Thursday, August 11, 2005

...Fog of War!



The skies darken with the smoke signals of war. Thick blanket of smog eclipsing even the sun, cast its cloud kill hands over the city. Men, women and children drowning in their own air. Curiously, birds and beast are sorely missing, probably guided by their god-given instinct of the impending doom!



The Klang Valley is in a crisis and the Government is not doing enough about it. Every year, our poor, corrupted and weak neighbor set their forest aflame sending clouds of deadly air billowing into our country.







This is an ACT OF WAR! As a nation, we have a duty to defend ourselves. The time to act is now. They must abide to the Asean Transboundary Haze Agreement of which they have repeatedly refused to sign.

Monday, August 01, 2005

...Have You Taken The Test?

I am going to admit to the whole world that on 28th July 2005, I sneaked out from my existing company to conduct a Pre-Employment Medical Check-up (PMC). I dread doing a PMC, which is unfortunately a requirement for any given employment. I arrived at the panel clinic only to find it sparsely populated by middle-aged women and a couple looking weary and forlorn. Slipping my ID Card across the counter, the nurse promptly registered my details into a white card. She handed me some forms and instructed me to proceed with an X-ray examination. I am no smoker but the occasional Salem and Marlboros over bourbon and coke are norms during happy hours and weekends. Unfortunately, these “happy-hours and weekends” indulgence are becoming more frequent than I could care to admit.

Looking dreary and bleak, fluorescent lamps barely illuminating the room, I was asked to strip from the waist up. Pressing my chest against a cold plate of steel, the slow humming of a machine whirled to a stop as my X-ray was taken. About 15 minutes later, I was given a copy of the X-ray. Curiosity got the better of me, as usual, and I peeked into it only find to my relief the words “All Clear” amidst scribbling of medical jargons.

As I handed the X-ray report over to the nurse, I was told again that a blood test is in order. My heart skipped a beat given my colorful sexual lifestyle. I still remembered vividly an email attachment from my friend, purportedly showing two guys in a passionate embrace with some Chinese character emblazoned on top. The word “Test” stood out like a sore thumb. Fortunately, the results were favourable.

Have you taken your Test?

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Wednesday, July 27, 2005

...Roses To Remember Me By

Each year he sent her roses,
and the note would always say,
I love you even more this year,
than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow,
with every passing year."

She knew this was the last time
that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses
in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know,
that he would pass away.

He always liked to do things early,
way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy,
everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems and
placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside
the portrait of his smiling face.

She would sit for hours,
In her husband's favorite chair.
While staring at his picture,
and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was
to live without her mate.
With loneliness and solitude,
that had become her fate.

Then, the very hour,
The doorbell rang, and there
were roses sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in,
and then just looked at them in shock.
Then, went to get the telephone,
to call the florist shop.

The owner answered, and she asked him,
if he would explain, Why would someone would
do this to her, causing her such pain?

"I know your husband passed away,
more than a year ago,"
The owner said,
"I knew you'd call, and you would want to know.
The flowers you received today,
were paid for in advance.
Your husband always planned ahead,
he left nothing to chance.
There is a standing order,
that I have on file down here,
And he has paid, well in advance,
you'll get them every year.

There also is another thing,
that I think you should know,
He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.
Then, should ever I find out that he's no longer here, that's the card that
should be sent to you
the following year."

She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking,
as she slowly reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.
Then, as she stared in total silence,
this is what he wrote...

"Hello my love, I know it's been a year
since I've been gone.
I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome.
I know it must be lonely,
and the pain is very real.

Or if it was the other way,
I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything
so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say,
you were the perfect wife.
You were my friend and lover,
you fulfilled my every need.
I know it's only been a year,
but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy,
even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.
When you get these roses,
think of all the happiness that we had together,
and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and
I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on,
you have some living still.

Please...try to find happiness,
while living out your days.
I know it is not easy,
but I hope you find some ways.

The roses will come every year,
and they will only stop,
When your door's not answered,
when the florist stops to knock.
He will come five times that day,
in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit,
he will know without a doubt!
To take the roses to the place,
where I've instructed him
and place the roses where we are,
together once again.

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend;
Someone who changes your life
just by being part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh
until you can't stop;
Someone who makes you believe
that there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you
that there really is an unlocked door
just waiting for you to open it.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

...For Every Dew Drop That Falls


On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I was a strong and happy bridegroom. This was the scene of ten years ago. The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid, I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affections between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school. Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes. Dew came into my life. It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her. Dew said, "You are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we just married, my wife said, "Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls." Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so. I moved Dew's hands aside and said," You go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company."

Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised her to go and see with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me. However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt. Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slight joking way, "suppose we divorce, what will you do?" She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that 'divorce' was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious. When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking with her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, "He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together." I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more. When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. "I've got something to tell you," I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. "I want to divorce." I raised a serious topic calmly. She didn't seem to be much annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, "why?". "I'm serious." I avoided her question. This so-called answer turned her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "you are not a man!". At that night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew. With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer. A late night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fell asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again. She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month's time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage was broken. She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, "He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?" This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, "I remember". "You carried me in your arms", she continued, "so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning." I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage with a romantic form. I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce," she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable. My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out for the first day, we both appeared clumsy.

Our son clapped behind us, "daddy is holding mummy in his arms." His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, "Let us start from today, don't tell our son." I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for bus, I drove to office. On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face. On the third day, she whispered to me, "The outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there." On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vaguer.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this. I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, "It seems not difficult to carry you now." She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown fatter." I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head. Our son came in at the moment. "Dad, it's time to carry mum out." He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, "Actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old." I held her tightly and said, "Both you and I didn't notice that our life was lack of such intimacy." I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, "Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious." She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. "You got no fever." She said. I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Dew," I said, "I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you." Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into cry. I walked downstairs and drove to the office. When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me to write the greeting words on the card. I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until we are old".

Friday, July 15, 2005

...The Idealogy Behind The Terror





"And if any believe not in Allah and His Messenger, We have prepared, for those who reject Allah, a Blazing Fire!" -Quran 48:13

The little café across the road was oddly calm apart from the occasional outburst from a middle-aged man wearing a white skullcap and long black robes. His bespectacled face was heavily framed with a long beard that covers most of his flabby neck. With hands flailing to the heavens that promptly fashioned into a fist slamming itself unto the café table, he snapped at his attentive audience, “Why does the world not understand? Our religion allows us to wage war against the infidels! Why are our fellow Muslim brothers and sisters condemning it as act of terrorism?

His words found its way into the audience, their impending silence indicating passive support. I folded my arms across my chest and smirked indifferently. The air wavered as light emitting from an afternoon sun tapered. Almost immediately, I could sense Death’s presence as She glided her ethereal body unto the vacant seat next to me.

“You must have been really busy lately”, I asked.

“Not at all my dear, I am not accountable for those who died by the exploits of others”, Death replied.

“Even I cannot override the conscious choice of a human. When a person kills another before his time, I played no part in it”, Death continued.



I was momentarily silenced by Death’s sudden revelation. God gave Man the weapon of Choice. I have no inkling that a Man’s Choice can override even Death Herself.

“Anyway, they did it for their God and they have done so in accordance to their Scriptures”

"Against them make ready your strength to the utmost of your power, including steeds of war, to strike terror into the hearts of the enemies of Allah...Whatever ye spend in the cause of Allah shall be repaid unto you, and ye shall not be treated unjustly." (Surah 8:60)
"For the unbelievers are to you open enemies"
(Surah 4:101)
"Then fight and slay the pagans wherever ye find them and seize them, beleaguer them and lie in wait for them in every stratagem of war."
(Surah 9:5)

I shifted agitatedly in my chair for I know that these Martyrs of Islam believed that Paradise would be their reward for their consecrated measures against the infidels. Haven’t all Martyrs given a dignified Islamic burial for all their sanctified actions? Truly they looked forward to Paradise or Janah for their effort.

Allah's Apostle said, "Allah guarantees (the person who carries out Jihad in His Cause and nothing compelled him to go out but Jihad in His Cause and the belief in His Word) that He will either admit him into Paradise (Martyrdom) or return him with reward or booty he has earned to his residence from where he went out." Volume 9, Book 93, Number 555: Narrated Abu Huraira.

In Islam, Janah is a place where the pleasures of Mutahsibir (sensual pleasure in sex with virgins, eating, and happiness) are found.

Sura 55:56 "On couches with linings of brocade shall they recline, and therein shall be the damsels with retiring glances, whom nor man nor djinn hath touched before them: Like jacinth and pearls: Shall the reward of good be aught but good? And beside these shall be two other gardens: With gushing fountains in each: In each fruits and the palm and the pomegranate: In each the fai, the beauteous ones: With large dark eyeballs, kept close in their pavilions: Whom man hath never touched nor any djinn: Their spouses on soft green cushions and on beautiful carpets shall recline: Blessed by the name of they Lord, full of Majesty and Glory."

Suddenly, I could comprehend the reason behind the verbal flare-up of the bespectacled middle-aged man; the ideology behind the terror.

“Don’t look so worried my dear…”, said Death while standing up.

“Where are you going?” I replied.

“Getting ready for the welcoming party, of course!” “More are expected to arrive soon”, Death said mockingly.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

...7/7 - Iraq Descends Upon London


The carnage descends upon London on 7th July 2005. A day to remind England that frequent bombings in Iraq can also happen there. A lesson drenched in innocent blood and taught by radical Muslims. These Muslims relied on the Book called the Al-Quran. Muslims embraced the believe that the Quran is the undeviating word of God or Allah, unchanged from when He uttered it in the language He speaks.

True peace in Islam can only be attained when the universal, world-wide Caliphate rules the world.

So how do you rule the world? The answer is in the Al-Quran…

Sura 4-89: “They but wish that ye should reject Faith, as they do, and thus be on the same footing (as they): but take not friends from their ranks until they flee in the way of Allah (from what is forbidden). But if they turn
renegades, seize them and slay them wherever ye find them; and (in any case) take no friends or helpers from their ranks…”


Sura 9-29: Fight those who believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, nor hold that forbidden which hath been forbidden by Allah and His Messenger, nor acknowledge the religion of Truth, (even if they are) of the People of the Book, until they pay the Jizya with willing submission, and feel themselves subdued.”

Sura 22-9: “As for the unbelievers for them garments of fire shall be cut and there shall be poured over their heads boiling water whereby whatever is in their bowels and skins shall be dissolved and they will be punished with hooked iron rods.”

Sura 47-4: “When you meet the unbelievers, strike off their heads; then when you have made wide slaughter among them, carefully tie up the remaining captives”

With such meticulous instructions from the Book, its no wonder London is burning!

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Wednesday, July 06, 2005

...The Private Beckhams

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The recent pages of Vogue depict one of the most powerful couples in the world. No, its not Ayah Pin and his four wives but the Beckhams. Splashed across the front page; Victoria straddling her anorexic thighs over David massive torso…I wonder how many copies it will sell?

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When David's arm wrapped around Victoria’s lithe body, is there Love or Lust?

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Being on top? Who is calling the shots?

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Standing tall or fallen from grace, which side are you on?

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Peek-a-boo!

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Ride on my horse...

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Beckhams' Back Door Policy

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If the pants go any lower, it will be in Playgirl Magazine.

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