Qui tangit frangatur.

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A round peg in a world of square holes...

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Not made of sugar, spice, and everything nice

Taken by NicIz2HardKore on one of his regular runs.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

What, what would "Archbishop" Rowan Williams say to this?

Apostasy in Islam, in accordance to classical Sharia Law, is punishable by death.


Prominent Muslim becomes Catholic on Easter

Associated Press
March 23, 2008

VATICAN CITY (AP) -- Italy's most prominent Muslim commentator converted to Roman Catholicism on Saturday during the Vatican's Easter vigil service presided over by the pope.

An Egyptian-born, non-practicing Muslim, Magdi Allam has infuriated some fellow Muslims with his criticism of extremism and support for Israel.

The deputy editor of the Corriere della Sera newspaper, Allam often writes on Muslim and Arab affairs.

He told the Il Giornale newspaper in a December interview that his criticism of Palestinian suicide bombings generated threats on his life in 2003, prompting the Italian government to provide him with a sizeable security detail.

Pope Benedict XVI baptized seven adults during the service.

It marks the period between Good Friday, which commemorates Jesus' crucifixion, and Easter Sunday, which marks his resurrection.

The Vatican spokesman, the Rev. Federico Lombardi, said of Allam before the service that anyone who chooses to become a Catholic of his or her own free will has the right to receive the sacrament.

Lombardi said the pope administers the sacrament "without making any 'difference of people,' that is, considering all equally important before the love of God and welcoming all in the community of the Church."

The rest here.


With regards to "Archbishop" Rowan Williams, three words come to mind: "dhimmitude" and "intestinal fortitude" — lose the former, cultivate the latter.

Related post and article
Sharia Law in UK is 'unavoidable'
Heere Bigynneth the Tale of the Asse-Hatte

Saturday, March 22, 2008

For CSPM Eve

A rollicking hilarious take on one of my favorite workout songs.

70.3You can do it!

Believe in yourself!



Friday, March 21, 2008

Be(a)ware or be roadkill Part II

Here we go again: train > cell phone moron

Train hits woman who was using cell phone while walking on tracks

Associated Press
March 20, 2008

Anderson, Calif. (AP) -- A 29-year-old woman who was walking on railroad tracks while talking on her cell phone is recovering after being struck by a freight train.

The conductor of the Union Pacific train told authorities that Melinda Champion was talking on her phone when the train hit her from behind on Wednesday.

The train was headed south near Anderson, a town in far north-central California. A police sergeant said the conductor applied the emergency brakes when he spotted the woman, who apparently did not hear the train's whistle or feel the vibrations on the tracks.

The train struck her at about 45 mph, bouncing her to the side of the tracks.

Police Sgt. Bob Curato told The Associated Press on Thursday that Champion was recovering at a local hospital, but her condition was not available.



Selected comments

youseeit wrote:
okay. i'm the first one to roll my eyes when people overuse this expression, but... this is truly one for the darwin awards.

trudat2 wrote:
how do you not notice a moving train? stevie wonder could dodge a moving train...

tigerclaw wrote:
while quavik has a point, and i'm on board with that, this particular case is more like universal stupidy. You see it everywhere. People talking on cell phones are a menace to society. Communication is easier but not better. Does anyone using a cell phone actually pay attention to anything around them? No. Do they get snitty when approached? Yes. Do they feel their conversation is the most important thing in the world at that time? Yes. Is there anything we can do to curb this rampant misuse? Yes. Slap it out of their hand. I have. Twice.

sf_sf wrote:
Oh my gawd Becky!! So like, there I was, like, just talking to my friend Bethany when, like this totally rude train knocked me on my stupid brainless a$$. -- Stupid twit.

homer wrote:
"SO I'm all, and he's like, and I'm like, he's all*splat*"

Truffaut wrote:
Can you hear me NOW?

ams123 wrote:
Totally effing clueless!!! Did not feel the vibration of the train OR hear the whistle! Deaf, dumb, and clueless! Definitely a finalist for the Darwin Award!

secretcervix007 wrote:
I wonder if she can hear it now? Sheesh. Come on people. We're so connected by cells and computers we can't stand to be away from them for a couple of minutes? To save your life? What the hell are we all saying to one another anyway. Lady on phone: "Hey do you think I'm too close to the tracks"? "No honey, it doesn't sound like it" KERPOW.

cvaldes1831 wrote:
"Paging Melissa Champion! Mr. Darwin on line one!"

Osafp wrote:
I don't think it's only women yakking on their cellphones, but yesterday, at around 5pm, northbound on I-280 around Daly City, a woman in a Volvo wagon, middle lane, veering right and left in her lane, nearly sideswiping several surrounding cars, all while traveling at the unsafe-low speed of around 40mph. People honking all around her. She could've killed people...Does she even notice? Well, you know the answer to that...And by the way, who the &^% are these people talking to that it takes precedence over operating a 2-ton moving vehicle? We need to ban all cellphone conversations while driving, hands-free included. And shut the &^%$ up on BART, too, please. No one cares about the Henderson Account, or Aunt Gertie's foot surgery, or whether you had a great time last night with whatshisname...

El4short wrote:
Typically a freight train can take up to a mile to stop after applying the brakes, even at 40-45 mph. It's tonnage and momentum, not "flat wheels." Y'know, trains don't have steering wheels . . . just stay off the tracks!! Thanks for the great laughs above -- these cell phone morons deserve it.

iwearfur wrote:
"bouncing her to the side of the tracks" you KNOW the writer had fun writing this one...

tothestarz wrote:
Like alot of people, they just don't think the "rules" apply to them. Like a freight train bearing down on you, blowing it's whistle -- couldn't possible have anything to do with *me*. It's probably going the other way on a different set of tracks. Just go around if I'm in the way.

malcolm2 wrote:
So, is the train ok?

tenbaum wrote:
Can you hear me ... OW!!!

wethepeople wrote:
"what? I can't hear you...yeah, there is all this noise around here....some obnoxious person is blowing a really freaking loud horn too...anyway, I like chocolate pudding" *KABAM* I'm glad she's ok and perhaps her stupid behavior will teach some other person to pay attention and help them avoid yet another avoidable accident.

terrybike wrote:
When is the last time you heard of a freight train sneeking up on someone??

sr71 wrote:
Yak, yak, yak and yak! Oh ya? Yak, yak... *SPLAT!* Hello? HELLO! Dang! Another dropped call!

billthecat wrote:
If the cancer doesn't get you, the train will.


Here's Mr. Johnny Cash again :-P

Related posts
Suck on this
Me! Me! Me! Or, how I'm Superman / a Superhero
Well, what do you know? I'm not alone in this. Part II
Give it up! You can't win on this one.
Be(a)ware or be roadkill
Well, what do you know? I'm not alone in this
Lemmings, lemmings, they drown
A voice in the wilderness, eh?
No cell phone
Cell phone, thy true name

More Glukoza

NDP, anyone?

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Why I love Naipaul

I'm quite content with myself as I am. I don't wish for anyone to carry on my name or my genes. No, not at all.
         (Sir V. S. Naipaul, on not wanting children)

Narcissism:  people who have the audacity to think that their offspring would make a difference to this world.

Practice, practice, practice

The kind of repartee which goes on in one of my favorite forums:

Ultimate chick bait. A couple shots of our new puppy. This little guy is like pheromones. Women cross the street just to pet him. - DWPC

- I used to borrow a neighbor's Border Collie to troll for gals when I lived in santa Monica in the 90s. As you said, it was a "chick magnet." Really a win-win situation for all involved. My neighbor got his dog exercised and I got laid. - darkmoebius

- - Did you get up with fleas? - tinear


Snow shoeing Gold Creek Snow Park. Check out the pictures. - R B

- You best bundle up and keep that beak warm. BWAK! - YECH


Fat guys never get the girls. - John EH

- If you get girls that means they're dead. - YECH

- - Better never run around Asia with me then... I've laid more pipe than Roto Fucking Rooter. - John EH

- - - Since you're fluent in Japanese, I'm sure you can say by now, "But I can always get an erection. I don't understand," in several different Asian languages. - mr grits


Men who do housework may get more sex. - Crimson

- Another lie perpetrated by women. - Mike B.

- - More sex? My god, I'm getting too much already! - Mike K

- - - Self-abuse is not in that category. - mr grits


Nanotechnology is our future! - priya

- You go on telling the ladies that, but they'll keep laughing. - YECH


Mills awarded $48.6M from McCartney. Paul vows to never go down on one knee again. - gme109

- - Yeah, poor Paul couldn't afford a lawyer back in 2002 when he married her. - Ivan303

- - - I doubt that was a reason. More like he was a sucker. - gme109

- - - - Brainwashed by the very same love songs that made him rich. - subdud

- - - - He was thinking with the wrong head. - Jack Seaton


Screw global warming! Why waste the money? We will evolve and adapt to the new climate in no time. - John EH

- - Eh, ever heard of dinosaurs? - cut-throat


Wow! lightning just flashed right in front of me. - LWR

- I once saw thunder explode right in front of me but I'm not sure it wasn't some kind of magic. - sjb

- - Scary. Did you get any "I'm here to protect you" sex? - Jack Seaton

- - - The best "I'm here to protect you" sex I had was after the '89 earthquake. - Jazz Inmate

- - - - You must have been squealing like a pig when he refused to untie you. - jaiva


It's good to hone your one-liners — you never know when you have to tear a rude customer service representative; that snooty waiter; the balding, overweight Caucasian tourist / expatriate with a colonial mentality; his flavor of the month SPG, languishing with a terminal case of the Pinkerton syndrome; or, the pretentious usher (who mangles the name of every play, English or otherwise) on a power trip; a new one.

Daisy, Daisy...

During my stint as a Divemaster and Assistant Scuba Instructor in 1996, the dive shop I was with signed up as an exhibiter; thus, I became involved in the Asian Dive Expo (ADEX). One night, we were picked to host a dinner for one of the guests. Part of the dinner conversation went like this:

GUEST [extending his hand]:  Hi, my name is Arthur. What's yours?

ME:  Ben. A pleasure! How do you find Singapore?

ARTHUR:  Very clean! Very efficient!

ME:  Ah! So, what do you do, Arthur?

ARTHUR:  Oh... I write.

ME:  I see.

Later, we tried (unsuccessfully) to explain the local meaning of sotong to him. He kept protesting that squid and octopi are among the most intelligent marine organisms (and they are!).  :-)

It was only later that I realized who Sir Arthur C. Clarke was. Years later in California, one literature professor nearly suffered a fit when I related this tale to her.  :-P

The following text is by Priya:

Science fiction writer, Arthur C. Clarke, poses at his home in Colombo, Sri Lanka, in this May 9, 2007 file photo. Clarke, the author of more than 100 books, including 2001: A Space Odyssey, died early Wednesday, March 19, 2008 after suffering from breathing problems. He was 90. (AP Photo/Gemunu Amarasinghe)

Dr. Clarke was the Chancellor at the University of Moratuwa where I graduated. I received my Bachelors degree in electrical engineering at a ceremony from Dr. Clarke in 1982. Later, the university built Arthur C. Clarke Center for Advancement of Communications and Internet Protocols.

The following biography was extracted from a Sri Lankan website. I didn't give a link becasue it was way too slow and takes too much time to load.


Arthur C. Clarke, a visionary science fiction writer who won worldwide acclaim with more than 100 books on space, science and the future, died Wednesday in his adopted home of Sri Lanka, an aide said. He was 90.

Clarke, who had battled debilitating post-polio syndrome since the 1960s and sometimes used a wheelchair, died at 1:30 a.m. after suffering breathing problems, aide Rohan De Silva said.

Co-author with Stanley Kubrick of Kubrick's film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Clarke was regarded as far more than a science fiction writer.

He was credited with the concept of communications satellites in 1945, decades before they became a reality. Geosynchronous orbits, which keep satellites in a fixed position relative to the ground, are called Clarke orbits.

He joined American broadcaster Walter Cronkite as commentator on the U.S. Apollo moonshots in the late 1960s.

Clarke's non-fiction volumes on space travel and his explorations of the Great Barrier Reef and Indian Ocean earned him respect in the world of science, and in 1976 he became an honorary fellow of the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics.

But it was his writing that shot him to his greatest fame and that gave him the greatest fulfillment.

"Sometimes I am asked how I would like to be remembered," Clarke said recently. "I have had a diverse career as a writer, underwater explorer and space promoter. Of all these I would like to be remembered as a writer."

From 1950, he began a prolific output of both fiction and non-fiction, sometimes publishing three books in a year. He published his best-selling 3001: The Final Odyssey when he was 79.

Some of his best-known books are Childhood's End (1953), The City and The Stars (1956), The Nine Billion Names of God (1967), Rendezvous with Rama (1973), Imperial Earth (1975), and The Songs of Distant Earth (1986).

When Clarke and Kubrick got together to develop a movie about space, they used as basic ideas several of Clarke's shorter pieces, including "The Sentinel," written in 1948, and "Encounter in the Dawn." As work progressed on the screenplay, Clarke also wrote a novel of the story. He followed it up with 2010: A Space Odyssey, 2061: Odyssey Three, and 3001: The Final Odyssey.

In 1989, two decades after the Apollo 11 moon landings, Clarke wrote:

2001 was written in an age which now lies beyond one of the great divides in human history; we are sundered from it forever by the moment when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin stepped out on to the Sea of Tranquility. Now history and fiction have become inexorably intertwined.

Clarke won the Nebula Award of the Science Fiction Writers of America in 1972, 1974 and 1979; the Hugo Award of the World Science Fiction Convention in 1974 and 1980, and in 1986 became Grand Master of the Science Fiction Writers of America. He was awarded the CBE in 1989.

Born in Minehead, western England, on Dec. 16, 1917, the son of a farmer, Arthur Charles Clark became addicted to science-fiction after buying his first copies of the pulp magazine, "Amazing Stories," at Woolworth's. He devoured English writers, H.G. Wells and Olaf Stapledon and began writing for his school magazine in his teens.

Clarke went to work as a clerk in Her Majesty's Exchequer and Audit Department in London, where he joined the British Interplanetary Society and wrote his first short stories and scientific articles on space travel.

It was not until after the World War II that Clarke received a bachelor of science degree in physics and mathematics from King's College in London.

In the wartime Royal Air Force, he was put in charge of a new radar blind-landing system.

But it was an RAF memo he wrote in 1945 about the future of communications that led him to fame. It was about the possibility of using satellites to revolutionize communications — an idea whose time had decidedly not come.

Clarke later sent it to a publication called Wireless World, which almost rejected it as too far-fetched.

Clarke married in 1953, and was divorced in 1964. He had no children.

Disabled by post-polio syndrome, the lingering effects of a disease that had paralyzed him for two months in 1959, Clarke rarely left his home in the Indian Ocean island of Sri Lanka.

He moved there in 1956, lured by his interest in marine diving which, he said, was as close as he could get to the weightless feeling of space.

"I'm perfectly operational underwater," he once said.

Clarke was linked by his computer with friends and fans around the world, spending each morning answering e-mails and browsing the Internet.

In an interview with The Associated Press, Clarke said he did not regret having never followed his novels into space, adding that he had arranged to have DNA from strands of his hair sent into orbit.

"One day, some super civilization may encounter this relic from the vanished species and I may exist in another time," he said. "Move over, Stephen King."


This is indeed a very sad day and this world will miss him dearly. We are lot poorer today than yesterday. I will cherish my memories about him for the rest of my life.



I’m sometimes asked how I would like to be remembered. I’ve had a diverse career as a writer, underwater explorer, space promoter and science populariser. Of all these, I want to be remembered most as a writer — one who entertained readers, and, hopefully, stretched their imaginations as well.

I find that another English writer — who, coincidentally, also spent most of his life in the East — has expressed it very well. So let me end with these words of Rudyard Kipling:

      If I have given you delight
       By aught that I have done,
       Let me lie quiet in that night
       Which shall be yours anon:
       And for that little, little span
       The dead are borne in mind
       Seek not to question other than
       The books I leave behind.

This is Arthur Clarke, saying thank you and goodbye from Colombo.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

The Second Deadly Sin

Once a month, I indulge in a bowl of laksa. This bowl easily contains in excess of 1000 kilocalories (4200 kilojoules) or half an average adult male's daily energy requirements, but, at 1.87 m (6' 2") and 66 kg (145 lbs), I'd wager that I can afford that.

Tucking in after a 47.4 mile (75.8 km) ride.


Tuesday laughs

Another one:

The train was packed, and a U. S. Marine walked its entire length looking for a seat, but a well-dressed, middle-aged, French woman's poodle took the only seat remaining. The weary Marine asked, "Ma'am, may I have that seat?"

The French woman just sniffed and said to no one in particular, "Americans are so rude. My little Fifi is using that seat."

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was under that dog.

"Please, ma'am. May I sit down? I'm very tired," he beseeched.

She snorted, "Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!"

This time, the Marine didn't say a word; he simply picked up the little dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down.

The woman went hysterical, shrieking, "Someone must defend my honor! Put this American in his place!"

An English gentleman sitting across the aisle spoke up, "Sir, you Americans seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing: you hold the fork in the wrong hand; you drive your vehicles on the wrong side of the road; you pronounce the names of countries you invade the wrong way..."

"And now, my good sir, you threw the wrong bitch out the window."

A Sneg Idet

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Awareness Test

For cell (mobile) phone supporters, try doing this while chatting or texting.

Remember, you may not ride, but chances are, someone you love — a family member, spouse, significant other, child — does.

Related post
Be(a)ware or be roadkill

Someone asked, "Why?"

If my self was my dwelling, then my body resembled an orchard that surrounded it. I could either cultivate that orchard to its capacity or leave it to the weeds to run riot in. . . . One day, it occurred to me to set about cultivating my orchard for all I was worth. For my purpose, I used sun and steel. Unceasing sunlight and implements fashioned of steel became the chief elements in my husbandry. Little by little, the orchard began to bear fruit, and thoughts of the body came to occupy a large part of my consciousness.
         (Yukio Mishima)

That, and he also wrote that a bulging belly is a sign of spiritual sloth.

Some of us endeavor to possess inexhaustible endurance; others, inexhaustible excuses.

Recent experience yet again confirms...

The age of heroics is over.

I should get down to writing that long email I've been meaning to write you.

Saturday, March 08, 2008


The ukelele on Glukoza is just too endearing. 'Live' version here.

'Live' extended version of his cover of George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."

Canon in D major on the gayageum.

Friday, March 07, 2008

The Scorpion and the Frog

In what has to be one of the least expected publications of the prestigious Princeton University Press, renowned moral philosopher Harry G. Frankfurt in 2005 came out with a little gem called On Bullshit. It’s a quick read—even an edifying one—and among the nuggets of wisdom is the following, which typifies the book’s delightful blend of highfalutin academic prose and outrageous subject matter: “The realms of advertising and of public relations, and the nowadays closely related realm of politics, are replete with instances of bullshit so unmitigated that they can serve among the most indisputable and classic paradigms of the concept. And in these realms there are exquisitely sophisticated craftsmen who—with the help of advanced and demanding techniques of market research, of public opinion polling, of psychological testing, and so forth—dedicate themselves tirelessly to getting every word and image they produce exactly right” (22-23). Perhaps it’s not that surprising that this comes from a moral philosopher, since he seems, at heart, irritated by the irresponsible use of words that he sees all around him in American society: words, words, words, all carefully chosen by very-well-educated and highly-paid graduates of very good schools: and to what ends? Thus, the focus on pulling the-wool-over-the-reader’s-eyes and concealing one’s ignorance of a topic or, worse, coercing a particular activity from readers by massaging truths into something a bit less nuanced than Truth, presents itself here as a moral question, one that alumni with an interest in English have no doubt grappled with on many occasions: now that I can express myself, is that really what I’m expressing? Am I, like T. S. Eliot’s Prufrock, in the business of preparing a face to meet the faces that I will meet on any given day? Have I given up on asking the “overwhelming question” that life can force upon the thinking individual? Or have I committed myself to making a difference in a world of great injustice. In other words: what have I decided to use my expressive skills for?

Penned by my advisor in a quarterly publication, the questions in the quote above have been resonating within my head for the greater part of the year. Oh, in the beginning, I was young and naive — even pompous — deigning myself one to clear the cobwebs from the minds of the muddled masses and enlighten them through force of expression and clarity, sincerity and passion, even compassion. Then, sadly, I realized that many people do not wish to be enlightened — to be woken up. Happiness — or rather, the futile pursuit of — makes do.

Many people would sooner die than think; in fact, they do so.
         (Bertrand Russell)

An acquaintance of mine has this for his signature line:

People do not change when they are offered a better option. They change when there is no other option.

I am not sure if I disagree.

What's left then is to profit from these fools. Profit how? Profit by "pulling-the-wool-over-the-reader's-eyes and concealing one's ignorance of the topic" like the example below?

In Ayurveda, the body is seen as a single integrated system in which all the parts work in tandem to create balance and health. The body’s ability to heal itself is its most significant quality, with healing defined as the process of the body returning to its natural functions. According to Ayurveda, the smooth operation of these functions forms the pillars of good health: effortless menstruation, regular elimination, restful sleep, and strong digestion.

Digestion plays a crucial role in healing, because our physiology depends on digestion for constant renewal. A holistic interpretation of digestion is to see it as the means of extracting intelligence from food and then processing it in a way that supports the inherent wisdom of the body as a whole.

[ . . . ]

9. Don’t eat until your previous meal has been digested.
Eating only when your stomach is calling for more requires a high level of body consciousness. For most people, complete digestion takes from three to six hours. If you have to snack, keep it simple—a piece of fruit or a warm beverage.

10. Favor meals made with freshly cooked foods.
Fresh foods are intelligent foods and contain the greatest life force. A delicious, freshly prepared meal stimulates the appetite and gets the secretion of digestive enzymes going even before you start to eat.

Or lending my quill to shady enterprises such as MLMs, writing gobbledygook to ensnare the greedy, and trick the stupid?

But, as my friends will (readily) attest, I hardly ever do things for money. I do things because I want to, or feel like it. Hence, I write to bash, and to stir; stir things up; stir people up; stir sh*t up (though, very rarely, for a chosen few, to comfort and inspire). Another reason why critics such as Bike Snob NYC and Iowahawk, with their sulphurous confluences of wit and vitriol, hold my ardent admiration:

[Bike Snob NYC's comments are in red]

Monday: You were riding your bike and stopped me to say "Hi" - w4m (East Village)
[original URL:]
Reply to: [deleted]
Date: 2008-02-27, 10:30PM EST

at the corner of 2nd Ave & 7th St. You asked me about my day. I was a little spaced out. Maybe we could talk some more sometime?

Sorry, life does not offer second chances. Unless your name is Mario Cipollini. But even then they rarely work out. It’s kind of like wrapping bar tape: you get one shot at perfection, and every time you unwind and re-wrap things just get messier and messier. Considering that this guy rides around town trying to pick up strangers, chances are he’s probably gone and wrapped his sticky underside around someone else by now. Let him go and look for a new roll.

Sheriff of Nottingham's Daughter - m4w (Chelsea)
[original URL:]
Reply to: [deleted]
Date: 2008-02-24, 11:53PM EST

I was walking West on 23rd Saturday night with my weary Portuguese friend with an empty propane tank on the front rack of my Swedish military bike.

You were charming and on a hopeless search for wine with your friend.

Anyway, I realized we rudely neglected to invite you both to the BBQ when it gets warmer.

"If you couldn’t tell from reading my post, every single aspect of my life is contrived and pretentious. In addition to having a weary Portuguese friend and a Swedish military bike, I prepare my coffee in a French press, relieve myself in a Turkish toilet, wear a West Papuan penis gourd in warm weather, and have an unpronounceable sexually transmitted disease with an indeterminate country of origin. Because having a Portuguese friend is not as charming and whimsical as having a weary Portuguese friend, I make sure he stays weary by arranging inconveniently early dim sum breakfasts, challenging him to regular squash games, and placing phone calls to him in the middle of the night. I do hope you will attend our BBQ this summer, which promises to be well-attended by weary people of various nationalities, all wearing penis gourds, sipping mojitos, and discussing the arts, exotic locales, and vital issues of the day.”

Speaking of bashing, one of my previous victims* has turned basher / stirrer herself:

I make fun of everyone - that’s my thing. Women, men, lesbians, gay men, Indians, attached people, single people, Chinese, Christians, dogs, bisexuals, law students, lawyers, homophobes, gay activists, judges, fundamentalists, anyone you can think of...

Inferno Ed is going to buy me a beer for having achieved this seemingly impossible feat. I always thought I was Mr. Thomas A. Anderson. It turns out that I'm Agent Smith instead. I don't know whether to be pleased, or feel insulted.

So, there you go. The honest truth. I love to write. I love to bash. I love to stir. And, I deeply admire individuals who are masters of all three.


Some people write to please, to soothe, to console. Others to provoke, to challenge, to exasperate and infuriate. I've always found the second approach the more pleasing.
         (Edward Abbey)

* = If any of you haven't figured it out by now, the debate over Section 377A of the Penal Code served to distract the general public from a fundamentally more important — and immediate — issue: the passing and implementation of the compulsory CPF Annuity scheme.

What percentage of the population examined the pros and cons of the CPF Annuity scheme while the debate over the attempted repeal of Section 377A raged on?

The same goes for the alleged escape of one Mas Selamat Kastari. Note the timing of the incident with the revelation of the wide gap between the Singapore government's projected $0.7 billion deficit and the actual $6.45 billion surplus. Rather curious, isn't it?

How many individuals clamored for the 2% GST hike to be reprieved in light of the $7.15 billion budget underforecast while the hunt for Mas Selamat Kastari goes on?

As Mr Brown observed, the lackadaisical manner in which details regarding the suspect were released renders this curious event even more curious:

we seem to be living in some time warp when it comes to this escape. Let's see:

1. The public knows about the escape only 4 hours later.

2. First you tell us limping, then days later, you tell us only if he runs.

3. We find out what he WAS wearing that day he escaped, after 6 days. And we are asked to look for his discarded clothes.

Maybe in next few days, they will let us know what colour Hello Kitty underwear he was wearing.

Anyone remember Wag the Dog?

Well, this is the cheap-ass, adulterated, Singapore version, folks.

Coming up early next week, the authorities reveal the tool with which Mas Selamat Kastari made his daring getaway with:

A 14-cm long Hello Kitty vibrator made of high strength ABS plastic.

Related post
Rescue me

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

In Memoriam

Dungeons & Dragons co-creator dies at 69

By Emily Fredrix
Associated Press
March 4, 2008

MILWAUKEE - Gary Gygax, who co-created the fantasy game Dungeons & Dragons and helped start the role-playing phenomenon, died Tuesday morning at his home in Lake Geneva. He was 69.

He had been suffering from health problems for several years, including an abdominal aneurysm, said his wife, Gail Gygax.

Gygax and Dave Arneson developed Dungeons & Dragons in 1974 using medieval characters and mythical creatures. The game known for its oddly shaped dice became a hit, particularly among teenage boys, and eventually was turned into video games, books and movies.

Gygax always enjoyed hearing from the game's legion of devoted fans, many of whom would stop by the family's home in Lake Geneva, about 55 miles southwest of Milwaukee, his wife said. Despite his declining health, he hosted weekly games of Dungeons & Dragons as recently as January, she said.

"It really meant a lot to him to hear from people from over the years about how he helped them become a doctor, a lawyer, a policeman, what he gave them," Gail Gygax said. "He really enjoyed that."

Dungeons & Dragons players create fictional characters and carry out their adventures with the help of complicated rules. The quintessential geek pastime, it spawned a wealth of copycat games and later inspired a whole genre of computer games that's still growing in popularity.

Born Ernest Gary Gygax, he grew up in Chicago and moved to Lake Geneva at the age of 8. Gygax's father, a Swiss immigrant who played violin in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, read fantasy books to his only son and hooked him on the genre, Gail Gygax said.

Gygax dropped out of high school but took anthropology classes at the University of Chicago for a while, she said. He was working as an insurance underwriter in the 1960s, when he began playing war-themed board games.

But Gygax wanted to create a game that involved more fantasy. To free up time to work on that, he left the insurance business and became a shoe repairman, she said.

Gygax also was a prolific writer and wrote dozens of fantasy books, including the Greyhawk series of adventure novels.

Gary Sandelin, 32, a Manhattan attorney, said his weekly Dungeons & Dragons game will be a bit sadder on Wednesday night because of Gygax's passing. The beauty of the game is that it's never quite the same, he said.

Funeral arrangements are pending. Besides his wife, Gygax is survived by six children.


From 1984 to 1987, Mr E and I used to engage in D&D every school day.

Try to imagine the look on your Primary 3 teacher's face when you use the word, "ambidextrous," in class.

       Permanent injuries:  fried balls.

Enough said.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Growing Up

Happy Monday, everyone!