Solum Dum Prae Oculis

...Fog of War!

2005-08-11T15:20:00.000+08:00

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.

...Have You Taken The Test?

2005-08-01T17:29:00.000+08:00

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?

...Roses To Remember Me By

2005-07-27T17:42:00.000+08:00

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.

...For Every Dew Drop That Falls

2005-07-20T17:07:00.000+08:00

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".

...The Idealogy Behind The Terror

2005-07-15T11:55:00.000+08:00

"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.

...7/7 - Iraq Descends Upon London

2005-07-07T20:30:00.000+08:00

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!

...The Private Beckhams

2005-07-06T17:07:00.000+08:00

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?

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

Being on top? Who is calling the shots?

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

Peek-a-boo!

Ride on my horse...

Beckhams' Back Door Policy

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

...Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

2005-07-02T12:22:00.000+08:00

When heaven decides to weep, the world cried with joy. Seeing the falling raindrops from overcast sky as beads of water fell to the desiccated earth is truly a welcomed vision. Having endured months of insufferable heat, seeking refuge in air-conditioned rooms and crowding shopping malls has been a norm for most KL-lites.

So it rained, and rain it did today.

...Camel Toe Cup

2005-06-28T17:31:00.000+08:00

Hot and humid, the weather has been like this for the past few months. Just as I was about to go back home after my classes, I decided otherwise. It’s been a few days since my regime of going to the gym literally came to a halt. For this I blame it on personal commitments. I prefer to use the word personal commitments rather than indolent as I enjoyed nothing more than deceiving myself.

Predictably, the gym was packed with beef-buffs, exercise loathers, potato couches, dwarfs, Kate-Moss clones and other aliens. Not many homo sapiens tonight, humans are after all extinct. I quickly found a cardio machine after an oversized female dwarf finished her routine of 1-minute. Most probably her over-worked heart couldn’t take it. Can’t really blame the heart if it is pumping blood to 100 kilograms of fat.

The machine squeak to a slow start before gaining speed. I glanced over my shoulders to see what type of alien was beside me. Another Kate-Moss clone, petite with a small face, body legs, arms, hands, boobs and everything else I guess. She is terribly thin a total contrast to that female dwarf that just left. Her collar-bone was protruding like a Volvo’s fender, with small thin slender tender thin arms that flailed weakly in the air.

She was wearing a small white T-shirt which look too large for a her minute body. Incredibly, her legs were snuggly fitted into a pair of nylons. Never knew China made them this size. I strongly recommend a Camel Toe Cup to fill up those nylons!

...Feminism is Nonsense

2005-06-27T17:08:00.000+08:00

"Much of this talk about feminism is nonsense," Beatrice Webb was told one day. "Any woman would rather be beautiful than clever." "Quite true," she replied, "but that is because so many men are stupid and so few are blind!"

...Daughters' of Eve

2005-06-27T16:03:00.000+08:00

Eve’s daughters that promulgate the world from the seeds of Adam’s sons, profess Vanity (Pride, by Her other name), above all else. God reminded Eve that Pride comes before a fall, when Eve succumbed to the Serpent’s Temptation.

Till this day, that advice went unheeded. Look at Eve’s daughters in their sensuous mortal shell. Would you want to come into their world? They played and frolicked in the Garden of Lust, occasionally parting their legs to reveal Eve’ inner core. Most of Adam’s sons partake in the fantasy of spewing hot seeds into their carnal cavity. In this tale most fantasies do come true, for it is their biological destiny. The deviants, looked away in disgust. Unfortunately, their forefathers did not look away fast enough though and was turned into a pile of salt as a result. God always has His ways with His people.

...A Tale of Two Casinos

2005-06-24T18:09:00.000+08:00

Everybody knows about Lee’s Incorporated immense aspiration to build two casinos on a mound of soil. Two monuments dedicated to debauchery and sin on an island, which is paradoxically, called “Sentosa Island” or Island of Peace.

I make no qualms about their idiosyncratic ambition; as a matter of fact I much welcome it. The other Sin Gods would have agreed with me. After all the profligacy of Man is their foremost endeavor, not that I give a flying fuck. Humans are so blissful with their self-delusion, just look at the girls below. Four elfin Eve’s daughters, ostensibly enjoying themselves, seemingly oblivious to the tapering grip of Lust, Greed and Pride.

...Sweet Aroma of Retribution

2005-06-23T22:46:00.000+08:00

I came across a most obnoxious Malay woman this morning. Clad in the classic Islamic garb, her vanity betrays her modest Islamic façade. Wet lips moistened with what seems like an inch of lipstick, dark red mind you. Her futile attempts to cover the pot holes on her face ravaged by acne was laughable. Nevertheless I never gave this ugly creature much thought while she was queuing behind me, until of course she started shoving me for an empty seat in the train, which is technically mine.

Straddling her fat ass on the plastic seat, she quickly pretended to fall asleep as I bore my gaze down upon her. She seemed to perceive this but ignored my futile attempts in reminding her that she took my place!

Did I tell her off?

Did I hit her? Oh, Heaven forbids…never. Merely touching her will soil my hands.

I did the next best thing, I slowly turn my back on her face, imitating a person looking over his shoulders and farted. It was silent but the smell was rather pervasive and unpleasant, a mixture of last night’s dinner and soiled milk. The smell of anal horribilis which subconsciously reminded me of the conversation I had with Marianne [ http://christianlee.blogspot.com/2005/06/symphony-of-vulva.html ]

As the smell drifted to her flared nostril, she instinctively did a facial cringe. Try as she might, she still need to respire. After all, she is human. Trapped in the seat she so callously deprived from me, all she could do was to cover her nose with her hands. I mock the same response to create an alibi.

Throughout the 25-minute passage, I silently let out another three odorous concoction. That’s for messing with me bitch!

...Myth of the Malaysian Meritocracy

2005-06-17T10:50:00.000+08:00

This email found its way into my Inbox and I thought of sharing it here. Originally, it was posted on www.jeffooi.com. I guess it was later edited with the Cut & Paste function and end up circulating on the internet. Power to modern technology!

Obviously, the writer of the letter is ignorant after having spent years abroad. I have totally no idea why he insist on coming back despite his repeated claims of "patriotism. " Currently, there are literally millions of Malaysian Chinese living and working abroad. A bulk of which work, live and play for Lee’s Incorporated. Seeing such trans migration is nothing new because it has always been a known fact that Malaysia has a problem with meritocracy or lack of it.

If I am earning USD22,000 a month in a top investment bank abroad, coming back home to Malaysia is the last thing on my mind, if ever. This country has never and will never practice meritocracy. It’s not that it can’t but because it cannot afford to. The whole nation is straddle with debts to push the Malays to a higher social standing, unfortunately at the expanse of the minority which contributes to almost 70% of the economy.

My advice to him is stay where you are…Home is Where the Heart Is, although physically you might as well blow USD22,000 on some foreign beach and bitch!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mr Ooi,
I have been meaning to pen some thoughts for some time now, to let
people actually read the views of the typical 'overseas Malaysian' who
is kept away. I realise that my email is rather long, but I do hope
that you would consider publishing it (and also keep my name
private!).

I shall start by telling a little about my background. Mine is a
rather sad tale - of a young Malaysian full of hope and patriotic
enthusiasm, which is slowly but surely trickling away.
I am very different from many other non-bumiputeras, as I was given
tremendous opportunities throughout my childhood. Born into a
middle-class Chinese but English-speaking family, I grew up with all
the privileges of imported books, computers, piano/violin lessons and
tuition teachers.

My parents insisted that I should be exposed to a multi-racial
education in a national school. In my time, my urban national school
(a missionary school) was a truly happy place - where the Malays,
Chinese and Indian students were roughly equal in proportion. We
played and laughed with each other, and studied the history of the
world together during Form 4, with one interesting chapter dedicated
to Islamic history.

Though 75% of my teachers were Malays, I never really noticed. My
Malay teachers were the kindest to me - teaching me well and offering
me every possible opportunity to develop. I led the district teams for
English and Bahasa Malaysia debating competitions. I was the only
non-Malay finalist in the Bahasa Malaysian state-level elocution
competition. My Malay teachers encouraged me to transfer to a
government residential school (sekolah berasrama penuh) so as to
enable me to maximise my academic potential. I refused because I was
happy where I was, so they made me head prefect and nominated me as a
'Tokoh Pelajar Kebangsaan'. Till this day, I am absolutely certain
that it was the kindness of all my Malay teachers which made me a true
Malaysian.

I excelled at school and was offered a Singaporean government
scholarship to study overseas. I turned them down because I wanted to
ensure that I would remain a 'true Malaysian' in the eyes of Malaysia.
So I accepted a Malaysian government scholarship to study at Oxford
University. Throughout my three years as an undergraduate, the
officers at the MSD looked after me very well, and was always there to
offer support.

I graduated with first class honours, and was offered a job with a
leading investment bank. The JPA released me from my bond, so as to
enable me to develop my potential. I shall always be grateful for
that. I worked hard and rose in rank. My employer sent to me to
Harvard University for postgraduate study and I climbed further up
their meritocratic ladder.

Now I am 31 years old and draw a comfortable monthly salary of
US$22,000. Yet, I yearn to return home. I miss my home, my family, my
friends, my Malaysian hawker food and the life in Malaysia. I have
been asked many times by Singaporean government agencies to join them
on very lucrative terms, but I have always refused due to my inherent
patriotism.

I really want to return home. I have been told by government-linked
corporations and private companies in Malaysia that at best, I would
still have to take a 70% pay cut if I return to Malaysia to work. I am
prepared and willing to accept that. My country has done a lot for me,
so I should not complain about money.

But of late, my idealistic vision of my country has really come
crashing down, harder and faster than ever before.
I read about the annual fiasco involving non-bumiputera top scorers
who are denied entry to critical courses at local universities and are
offered forestry and fisheries instead. (My cousin scored 10A1's for
SPM and yet was denied a scholarship).
I read about UMNO Youth attacking the so-called meritocracy system
because there are less than 60% of Malay students in law and pharmacy,
whilst conveniently keeping silent about the fact that 90% of overseas
scholarship recipients are Malays and that Malays form the vast
majority in courses like medicine, accountancy and engineering at
local universities.

I read about the Higher Education Minister promising that
non-bumiputera Malaysians will never ever step foot into UiTM.
I read about a poor Chinese teacher's daughter with 11A1's being
denied a scholarship, while I know some Malay friends who scored 7A's
and whose parents are millionaires being given scholarships.
I read about the brilliant Prof. K.S. Jomo, who was denied a promotion
to Senior Professor (not even to Head of Department), although he was
backed by references from three Nobel Prize winners. Of course, his
talent is recognised by a prestigious appointment at the United
Nations.

I read about UMNO Youth accusing Chinese schools of being detrimental
to racial integration, while demanding that Mara Junior Science
Colleges and other residential schools be kept only for Malays.
I read about the Malay newspaper editors attacking the private sector
for not appointing enough Malays to senior management level, whilst
insisting that the government always ensure that Malays dominate
anything government-related.

I read that at our local universities, not a single Vice-Chancellor or
Deputy Vice-Chancellor is non-Malay.
I read that in the government, not a single Secretary-General of any
ministry is non-Malay. The same goes for all government agencies like
the police, armed forces, etc.
I read about UMNO screaming for the Malay Agenda, but accusing
everyone else of racism for whispering about equality.
I read about a poor Indian lady having to pay full price for a
low-cost house after being dispossessed from a plantation, whilst
Malay millionaires demand their 10% bumiputera discount when buying
RM2 million bungalows in a gated community.
I read about my beloved national schools becoming more and more
Islamic by the day, enforced by overzealous principals.
I read about my Form 4 World History (Sejarah Dunia) syllabus, which
now contains only one chapter of world history, with Islamic history
covering the rest of the book.
As I read all this, I tremble with fear. I love my country and long to
return. I am willing to take a 70% pay cut. I am willing to face a
demotion. I honestly want to contribute my expertise in complex
financial services and capital markets. But really, is there a future
for me, for my children and for their children? I am truly frightened.
I can deal with the lack of democracy, the lack of press freedom, the
ISA, our inefficient and bureaucratic civil service, our awful manners
and even a little corruption. But I cannot deal with racism in my
homeland.

I think this is the single biggest factor which is keeping people like
myself away. And bear in mind - there are so many of us (researchers,
scientists, bankers, economists, lawyers, academics, etc.). What
people read about in Malaysia (like Dr Terence Gomez) is but the
tiniest tip of the iceberg. You will be amazed to know about
Malaysians denied JPA scholarships (which would have made them civil
servants), took loans to attend Ivy League universities, but who are
later asked to advise our government (on IT, economics, etc.) at fees
running to millions of US dollars. Such information will never be
published because it is politically incorrect.

As a Christian, I pray for God's blessing on this great country of
ours. I pray that He blesses our leaders with the foresight and
humanity to see that this will not work and cannot continue. I pray
that they will have the strength to make our country a home for all
Malaysians and that they will have mercy for the poor, including the
non-Malays. I pray for true racial harmony and acceptance (not just
tolerance) in Malaysia.

Yours sincerely,
A very frightened Malaysian abroad

...MRT Mushrooms

2005-06-16T16:11:00.000+08:00

Stairs, two flights of them to reach the platform. The sound of shoes stomping on the platform greeted my accession. I was running late this morning. Usually at times like this “Murphy’s Law” applies, I needed to pee. Yes! Here am I rushing my ass off to catch the next train to work, my bladder decides a detour. To make matters worse, it is unusually crowded today, people were seen rushing to board the next train to the city.

I quickened my pace to the nearest toilet, actually it’s the only toilet. Having traveled to many places, I always draw comparison with efficient transport hubs like Tokyo’s Shinjuku Station or even Lee’s Incorporated (Singapore) MRT Station. Sadly, our facilities truly paled in comparison.

Damp, the air tinged with uric, I placed myself strategically over the cubicle. I unzipped hurriedly, with my bladder doing most of the thinking.There was another guy standing next to me. He looked tired although from his appearance and demeanor, he is barely in his thirties . His body smartly dressed in a long sleeved white shirt, a sign of the working class, leaned wearily against the cubicle with his shoulders weighed down on both sides. I can’t help but to notice that this guy has the smallest dick I have ever seen, barely noticeable apart from the stream of water that seems to gush out from a hole on his body.

It makes me wonder why Men since the beginning of Time compares and comment on the size of a Women’s breast, yet we hear so little from the fairer sex on the size of the phallus?

...A Reason For Intoxication

2005-06-15T19:15:00.000+08:00

"Sometimes when I reflect back on all the wine I drink I feel shamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the vineyards and all of their hopes and dreams If I didn't drink this wine, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say
to myself, "It is better that I drink this wine and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver."

~ Jack Handy

"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!"

~ Brian O'Rourke

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

~ Benjamin Franklin

"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza."

~ Dave Barry

To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group. Salvation in a can!

~ Dave Howell

"Well ya see, Norm, it's like this... A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

...Connoisseur of the Cunt

2005-06-14T17:28:00.000+08:00

Our conversation teetered to the point of being tasteless. Maybe the word “tasteless” is not appropriate in this context. We are after all having a conversation on “Connoisseur of the Cunt”. I believe that pussy gourmet is one of Marianne’s many specialties. She has been a lesbian for as long as I could remember, not that it mattered to me. Her sexuality both her strength and weakness depending on which perspective (crooked or straight view) you take, reinforces a notion that “A Woman Knows a Woman Best”. Her partner has been with her for 15 years, longer than most heterosexual union that I know of.

It was already running late and my mind was numbed with nonsensical albeit interesting verbal barrage from Marianne. I looked at her in the dimness of the café. Her long jet black hair frames the sharp oriental feature, which is deep set on milky flawless skin. Most men will find her features unique, not overly beautiful though but sensual to say the least.

“So there is no difference whether you are licking ass or eating the pussy, because they are all the same!” Marianne added nonchalantly.

With that she sipped her half cup of Mocha flavored –Frappuccino, staining her Estée Lauder glazed lips. Sensing the slight smearing, she instinctively licked her lips clean while pushing the drink towards me.

“Here, please finish it for me.”

After the conversation we had, I politely declined.

...Symphony of the Vulva

2005-06-14T14:39:00.000+08:00

Marriane was quick to add…

“The smell of fresh fish, oysters, clams, mussels, etc. is the smell of the ocean, otherwise they are spoiled. The fish smell we normally talk about is rotten fish. With pussies it works much in the same way. As you concur with me, pussies do smell like the ocean, but primarily they smell like pussy. I agree with you, they somewhat resemble the smell of oysters, but very fresh oysters.What I'm trying to say is that inexperienced guys should be aware that pussies are NOT expected to have a foul smell. If this is the case, either it is sick or subjected to bad hygiene. In both cases it is better to stay away.It's very true when you say, it's like a bad smell and a good smell at the same time. But finally what you should perceive is pleasurable. If you don't like the smell, don't eat it (and don't put your dick in it).It's immensely difficult to describe with words what a pussy smells like, and even more difficult to say what differentiates a normally smelling pussy, from a foul smelling one. Moreover, it's impossible to explain if what you're smelling is normal but not within your taste, or foul smelling.”

Furthermore, Marriane was adamant that the pussy smells exactly like anal orifice! She relented an experience by a male colleague which I safely conclude is heterosexual.

“Okay to start with, David been with 2 women before of whom he met during a party. One of them smelled good, the other's pussy smelled AWFUL. Yet, the weird part of it was, they were the same type of smell (the smell of my finger after David put it in their vagina). It’s like the same smell, but one made him sick the other made him hard.But here is the sick part.David took a shower and was sitting down studying for a bit when suddenly an itch came over him. He promptly scratched the itch, but the itch started traveling near his butt hole. No, David didn't go inside the hole but he was scratching around that area and then like any disgusting heterosexual males would do, he smelled his own finger.Guess what his finger smelled JUST like pussy!Now please ease yourself on the jokes. David is a straight man and he don’t have a “Vulva Conformity Syndrome”. But this smell was almost exactly like pussy.What’s the deal with this smell. David thought, “Biologically, we are supposed to like this vagina smell to help us aroused.Why does the pussy smell like ass? How come one girl's smell turned me on and the other's turned me completely off?, David continued his questions.”

...Smells like Fish, Taste like Chicken

2005-06-14T14:25:00.000+08:00

However described, some calls it the "Fragrant of Love". Yes, the smell of the vaginal. A friend who is bisexual in nature, polygamist in practice and nihilist in life brought in this discussion. To me she is simply, Ms Marianne. I have known her for some time, we barely talked though. Her thoughts are razor sharp and her words are venom laced, a fine companion indeed.

Over a cup of coffee at Starbucks, in a corner side table, we sat barely moving apart from the occasional glances into the streets of Kuala Lumpur. Traffic was bad, exhaust fumes were permeating the air. I remarked sharply at this uncomfortable position, “It smells like puss here!”

To a connoisseur of carnal pleasures, Marianne did not find my remark funny. As a matter of fact, she finds it degrading when I equate the “Love Tunnel” to an “Exhaust Pipe” spewing forth filth she so highly regard as the aroma of lust.

Our conversation continued…

...Scum-sucking Sycophants!

2005-06-08T18:06:00.000+08:00

AW yes,
To be an honest human being,
Honest with one’s self,
Honest with God,
Honest with others.

Enough of,
Being an organizational man,
A team player,
A status-quo oriented,
Whatever you say boss,
Yes I’ll kiss your ass,
Anytime you want,Kind of guy.

What the world does not need,
Is another bunch of,
Scum-sucking sycophants,
Back-slapping toads,
Submissive slaves,
Grinning fools,Yes men,
Truckling turds,
Groveling,
Boot-licking,
Brown-nosing,
Stooges,
Cowering,
Cringing,
Kowtowing,
Ingratiating goons,
Submissive,
Obsequious,
Sniveling,
Wheedling,
Well-wishers,
Mealy-mouthed,
Mortimers,
Fawning,
Groveling,
Partisan flunkies,
Ass-kissing,
Good old boy,
Government lackeys.

Enough of that shit!
To hell with that kind of life,
No more being just another,
Damn wage slave!
However,What the world does need is more,
Whistle-blowers,
Free-thinkers,
Iconoclasts,
Infidels,
Insubordinates,
Doubting Thomases,
Devil’s advocates,
Scoffers,
Rebels,
Recalcitrant radicals,
Reprobates,
Revolutionaries,
Iconoclasts,
Individualists,
Insurgents,
Insurrectionists,
Liberals,
Mutinous mugwumps,
Liberators,
Emancipators,
Seditious subversives,
Scalawags,
Mavericks.

People who,
Quite frankly,
Don’t give a good damn,
About anything,
Except what is right.
What the world needs,
Is a few more,
Leo Tolstoys,
Henry David Thoreaus,
Martin Luther Kings,
Mohandas Gandhis,
Bob Dylans,
Jesus Christs,

A few more,
Loose cannons.

That’s what the world needs!

Credit to Doug Soderstrom, Ph.D. May 14, 2005

...Friends and FATE

2005-05-30T12:45:00.000+08:00

The reason for my absent was due to my commitment to a “Personal Development” course which my employer sees as a necessary ritual in the accession of the corporate ladder. For 4 days and 3 nights of endless moral inculcation, my eventual release was “celebrated” by my dear friends; James, William T and William L. Our Sunday night rendezvous ended with the usual “Life Debate” that we were so fond of…

The so-called debate didn’t end too well as every one of them is of the opinion that I was wrong. You could say that I am the deviant amongst the deviants. The debate lasted on the streets as the shutters of “Cajun Moon Pub” was sliding on its hinges.

I know I was on the losing end. I can’t possibly defend against 3 of them. No one believed me or should I say no one ever had. If my luck was any better, Fate appeared from the flickering neon lights of “Cajun Moon Pub”. It blinded me momentarily as my senses were already weakened from 4 days of deprivation of sunlight . Why do they always have to make a grand entrance?

It was then, Fate whispered into my ear, “Why do you seek to enlighten them?”

I paused at the question, as James continued pounding me with his voice, “You must practice what you preach!”

“It is only right that you lead by example!” continued William L.

“I am saying... I am not right in my assertion that we are all happy with our lives” I replied contradictory.

“I am just saying we can be happy if we really put our effort towards achieving this elusive feeling called Happiness, we can’t just say we are happy just because we feel we are happy!” I yelled back.

“Just because you are unhappy with your life, stop assuming that we are unhappy with ours!” boomed William T’s voice.

“You can be so amusing, each one of you walks on my thread and yet you try so very hard to break free from me!” Fate intervened, with an increasingly mocking tone.

Let Fate's words be my burden alone. For my friends can’t hear nor will they care to hear. When the mind is closed so will the heart…

It was at the moment, William T spoke, “Look! You are entitled to your feelings and views just as much as we can!” Could William T have heard Fate’s voice? He is amongst us in more ways than one an obedient child of Fate. Lessons of death and tragedy are often used as Fate's propaganda and William has his fair share.

As the night wore on, Time gathered speed on its primordial feet while James and William L got into their respective cars. Obediently, silently Fate followed them…

I got into mine and started the engine. As my car swerved to a familiar destination called home, Death appeared beside me. In such a time, she usually does.

"Don't you know all of Fate’s thread will eventually lead to me!”

I merely nodded in darkness.

...work and mortality

2005-05-17T12:41:00.000+08:00

Saturday morning and Monday morning was corporate pandemonium. I was occupied from morning till evening. Meetings with lawyers and ministers from Mongolia on Saturday morning shifted to my clients from Thailand on Monday.

Through small gaps of rest, I could see Lady Death staring at me. She seems to be saying, “If you don’t die of an Heart Attack…at this rate you are going…”, I ignored her grim premonition as much as I welcomed it. She still doesn’t know that I have longed for her cold embrace. Cold yet so assuring and certain.

...morning MEETINGS equal morning SICKNESS

2005-05-13T15:35:00.000+08:00

…my stomach was growling when my clients came into the room. “Damn! They came so early!” I whispered under my breath. “My Nasi Lemak is still waiting for me upstairs” Expletives were forming in my mouth when the lawyers present abruptly stopped my verbal actions.

“Where can I photocopy this Facility Agreement?” I hesitantly pointed to the direction of my office. Here am I, hungry, miserable and all he could ask me was for directions. I sincerely do not enjoy my work anymore. The meetings, the deadlines and of course the miserable pay. Wish they were some kind employers out there reading this and give me a fat pay cheque for doing nothing. Absurd you say, well 99% of the highly paid bankers are not really doing work; they employ a method called “delegation”.

Anyway, I quickly closed “Microsoft Outlook” after replying to my dear friends; James and William before doing a 50 meter marathon into the meeting room.

...Friday the 13th

2005-05-13T14:17:00.000+08:00

...it was 11.14 p.m on a Friday night. My PS2 was whirling quietly against the background when my handphone's polyphonic screams interrupted my interaction with my console. “James Calling”, my phone blinked repeatedly.

“Hello? What are you doing ah?”

His usual baritone voice immediately brought a smile to my face. Whenever James calls thoughts of drowning in alcohol is not far behind.

“Nothing loh! Tomorrow got work mah.” I replied.

“No lah! I just finished watching Kingdom of Heaven and my colleagues want to go to the local Mamak instead for a decent drink!”

“The usual place ok?”

I thought to myself. Here am I in my shorts and T-Shirt getting ready to meet Sandman and he is asking me out! Sandman can wait. Unless you are suffering from insomnia, the lure of Sandman into his domain is a most welcome gesture.

“I will be there in 10 minutes!” I replied.

...Little RED RIDING HOOD

2005-05-13T09:55:00.000+08:00

Reluctantly I forced myself to the train last night, making haste not to miss my class with those Japanese brats. The thought of enduring one and a half hours of educational torture is not exactly what I had planned to end my evening. However my responsibility to those kids override any semblance of selfishness in abandoning my post as a Sensei to them. Anyway, I needed the money…money is a great motivator.

Amidst rising blood pressure as the entity called Time slowly drags its infinite feet across existence, I was tempted by the Devil to simply wrap my hands around those little necks and giving them a tightening squeeze. That might end the class permanently, I thought to myself. But damn I needed the money…so I pushed that idea for another day.

As the class finally ended, I dragged my lethargic legs across the complex to a toy shop. What could give me more pleasure than looking at toys. To my utter delight, amongst boxes of China-made cartons boxes, McFarlane Monsters Series 4 has arrived! Immediately I was tempted to get Red Riding Hood. She reminds me so much of my mother. A picture is inserted below depicting Mom, I mean Red Riding Hood in her crimson glory slicing open the belly of Mr Big Bad Wolf! Unfortunately, Mr Big Bad Wolf has eaten Dear Old Granny… Oh well! We are what we eat….

...does ANGELS rest?

2005-05-12T15:47:00.000+08:00

a rather uneventful lunch. had noodles again.mental note to self : noodles an invitation to hungry pangs later in the afternoon. as predicted the rain did not come, rather sunlight took its place and showered heat wave across the city. traffic was rather light, was hoping for chaos and accidents...trying to cash in on fortune by numbers.

anyway i am still trying to complete a paper for my Boss. the clients are literally on my ass making a mockery of so-called banking relationship.

wish i could stop time for a moment but then again does an angel rest?

...when HEAVEN don' t cry

2005-05-12T09:28:00.000+08:00

Woke up to an overcast sky, gray and bleak. There is an uncanny stillness in the wind confirming that rain won’t come, maybe not today. I looked upward, could see shards of sunlight trying to penetrate the impending darkness. I know Heaven’s efforts are futile.

The train was packed as usual as I shifted my attention to a middle-aged woman, probably married by the band on her wiry finger. I gave her a penetrative stare, she looked away immediately. Just a few more seconds, I would have been able to deconstruct her mind. Nevertheless, if I can’t read her mind, her body will do.

She looked tired, shifting restlessly. Life has not been good to her. The weariness of the world looks heavy on her thin shoulders, the physical bag that she carries seemed to amplifies this.

I wonder if her husband is still making love to her. She seemed so lonely almost craving for Lust’s burning touch. My attention shifted to other women in the carriage and realized that they all shared the same fate.

“Their problems are not mine!”, I thought to myself as my hands reached for a novel that I kept in my bag whilst the train pummels to the direction of the city

...hello ETERNITY

2005-05-11T16:10:00.000+08:00

…sometimes time flies but today it was literally crawling on its infinite belly, sliding along this primordial world, while my ape-like colleagues languish away at their own cubicle. I smiled, as I know their existence is wasting away like everything else. As for me, I am feeling hungry again; noodles like love is never satisfying.

Another one more hour to go, before I am released from this corporate shell. Away from this stifling filthy building that HIS creation built. Humans at times can be overtly creative, I for one take joy that one day it will crumble before their very eyes. Although I must admit that it will take quite long for that to come about.

Can I wait? I looked at the clock now; 4.27 p.m...eternity is just another human heart beat away.

...pierced by an ANGEL

2005-05-11T14:14:00.000+08:00

…well not exactly. like lust, hunger once satiated lingers not like wax on a burning candle. Still feeling the aftertaste of spongy noodles in my mouth which makes me recall an incident while going to lunch. An accident of sort when a motorcycle collided with a car. Tinge of excitement and fear its faithful companion drove me to take a closer look. To my total dismay only minor injuries. The number plate I must have the number.

Could a GOD so divine and cruel grant me fortune from the misfortune of others? As I ponder, my hunger pang drove me away from the scene. My two colleagues are too busy in their conversation to have noticed that I have committed the four digit number into memory. Felt like I have committed murder by greed. Life’s little ironic play…

So have you been pierced by an ANGEL this afternoon? Could this feeling be more of pleasure and pain or the realization that we are merely tools of a greater game? I tempt GOD no further…

...my EYES see, my STOMACH rumbles

2005-05-11T12:38:00.000+08:00

I just felt the air stirred or is it just my vivid imagination shattering again. All I see now are mirror pieces of memories gathered before my feet reflecting the precious time I spent day dreaming. My boss is sneaking on me again like a shadow hammer striking this pool of reflection pouring out from glazed eyes. Yes these glazed eyes that have been monitoring a digital screen since 9.08 this morning. I am truly amazed by the individuality of online souls that populate a certain forum i have been moderating...silently observing them online. Looking at them…solum dum prae oculis…I wondered what GOD see of us?

I feel like a perverted voyeur, feeding not on physical stimulation, rather on the words of online souls that hide behind a digital façade.

You want to know more? But I am really hungry now, you know what they say about a man with an empty stomach. As for my mind, the Devil is already playing on the swing...

...are you looking at HIM

2005-05-11T11:49:00.000+08:00

an hour more to lunch time, a break to this truly monotonous conundrum. have you ever wondered if your stomach is empty just like the mind, it creates a fertile playground for the devil?

...only GOD before their eyes

2005-05-11T11:48:00.000+08:00

11th of May 2005, i chanced upon this digital diary.boredom and the need to fully utilized my company resources has led me on this aimless journey...

...clicking away on my dell laptop, purportedly trying to create a semblance of meaning to a meandering existence we called "life"...

"life" in all its intents and purpose coloured a very bleak scenario...a scenario i found repetitive just like the sound of the clicking on my dell laptop...