucking mental on her. Stalking had a new disciple.

Anyway, all that bits not the point I'm trying to get across. Remember the bit about smart people doing dumb things? Here's the bit that left me aghast and speechless.

She and psycho had sex during their relationship.

That's fine. I've never had a girlfriend I didn't have happy fun time with. I don't expect these things not to happen. No one has a celibate relationship. Except for Sam (him of the cock cheese posting). Fair go.

The guy has quite a questionable sexual history and here's the bit that had me reeling. She was shown his medical test results. I thought it was a HIV test. It wasn't. It was one of those that show blood cell count, cholesterol, liver function and crap like that. It was all normal. She figured that a person who had something like say, HIV, would have abnormal medical test results.

Oh really?

Can anyone shed some light on this because I think that test proved fuck all.

Why yes, I do read

I received a message on friendster sometime back:

> Hi ya
> Read your profile. Kind of intriguing... since I rarely meet guys who read much.

What sort of age have we arrived at if male book readers are rare and at a premium? Note surreptitious wink here.

I did answer and I thought I'd post my answer here:

Hullo,Nice of you to write me. Your prolfile says you're 86 years old. You look remarkably good for one at that age. What's your secret?

I'm teasing. Why your age is significant to answering your message will be apparent as we go along.

I'm already 32 and at an age where there are huge gaps and differences with those younger than myself.I grew up when there were only 2 channels on TV never mind dedicated viewing channels. I didn't watch much TV as a result. Also in my teens I was restricted to a one hour show a week limitation by my parents. It did ensure I wasn't glued to the TV the whole day. I was usually looking for something to do.

There was no Astro. There were no playstations nor x-boxes. No cell phones. The emphasis on entertainment and amusement for children back then was more pure, more physical and more interactive on a personal level. I hung out with the neighbourhood kids and played football, rode bicycles and played many other games, a lot of it improvised.I did grow up surrounded by books. I really mean a lot of books. More than a hundred Enid Blyton books, the entire Peter and Jane series and other assorted books. My parents' books, which I was to progress to, numbered in the hundreds. Authors like Gerald Durrell, James Herriot, Roald Dahl, P.G. Wodehouse, James Joyce, J.R.R. Tolkien to name a few, are not to be sneezed at. I left my mother's Mills and Boons alone though. They were horrible little things and never racy enough.

That I have grown up to be pierced and tattooed, rock and metal loving guitar player, OTT footballer and porn connoisseur does not surprise me. I was heading that way throughout my formative years. I do however have a foundation of being brought up in a cultured environment. Music, art, books, nature.

So yeah, I read a lot.

- Sen

World AIDS Day 2006

Yesterday was World AIDS Day. Though I doubt any of us did anything about it or even know it was on that day. Well, I've done my very little bit. I've placed the red ribbon on my blog. However it means nothing if you see and dismiss it.

Here are a series of questions. Have you ever taken an HIV test? If so, when? Have you put yourself at risk since then? When is your next test? How much at risk does your lifestyle put you in?

By now I'm very willing to bet you know of someone who is HIV positive or has died from AIDS. The HIV virus is perfect. It's a sexually transmitted, a blood contaminator and is in our bodily fluids as well. Semen, pre-coital fluid, vaginal secretion, saliva, blood. It's very very unlikely but you can even be infected through oral sex. Which is bad news for dedicated muff divers (me) and cock smokers (not me).

Let me explain why I think HIV is an almost perfect virus. It takes years to fully develop into AIDS and kill its host. By then the host might have infected other people as well keeping in the mantra of life which is to multiply. If it killed its host within days or weeks (like Ebola and Marburg) its host may not have had the time and opportunity for the copies of the virus to be transmitted to other hosts. If it were highly infectious it would be possible to be infected by airborne droplet transmission. It would then infect people very easily. All you have to do is breathe it in. If it were a perfect virus it would kill its hosts slowly and be highly infectious.

HIV kills slowly but is not highly infectious. 100% mortality rate.

Ebola kills very quickly and is highly infectious. 90% mortality rate.

Pray they don't decide to compare notes. We'd be fucked. A sickness which is (i)100% fatal, (ii)incurable, (iii)is carried by a host for years who will (iv)infect other people as easily as passing on a cold; would wipe out the human race in no more than a few decades.

The 'normal risk' of infection for me as a system of measure is unprotected vaginal sex. Anal sex is considered high risk as the off road was not designed for penetration and was in the blueprints as a one way street. The difference? Anal sex can cause tears in the anus and also the penile shaft skin. If you don't know the significance of that, wounds admit things like bacteria and viruses way easier. Which is why it is not a good idea to give oral sex when you have an ulcer in your mouth. I'm not sure about the risk of receiving though.

Me? I took an HIV (and big 4 STD) test 2 years ago with negative results across for everything tested for. Since then I've had unprotected sex with two women. They, their sexual histories and HIV test results are known to me. Any other women I have bedded was with the use of a condom (occasionally two, haha!) but no dental dam. That seems to be the norm for casual sex these days. Open mouth kissing, unprotected oral sex and the only protection being a condom during intercourse. My lifestyle at present does, I think, put me at moderately low risk. But still at risk no doubt. My next HIV test should be done and like really soon.

Do not even think it will not happen to you and that it happens to other people. HIV has no prejudice. HIV doesn't care about your financial state, your religion, your race or your character. You can be an absolute angel but you can still get it. Even abstinence may not save you. If you receive a blood transfusion for whatever reason and one of the bags has HIV infected blood, you will be infected yourself.

HIV will develop into AIDS. It will kill anyone it infects. It is up to you to choose your sexual lifestyle and be responsible for it. I have been stupid before. Fortunately, it didn't kill me. The sex wasn't even really that good. Wouldn't have mattered if it was the best sex I ever had. Dying is dying. Dead is dead.

All I have written is just my own opinion and my own understanding. I urge you to get the facts for yourself. This is a good start: Wikipedia - Category: HIV/AIDS

Not So Happy Feet

Went to watch Happy Feet. It was a very charming movie. Funny, entertaining and visually very well produced. I enjoyed it but left on a slightly unhappy feeling. I wouldn't want to spoil very much of it for you if you have not watched it but I will make my point.

I feel that the film gives us the wrong message. Why is it that we will only protect flora and fauna and do something about conservation if the species in question benefit us in some way. Unless it amuses us, is cute and/or attractive, we just don't bother? As guardians of this planet and all its living entities, we don't do a very good job. Cute, beneficial or not.

Daddy's Girl

What is with fathers and daughters? When girls are little, they automatically become daddy's little princesses. Fathers themselves are more protective over daughters than sons.

It is very obvious that I approach both Lydia and Luke differently. This is not deliberate but it's there. Everyone says she's got me round her little finger. I don't spoil her or intentionally favour her over her brother but she wants special attention from me and most of the time she gets it. If Lydia misbehaves, she gets it from me no different than Luke. I've learnt to teach them by way of reason. I'll only smack them for two things, blatant misbehaviour and telling lies. They merely get severely yelled at for disobedience.

Naturally I coddle Lydia more and typically among dads (even honorary ones like myself) I seem to be pushing for Luke to be more independent. I do it to both of them but more so on Luke. It's not a fair life for them. Even if they don't realise it yet. Abandoned by their biological father and have to be raised by a single mom. That guy needs to have his fingers broken one by one. Children need both parents. My ex is a good parent but kids need balance. They need to have both parents. The biggest threat that can be used on them is, "I'm going to tell daddy!" They don't like it when I'm angry or disappointed with them. Especially Lydia. Her bambi eyes become very watery for mere things like disapproval or disappointment from me.

What's tragic is that one day I will abandon them myself. It's inevitable. I have no future with their mother other than being good friends. In time I will probably want to seek a new relationship with someone else and what girlfriend and potential wife would like an ex girlfriend in the background. Add two children to that and it's a mix for trouble. If I ever became interested in someone I think that would be the end of it anyway. I am fully expecting my ex to have nothing to do with me after I tell her I've met someone.

How is this going to be explained to the kids? Right now I am single not looking. Still. Eventually.

Last night I sat on Lydia's bed and rubbed her back till she fell asleep. I felt sad. Maybe one day I will have children of my own but I'll always remember the little girl who loved me and needed me just because she was daddy's little girl.

You Mutha Fukka in the Kancil

Well, my last post seemed to be rather prophetic. Yesterday my friend Barbs was driving to work and came across two accident scenes around the Semantan area. At the second accident site, one of the cars was being towed to the side of the road. I think drivers are so cute. They harangue and swear while stuck in the bottleneck up to the incident then slow down and rubberneck while going past it. I hate you bastards. Anyway, the tow truck was at the time blocking the left two lanes. The rightmost lane was moving along at about 50km/h now. This one Kancil who was doing the Small Car Chop and Change chops into the rightmost lane, into moving traffic, causing the cars it's cut off to hit the anchors. What results is a three car end-to-end and the Kancil dashes away in the distance. Barbs was the third car in the melee. My little girl was in the backseat of the car. She's only 5 years old. I want to kill the cock smoker in the little bastard Kancil. I can only be really relieved that she was wearing her seatbelt. We've always insisted that the children wear their seatbelts no matter how short the drive. I am always amazed to see unrestrained children in cars.


Anyway, when Barbs and the other two drivers were exchanging details, there was a screech and a crash. All turned just in time to see a motorcycle sliding down the road and the rider rolling down the road behind it. When he stopped rolling, he sat up, with his back to traffic. That's when someone screamed, "TAXI!!!!!". There was a taxi bearing down on him. He took one look behind him and instantly curled up flat on the road. The taxi actually went over the top half of his body. He was saved by the anonymous lady who screamed, his quick reflexes and the fact that he's a small chap.

When I went out myself later that day, I came across two accidents and saw a near accident. Barbs is hurting on the right side of the face, head, arm, hip, buttock. Lydia's tummy is hurting from the seatbelt. Not that I'm blaming the seatbelt. If she was like your typical kid in a car, she would have been in the backseat, in the middle, unrestrained. Were she there she would have flown through the gap between the front seats and been stopped either by the center console or worse, the windscreen. I'm very angry that this happened to two people I love. The average stupid dumbfuck Malaysian driver only gives a damn about shaving a few seconds off his/her journey and is the most selfish moron while in control of a car.

I dare say this. I am a good driver. In every sense of the word 'good'. I drive, handle and control my car better than what would be considered competant. I am suitably curteous and considerate to other drivers. Think about it. Your husband/wife/children/parents/siblings/blah fucking blah, share the road with me. Similarly, people I know and care about, share the road with YOU. So, if I ever catch the driver of the Kancil, I am very willing to consider vigilante justice. I will kill you, whoever you are, with my bare hands.

Every Malaysian driver is a potential criminal (manslaughter, grevious bodily harm) with a weapon (a car, a truck, a 4WD, whatever). For God's sake. Wake up. Fellow human beings share the road.

I will play the kid factor card as well.

There are children in the vehicles around you.

Yesterday, the child in the accident happened to be mine.

Rear Window Screens

Rear window screens. They're those bastard things in the back window of a car which supposedly block out the sun from shining on the passengers in the back seat. What they are to me is a bloody nuisance. I can see the sense in it, my mom would probably like having such a thing if she were a passenger in the back. I don't like them because when they're in the car in front of me, I can't see through the car. Don't read me wrong. I don't care who's in the car in front nor do I care what they're doing. Why I don't like these screens is because I can't see what's happening in front of the car. I like to read ahead. It's no different from driving behind a big 4 wheel drive car or a truck. And I hate following 4WDs and trucks. You have not a clue what's going on in front of them.

Defensive driving involves anticipating what's going to happen and more importantly what the traffic around you might do. For this you need to know what's going on around you 360 degrees. I've seen enough rear enders to know this could be more avoidable. One thing about rear enders, is that the guy at the back always gets it worse. My buddy tapped his BMW into a back of a Chairman. His car looked like it hit a wall. I had a Kancil hit my Waja from behind. I compared the damage and let the offending driver off. Of course, I didn't expect to get a mild case of whiplash but that was later.


Back to the screens. I hate them. Nothing I can do about it. Here's a piece of advice. Don't tailgate. Sounds simple but quite hard for the average Malaysian driver to do for some strange reason.

Books I Read

These are the books which have made me laugh, think and wonder.

* Gerald Durrell - A truly remarkable man. This man pioneered zoo keeping and conservationalism. My all time favourite author. His best books? Can't really say, they're all good but these are my favourites. Bear in mind that only the first one is a novel. The rest are all non-fiction. This man not only had a full and admirable life but wrote like no other. The best descriptive writer I have ever come across.

Rosy is My Relative, My family and Other Animals, The Bafut Beagles, Zoo in My Luggage, Three Singles to Adventure, The Drunken Forest, The Whispering Land, The Picnic and Such Like Pandemonium.

* James Herriot - Another autobiographic author like Durrell. And similarly like Durrell, it's about a profession in the animal world except Herriot (real name, Alf Wight) was a vetinarian. Next to Durrell, a very good descriptive writer. Herriot loved his wife, children, friends, animals and countryside (Agricultural Yorkshire). What made his stand out are his experiences and the fact that you could feel the love he had for all stated above in his words.

All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Creatures Great and Small, All Things Wise and Wonderful

* Frank Herbert - Frank Herbert wrote the Dune series. Quite possibly the greatest science fiction book. There will be arguments whether it is or not but no one will deny it's right up there.

Dune, Dune Messiah, Children of Dune, God Emperor of Dune, Heretics of Dune, Chapterhouse: Dune

* J.R.R. Tolkien - I discovered Tolkien through my mum who's a big fan. So one fine day, tired of studying for my Penilaian (Std 5 exam) I picked up Lord of the Rings. Finished it in 5 days. Not bad for an 11 year old. Next, after the exam, I read The Hobbit. I make it a point to read Lord of the Rings every few years.

The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings

* Michael Crichton - A really good writer whose books were unfortunately massacred by Hollywood. If you really think about it, Jurrasic Park was a crap movie and all the successive films just kept getting worse.

Jurrasic Park, The Lost World, Congo

* Richard Preston - Preston wrote one truly captivating and terrifying book called The Hot Zone. The network which is the international travel routes can carry a virus around the globe at anytime and to anywhere. There was an outbreak of a strain of the Ebola virus in Reston, just outside Washington D.C. some years back. Just dumb luck had this strain as the only one which was non-lethal to humans. Every other strain killed about 8 to 9 out of 10 people. Maimed the rest. Ebola and its sister virus Marburg can be transmitted by touch, air and through sexual intercourse. Horrifically infectious. Imagine if a lethal strain travelled via infected passengers on airline planes. From one point to spread to wherever the planes took them to. We might end up having a situation not unlike Stephen King's The Stand.

The Hot Zone

* Terry Pratchett - Possibly the most talented satrical writer I am familair with. Created the Discworld and its various characters. Absolutely brilliant humour. Two Dogs Fighting. Blink and you've missed it. The books I've listed are his best. Pratchett occasionally misses the mark.

Going Postal, Jingo, Night Watch, Thief of Time, The Truth

* Dean Koontz - Made girls cry with Watchers. Over a dog too. Had a good book, Phantoms, massacred by Hollywood as well. Come to think of it, Watchers received the same B-movie treatment. Totally pissed me off with Tick Tock. Were it my book, it would have flown out the window.

Watchers, Phantoms

* Stephen King

The Stand, Delores Claiborne

* Murray Ball - Creator, writer and artist of Footrot Flats. A very honest, simple yet powerful series of cartoons.

Footrot Flats

* Bill Watterson - Calvin and Hobbes. A very very clever comic series.

Calvin and Hobbes

* Gary Larson - The Far Side. A very very clever comic series in the other direction.

The Far Side

Growing Up Bullied

Kids are fucking little monsters. What I mean is, of course they're not engaging in coital activity with small supernatural entities, rather, kids are fucking little monsters. Note how I cleverly cleared things up with the clever use of italics. I should explain myself right? Of course I should. Just so I don't get buried by hate mail.

The urge to dominate is a primitive instinct to establish social order. Sometimes it means who gets sex and who doesn't. I'm sorry. I mean it establishes mating and procreational rights. It's not exclusive to primates though one of the best examples you might see of this behaviour is at night clubs. These days all you have to do to be Alpha Male is to be white. Or at least half white.

But anyway. Back to it.

Kids themselves tend to have their own social order. A lot of what you come across is the need to empower themselves. That's why they run around in groups cos there's strength in numbers. In the group itself you can bet your ass they have their own social order. It's never the smartest kid. It'll be the biggest kid. Individually, kids will bully other kids to get that sweet high of the all important power rush. That's why kids like to play with toy guns. Cos on TV when you've got the gun and no one else does, they yo bitches - while you still got the gun. Don't lose the gun okay?

Kids target kids who are different. Of course the smaller weaker kids are natural targets. They resort to another one of nature's wonderful things. It's called symbiosis. It's a fancy word but it happens everywhere. Even in prison. When a big dood is happy harry cos he's got himself a cell bitch and his cell bitch is assured of being protected from the other inmates, that's symbiosis.

Carrying on, all you have to be to be bullied is different. The only different kids that don't get bullied are those that are already shaving in pre-school and have nicknames like 'Mongo'. Then again, they probably get it from other Mongos from higher grades. Eventually they group together to extort lunch money. Mongos Inc is now a gang. To be different, all you got to be is one of the following: smart, stupid, ugly, beautiful, retarded, disabled, weak, rich, poor, the wrong color, six fingers, one eye.... you get the drift.

All it is is a natural process of growing up. Kids need boundaries, guidance and example. If a kid is a rotten kid, blame the parents. There's something wrong there. Beating seven kinds of crap out of a kid at home for misbehaving doesn't work either. Now that that social order's established it fuels the urge for this kid to do some establishing of his own so he establishes royally on his younger sister who in turn does her bit in the classroom. Especially if there's no cat at home to kick.

My parents decided that my sister and I would grow up like any other kid. This means we pretended that living in a house where my bedroom was bigger than the living room in some of my friends' houses was normal. I was given less allowance than my small-house-living friends. To learn the value of money apparently. In all, it must have worked. I'm a stingy bastard when it comes to money. As the younger of two I tended to try to dominate my peers except that I was one of the smallest kids around and I was frightened of everything. I got beat up by my sister at home and the cats at home had died by then but I assure you that was nothing to do with me. Just the recipe for a complete bastard by 21 but no one accounted for my mum. My mother may not have done a perfect job but I think she did a damn good one. We were brought up with a proper balance of love and discipline and with enough protection from outside influences that we were protected but no so much that we became dependant on that. I love my father. I carry many of his personality traits myself and learnt a lot from him. All I'm saying is is that it was my mother that did all the delicate balancing.

As for being the rich kid. I paid my dues. I was put on a school bus like any normal kid. Every other kid on the bus lived in a low cost housing area. They'd be on the bus and I'd get picked up. These little bastards were like ninjas. I'll tell you why. It first started with the verbal assault. They'd talk loudly amongst each other about me and I'll bet you it wasn't about how nice my parents' house is. Luckily for me my cantonese is shit. My cantonese is still shit 25 years on so you can imagine I didn't know diddly squat back then. I was one of those sensitive cry babies. It would have really hurt my feelings if I understood them. I always had my head down and I didn't ever say a thing. That didn't change when the physical assault started. I got punched, kicked and slapped around like a little bitch but I never reacted. Could be what saved me, could be what condemned me to more of the same. Anyway, the fucking little monsters would fuck me up quietly enough just so the bus driver wouldn't notice. Right little ninjas those bloody kids.

When I was 12, I grew seven inches in that one year I was in Standard 6. I went from something like 4 feet 5 inches to 5 feet 2 inches. In a single year. This is the single most important thing that happened to me as far as bullying was concerned. One, it chilled me out totally. I didn't need to bully anyone anymore. I didn't have to be able to fend for myself either. I was one of the biggest kids in class. I could fend like anything if I needed to. And I didn't. I didn't need to. But. When I was 12, I beat up, no, I royally beat up one of my classmates. I beat this kid so bad it was the last physical fight I ever had in school. No one messed with me after that. Talk about stupid, the kid I smashed was the aggressor and I don't mean he just called me names.

I stopped growing when I was 14 and reached the height of 5' 7". That bummed me out but from the perspective of this blog posting, I was already a giant. Kids remember. To this day, some of my friends from school still think I'm taller than they are when they overtook me about 15 years ago.

Which comes to the main theme of all this. There're mean people out there. People who are mean just for the sake of being mean. Even nice people can be mean. I'm nice. But I can be mean. Usually to someone who can't retaliate. In the end, all of us, every single one of us. Look at how people behave towards one another, in life, in love, in business, everything. Look back at everything I've written so far and tell me adults don't do the same shit. In the end, we're all just a bunch of fucking kids.

Beep beep! Beep beep! Yeah!

I like driving. I always have. Unfortunately, it is difficult in Malaysia to enjoy your driving.

I used to think I was a moron magnet on the road when I was in my car. Sadly it's clear now that the moronic drivers brigade aren't after me. There are that many idiots driving their cars on the road that every other car you come across is exactly that. An idiot driving a car.

You know what? That idiot is someone's (probably yours and mine) mom, dad, friend, husband, wife, et cetera. Once they get out of the car they regain their humanity and identity. In their cars, all they were was just another bunch of idiots who pissed you off. The beauty of it is, you've pissed someone else off as well. Don't doubt it. I don't.

The problem with that is easily traced to our driving culture. I honestly, honestly believe that it's not worse out there just because so many of us Malaysians went overseas for higher education. I can tell because more people than usual use their indicators these days. Not a lot but it's a start. It's a government plan to improve driving here. That young Malaysians leave and come back with a little driver culture. I did my bit. I'm a patriot. I never once considered going to uni in Malaysia. I loved driving in Australia. Morons were few and very far in between. Once I was home though I went through the driving equivalent of culture shock.

Here, you don't learn how to drive when you sign up with a driving school. You learn how to pass the driving test. Which is all for bollocks anyway 'cos everyone pays the extra money in the end. So, we have a whole bunch of kids with new drivers' licenses getting behind the wheel. It is very likely that they are going to drive like their parents and/or their peers. It scares me to think that their parents and their buddies have been frightening and enraging me for the past 15 years.

Every time I get into my car, someone is going to, at the very least, annoy me.

Malaysian drivers don't:
- use their indicators
- let you change lanes in front of them if they have to slow down
- get into the correct lane until they start running out of road
- thank you for your courtesy
- know how to stay in their lane

Malaysian drivers:
- drive slowly in front of you
- drive fast behind you
- run red lights, slowly
- cut queues
- let you know they want to overtake by tailgating you
- have no patience
- make new lines in traffic jams
- cut into your lane if the road deviates a little

Did I miss anything? Sure I did. Of course I did.

What else irritates me are the ones who mess with their tail light clusters. You know the ones I mean. Reverse lights come on when they brake, tinted the light cluster thereby dimming it and crap like that.

Our driver education system is non existent. The JPJ spits out new drivers like Mama Alien lays eggs. NONE of us were given an EDUCATION in driving. We were taught how to make a car move. We weren't taught how to drive. We took a stupid pointless test knowing we just had to not crash the car to get our license. We paid in advance for our licenses.

Did you catch it? I hope you did. And if you understand why 'drive' was in italics then you really know what my point is.

I don't think I am a bad or irresponsible driver. Trouble is, no one does. I do try to drive responsibly, safely and courteously. That's all I ask of my fellow drivers.

Hang on a minute! What about Malaysian motorcyclists?

Make it legal for us to run them down.

Please.