Sandbox

WTF or FAIL Ad

2010-03-21T01:01:00.002+08:00

I've seen plenty of advertisements that fail, but this one takes the cake:

As seen on YourTango.com.

I don't know what the ~~PRCs~~ gold-diggers might be thinking, but when I see this...

...it makes me think of this.

Heeere's Johnny!

A Year in the Rockies

2010-03-16T16:44:00.002+08:00

An art project by Dan Hudson.

Ignorance is bliss Part II

2010-03-01T14:18:00.003+08:00

A blurb here.

* Do you find this post offensive? Please ~~feel~~ fill in this form and we will get back to you as soon as we feel like it.

Related post
Ignorance is bliss

February 8th

2010-02-25T01:06:00.004+08:00

...and the 4th.

:-)

More personality quiz results

2010-02-23T21:28:00.000+08:00

From zeenie:

Your personality type: Analytical Thinker

Logical, original, creative thinkers. Can become very excited about theories and ideas. Exceptionally capable and driven to turn theories into clear understandings. Highly value knowledge, competence and logic. Quiet and reserved, hard to get to know well. Individualistic, having no interest in leading or following others. Highly analytical, they can discover connections between two seemingly unrelated things and work best when allowed to use their imagination and critical thinking.

Careers that could fit you include:

Physicists, chemists, biologists, photographers, strategic planners, mathematicians, university professors, computer programmers, computer animators, technical writers, engineers, lawyers, forensic researchers, writers, artists, psychologists, social scientists, systems analysts, researchers, surveyors.

Take the quiz here.

The next quiz is interesting as it totally relies on color and order:

Best Occupational Category

Organizer

Keywords

Self-Control, Practical, Self-Contained, Orderly, Systematic, Precise, and Accurate

These conservative appearing, plotting-types enjoy organizing, data systems, accounting, detail, and accuracy. They often enjoy mathematics and data management activities such as accounting and investment management. Persistence and patience allows them to do detailed paperwork, operate office machines, write business reports, and make charts and graphs.

ORGANIZER CAREERS

Suggested careers are Administrator, Secretary, Printer, Paralegal, Building Inspector, Bank Cashier, Private Secretary, Statistician, Operations Manager, Financial Analyst, Bookkeeper, Medical Records Technician, Developer of Business or Computer Systems, Clerical Worker, Proofreader, Accountant, Administrative Assistant, Banker, Certified Public Accountant, Credit Manager, Store Salesperson, Actuary, Dental Assistant, Business Education Teacher, Food Service Manager, IRS Agent, Budget Analyst, and Underwriter.

ORGANIZER WORKPLACES

Your very careful, conscientious, conservative nature gives others the confidence to trust you with handling money and material possessions. Structured organizations that have well-ordered chains of command work best for you.

Suggested Organizer workplaces are large corporations, business offices, financial lending institutions, banks, insurance companies, accounting firms, and quality control and inspection departments.

2nd Best Occupational Category

DOER

Keywords

Emotionally Stable, Reliable, High Energy, Practical, Thrifty, and Persistent

These adventurous types prefer action-oriented, concrete problems rather than dealing with thought-provoking, ambiguous, abstract dilemmas. Fields of interest include mechanical, construction, and outdoor careers. They might also enjoy working with machines, tools, and equipment to repair or build something.

Take this interesting color quiz here.

TGIF reading

2010-02-19T15:01:00.002+08:00

For the Feelies:

All You Need Is... A Slap

James Heitz Jackson
28 January, 2010

“Make a child smile—kill a counselor.”

A passable joke and an admirable sentiment. Face it, a kid cannot even fart these days without being offered counseling or Ritalin. We are enfeebled by prevailing victim culture, brought low by its burgeoning support industry of hand-holders and quack fixes; we are considered remarkable—borderline freakish—should we actually manage to cope.

The price paid for the bullshit peddled is high. Dignity is replaced by dependency, reserve by emotional incontinence; humor has given over to grim earnestness, stoicism and grit to flaccid self-pity. To ‘have issues’ is to be interesting (it used to be called flakey), to be ‘troubled’ is now the default excuse for any who intend to behave like an asshole. And happiness and contentment are nowhere.

[ . . . ]

People are no longer told it is their fault, their actions that cause the effects. Their flaws and failings, their weakness and absurdity, even their criminality, can be excused and explained. The liberal-left and its psycho-twaddle franchise hold out the apparent answer. Everything is a condition or disorder, an illness or syndrome, an addiction or compulsion; everything can be blamed on someone or something else, on the system or situation, on society, on discrimination, on your vulnerabilities, on your not being breast-fed, on your mother preferring your sister, on your being undervalued and a third sibling or having attention-deficit or low self-esteem. Hell, it might even be ME. Blah, blah, blah. Grow a spine.

Our sense of wellbeing and our very souls—our capacity to accept reality and see the truth—are corrupted by this bullshit. Individual responsibility is abrogated and elsewhere, proportion and perspective are dropped. Look at those who wailed and screamed along the funeral route of Princess Diana—a woman they did not know—while her own young sons walked behind the cortege and showed heroic self-control. It should be obvious which form of behavior was the more laudable. Yet by her own deeds, Diana reflected and legitimized an approach to life that says it is okay not to think or to know anything just so long as you Feel. A popular belief and one that infects all walks of life. Consider the contemporary art scene. Forget skill and draftsmanship—simply vomit out your inner angst. It is all so self-indulgent.

They now teach ‘happiness’ classes at my old school. God help us (or at least preserve us from this faux-empowerment claptrap). I’m beautiful, I’m special, I’m talented, I’m worth it, I’m unique…They are in for a rude shock. What should be taught is expectation management, that success and disappointment are part of the whole, that rigor and toil and excellence are the stuff of fulfillment, that no one escapes pain and loss and setback (and nor should they). We develop best when we push against adversity or resistance. Conversely, we collapse fastest when things become too easy and we grow too soft. Crap happens and happiness is not a right. That is the human condition and what our youngsters are not told.

Ultimately—however much we believe ourselves special—we are still each of us the ant pushing uphill a grain of salt before the boiling water of eternity washes us away. Accept it. At that fateful hour, the fripperies and foibles, the neuroses, hang-ups, envy and pride, the hours spent blaming and complaining, will mean nothing. Family, friends, flowers and a little faith are all that count. So be grateful and be joyous. Take life on the chin, stare death in the eye, and laugh. For you are blessed. And get up off your knees.

Survival of the Fattest

James Heitz Jackson
15 February, 2010

A process of reverse evolution is in train. It is no longer the fittest or the brightest, the fastest or the best, who survive and thrive in our contemporary jungle. It is the moronic and the bovine, the fattest and the least productive, who are cosseted and subsidized and excused their behavior. Because of it, they breed. After all, sex is free and the State will ever pick up the pieces.

[ . . . ]

Look closer and you will find that poverty is more often than not a matter of prioritization for those apparently caught in its maw. I long to hear a politician ask the question: If you have so little money, what on earth persuaded you to have five children? Why at Christmas do you purchase the latest consumer durables, computer-games and plasma-screen televisions and yet baulk at spending on private health insurance? How come you are so fat when fruit and vegetables are cheaply available? It will not happen. For we have infantilized the populace, stripping the underclass of pride, motivation, and personal responsibility and instead awarding it rights and benefits.

In the liberal-left world of the welfare state, everything is a condition, an illness, a fault of someone else. Even obesity is to be blamed on rogue genes, thyroid-malfunction or the antics of food manufacturers rather than on the sloth and greed of individuals. People forget the mouth is generally larger than the anus and thus cram it with more food. They have been allowed to forget.

:-)

2010-02-14T17:10:00.001+08:00

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.

(Mawlānā Jalāl-ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī)

I Smell Fear, or, Where is your God now?

2010-02-13T05:18:00.007+08:00

       Watch them frantically backpedal.

       Quod erat dēmōnstrandum.

       And He saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?

Ah! Ego, ego, ergo

2010-02-12T15:55:00.001+08:00

I think unless one hears a little squeal of pain after one's done some writing, one has not really done much.

(Sir Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul )

A million and one kisses

2010-02-08T23:59:00.001+08:00

Solemn High Mass Extraordinary Form of The Roman Rite at Mission Santa Clara de Asis

2010-02-02T15:08:00.000+08:00

Almost a year ago, someone (santamargaritamaria) was nice enough to record this celebration by Monsignor Rudolf Michael Schmitz, Vicar General, Provincial Superior for the United States of America, Institutum Christi Regis Summi Sacerdotis, at my university's mission church:

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3. The microphone is a trifle too loud here.

Part 4.

Part 5.

It's such a world of difference from the 10 PM mass for students during the academic year :-)

On finding The Happy

2010-01-29T23:49:00.008+08:00

It is missing home: warm glow from towering candles at the altar, soot trails, twirly, twisty, steadily rising; chandeliers nodding sentinel overhead; earth-hued stucco walls softening long shadows draped across private alcoves; icons alive in shifting chiaroscuro; loss of self, melded in chorus, soaring into the night, through rafters, out windows, onto streets, filling worlds, filling souls; warm, tactile wood, grain worn smooth under skin; breath redolent of incense and myrrh; a voice confident, comforting, proclaiming, promising, echoing the same eternal promise; unshakeable, ever renewing, always reaffirming faith — and finding you beside me.

It is the long bus journey home, where, after an eternity of waiting and more jostling, having found a seat, you sat, head bowed, fatigued, drifting in and out of sleep, your pink and turquoise glasses framed by your lively crimson and jet black fringe. I stood watch over you, my world distilled to a right palm over the nape of your neck: breathing in tune to yours, kneading each tender knot of your hectic week away, forestalling every bump and jerk, transcending time, memory and place, as we lurch and bump on an expressway filled with nameless, impassive faces racing on their ritual Friday night journeys to nowhere.

It is our long rides in the quiet night; the cool, wee hours of the morning; roads damp after misty dawn; or, dusty and gravelly, tires crunching on pebbles popping, under a midday sun blazing; with every passing car or truck raising my hair, racing my pulse, because, because I'm terrified of anything bad ever happening to you; any hurt coming your way; of you taken away.

It is the mute awe, pride, and respect I bear as you grind up hill after hill after hill, sans toe-clips, sans clipless pedals, sans cycling shoes, sans grimace, sans complaint.

It is the wag of a furry tail as dogs eagerly approach us, friendly and confident of a reception of oos and ahhs — a flurry of pets on the head; a scratch behind the ear; tummy rubs; coos to doggy licks and cold noses; love reflected into their eyes — intuitively sensing a pair of irrepressible dog-lovers.

The inexplicable, ineffable manner with which you bring out my better side (despite the irascible troll in me).

The comfortable silences that have only just began.

Your softness.

Peals of your girlish laughter, coasting downhill in the crisp, Sunday morning breeze.

Your scent... and this breathless longing.

Stay a while?

Paen

2010-01-21T23:45:00.002+08:00

Pain is a big fat creature riding on your back. The farther you pedal, the heavier he feels. The harder you push, the tighter he squeezes your chest. The steeper the climb, the deeper he digs his jagged, sharp claws into your muscles.

       (Scott Martin)

I usually don't post stuff like this (let alone double post), but I love it when I begin a ride in high spirits.

Here's an internal soundtrack running through my head as I embark on yet another 109.44 km (68.4 miles) non-stop, solo ride around (most of) the island.

       15 minutes to the witching hour.

       Hello, Pain!

:-D

Ignorance is bliss

2010-01-20T14:12:00.000+08:00

We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.

(Benjamin Franklin)

'Walked past some contractors after lunch. 'Saw a rather familiar looking tool sticking out of a pile of debris. 'Asked the contractor if he still wants it.

"Oh, it's broken. Bent. Not accurate anymore," he said.

Fine. I brought it home.

What is it?

A Sears Craftsman 1/2" drive, 0-150 lbs ft. lb. (0-203 Nm) torque wrench.

As opposed to a click-type, the beam-type can be easily re-calibrated by the end-user. I.e. one second spent bending the indicator arm back to zero... and, it's as good as new! That, and these things are guaranteed for life. (Yes, some of us do read the fine print.)

Well, it's mine now.

It makes a fine complement to my Park Tools TW-1 1/4" drive, 0-60 inch pounds (0-7 Nm) and TW-2 3/8" drive, 0-600 inch pounds (0-70 Nm) torque wrenches. ~~I am still looking for the late Sheldon Brown's elusive Tork-Grip Ultimate Torque Wrench.~~

So, remember, kids! If you get a flat on your bike, the bike's useless. (The same goes for your car.) Give it to me and I will dispose of it for you!

:-P

Fly the friendly... err... airy skies!

2010-01-14T21:35:00.004+08:00

*Click!*

Back to school

2010-01-12T00:12:00.000+08:00

New Year's Resolution

2010-01-02T01:44:00.004+08:00

For 2010, I will troll more and troll harder.

Be warned.
Be prepared.
Be scared.

Most of all, be angry. Please be very angry.
It will just make my victories all the sweeter.

:-D

:-P

Lean, or, apropos the festive season

2009-12-27T21:19:00.002+08:00

Thanks to this stupid Nigerian, from now on, whenever I reach into my pants to re-adjust Johnny during a flight, I have to worry about being jumped, beaten, and have the fire extinguisher blasted at me.

Ben doesn't eat.

Lunch after a 67.1-mile (107.4 km) non-stop ride with 1400 ft of climbing.

(Yes, lunch at 9:19 PM. My meal times have a +/- flexibility of 8 hours.)

64.1 kg (141 lbs)
Current BMI (64.1 kg / 1.87² m) = 18.33

For what it is worth, Reinhold Messner and his brother, Günther, trained themselves to climb for days on mountains with half rations or no food at all.

I was much heavier twice in my life.
Here's 1993.
80 kg (176 lbs)
BMI (80 kg / 1.87² m) = 22.88

And here's 2003.
80 kg (176 lbs)
BMI (80 kg / 1.87² m) = 22.88

It took 6 full meals a day to maintain that level of weight. So much time was spent eating. I didn't like it.

Lean is better.

Here's me after a 1021.6 km tour. (Another pic here.)
The bike behind me weighs 45 kg.
60 kg (132 lbs)
BMI (60 kg / 1.87² m) = 17.6

And this is after a 411.5 km off-road tour.
The bike and trailer behind weigh more than me.
60 kg (132 lbs)
BMI (60 kg / 1.87² m) = 17.6

Lean really is better: I got more done. Besides, sandbagging unsuspecting people is hella fun :-P

Check out another lean dude here.

For those who continue to insist that ~~big is beautiful~~ bigger is better, the last image is for you:

I didn't sign up for a Duathlon

2009-12-26T02:41:00.002+08:00

Generally speaking, comedy thrives in times of despair.

(Michael Palin, veteran of Monty Python)

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T17:45:00.001+08:00

Since I won't be able to get into the overcrowded churches tonight — packed to the brim with, you know? The kind of Catholics only slightly better than than what the Jesuit Fathers call, "The 3-Bs Catholics." I.e. the kind who only attend church 3 times: Born, Bonded, and Buried — I am riding to mass tonight.

At least that means I can eat as much as I want without guilt — or gout.

*click!*

In the Garden of Eden

2009-12-19T23:40:00.002+08:00

'Went for Season's Pipings at Barker Road Methodist Church yesterday evening. At a number of instances, it got me thinking of The Simpsons episode, "Bart Sells His Soul," where he switches out the scores for Iron Butterfly's "In a Gadda Da Vida."

:-P

Avatar: Braveheart on Another Planet

2009-12-18T01:43:00.005+08:00

'Just watched James Cameron's Avatar.

Initial impressions

The special effects are wonderful to behold, but it's the even more wonderful ironies that I appreciate more:

The film was conceived, shot, and/or produced in America and New Zealand: 2 countries where an alien race / culture colonized, driven out or subjugated the indigenous race / culture;

The people / culture / race that's profiteering off this film (about colonizers and imperialism) are descendants or socio-historical beneficiaries of such colonialism / imperialism.

The film also re-affirms my view that some liberals out there like to take on or borrow the mantle of others' oppression as a license to feel indignant — and either profit from it, restrict the freedom of others with it, or engage in ultimately self-serving, self-glorifying, pseudo-intellectual, tautalogical acts of punitive pedagogy with it.

Jake Sully returning on the back of a Leonopteryx (a red dragon-like-creature), as the newly crowned leader of the Na'vi (i.e. "Blue Monkeys") to rouse the natives to fight against the evil imperialists is nothing but a CGI rehash of Tom Cruise in his red samurai armor leading the charge in "The Last Samurai."

And, oh yes, Jake, like Tom, got a bit of native "tail" on his extra-terrestrial safari as well. Damn! I guess there are SPGs in every country, continent, island, city, and planet, eh?

Don't miss Armond White's review, "Blue In the Face."

Blaming "The White Man" is so passé, Mr Cameron. May I suggest a new meme: "Blame the Bankers"? Hell, toss them to the bottom of the ocean along with the lawyers. (Then you can film The Abyss 2: The Dead Rejected, where the ocean hurls forth their carcasses back on land.)

Dissonance

2009-12-17T06:24:00.005+08:00

Giving Thanks

2009-12-16T03:46:00.001+08:00

Some People Have It Worse Than Me

Well, I wake up in the morning at 11:47
And I can't believe I have to face the horror of another fucking day
And the magnificent magnitude of my morning erection
Merely mocks me like the sun in it's optimistic greeting of the day
Managing to manifest a modicum of motivation
I meander to the kitchen make a mission out of mixing Nescafé
But the milk is going off and coffee by itself is bitter
And there's ants all through the sugar and the supermarket's miles a-fucking-way

My life is pretty sad!
But I know that I should be glad
I could be a starving Ethiope
Or a policeman in Baghdad
Policeman in Baghdad!
Baghdad!

At 11:53, I instigate the day's ablutions
In the hope my constitution can be altered by some action on the bowl
But the total non-existence of colonic animation
Seems to me the perfect metaphor for the utter constipation of my soul
By 11:59, I have decided that my life would be immediately improved
By a carefully written list of short-term goals
But by 12 o'clock, my list consists of, one-dot: put some pants on
Two-dot: go to the shop, buy some prunes and Panadol

My life is pretty shit!
But I know I shouldn't whinge about it
I could be a Palestinian
Driving buses on the Gaza strip

Yeah, how bad can it be?
Some people have it worse than me
I could be an Ipswich prostitute
Or Gary Glitter's family

I have no right to cry
Some people have it worse than I
I could be a thalidomide kid
With something in my eye
Something in my eye!
My eye!

At 12:30, I realise I'm feeling so dejected
That I've totally neglected the beginning of the Jerry Springer show
So I settle on the sofa try to focus an iota of my motor-neurons
On the brilliant insights for which Jerry is known
And although on any other day a show entitled "Midgets, Midgets, Midgets"
Would excite me like a virgin at her year eleven ball
Today, those little jelly-wresting fellas fail to free me of my misery
Instead they simply serve to make me feel three-foot tall

But how bad can it be?
Some people have it worse than me
I could be a junior lifesaver on the Banda Aceh beach
Or a woman in Afghanistan
Or a jew in the Ku Klux Klan
Or the architect of the World Trade Centre
Or a bobcat driver in Bam, Iran

I could have my identity mistaken
As a bomber in an underground station
I could be a peace-loving speech-writer
In George W's administration

Yeah, I know that I don't have the right
To be unhappy with my life
I could be Hitler's mother
Or Shane Warne's wife

Yeah, I know that I shouldn't be bitchin'
I could be in a worse position
I could be a 3-nippled naturopath
In the days of the Spanish, the Spanish inquisition

I know I have no right, no right to cry
Some people have it much, much worse than I
I could have a serious nut allergy
And be shipwrecked on an island with a crate of Snickers bars,
A jar of Nutella and a fresh baked pecan pie!!!
Some people have it worse than I!

(Tim Minchin)

A taste for irony has kept more hearts from breaking than a sense of humor, for it takes irony to appreciate the joke which is on oneself.

(Jessamyn West)

9-minute beat(ing)

2009-12-14T18:59:00.003+08:00

For the video of Tim Minchin's performance, head on over to Balderdash :-D

Storm

In a North London, top-floor flat,
All white walls, white carpet, white cat,
Rice paper partitions,
Modern art and ambition.
The host’s a physician,
Bright bloke, has his own practice,
His girlfriend’s an actress,
An old mate of ours from home,
And they’re always great fun.
So to dinner we’ve come.

The 5th guest is an unknown.
The hosts have just thrown
Us together for a favour,
Because this girl’s just arrived from Australia,
And she's moved to North London,
And she’s the sister of someone,
Or has some connection.

As we make introductions
I’m struck by her beauty.
She’s irrefutably fair,
With dark eyes and dark hair...
But as she sits
I admit I’m a little bit wary,
Because I notice the tip of the wing of a fairy
Tattooed on that popular area
Just above the derrière.
And when she says: “I’m Sagittarian,”
I confess a pigeonhole starts to form
And is immediately filled with pigeon,
When she says her name is Storm.

Conversation is initially bright and light hearted,
But it’s not long before Storm gets started:
“You can’t know anything,
Knowledge is merely opinion,”
She opines, over her Cabernet Sauvignon,
Vis-a-vis,
Some unhippily
Empirical comment made by me...

“Not a good start,” I think.
We’re only on pre-dinner drinks,
And across the room, my wife
Widens her eyes,
Silently begs me: 'Be nice.'
A matrimonial warning,
Not worth ignoring.
So I resist the urge to ask Storm
Whether knowledge is so loose-weave,
Of a morning,
When deciding whether to leave
Her apartment by the front door...
Or the window on her second floor.

The food is delicious and Storm,
Whilst avoiding all meat,
Happily sits and eats
As the good doctor, slightly pissedly,
Holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history,
When Storm suddenly insists:
“But the human body is a mystery!
Science just falls in a hole
When it tries to explain the the nature of the soul.”

My hostess throws me a glance.
She, like my wife, knows there’s a chance
I’ll be off on one of my rare, but fun rants.
But I shan't, my lips are sealed.
I just want to enjoy the meal.
And although Storm is starting to get my goat,
I have no intention of rocking the boat,
Although it’s becoming a bit of a wrestle
Because, like her meteorological namesake,
Storm has no such concerns for our vessel:

“Pharmaceutical companies are the enemy.
They promote drug dependency
At the cost of the natural remedies
That are all our bodies need;
They are immoral and driven by greed.
Why take drugs
When herbs can solve it?
Why use chemicals
When homeopathic solvents
Can resolve it?
I think it’s time we all return to live
With natural medical alternatives.”

And try as I like,
A small crack appears
In my diplomacy dike.
“By definition,” I begin,
“Alternative medicine,” I continue,
“Has either not been proved to work,
Or been proved not to work.
Do you know what they call 'alternative medicine'
That’s been proved to work?
Medicine.”

“So you don’t believe
In any natural remedies?”

“On the contrary, Storm, actually,
Before we came to tea,
I took a natural remedy
Derived from the bark of a willow tree.
A painkiller, virtually side-effect free,
It’s got a weird name:
Darling, what was it again?
Ma- ma- maspirin?
Baspirin?
Oh yeah: aspirin!
Which I paid about a buck for
Down at the local drugstore."

The debate briefly abates
As my hosts collect plates,
but as they return with dessert,
Storm pertly asserts:

“Shakespeare said it first:
There are more things in heaven and earth
Than exist in your philosophy…
Science is just how we’re trained to look at reality,
It doesn't explain love, or spirituality.
How does science explain psychics?
Auras; the afterlife; the power of prayer?”

I’m becoming aware
That I’m staring,
I’m like a rabbit suddenly trapped
In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
Maybe it’s the Hamlet she just misquothed,
Or the sixth glass of wine I just quaffed,
But my diplomacy dike groans,
And the arsehole held back by its stones
Can be held back no more:

“Look, er, Storm, sorry, I don’t mean to bore you,
But there’s no such thing as an aura,
Reading auras is like reading minds,
Or tea-leaves, or star signs, or meridian lines...
These people aren’t plying a skill,
They are either lying, or mentally ill.
Same goes for people who claim to hear God’s demands,
And spiritual healers who think they've got magic hands.

By the way,
Why do we think it's okay
For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
Isn't that totally fucked in the head?
Lying to some crying woman whose child has died
And telling her you’re in touch with the other side?
That’s just fundamentally sick.
Do we need to clarify here that there’s no such thing as a psychic?
What, are we fucking two (years old)?
Do we actually think that Horton Heard a Who?
Do we still believe that Santa brings us gifts?
That Michael Jackson didn't have facelifts?
Are we still so stunned by circus tricks
That we think the dead would
Wanna talk to pricks like John Edward?

Storm, to her credit, despite my derision,
Keeps firing off clichés with startling precision,
Like a sniper using bollocks for ammunition.

“You’re so sure of your position
That you’re just closed-minded.
I think you’ll find
Your faith in science and tests
Is just as blind
As the faith of any fundamentalist."

“Well that’s a good point, let me think for a bit...
Oh wait, my mistake, that's absolute bullshit.

Science adjusts its views based on what’s observed,
Faith is the denial of observation,
So that belief can be preserved.
If you show me
That, say, homeopathy works,
Then I will change my mind,
I will spin on a fucking dime,
I'll be as embarrassed as hell,
But I will run through the streets yelling:
It’s a miracle!
Take physics and bin it!
Water has memory!
And whilst its memory of a long lost drop of onion juice seems infinite,
It somehow forgets all the poo it’s had in it!

You show me that it works and how it works,
And when I’ve recovered from the shock,
I will take a compass and carve: 'Fancy that!' on the side of my cock."

Everyone is just staring now,
But I’m pretty pissed and I’ve dug this far down,
So I figure... in for a penny, in for a pound!

“Life is full of mystery, yeah,
But there are answers out there,
And they won’t be found
By people sitting around
Looking serious and saying:
'Isn’t life mysterious!'
Let’s sit here and hope,
Let’s call up the fucking Pope,
Let’s go watch Oprah
Interview Deepak Chopra...

If you must watch telly, you should watch Scooby Doo.
That show was so cool...
Because every time there was a church with a ghoul,
Or a ghost in a school,
They looked beneath the mask, and what was inside?
The fucking janitor or the dude who ran the water slide!

Because throughout history,
Every mystery ever solved,
Has turned out to be...
Not magic!

Does the idea that there might be knowledge,
Frighten you?
Does the idea that one afternoon
On Wiki-fucking-pedia might enlighten you,
Frighten you?
Does the notion that there may not be a supernatural
So blow your hippy noodle
That you'd rather just stand in the fog
Of your inability to Google?

Isn’t this enough?

Just this world?
Just this.. beautiful, complex...
Wonderfully unfathomable... natural world?
How does it so fail to hold our attention
That we have to diminish it with the invention
Of cheap, man-made myths and monsters?

If you’re so into your Shakespeare,
Lend me your ear:
“To gild refined gold,
To paint the lily,
To throw perfume on the violet…
is just fucking silly."

Or something like that.

Or what about Satchmo?
"I see trees of green,
Red roses too... "

And fine, if you wish to
Glorify Krishna and Vishnu
In a post-colonial, condescending,
Bottled-up-and-labeled kind of way,
Then whatever, that’s okay.
But here’s what gives me a hard-on:
I am a tiny, insignificant, ignorant bit of carbon.
I have one life, and it is short
And unimportant…
But thanks to recent scientific advances,
I get to live twice as long
As my great great great great uncleses and auntses.

Twice as long to live this life of mine.
Twice as long to love this wife of mine.
Twice as many years of friends and wine,
Of sharing curries and getting shitty,
At good-looking hippies
With fairies on their spines
And butterflies on their titties.

And if perchance I have offended,
Think but this and all is mended:
We’d as well be 10 minutes back in time,
For all the chance you’ll change your mind.

(Tim Minchin)

Related post
Save the Planet — Kill Yourself!

For December

2009-12-01T00:12:00.001+08:00

Because, now and then, everybody needs to smile :-)

All things must pass

2009-11-29T02:59:00.003+08:00

His performance with Elton John, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, and Mark King (of Level 42) here.

Requiēscat in pāce.

Multi-touch into Space

2009-11-19T03:03:00.002+08:00

Those who are short on time — or are inDUHviduals with no sense of history — may choose to scroll down and view the last video:

A presentation by Jeff Han during TED 2006.

A more comprehensive demo.

Perceptive Pixel, Inc. was founded by Jeff Han in 2006 as a spinoff of the NYU Courant Institute of Mathematical Sciences to develop and ... market the most advanced multi-touch system in the world.

Pranav Mistry presents an overview of his SixthSense device at TED 2009. More here.

Nic was right

2009-11-16T00:51:00.004+08:00

Bzzzt!

There is no nonsense so arrant that it cannot be made the creed of the vast majority by adequate governmental action. (Bertrand Russell)

2009-11-16T00:30:00.003+08:00

"Sir, we're surrounded by the enemy."
"Great! Then we can attack in every direction!"

Beware the leaders you choose to follow.

Bilingual policy was most difficult: MM

Jeremy Au Yong
Nov 6, 2009

INTELLIGENCE does not necessarily translate into a flair for languages.

That was the lesson Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew said he learnt in implementing the bilingual policy in schools.

'Initially, I believed that intelligence was equated to language ability. Later, I found that they are two different attributes - IQ and a facility for languages. My daughter, a neurologist, confirmed this,' he said in an interview carried in Petir, the People's Action Party magazine.

Asked to pick policies he would have implemented differently, he cited the teaching of bilingualism, especially in English and Mandarin, as the most difficult policy.

'I did not know how difficult it was for a child from an English-speaking home to learn Mandarin,' he said.

'If you are speaking English at home and you are taught Mandarin in Primary 1 by Chinese teachers who teach Mandarin as it was taught in the former Chinese schools, by the direct method, using only Mandarin, you will soon lose interest because you do not understand what the teacher is saying.

'You spend time on extra tuition, and still make little progress. Many were turned off Mandarin for life.'

In the end, the Government recognised that students with the same ability in other subjects may not be able to cope being in the same second language class. It took 30 years for the issue to be resolved.

'Eventually, we settled the problem in 2004 by teaching the mother tongue in the module system. Had we done this earlier, we would have had less wastage of students' time and effort, and less heartache for parents,' he said candidly.

(Source)

-------

Nice to know that I was one of the guinea pigs in yet another great social experiment that failed. (Read other guinea pigs' thoughts here and here.)

Where's my compensation for all the sweat, blood, tears, and years I wasted?

What do the Chinese Culture Chauvinists (CCC) have to say now?

If Chinese culture is that great, then why are you in Singapore — and why are you complaining so much about the PRCs joining you here? What is it about their cultural ways and manners (or lack thereof) that irks you so?

Across the Causeway, why are Chinese wives so adamant against having PRCs as domestic maids? What's that about "little dragon ladies" and husband-stealing again? Where's your "Asian values" schtick now?

The admission of wrong — 30 years late — is cold comfort, but it's nice to know that my personal vendetta against the CCC asshats who tormented me is justified.

Expect me, you bastards.

Related posts
Banana
So this is why I never got along with Chinese [Mandarin] teachers
Why I am not Chinese
Cultural immersion
"No" to being a hangar queen
China admits taking executed prisoner's organs
The Duckling
A culture with the longest history, and one not too far from the world's oldest profession
China's Shocking Dog and Cat Fur Trade (video)

Burj Dubai Lake Fountain

2009-11-12T01:39:00.002+08:00

Recorded by Gerald, using a Canon 5D MkII, with a 17mm TS-E ƒ4L.

(Yes, I am breaking outside the usual 480 width limit as it does not do justice to the recording.)

Lusus naturae

2009-11-05T04:38:00.001+08:00

Analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it.

(Elwyn Brooks White)

Qui bene cantat, bis orat

2009-11-04T07:00:00.000+08:00

One of my favorite songs. 'Live' version with Warren Ellis on the violin (in place of the church organ) here.

Belated Halloween, or, the importance of comprehending English

2009-11-02T21:47:00.001+08:00

Yesterday evening was nice: I went to the reservoir to watch the sunset.
Three other guys were also there, fishing.
They too, watched the waters turn gold as the sun went down.
Then, one of them went, "We better go. It's getting dark."
They asked each other if they had a light. Then, they asked me.
"Light? I don't need a light," I replied.
So, they stayed on. We stayed on.
Then I walked out. They followed.
I walked briskly through the forest in the darkness.
Soon, they lost me, and I returned home.
I said I didn't need a light.
I didn't say anything about them needing a light.

Oh, Mrs Dalloway, always giving parties... to cover the silence

2009-10-28T03:00:00.000+08:00

Tell me a story. Tell me a story from your day.... Oh, fresh, was it? Like a... like a morning on the beach? Like that? Like that morning... when you walked out of that old house; you were eighteen, maybe I was nineteen.

I was nineteen years old... and I'd never seen anything so beautiful: you, coming out of the glass door in the early morning still sleepy. Isn't it strange? 'The most ordinary morning in anybody's life.

I'm afraid I can't make it to the party, Claris.
You've been so good to me, Mrs Dalloway.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we've been.

For MS Word abusers

2009-10-28T01:55:00.002+08:00

The The Impotence of Proofreading

Has this ever happened to you?
You work very, very horde on a paper for English clash,
And still get a very glow raid on it (like a D or even a D=);
and all because you are the liverwurst spoiler in the whale wide word.
Yes! Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.

Now, this is a problem that affects manly, manly students all oval the word.
I, myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English torturer in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, she said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that's all I wanted, that's all any kid wanted at that age:
Just to get into a good colleague!
And not just anal community colleague either,
because I am not the kind of guy who would be happy at just anal community colleague!
I need to be challenged, challenged menstrually.
I needed a place that can offer me intellectual simulation.
So I know this properly makes me sound like a stereo but I really felt I could get into an ivory legal colleague.
So if I did not improvement, then gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jale, or Prison (you know, in Prison, New Jersey).

So, I got myself a spell checker
and I figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can't can't catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave out word
your spell chequer won't put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov may end up using a word that
you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because, I mean, what do you want it to douche, you know?
No! It only does what you tell it to douche.
You're the one who is sitting in front of the computer scream with your hand on the mouth going, clit, clit, clit.
'Just goes to show you how embargo
one careless little clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher took the paper that I have written on A Sale of Two Titties.
(No, I'm serial! I am serial!)
She read it out loud in front of all of my assmates.
It was quite possibly one of the most humidifying experiences I've ever had, being laughed at like that pubicly.

So, do yourself a flavor and follow these two pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing of your own work.
No prostitute whatsoever.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.

Spank you!

(Taylor Mali)

Blog flowers, blog graphs

2009-10-27T13:07:00.003+08:00

This an applet that turns your blog into a graph. The following images are visualizations of 2 of my blogs. Click on the links to watch how the graphs form. It's interesting to observe how the blogs have grown and changed over the past 37 months.

Legend

black:  the HTML tag, the root node
blue:  for links (the A tag)
red:  for tables (TABLE, TR and TD tags)
green:  for the DIV tag
violet:  for images (the IMG tag)
yellow:  for forms (FORM, INPUT, TEXTAREA, SELECT and OPTION tags)
orange:  for linebreaks and blockquotes (BR, P, and BLOCKQUOTE tags)
gray:  all other tags

       Sandbox in September 28, 2006.

       Sandbox in October 27, 2009.
       See it in action.

       Pedal Damn It in September 28, 2006.

       Pedal Damn It in October 27, 2009.
       See it in action.

To create a graph of your own blog, go here.

Made by Marcel Salathe (salathe.marcel AT gmail DOT com).

More about the creator of this HTML Graph Applet.

Sourcecode.

RTFL, cousin of RTFM

2009-10-26T02:14:00.000+08:00

Ammo Porn

2009-10-13T14:04:00.001+08:00

Form for Feelies

2009-10-07T17:05:00.001+08:00

From a friend serving in a real military. (You know? The sort that has taken part, takes part, and will continue to take part in real armed conflict?)

Meanwhile, it has been almost a year, and news of a certain wayang / poseur army's overseas training camp — with a name that begins with the same letter as "wimp" and rhymes with "crybaby" — having burnt down in Australia still hasn't appeared on the newspapers of the world's 144th ranked country for press freedom.

~~But... but... we feel like a real military!~~

Diving in a flooded meadow

2009-10-03T23:18:00.001+08:00

The "Grüner See" (engl. Green Lake) is situated in upper styria, Austria (see geotag). It is amazingly beautiful because of its deep green/blue colour and the surrounding alpine scenery. The lake itself dries up in autumn but fills up with melting water. The water itself of the lake is extremely pure, like glass. The colour is a result of light refraction.

"The night before there seemed to be heavy rain and too much of the pollen were flushed in the water and were floating. So the visibility could be much better, i´ve missed the „crystal clear water. You have to know the Green Lake is famous for its clear water. The good thing for this day was the water level with 9,40m. Spring flowers, plants, benches, hiking trails were below the surface. And i have found out when its the best time during the two to three months "flood" to get in the water - i was to early in this season. Altough the water temperature was between 5 and 6 degrees Celcius i did two dives (85 and 96 minutes long)

My face was well frozen, i can hardly speak afterwards. I hoped this procedure kept my face young and skintight. After watching the footage it seemed to be different."

(swifttallon)

This reminds me of diving in Hindhede Quarry in the mid 1990s, and sitting in a shed 70 feet under the surface of the water. There were trees, machinery, and vehicles in the clear, bluish waters (and even a large fresh water turtle too). After the dives, we would hurl ourselves off the 3, 4, 5-storey high cliffs in our wetsuits, before lugging the tanks up the long gravel road back to the parking lot. It all came to an end when a fellow diver's friend, a blabber-mouth New Paper ~~reporter~~ hack, tagged along; reneged on her promise to maintain secrecy; subsequently published an alarmist article in the papers the following week; resulting in the activity permanently banned in the locale by NParks.

New blog avatar

2009-10-03T20:42:00.003+08:00

       New blog avatar.

       Fitting, isn't it?

       :-P

No one told him, "You can't save a damsel if she loves her distress."

2009-09-30T20:37:00.003+08:00

Some things, no matter how beautiful (and treasured) once, are beyond saving.

Much appreciated, guys.

Thank you.

Birthdays: my take on vacuous narcissism and maudlin excesses

2009-09-29T09:00:00.001+08:00

Don't take credit for something you didn't — personally — achieve.

Homer's pebbles

2009-09-28T16:00:00.001+08:00

A couple years ago, I brought back a handful of pebbles scooped by the trailside in Australia. Picked from a barren mound by an intersection with an unsealed (gravel) road leading to a mine, they have languished forgotten in a corner of a drawer since.

Until today.

Hmm... something ~~happened~~ is happening here.

A folded sheet of carbonless copy paper (NCR paper) in the drawer. The dark, burnt-looking patch is the section of the paper directly over the sample of pebbles.

Apple iSight FireWire 400 cable next to the pebble sample. It was originally white. The discoloration extends below the surface of the insulation. I.e. it cannot be scraped off.

Apple iSight. The section of the case near the lens, which lay next to the pebbles, has turned yellow.

The pebble sample. The plastic bag still seems airtight; the sample was dry when collected, transported, and stored; and there were never any water spills in the drawer.

Not one to be alarmist, as there are no uranium mines in Western Australia (as of September 2009), I wonder what I scooped up that sunny day :-D

Perhaps I should get my paws on a photographic plate and recreate what Antoine Henri Becquerel did in 1896?

In any case, whatever it is, it probably only emits alpha radiation, so I should be pretty safe.

And, if it emits beta radiation, the walls of the wooden drawer should have shielded me from it.

As for radon, I'll handle it like ~~Bill Clinton~~ Slick Willy handled marijuana (and not like Stanley Watras, I hope).

~~No, it won't go Boomz!~~ :-P

Or, maybe it's all just corrosive rock fart...

Enjoy the excerpt of Franciscan priest-turned-director, Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi (and Philip Glass' score).

Classy

2009-09-15T18:08:00.002+08:00

A photo a day

2009-09-15T00:14:00.001+08:00

(Click on image)

And she's pretty too!

:-)

Engrish V

2009-09-14T03:45:00.001+08:00

This is actually quite cute.

:-P

Remember

2009-09-11T00:55:00.001+08:00

WTF? videos

2009-09-07T11:25:00.003+08:00

Automated versions here and here.

(Hat tip: Agagooga)

This video is the more believable of the two, IMHO.

(Hat tip: NicIz2Hardcore)

When you're so deep in your own shit you start to believe it.

Following comments by bluediamond888 and Garnishes:

Reader anonymouse left this wonderful interpretation of the commercial:

Friend of mine said that the ad is a reflection of the 3 classes in Singapore society:

1. The monkey represents the low-income, which has no choice but to accept peanuts for wages.

2. The elephant represents the middle-income, which has limited contact with the lower class but cannot connect with their struggle to make ends meet, hence the suggestion that they should think positively.

3. The giraffe represents the upper-class, which is completely oblivious to the struggles of the middle and lower classes. Once in a while, they stick their heads down from the clouds and have a look around, but are not bothered by the economic crisis in any way.

Woogy sings II

2009-09-02T01:29:00.004+08:00

Woogy and company sang for an 8 PM requiem mass at Saint Patrick's School chapel on August 26, 2009.

Order of the mass

Introitus, Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei from the Requiem a 4 (unpublished manuscript in Málaga Cathedral, Spain) by Cristóbal de Morales (1500-1553).

Graduale, Tractus, Offertorium from the Missa pro Defunctis by Giammateo Asola (1532-1609).

Communio from the Missa Pro Defunctis by Pierre de la Rue (1452-1518).

Libera from the Requiem a 4 (1583) by Tomás Luis de Victoria (1548-1611).

The Woogy.

Related posts
Woogy sings
Easter

Piss off enough people and this is what you get Part II

2009-08-29T18:30:00.001+08:00

A public service video from Gwent, Wales.

Texting while driving increases crash risk by 23 times.

And here's a real life example.

Missouri has now become the 23rd state to ban the use of texting while driving. (Source)

New York bans use of cell phones while driving. (Source)

Austin, Texas, gets closer to banning texting while driving within city limits. State law enacted on September 21 bans drivers from talking or texting on their cell phones in school zones. (Source)

Meanwhile, at the federal level:

Senator Chuck Schumer of New York, together with other senators unveiled legislation to make it illegal to write, send, or read a text message while operating a moving truck or automobile.

The bill would require the US Department of Transportation within six months to issue guidelines for reasonable laws to curb the practice, and then mandate all 50 states to ban texting while driving no more than two years after that.

(Source)

Texting is becoming something of a niche subject for Schumer, who also is pushing legislation that would bar bus drivers and train conducters from texting while on the job.

“Texting while conducting a train or driving a bus is not only irresponsible, it’s extremely dangerous,” Schumer said.

       (Source)

       This is beautiful!
       Backlash, baby!
       Backlash :-D

Related posts
Piss off enough people and this is what you get
Be(a)ware or be roadkill Part II
Awareness Test
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

Healthcare 101

2009-08-26T12:58:00.003+08:00

I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it...

2009-08-18T02:51:00.000+08:00

(Hat tip: NicIz2HardKore)

From Jay David's blog, a post titled, The Perils of Travel.

Enjoy.

Piss off enough people and this is what you get

2009-08-13T05:40:00.002+08:00

CHP out looking for cell phone cheats today

Henry K. Lee
San Francisco Chronicle
August 11 2009

Hands-free. It's the law.

That's the message the California Highway Patrol wants hammered home today when it kicks off a "zero tolerance" campaign against drivers who violate the "hands free" cell phone law.

Most motorists are well aware of the law that took effect July 1, 2008, that requires drivers to use a hands-free device if they're talking on the phone. But many people are ignoring the law, said CHP Sgt. Trent Cross.

According to the CHP, there were 261 accidents from July through October 2008 caused by drivers using hand-held cell phones, resulting in five deaths and 115 injuries.

Today, CHP officers throughout the Bay Area will be on the lookout for cell-phone scofflaws. South Bay commuters, take special note: San Jose CHP officers will be teaming up with Santa Clara County sheriff's deputies and cops from Morgan Hill, Los Gatos, Milpitas, Santa Clara, Campbell, San Jose, and Sunnyvale to look for muttering miscreants, reported CHP Officer Brandie Dressel.

Dressel and her colleagues recently invited reporters and other hapless drivers to go through an obstacle course while texting. They didn't do so well.

If you're reading this on a PDA while driving, you've been forewarned.

Selected comments

It's about time. How many more people have to be killed or injured by the selfish and self-centered? (whatnext)

I just got a ticket last week, MY BAD, look out, they are puttin the hammer down on this. (jlpc64)

Here's hoping they shoot to kill. Kidding, of course, but if someone is this cavalier with the safety of others while driving a 4000 pound potential weapon, one has to assume their sense of right and wrong is severely warped.

I still say raise the fine to $1,500, and after 3 violations, suspend their license for a year. (out_of_the_past)

Up the fine

Up the points

Stop the stupidity (Weej)

cswanson: Your right to talk and drive ends when it endangers my life on the highway. Stuff your "LIBERTY Phone" where the sun don't shine.

"Guns don't kill people - drivers with cellphones kill people." (ForASong)

About time; in this culture a law is only a law if it is enforced. Cell phone use is just another type of driving impaired = you might be facing the road but yer not always paying attention to traffic conditions. Texting has to be far more dangerous since you have to look away from the road and at your keyboard. I have to ask: what can be so blasted important that you risk an accident and death to text while you're driving??? "Wuzzup man?" Bleeping m0r0nic. Speaking of which, how about much higher fines for these offenses? The state bill starts at $20 for the first ticket - big deal. (BBenson)

CSwanson..... the problem with your logic is that nobody wants to lay there in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the neck down due to a car accident, pondering "liberty" of the driver who hit him while chatting about something totally UNimportant.... on a cell phone.

"Liberty" never included anything that potentially harms others. (joerealtor19)

Hang up. And when you're not driving, keep your voice down, and turn your stupid ringtone down, too. (gjackson)

Last Thursday on Gough the guy in front of me was so in a world of his own on his phone he had 8 car lengths clear in front of him and was meandering along at a snail's pace, not paying the least bit of attention.

So I leaned on the horn to bring it to his attention. Nothing major. So indignant was he that I'd interrupted HIS CALL, that when he got to the next intersection he retaliated by stopping at a green light to prevent me from making the light and so he could go at the last second.

Not having it, I swerved around and got in front of him, came to a complete stop in front of him this time, forcing him to stop, and got out of the car and let him have it.

All he could manage when confronted with this was a weak, "Uh ... uh ... uh ... FOOK YOU!" The guy was in a complete other world on that phone call.

If the cops aren't going to enforce this law I will. I'm sick of these self-absorbed, law breaking morons everywhere I turn turning this city into an obstacle course and not having the least bit of courtesy for anyone in their paths. (bohemiansf)

It is about time they enforced that law. We have all seen numerous near misses or worse, while drivers attempt to converse while talking on a cell phone. Hopefully the penalty will be significant enough to encourage drivers to adhere to the law thereby making it a little safer for other drivers as well as pedestrians and cyclists. (VID3699)

joerealtor and rfkolby have it right: CHP appeared to enforce this law for a month or maybe two when it was first enacted, but since then I've seen just as many idiots, if not more, driving while distracted, because the world centers around them and their freaking personal communication devices.

Hands-free phones may leave both hands available to drive, but your damned brain is nonetheless distracted from the complicated and dangerous work of operating a motor vehicle. If you're having a conversation with a passenger, your attention may not be 100% focused on driving, but at least the other person is IN THE CAR with you -- and both of you at least MAY be aware of what's happening on the road. Talking to someone who's not in the car, blissfully unaware of your five lanes of 75-mile-per-hour traffic, or hectic city streets with other cars, bicycles, pedestrians, traffic lights, stop signs...? Forget about it!

Get a freaking clue. Put the god damn cell phone down. Really need to talk, right this minute? Pull the hell over!

Fine these idiots $1000 a pop. In fact, sign me up to write them the tickets. (withoutalabel)

Just pull over and make the call, and stop using the mobile phone as a non-stop babysitter. It's a good thing to be left with your thoughts once in awhile and to not be multitasking all the time -- especially when you're driving a two ton projectile at speed and aimed at other people. (bohemiansf)

I was rear ended while on my motorcycle by a dumb lady talking on a cell phone. I support the CHP on this one. (richm752)

HURRAY! Yesterday I got stuck behind a woman on the Bay Bridge doing what cell phone users always do while driving: Careering slowly in and out of her lane, totally out of sync with surrounding traffic while she dialed her number then talked. She could have waited two minutes then pulled over, easy. But nooooooooo. (inkfingers)

I imagine the thankfully few idiots on here who object to this law are the same idiots who can't make it for half an hour without gabbing on their cellphone or texting a friend. Go CHP, and raise the fine for crying out loud! (blackcat21)

Finally! Having been rear ended while stopped at a stop light by a tourist who was dialing her cell phone traveling at 35 mph, I for one have been waiting for this to be enforced. Of course the force of the impact pushed me into another stopped car, a Mercedes! (I think they are made of steel...) My little Honda was crunched between the two cars.

Anyway, enforcing this law is WAY overdue...I can't wait to see someone pulled over. There will be plenty of drivers ticketed...I see them all the time. (janster14)

During the era before cell phones, many of us seemed very content without cell phones and definitely managed to drive our cars without having to talk on cell phones. What has happened to our culture that cell phone usage is the norm to the extent that people are willing to risk the safety and lives of others just so they can have a phone conversation while driving? I see people talking on their cell phones while driving at 6:00AM while I'm commuting to work. Who in the world are they speaking to at 6:00AM? I don't own a car and walk most places so I've experienced MANY, MANY times having to negotiate crossing a street while a clueless driver on a cell phone runs the stop sign. I've seen it all too often where pedestrians and other drivers are trying to figure out the next move of the person driving and speaking on the cell phone-- clearly that person is completely oblivious that s/he is causing a traffic problem and potentially endangering others. All of you who drive while talking on cell phones SUCK and deserve a painful demise. (bennyinsf)

It's about f*ing time. I nearly got sideswiped the other day where 24 and 980 meet by some idiot in an SUV with a cell phone in his hand. My advice to everyone is, drive like everyone else is out to kill you. Because if you don't watch out, they will. (Avalon33)

(Source)

As for Singapore, the law already exists:

Driving in Singapore

What consitutes handphone driving?

Handphone driving

An offence under Sec 65B of the Road Traffic Act is made out as long as there is evidence to show that the motorist was holding onto the handphone with one hand, while using it to communicate. This is regardless of the position in which he was holding onto the handphone and the fact that a hands-free kit was also used is irrelevant.

Handphone driving is an inconsiderate and dangerous act that poses a threat to other road-users. The act distracts drivers and reduces their ability to control their vehicles and to react to changes in road situations. This puts other road users at risk. Because of the seriousness of the offence, Traffic Police will continue to step up our enforcement on handphone driving. We advise motorists who wish to use their handphones to have their passenger make or receive the call. If travelling alone, motorists should drive to a carpark before making the call.

Penalty

A first-timer convicted of phone and drive offence shall be liable to 12 demerit points and a maximum fine of up to $1000/- or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 6 months or both. He/She may also be disqualified from driving. The offender's handphone and SIM card will be seized to facilitate investigation. These may be forfeited by the court upon conviction.

What constitutes hand phone driving:

* the vehicle is in motion; and
* the driver is holding on to the handphone with one hand; while his other hand is holding the steering wheel and
* the driver is communicating with any person with that handphone.

[Para 2(b) : If the driver is not holding on to the steering wheel at all, he can be charged for reckless or dangerous driving. Upon conviction, first-time offenders can be fined up to S$3000/-, or jailed for a term up to 12 months, or both. Repeat offenders are liable for a maximum fine of S$5000/-, or to imprisonment for a term up to 2 years, or both. In addition, they may also be disqualified from holding or obtaining a driving licence.]

[Para 2(c) includes making phone calls, paging for someone, receiving a call by pressing the keypad, and reading, writing or sending SMS.]

Examples

Scenario A (Paging for someone)
Page for someone, with or without earpiece, using one hand to hold on to the mobile phone and the other hand holding the steering wheel.

Scenario B (SMS/MMS message)
Writing, Sending, and Reading SMS/MMS messages from someone, with or without earpiece, using one hand to hold on to the mobile phone and the other hand holding the steering wheel.

Scenario C (Making a Call)
Making a call, with or without earpiece, by pressing the keypads and was holding handphone in one hand with the other hand holding the steering wheel.

Scenario D (Receiving a Call)
Receiving a call, with or without earpiece, by pressing the keypads and was holding handphone in one hand with the other hand holding the steering wheel.

(Source)

While you're chewing on that, take these awareness tests:

You may not ride, but sooner or later, you — and your loved ones — will have to use the crosswalk or cross the road...

Related posts
Be(a)ware or be roadkill Part II
Awareness Test
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

(For) National Propaganda Day 2009

2009-08-09T07:00:00.000+08:00

(by Kelvin Dooley)

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes1 and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

(Wilfred Owen)

Related post
Outside the gilded cage

Spin II

2009-07-31T12:49:00.003+08:00

A letter published today in The Straits Times Forum:

Be grateful, S'pore

I AM writing to share many things Singaporeans take for granted.

Thanks to years of budget surpluses, when the global financial collapse hit, Singapore was able to use more money as a percentage of gross domestic product than any other country, rich or poor. Now, with its economy rebounding at a 20 per cent rate this last quarter, Singapore has recovered from the collapse faster than any other country. This is something only Singapore, with its deep pockets and years of good economic management, could pull off.

My home city, Toronto in Canada, has its rubbish collected only once a week, yet it is considered one of North America's cleaner cities. It is in the 36th day of a rubbish collectors' strike, with rubbish and foul odours on its streets and an increasingly serious problem with rats and insects. Some people even store rubbish in their refrigerators.

In Singapore, our rubbish is collected every day, no questions asked. For a $40 conservancy fee, we get a clean-up that would cost hundreds of dollars a month in the United States or Canada.

Most buildings in the US and Canada have no sheltered walkways to protect residents from rain or snow, unlike most HDB blocks. This is so even though there are Americans and Canadians who freeze to death outside in the cold every year.

Most North American cities I have lived in are cutting bus and train services just to balance their budgets. Singapore plans to add a new MRT line this year and more lines and stations over the next three years.

If a poor person lives in a building without a lift in the US or Canada, that is his tough luck. In Singapore, the Government is upgrading our four-storey HDB blocks with a new staircase and a wheelchair-friendly lift that stops at every floor.

If a poor person cannot afford to pay his mortgage in the US or Canada, he can be turfed out and left homeless. If an HDB dweller cannot pay his mortgage after he loses his job, he can seek a moratorium on payments from his community development council. This mercy, to the best of my knowledge, has no equal anywhere else in the world.

After living and working in six countries, I have known for a long time that no country takes care of its people the way Singapore does.

Eric J. Brooks

(Brooks, Eric J. Letter. "Forum." The Straits Times [Singapore] 29 July 2009: A22.)

Now, contrast that with a post from a local schoolteacher's blog, Trisha Reloaded:

2 hours that changed me

I didn’t know what to expect. It was my first time visiting a one-room HDB flat. I had agreed to help bring a few students to visit a few of these homes that the school had adopted as part of the CIP (Community Involvement Programme). This should be good, I thought.

I wasn’t prepared for this. The walls were dotted with black splotches of what we were told were the droppings of bed bugs. We were warned not to remove our shoes, lean on the walls or sit on the floor. Mr Y sat on a stool and seemed nonchalant about the infestation in his home. The mattress he slept on bore testimony to the nightly battles he had to endure. The bed sheet was clouded with blood stains. Mr Y used to be a coolie who carried sacks of rice. The bachelor now lives alone in his decrepit rental flat, his emaciated body racked with sickness, the money he earned in his younger days long gone to feed his parents’ opium addiction many years ago. He gets $260 from the welfare agency every month, of which about $100 goes into paying his rent and utilities. The remainder he has to magically stretch to cover his food and medical costs.

The bugs had spread from next door to a few flats on the 5th floor where Mr Y lived. You could see them flitting about on the wall, on the floor, among his clothes, even along the corridors. Nobody there could afford a professional pestbuster, and the town council wouldn’t do such favours anyway. So living with these parasites has become a fact of life. Residents living on the other floors talked about the 5th floor as if it was Purgatory and it didn’t seem an inappropriate description.

Then there was 92-year-old Mdm C – so small and wiry she couldn’t have weighed more than 35kg. She had a hole in her neck where her voice box had been removed, so she couldn’t talk. When she saw us, she simply gestured with her hands that she wanted to die. Looking at her forlorn looking home, who could blame her for feeling that way? The food in her kitchen had all gone bad so we gathered she hadn’t eaten for days, or perhaps she had been eating all the rotten stuffs. When you are sick and have to depend on the kindness of neighbours to help you buy even the simplest food, what other choice do you have? She has 2 daughters, one who visits her occasionally. Another, we heard, comes by and steals the NTUC vouchers that volunteers give to her. Is it any wonder Mdm C would rather die?

In all, we visited 7 homes, each one with its own sad story to tell. My heart is exceedingly disturbed by the scenes I saw today. On the one hand, we live in a country that’s boasting of having island-wide free internet access soon and building world-class integrated resorts and yet, in pockets of this land which worships success and one-upmanship shamelessly, there are the forgotten lot who live in homes with rotten food and bug-infested beds.

More.

Picture related.

Don't piss on my shoes and tell me it's raining, Mister Brooks.

Related post
Spin

Apropos the heretics

2009-07-31T07:24:00.003+08:00

Shaken but not stirred by stadium-rock spirituality

Catherine Deveny
July 29, 2009

THE promise of awesome worship. That’s what got me rocking up to a Planetshakers meeting. And I wasn’t disappointed. They said ‘‘awesome’’ 20 times.

Planetshakers is a megachurch, which is like a spiritual mega-meal deal. Pizza, Coke, chocolate bavarian. If we could masticate it for you and pump it into your stomach, we would. Because we love you. And so does Jesus.

Standing outside Planetshakers surrounded by chirpy, bogan-cool teenagers fizzing with excitement, one of the two gay atheist friends I was with described the crowd as "very Australian Idol". [Some pictures and a video here.]

It was the first time I’d been excited about going to church. I spent every Sunday of my first 18 years sitting on wooden pews listening to a bloke talking about his imaginary friend in the sky who did magic tricks. Women were virgins, saints or whores. Men were the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Outside Planetshakers it felt as if we were about to see a rock concert. And we were. As the band fired up and went off like a frog in a sock, I thought: "I don’t care what they’re selling but I’m buying it."

Christian pop, ’80s power anthems, Metallica meets Cheap Trick. A mosh pit for Jesus was jumping with teenagers in rapture and a balcony of Planetkids went off for Christ. Music blared from the stadium sound system while the screen seduced us with slick videos edited so fast the phrase ‘‘subliminal image" kept popping into my head. Lyrics flashed up: "Come like a flood and saturate me now." I wondered what Freud would have made of the disproportionate use of such words as ‘‘come’’, ‘‘touch’’ and ‘‘feel’’, and the phrases "move within me" and "being filled". My favourite was "King of Glory, enter in".

Sexual psychoanalysis aside, the Planetshakers are clearly awesome, with lyrics such as: "How can I explain the way u make me feel ’cos Jesus your love for me is so unreal." Several references were made to not being ashamed of Jesus (despite no one having suggested they were).

The room was buzzing with anticipation. I felt like a kid expecting Santa to arrive. It felt as if Jesus was going to turn up any minute.

Then out came the pastors. Middle-aged blokes peppering talk about Jesus with constant references to the footy, reality shows and McDonald’s. Almost swearing with ‘‘flipping angry" and "What the heck?" and plenty of ‘‘awesomes’’ thrown in to convince everyone they were down with the youth.

A pastor banged on about sacrifice and said it wasn’t important how much we sacrificed just as long as we gave as much as we could. No matter how small it was. I didn’t know what he was on about until the giving cards came round. And a little bucket for coins. No lid with a slot. A big open bucket, so you could be shamed by your paltry donation.

Then there were the plugs for the Mighty Men’s night and Beautiful Women Seminar. Male volunteers were encouraged to get involved with the ladies’ seminar with the promise of ‘‘being able to tell 3000 women what to do’’. Beautiful women. Mighty men. Note: not mighty women and beautiful men.

Then the headline pastor came on, all charisma and awesomeness. He spoke of worship, sheepgate, building in salvation, sheepgate, sacrifice and a bloke called Eliashib. And more sheepgate.

As people yelled, "Yeah!", "Amen!" and ‘‘Awesome!" I wanted to yell, "I don’t get it". I love the way religion convinces people by making things deliberately incomprehensible and you feel too shy to say ‘‘I don’t understand’’ lest you reveal your stupidity.

After ‘‘sheepgate’’ the pastor asked us to close our eyes and bow our heads. He urged people who had left Jesus, had never had him in their heart, or were confused, to raise their hands so they could be prayed for.

He sounded like a real estate agent. "One over there, thank you, sir. Anyone else? I’ll wait a few moments. Yes, one down the back." Dummy bidders anyone? Then bewildered-looking new disciples were led out by the old hands.

The crowd left believing they had been moved by God and touched by Jesus. They hadn’t. They had been seduced by slick video packages and had their emotional desire for love, community and certainty met by manipulation. It wasn’t the Holy Spirit; it was just people.

Aren’t we awesome enough?

(Deveny, Catherine. "Shaken but not stirred by stadium-rock spirituality." The Age [Melbourne] 29 July 2009.)

You might as well be Rickrolled, the promises are the same.

Personally, I prefer this.

Engrish IV

2009-07-23T13:12:00.007+08:00

Or, continuing from Alexis' post, "Random Photo(s) of the Day:

The Singaporean version of this?

Related posts

Engrish III
Engrish II
Engrish
World-class eDUHcation

Apparently, on a certain island city-state, neither matriculation nor graduation has any effect on the grasp of the English language. (Hat tip: Ganga)

Also related, why spelling matters:

Swedish tourists miss island due to GPS typo

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

(07-28) 12:07 PDT ROME, Italy (AP) -- Officials say a Swedish couple looking for the pristine waters of the popular island of Capri ended some 400 miles (660 kilometers) away in the northern industrial town of Carpi after misspelling the destination on their car's GPS.

Angelo Giovannini, a spokesman for the Carpi town hall, near Modena, said Tuesday the couple drove into the main square last week and asked the local tourist office how to reach Capri's famed Blue Grotto sea cave.

Giovannini said "we thought they might mean a restaurant. Capri is an island, they did not even wonder why they didn't cross any bridge or take any boat."

He said the couple, who were not identified, arrived from Venice and later set off to their planned destination at the other end of the Italian peninsula.

Boker tov

2009-07-18T06:00:00.000+08:00

Branka Parlić's interpretation of "Morning Passages," Philip Glass, in Novi Sad Synagogue, Serbia, 5 July 2005.

The instrumental passage is complete and lovely beyond measure (or description) on its own, but lyrics from another tune, another time, another reality, echo in my world:

Shalom, Shalom,
You'll find Shalom
The nicest greeting you know;
It means bonjour, salud, and skoal
And twice as much as hello.
It means a million lovely things,
Like peace be yours,
Welcome home.
And even when you say goodbye,
You say goodbye with Shalom.

It's a very useful word,
It can get you through the day;
All you really need to know,
You can hardly go wrong,
This is your home as long as you say:
Shalom,
The nicest greeting I know;
Shalom,
Means twice as much as hello.
It means a million lovely things,
Like peace be yours,
Welcome home.
And even when you say goodbye,
If your voice has
"I don't want to go" in it,
Say goodbye with a little "hello" in it,
And say goodbye with shalom.

(Jerry Herman)

Shalom, shalom, ve'od nitra'eh.

You don't have to be a house to be haunted*

2009-07-15T04:35:00.000+08:00

(Original video)

* = paraphrase of a poem (670) by Emily Dickinson.

Illa mihi patria est, ubi pascor, non ubi nascor

2009-07-13T05:33:00.003+08:00

I never tire of the fog, I find it consoling, like the rain. It is another layer between me and the world. The light is softer. Sounds are muffled. It pushes one inward.

(August Kleinzahler)

How I miss home.

I have seen dogs with more style than men.*

2009-07-07T03:30:00.002+08:00

* = (Charles Bukowski)

For those who missed the memo...

2009-07-07T03:00:00.002+08:00

Last fall's Auzzy ride reports are finally complete.

Spin

2009-06-23T13:03:00.003+08:00

An excerpt from an opinion piece in ~~The Straits Times~~ The Shitty Times:

Remove hurdles in way of living organ donors

No medical entitlement and no insurance act as deterrents

Singapore wants more people to come forward to donate an organ to their loved ones who are suffering from either liver or kidney failure.

To encourage this, the laws are going to be amended to allow recipients to reimburse living organ donors.

[ . . . ]

This is where government help would be greatly appreciated.

Donors should not need to worry about their jobs during the period of convalescence or have to rush back to work before they are fully fit.

Women are given legislated paid leave when they give birth. Men do not need to tap into their own leave when called up for reservist duty.

In both cases, what they do is seen to be in the national interest, and companies provide them with mandated time off without penalty.

So too should donors be treated, since what they do saves a life, and is certainly in line with the national good.

Giving organ donors three months paid leave — the same that women get for childbirth — would be only fair.

       (Khalik, Salma.  The Straits Times [Singapore] 23 June 2009: A2.)

The moral calculus hawked here:

Donating organs  =  national / social interest.

Serving conscripted military / paramilitary obligations  =  national / social interest + duty.

Giving birth to ~~babies~~ want machines  =  national interest + duty (implied).

The implied message in the final paragraph (of the excerpt) is a scream:

Childbirth is as patriotic and altruistic as organ donation.

I'll leave the puns to you  :-P

A quote from Agagooga:

To read a newspaper is to refrain from reading something worthwhile. The first discipline of education must therefore be to refuse resolutely to feed the mind with canned chatter.

(Aleister Crowley)

Nic eats

2009-06-13T20:15:00.006+08:00

The wonderful people who were on time: (clockwise from left) Kenneth, Guan Peng and his lovely wife; Alexiel and NicIz2HardKore, Philip.

Nic puzzles over the menu:

       What's Kreme of Sum Yung Guy?

~~Falcon punch!~~

No animal — land, sea, or air — was spared.
File your complaint with PETA here.

       Pork! It's that good!

       Pass more meat this way!

       Mmm... meat! MOAR!

Pitying the kitchen staff, Alexiel attempts to put a choker on ravenous Nic to slow down his intake.

Mike Hunt says "Hi!" to "Pro-Riders," brand managers who get chased out of establishments, and hardcore dieters.

One bowl is Shabu Shabu, the other, Sukiyaki.

Philip, the first casualty of the evening, passes out.

       I can make this food disappear!

~~Nic passes out.~~

       Hey! No rest for the wicked!

Alex is here!

No mercy for the weak!
Cake attack!

Oops! Wrong picture.

Nic ate so much he required assistance to squeeze him back into shape for the ride home.

Woogy sings

2009-05-30T20:00:00.003+08:00

Some pictures of the Woogy singing with Capella Oecumenica at the chapel in St. Joseph's Institution, International.

A blurry, truncated clip.

Another poor recording of the recital. I accidentally deleted the one good clip I had. *sigh*

Thankfully, the Woogy has access to the complete recording.

After that — Grammar Nazi radars up and scanning — we walked to get some grub, .

Someone puked at Founder Bar Ku The [most popular conjecture: the last word is the result of an automated MS Word "correction"] so the Woogy directed us to a safer place across the street.

Woogy & Co.

Skip the EpiPen (this is better)

2009-05-25T05:41:00.001+08:00

Things are getting dreary.
I need to find my crazy...
(Like these guys.)
o_0;

Only take credit for what you personally achieved

2009-05-17T05:54:00.003+08:00

Brevity is a by-product of vigor.

(Elwyn Brooks White)

Star Trek Trailer 4

2009-05-14T05:18:00.000+08:00

Oh, come on! You know you always wanted to be a space cowboy!

Boldly going where no man has gone before...

Yeehaw!

Plus ça change, plus c’est pareil, Mademoiselle

2009-05-07T15:40:00.000+08:00

              Ce Que Je Suis

       J'ai, j'ai bien le droit,
       j'ai bien le droit aussi
       de faillir, défaillir
       jusqu'à mesurer le prix.
       Mais qu'est-ce qu'il m'arrive?
       Je ris aux larmes
       je larmorie
       Mais qu'est-ce qu'il m'arrive?
       Je dors au bord de mon lit.

       Oh oh oh... comme je regrette:
       je ne suis pas ce que je suis.
       Les murs ont des oreilles,
       les murs me parlent trop.

       Oh oh oh... comme je déteste:
       je ne suis pas ce que je suis.
       La lune qui me surveille,
       la lune est dans mon dos.

       J'ai, j'ai bien le droit,
       j'ai bien le droit aussi
       de railler, dérailler
       épuiser toutes mes envies.
       Mais qu'est-ce qu'il m'arrive?
       J'oublie, je bois,
       je bois l'oubli.
       Mais qu'est-ce qu'il m'arrive
       je dors au bord de mon lit.

       Oh oh oh... comme je regrette:
       je ne suis pas ce que je suis.
       Les murs ont des oreilles,
       les murs me parlent trop.

       J'ai, j'ai bien le droit,
       j'ai bien le droit aussi
       de conduire, d'éconduire
       les hommes au bout de la nuit.

       Oh oh oh... comme je regrette:
       je n'etais pas ce que je suis.
       Les murs ont des oreilles,
       les murs me parlent trop.

       Oh oh oh... comme je déteste:
       je n'etais pas ce que je suis.
       La lune qui me surveille,
       la lune est dans mon dos.

       Oh oh oh... comme je regrette:
       je n'etais pas ce que je suis.
       Les murs ont des oreilles,
       les murs me parlent trop.

              -------

Je ne regrette rien.

Great company, hot meat, red lights... and bad grammar

2009-05-03T23:53:00.001+08:00

Ed The Woogy was fashionably late due to a hair-coloring disaster.

GUY IN BLACK TEE:  Hey, did you just swipe my beer?

Waiter refilling the BBQ pit with fresh charcoal. I was tempted to shove the guy and watch Woogy & Co. dance as glowing embers spill onto their laps, but was persuaded by another diner that it probably won't be considered proper dinner entertainment  :-(

The fundies would have been proud:  no goat was spared from the fires.

Dessert at another establishment brought out the grammar nazis in us.

You can really stretch your dollar in this part of town.

Found in the restroom:  the picture is disturbing.

The new Exco of the Association of the Golden Testicle (with our "$2 Blows").

:-P

AWARE EGM closing score

2009-05-03T08:11:00.000+08:00

Get your merchandise here (hat tip: Alexis)

How Swine Flu Started

2009-05-03T02:25:00.003+08:00

The Feminist Mentor's Mentor

2009-05-02T02:05:00.004+08:00

H.O.U.N.D. D.O.G.S.

2009-04-30T21:10:00.005+08:00

With the current heavy focus on the advancement of the feminist cause, it's timely to propose the creation a brother Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) to A.W.A.R.E.

Hung & Original, Urbane, Non-Denominational, Dignified Oriental Gentlemen Society (H.O.U.N.D. D.O.G.S.) is an organization dedicated to the pro-family cause for men. The aims of this society are, among other things, to inculcate healthy, pro-family values in males. In conjunction with the Ministry of Education (MOE), the Ministry of Health (MOH), and various, other associated unaccredited quasi-medical bodies, student workshops will be regularly held on topics such as why masturbation leads to blindness, weak knees, and insanity; how the use of proper fitting, loose boxers instead of tight jocks facilitates a blessed bountiful brood for a young man's future family; and a husband's dutiful responsibility in the proper selection of kitchen flooring for his barefoot wife.

The first 14 members will receive a partially eaten Easter Bunny from Octomom. A signed and numbered Fred Phelps lithograph comes standard as a door gift for every member.

Be a H.O.U.N.D. D.O.G. now!

Being AWARE, the morning after

2009-04-27T23:26:00.000+08:00

AWARE

2009-04-27T16:52:00.003+08:00

Frequent flyer tip

2009-04-22T02:57:00.002+08:00

How to handle irritating seat mates on your flight

If you find yourself sitting next to someone who annoys the crap out of you, follow these simple instructions:

1. Quietly and calmly open up your laptop case.
2. Remove your laptop.
3. Start it up.
4. Make sure the guy who is annoying you can see the screen.
5. Close your eyes, tilt your head up to the sky; spread your hands, palms facing up; and move your lips as if you are praying.
6. Then hit the button.

Note: do not attempt this if you suspect your seat mate to be a US Air Marshal.

Wanderlust

2009-04-21T16:58:00.003+08:00

Cody Smart wanted to feel something, and so with $430 in the bank, an aversion to "popular society" and a thirst for the open road, he set off to hitchhike from New York to Alaska.

He was robbed and nearly raped and killed, just as the naysayers said he would be. He then put together a magnetic "photologue" on www.codySmart.com/hitchhike to remember and share his story.

Cody takes us into the kind of travel that some adventurers only dream about. The photos are captivating and you have to wonder how he got such good light all the time. His portraits are deep and show a side of Americans rarely presented in other media. I particularly enjoyed the shots of Alaska fishermen from his stint on a salmon boat out of Kodiak Island. Cars and trucks weren't the only modes of transportation that Cody hitched a ride on. He also hitched on seaplanes out of Lake Hood, Alaska, and trains between California and Arizona.

The photos are so dynamic you want to know more about them. Where were they taken? What are the landmarks in them? Who are the characters? What state? What city? The short "Trip Summary" at the top is a mere tease, and without specifics attached to photos, you're left to guess what's what. In terms of functionality, I would have enjoyed a slide-show option. Cody does leave a way to contact him on his Web site and you can buy a few of the photos as well. But it's not obvious. Go to the "Archive" section, click on a photo, and you'll see "Buy Prints" on the right-hand side. Prices start at $35 for an 8-by-12 print.

(Leo, Jen. "Cody Smart's hitchhiking adventures in pictures." Los Angeles Times 1 April 2009.)

Ghosts can't hurt you

2009-04-21T02:00:00.000+08:00

Real-Life Pac Man Terrorizes People

But golf clubs certainly can. LOL!

(Hat tip: crufty)

Fanaticism consists in redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim.

2009-04-11T23:42:00.003+08:00

Taking a cue from the opening paragraph of Mr Wang's Good Friday post, here are two quotes from George Santayana: the first, found in the title of this post; the other, after the image from page D4 of The Straits Times, 11 April 2009;

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

You killed me, man...

2009-03-31T15:08:00.001+08:00

Troll FAIL (see link below).

And as promised...

Sigh...

Next better player, please!

:-P

For Ambrose, an edification

2009-03-30T02:01:00.004+08:00

I don't want to kill you! I'm like a dog chasing a truck! I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it!

It's amazing how some people never change: you'd think they would have grown over the last couple of years, what with all their professed plans and such; but hey, one poke, and they explode and launch into hysterical, panty-wringing, hissy fits all over again.

Sigh.

You see, there's a bunch of narrow minded, humor nazis pitchforking out there, who deign that there should be only one type of humor practiced, online or otherwise. This sort of humor must be politically correct, inoffensive to everyone, sensitive to ~~everyone~~ every living thing, supportive of everything; and, frankly, bland, boring, and... insipid. This brief post (hopefully) serves to widen their rather *koff!* *koff!* limited horizons.

While there's no denying that the following 2 images are humorous,

the following 2 — edgier and darker — are funny to a significant proportion of the population as well.

Not everyone has to be steamrolled into copies of you, your tribe, or your army of robots. Some of us simply have higher testosterone levels.

Practice tolerance!
Stop discrimination!
Lighten up!

:-D

You may slip under your comfy comforter and return to your cuddly cuddle toy now.

:-P

Sheeple

2009-03-16T00:15:00.000+08:00

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.

The scene at an audition for "America's Next Top Model" in Manhattan when an overheating car was mistaken for a vehicle with a bomb.

Someone tell me why it's safer ~~clusterfucking~~ in a crowd again?

Monday

2009-03-09T15:46:00.000+08:00

Nothing like humor to deal with the start of another week.

:-P

Huh?

2009-02-03T08:00:00.001+08:00

But some of you may wonder: If our economy is fundamentally sound, why is Singapore so prone to recession? Why have we fallen into recession so many times in recent years? Why were we the first in the region to suffer a recession last year? Why is our economic outlook so bleak this year when some other countries in the region are forecasting positive growth?

The reason lies in the nature of our economy. We are not only a small economy but also an open one, fully plugged into the global economic grid. Our total trade is 3 1/2 times our GDP, one of the highest in the world.

Let me use imagery to illustrate the nature of our economy. Think of Singapore as a small speedboat in the open sea. There are also other ships out there, like container ships, bulk carriers and supertankers. When the sky is clear and the sea is calm, we can easily outrun the larger ships and tankers. But when the winds rise and the waves are high, we have to slow down or seek shelter in the nearest harbor.

(Chok Tong, Goh. "Riding the waves." The Straits Times [Singapore] 3 February 2009: A17.)

FWIW, the last time I checked, compared to "small speedboat" operators, captains of larger vessels (such as "container ships, bulk carriers and supertankers," for example) hold more difficult and complex jobs, with greater responsibilities — and thus, are paid higher wages.

Another case of Uniquely Singapore?

Two

2009-01-28T06:00:00.001+08:00

Next Day

Between the cycles of wash and rinse, a song
about to be sung, all ears lulled by a radio
while toddlers teeth on disposable pens,
while lovers spill speed across the stones
of a glassed-in vivarium, lepidoptera at rest,
in flight, in dreams, each caught in a storm
of juvenile chatroom cyber smut soaking up
chronic carpal tunnel pixel by pixel, hypnotic
pre-dawn infomercial drone in exchange for
flat TV and digitized sound, our solitudes
wired into subterranean optic lines, decrypted
surge-protected codes cruising anonymous
glass abuzz with neon glow and embryonic
lexia languishing on a music stand, marginal
notes scribbled-out below the staff, below
the institutional clock face masking hours
in that brownout run ariot, your appetite
camouflaged in grunt fatigues dirtied-up
at the knees, a song about to be sung, daisy-
chained anxieties now horse-drawn through
a gas-lit park where the dread of connubial
bliss and miniscule tectonic shifts delivered
a tremor through the family skating rink—

Romance

Bodily need unmet where touch surpasses want as one reverberates all day

from the unremembered dream. Monuments wanted for every passing
moment—a pigeon balanced on each bronze wing of an angel overlooking

an anonymous grave. If we die, we died with our eyes on, the romantic said.

That's how palpable all should have been on earth as in the mind. Wordless
conversations that shaped us unannounced. The two of us standing there

with dust in our throats, two freight trains uncoupled at last. As if awaiting

judgment every moment of our lives, we who had lounged in bed with voices
burning like winter sun across the sea on which we sailed. He who sings

no more once sang to me, nurtured slow on lullaby, chords of troubled peace.

Timothy Liu is an Associate Professor in the English Department at William Paterson University in Wayne, New Jersey, and a member of the Core Faculty in Bennington College Graduate Writing Seminars. An author of six books of poetry, including Vox Angelica, Hard Evidence, Of Thee I sing and For Dust Thou Art, he currently resides in Manhattan.

Banana

2009-01-25T22:00:00.001+08:00

Chinese New Year?

Yes.

Happy?

No.

Now piss off.

P.S. Hey, Chinese Culture Chauvinists (CCC), how do you like eating crow?

:-D

4 legs (tastes) good

2009-01-16T02:24:00.001+08:00

One bite and you’ll know why chefs and connoisseurs alike love D’Artagnan’s Japanese Wagyu Beef!

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The result is a superbly flavorful meat that is well marbled, extremely tender and mouthwateringly juicy.

100% authentic Wagyu beef

Product of Japan

No antibiotics

No hormones

No animal by-products

Sake-massaged cattle are raised to 30-36
months

Special order - please allow up to 1 week for delivery

Link (may expire)

It is very likely that Reviewer #1 is flame-baiting :-D

Cooties

2009-01-14T04:30:00.000+08:00

[Private joke.]
You know it's funny.
I find it funny.
Tell me you find it funny.
(Anyone feel funny?)

:-P

More than stretching

2009-01-09T01:10:00.001+08:00

I used to think that Yoga is easy and non-strenuous. Then, I discovered for myself just how hard it can be — and how much strength it can require.

Getting your ass kicked by your own body weight.

Priceless.

Workout music. Not.

2009-01-09T01:08:00.000+08:00

I've stopped blasting Metallica and Iron Maiden for motivation during my weights sessions. The other day, while I was lifting, a couple of kids walked past my window and went, "Oh cool! Old school metal!"

Stupid kids.

To Never, Never, Land

2009-01-01T03:46:00.001+08:00

3:46 AM: spent the first hours of the new year riding a no-food, no energy gel, century, solo.

It felt good to have power coursing through one's legs: endless, tireless; megawatts on tap — ever spinning, ever surging forth.

And a song on repeat.

Enjoy the video.

4 minutes 36 seconds of heaven, of history made, of eternity.

My mind is in a state
But all I need to do is change my pace
And I know there's fear to face
But happiness is found in its embrace

Life is a play: it's not its length but its performance that counts.

Last post in 2008 for the "Feely people" (who live in constant fear)

2008-12-31T16:30:00.001+08:00

This is for you.

I will only state this once: if I want your opinion, I will ask for it — if any of you try (again) to dissuade me from my endeavors next year, I'll beat you to death with a rusty tire iron.

2009 is coming, go cower in your rectum.

If you love wealth greater than liberty, the tranquility of servitude greater than the animating contest for freedom, go home from us in peace. We seek not your counsel, nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you. May your chains set lightly upon you; and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen.

(Samuel Adams)

כאשר ראיתי חרשי און וזרעי עמל יקצרהו׃

2008-12-31T04:03:00.002+08:00

Quin potius vidi eos qui operantur iniquitatem et seminant dolores et metunt eos.

(Job 4:8)

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

Eat TNT, biatch!

Feliz Navidad

2008-12-25T07:00:00.001+08:00

Here's wishing a merry Christmas to everyone.

Enjoy the Gunther parody.

:-D

This just in: Singapore has "extreme weather conditions"

2008-12-24T12:08:00.002+08:00

The last time a technical glitch occurred was just three weeks ago, on December 4. The wheel was stuck for nearly five hours due to extreme weather conditions and some 70 people were affected. In July, the Flyer stopped due to a minor fault in the braking system.

(Saad, Imelda and Pearl Forss. "Singapore Flyer to remain closed pending investigation." Channel News Asia 23 December 2008 1843 hrs. Accessed 24 December 1215 hrs.)

You heard of science-fiction?

Well, this is news-fiction!

Uniquely Singapore!

Hat tip: crufty.

I went to bed last night, and my moral code got jammed / I woke up this morning with a frappaccino in my hand

2008-12-24T10:22:00.002+08:00

This is the kind of shit I have to deal with, day in, day out, on this fear-ruled, fucked up island.

Cycle to the other end of the country [i.e. Dairy Farm to Lim Chu Kang or Changi Village] already so dangerous, why be so reckless and cycle in other countries?

...
I can tell for certain that this man is going to die with a ~~shipload~~ shitload of regrets (and fears).

So cold! Raining some more! You still go swimming?

It's 23° C (73.4° F) and the pool is 100 meters (1/16th mile) away. I guess they didn't hear about me swimming in the Merced River in early winter at Yosemite; or in the Pacific Ocean, off Carmel-by-the-Sea (clad only in tee-shirt and trunks); or bathing in creeks in the Darling Scarp when it's 7° C (44.6° F).

Do you see what I see, dear?
Is there some way out of here?

(Nick Cave)

Unconventional Wisdom: Failure and Happiness

2008-12-15T01:39:00.002+08:00

Stayed up almost an hour after my 4 AM ride to watch Reverend Professor Peter J. Gomes deliver this stirring Baccalaureate address (0:23:43 - 0:58:12).

Thanks, BigNic!