yes YOU!

Hi there,

Trust you had a wonderful 2006 notwithstanding the fact that I dont know you. I hope 2007 will bring more of the same notwithstanding the fact that I dont really care.

I know you wish the same for me notwithstanding the fact that you do occasionally talk dirty to me. Notwithstanding the fact that I actually enjoy it. Notwithstanding the fact that you may not mean it.

Some resolutions should be made of course notwithstanding the fact that I've never made any before. My resolution must then be to make one. See I've already made one.

Take care, drive safely and see you in the New Year.

Regards

sic6sense

A Flock of Seagulls

Contrary to popular belief, I've not been building homes and feeding leper children from the slums of Calcutta. Yearend contemplations dampen my magnanimity although its the Season of Giving. A thought for the people of Kelantan, was spared though. Same sex disco dancing is so passe.

Back when A Flock of Seagulls was a singing orgy, I threw a party for boys. It was a Newton like discovery.

What do you expect when the parents had to leave for 2 days and you have one day to organize the party to end all parties and the girls on your list usually need like a week to convince their parents its safe to come over to my place since I wear my sister's clothes because it was New Romantic to do so.

5 guys turned up.

After an hour of square dancing, we thought it wised to merge with another party in the neighbourhood since silhouettes of girls were spotted. It was a merger of almost equals. 12 guys and 2 girls ended up square dancing.

Moral of the story. Make sure your mum and baby sister are away if you dont want the party to end at 10.30.

On Sports and Government

Something I wrote a year back seemed relevant with Dubai International Capital buying into Liverpool. News Link here. Warning: Boring.

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On Sports and Government

Woke up this morning with significant chunks of my memory taking an extended nap. Or maybe, I’m just clueless about the paradoxes enveloping sports and government. They say America is a beacon of freedom but yet they insist on parity in sports. Salary caps, first picks and spread of revenue all seem to be the antithesis of the freedom of corporation. On the other hand, in Europe, the birthplace of Marxism and Fascism, the exact opposite prevails. The business of sports, notably football, is cut throat with the weak fending for themselves and the strong helping themselves to choice pickings. Inevitably, the few that survive will also find the pot of gold shrinking.

The aura of an invincible team can only be created by the existence of weaker ones. Hence, the need for West Broms, Norwich and Palaces of this world. Sustain them, for they do serve a purpose.

On the balance, America has got it right. Sports is for the community and that community doesn’t exclude the weak and impoverished. Football in Europe needs to return to the communities and the current solution is on the verge of a meltdown financially and structurally, with the G14 looming as a dark and dangerous force to the little guys. LFC sits on the G14 (Chelsea doesn’t), but this does not guarantee their existence unless they continue to perform.

LFC is at a crossroad. They’re spending like a team who’s consistently in CL and yet, they’re not. Figures don’t lie and ultimately, it has to be balanced. Or perhaps, we should just curtail our ambition to ensure survival and accept fate as a 2nd tier team scrapping for the occasional Euro excursion. Better still, if we can get Moores and Parry out and bring in new money. Unfortunately, unless you've got money to launder from dubious privatizations of Russian assets notably oil, this cycle of investment is unsustainable as football clubs generally do not generate the prerequisite sort of returns that excites serious money.

An old adage applies to football, "To make small fortune, you must start off with a big one". Is there a way out? Of course. When the bubble burst.

It must've been something I SNORT

I'm an Inverted Snob (IS).

Thankfully, this abnormality is confined to a perverse cynicism rather than a physical attribute. Like any inverted living body implement, a provoked inverted converts. There must be another comma somewhere. I'm just being an anal IS.

I've great appetite for food blogs. I chew and spit at their rather folksy assessment of canteen food which they pass off as some epicurean adventure. If a gweilo dishes out pak choy pasta, the raving approvals would make you think they discovered that their parents had physical fusion and didnt buy them from Tesco. Naturally, the gweilo is bestowed the title,"World Class Pasta Chef". He's probably still laughing while milking his cow in Parma.

Travel blogs are good to go too. I like the way these provincial bloggers take us through a journey of opening our eyes and expanding our minds. How else would I know that LA is a 'fantastic' city and culture is a huge shopping mall?

Since my life doesnt exclusively revolve around blogs, I'm also an IS at work, play, home, pub, airplane, car, people.

You wouldnt understand.

SIC In Motion

Just when I needed a release by posting, I've run out of batteries. So I'll do a quick one.



yes? No? YES! OH YEAH!!! YESSSSS!!!



that felt good. I'll remember to bring the power cord home tomorrow. I'm back.

The Post You Should Never Do

Is there an optimum structure to a post?

Should it be this SIZE?

o
r

s
h
o
u
l
d

i
t

b
e

a

s
t
r
e
t
c
h
?


A picture could tell a story.

Sometimes words are preferred.

"It wasnt a nightmare, the Twin Towers did collapse."

The grammar police might be watching your dotted ayes and crossed tees,

but its not a crime if U wish 2 right da wey U one 2 coz Yo Da Man!!

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The next post will be on the 14th where I may just Strip down and Bare all since it's the anniversary of the 1st post. Bugger, blogging on holiday.

Shite. The flight is in a few hours and I havent started packing my smelly shoes.

Boobies!

Blogging WRITES

True Happiness is to Have One's Passion as a Profession...Alain Silberstein

His mantra, delicately inscribed in soft metal, resonates through all his creations. You wonder though; "Is he really happy?"" Clever marketing?". A bit of both, but more likely, it principally serves to sustain his motivation in validating his choice of vocation. His stature in the horological world is unclear. His creations are not technically innovative and the designs are at best, Pop Art Warhol.

Its been an interesting few weeks or so as far as blogs entries are concerned. Intriguing stuff like bloggers writing for 'free', writers defending their profession, bloggers aspiring to be writers, and writers attempting to blog. Since the contagion effect and the chaos theory are in motion, I would like to add to the noise level..........

"Kicking a ball doesnt make you a footballer. If you happened to be one, plying your trade in the 2nd Division of the Malaysian League, Alain Silberstein would be a good role model."

In fairness, I dont think Alain desires great wealth from his work. It can't buy him accolades.

Back to the Grind

The word anal has more negative connotations attached to it than Sheffield United's goal difference. Putting aside locality and faeces, what's so wrong with being analytical or analogous?

Nothing. Except that the worst kind gets stuck in.

You are Connected!

Its true that it takes a second to score a goal. I was awake for that one second when the ball deflected off Crouch past the Bordeaux's goalkeeper. The keeper should claim for assist as he contrived to dive away from a lackadaisical ball that seemed to hoover mid-air, Matrix like. Ok, maybe 2 seconds.

Thats how long it took to juice up my liver with a shot of tequila. 12 seconds, half a dozen shots later, I was drenched with charisma. My 4 step moves, exhilarated rather than amused. A farewell drink too many for the Cat in the Hat at Velvet. He's moving to Europe for good. People should only move for better.

Time I pack my bags as my flight is a couple of hours away. The biggest challenge is to conceal, wrap and deodorize my running shoes. I dont want to attract too much attention as I havent been paying my taxes. Really, I'm not running away.

Effendi didnt get away with trying to flog off parcels of interior land as part of the divorce settlement. I dont think Farida is laughing though, the RM7 million cash wont go a long way to upkeep her vanity.

Apparently, the Tun and the PM are going to settle their differences before Raya. This culture of compromise is going to ruin the country. Can you imagine the conversation? Full of "saya setuju tapi". *roll eyes*

You may not agree but you might understand the point of this post. I can now confirm that the 6 degrees of separation works. I've linked Crouch to you through the Cat in the Hat, my running shoes, Effendi and the Prime Minister.

------------------------------------------

Have a good one! Normal headjob should resume in less hazy conditions.

A Crap Shot

I've been sufffering a severe case of Mercator Projectionilitis while mulling over the Trans Siberian route. China appears bigger because its nearer to the equator and more central in the world map. China also appears bigger because we know its densely populated. This is relative to Russia which is approximately twice the size of China.

It makes a difference to your travel psyche; transversing through barren land when blighted with dysentery. Moscow-Beijing or Beijing-Moscow?

Since I like to mix' em up, the first thing I did today was to read spam. The count this morning was 112 (I trash them regularly).

72 were about some mortgage facility.
21 were about some stock tip.
15 were about getting your Green Card.
4 were about some hair loss product.

Whatever happen to "Gain 3 inches in length and producing harder and longer erections."?

Sheesh. The quality of spam these days.

Immortality

She shuffled in at the last possible moment with her LV Murakami in tow. Although looking dishevelled, her ponderous demeanour endeared her to the other passengers. A kindly man helped tucked her bag in the overhead compartment.

She was porcelain white, not from exhaustion, but by diligently avoiding the sun. The whiteness was accentuated by the light shades of her clothes. Her top held up rather well given the gravity of her situation.

I took no further notice until we landed. She was seated at row 1 and I was 2 rows back. I moved to the front quickly as I was light of luggage. I thought she took a cursory glance towards my direction. Without much prodding, I took her bag down.

As we parted, she said goodbye. Later in the car, it dawned on me, she had her moment. She got her attention by simple gestures. Its not often a woman who's into her 60s captivates like she does.

I had my Immortality moment.

Special Haiku for Alex Yoong

Alex finally comes good at the historic Brno circuit in Czech Republic.

Sure, I was one of your detractors and I did lust after Arianna but you could say that about 5 million other guys. Like a true Malaysian lalang, I'm firmly on your side now.

A specially composed haiku to commemorate our victory, dreamer boy.

Just when I had thought
you're an Elvis' devotee,
You Czech-mated me.

Will We Ever Learn?

UKM, UM in Top 200
Overall Ranking show upward shift for Malaysian universities
The Star 7 October 2006.

"The THES rankings have been officially released and I'm pleased to see that there are 2 Malaysian universities in the top 200."....................."I'm confident our universities are well positioned to grow as drivers of Malaysia's human capital development." Datuk Mustapha Mohamed, Higher Education Minister.

"It was one of the saddest of my career. Looking at my colleagues in this room, I can see that they are all very sad too." Datuk Rafiah Salim, Vice Chancellor UM

"We may question the validity and reliability of the data on international faculty and student...."
Joint statement by the 4 universities.

"I maintain that I know the science behind the white matter." Sicko, President, sic6sense.blogspot.com

The Finishing Line - Cikgu Aidi

"Cikgu Aidi, I understand the science behind the white matter."

Cikgu Aidi

There's always one teacher who leaves an enduring impression. I was the one student who left my mark on that one teacher. Cikgu Aidi asked for me at the last reunion which I couldnt attend. He was my prefect and scout master from 20 odd years ago. *batuk*

I joined Scouts because the other options were Red Cresent, some Geography society and other Lit. type societies. I needed some action to quell my raging hormones. Of course, that didnt work, as Girls in Beret provoked unbrotherly like appreciation of my sisters in the community. Lord Baden Powell would be livid at the thought of girls joining the movement. He was ahead of his time; even then he knew women were vile.

I thought Aidi nice because he wanted to know of my interests. He thought me nice because I supported Liverpool. Since we were all chummy, he duly appointed me the leader of that batch. The following Monday, he made me prefect despite opposition from the other teachers.

One day, it all changed.

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(to be continued whenever)

I think I'll leave it at that and tag 2 persons to continue the story. Write as much or as little as you wish and tag someone else to continue. Actually, malas. LOL.

Hope Leen and Eyeris wont let it die a premature death.

Clueless

"Arsenal vice-chairman David Dein has promised Arsene Wenger a job for life as he celebrates his 10th anniversary as manager of the Gunners. "

Suckers.

Resigned 10 times today. Yesterday, it was 5 times. If this upward trend continues, the job might be out of me. (you got to be kidding! There are at least 156,447 people in this city alone who can do a better job.)

I like the idea of being put out to pasture. (early retirement is only for the invalid, bozo!)

I could spend time on my hobbies. (hobbies are only for those who need a distraction from work, MacGyver!)

Social work is my calling. (Oi! The lost cause starts HERE!)

Ok ok I'll look for something "productive". (Hahaha.. you put the 'un' in productive, UNCLE)!)

So Mr. Smartass, what should I do then? (*beep*)

Hello??

Mental Notes

I'm doing this little experiment of marrying Rococo's Baroque with minimalist Zen-like ideas. The two schools of design are antithesis of each other and conceptually, sits uneasily together. Baroque overwhelms with drama and superfluity where Zen is tranquil and measured.

The idea is to live within a Zen environment with the occasional indulgence in visual drama when you choose to do so. Like a peep show.

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Attempted some haiku the last few days, even left a haiku comment on drama mama's entry:

Reflective man, I'm.
You see yourself stripping down,
when you look at me.

What I like about this haiku is that the lines are interchangeable and the message remains.

When you look at me,
you see yourself stripping down.
Reflective man, I'm.

When you look at me,
I am a reflective man.
You strip yourself down.

Did a few more today but its hard work trying to keep to the rules of classical haiku. ie. 5 x 7 x 5 syllable, 17 in total.

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Something's not right with the political climate. Its simmering down to a pulp after some vicious exchanges. When it gets quiet, a lot of plotting is going on.

The Amazing Flying Panda

Religious affiliation, I have none. I've embraced the practice of it before but that was a long time ago.

The real world tribulations that inflict us on a daily basis, challenge our faith, ask questions and create greater conflicts. I'm not an expert in theology but through my studies of the prophecies of men and observations of the different denomination and branches of main religions, I'm further from the truth. I may not embrace organized religion but my sense of spirituality is occasionally piqued through a journey of self discovery.

Have you thought that religions that preach divinity could all be right? If so, then there must a God. All it takes is one of them to be right, actually.

God created little imperfections of himself. He calls them, his children. He intended them different, not because it will make the world an interesting place, but it provides a counter balance and check against each other.

Can you imagine otherwise? A world which is united by one faith. The leader of men, a Mr Mortal, would be so powerful that the lesser ones might think him divine. He would think so himself. That's why God wont allow it. Conflicts of men must therefore perpetuate.

I've no idea where I'm going with this but today at the long drawn board meeting, I was trying to resist the cakes since I had KFC for lunch. I finally succumbed 3 hours later when I heard the swiss roll calling out to me. "Eat me, eat me!" "I'll rollover and cream you!". The unloved muffins left standing, cried in unison, "Try us, try us!" "2 is better than 1!". I walloped everything.

Failure to Launch

"A successful career is just a prefabricated metaphor for those without a calling in life." according to this scrumptiously impractical person.

It sure feels like it these days. I figure that a horse whipping is needed to get cracking. If not, I remain just well hung.

Perusing through my options, I could be

1. The Monk who sold his Ferrari.
2. The Poor Man's M. Night Shyamalan, making the Sixth Sense spoof appropriately titled sic6sense.
3. A popular blogger.

Option 3 seemed the most viable as all I need to do is post pics of myself and let the award nominations begin. No sweat for a beefcake like me.

Damn Tired Post

I've slept a total of one day out of the last 10. I dont see dead people but I'm getting tired of the recycled conversations in my head. I wont listen anymore.

"

" " " " " " " " " " " " "" " " " ".

" " " "!

" ". " " " " " " " ".

" "!!

" " " ", " " " "?

"$ !"

" " " ".

" (A Mindless Conversation)

* Apparently, you learn more from what's not said.

Her Star is Bright

The music shop wasnt overly crowded but there was one too many person for my liking. I listlessly ran through the latest releases when the attendant meekly beckoned me over.

In a manner so hushed that made the French Resistance seemed like Le Carnaval, I correctly lip read "Paris". I wink and nodded in agreement and handed over my credit card to complete the transaction.

With the CD safely tucked away inside the black plastic bag, I asked him if the album was selling well. Apparently, it's the fastest selling album this year and the profile of the buyers is middle aged and men. Not feeling too good, I bought a Fat Boy Slim compilation to redress the crisis.

I dont know if I like her music but I do admire her. She's having such a good time being young, frivolous and smart. Noone else makes money from trash like she does.

The Definitive 100th Post

Since this is the 100th post, I thought I should put in some effort instead of posting the usual cop out entries. A few like princessbonksallday, the brainless braless babe, a foxy mama and a Birdie have at some point requested I do some memes. 4 by 4 ones and 100 things about me type.

I dont do memes but I'll do mine. Alphabetically indecipherable.

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Air Flown Dicey Act (aphro-di-siac) is my alternative monicker in the internet.

I Blog because he thinks it would be entertaining. Go shoot him.

C is the first letter of my name. The Baby Book of Names thinks its Lordly.

I won my first Dog over a game of chess. The State player who was leaving for London deliberately threw the game to an unsuspecting 5 year old. A beagle 'inspiredly' called Snoopy was adopted.

I indulge in Epicurian delights. The Good God not only showed me how to fish so I wont go hungry but taught me that a feast is not a buffet.

Fetish, if any, is a well rounded compact butt.

Gestures define a person according to Kundera. Gesticulating must then make me personable.

I find solace in my Hobbies. Collecting watches makes me tick.

Idols I have none but I do admire great thinkers.

My Juices overflowed when I discovered the joy of travel.

Kun Nee Naa Boo, I wont do, because apparently mothers do not have sex.

Liverpool, I love absolutely. It pleasured me no end when we beat Chelsea at the CL semifinal last year. "Sicko Went, Saw and Pleasured."

I've nearly completed the preamble/concept for a Movie I intent to produce. I'm looking for proper scripwriters and actresses. Rest assured, the nude scenes wont be shown and will only be used for personal consumption.

My first beemer 12 years back, was my roving partner until someone pointed out to me that the Number plate 6753 means Cock Can't Stand in Canto.

Oral is not Speech but Lip Service to me.

If my Penis is the size of my foot, I would walk barefooted.

I've Quixote tendencies. I once finished a bottle of whisky at a single sitting because I couldnt wait to open the next one.

Romantic is not something I do very well. Giving women lighters because they light up my life were my best moments.

Sex. Yes, Please!

Travelling to the Sahara and living with the Berbers would be splendid. I can just picture the sunset.

I fear Ulcers. Especially after giving Head.

Vanity is me. Sometimes my efforts are in vain.

I love a good Whisky. Wine I like too. I dont believe in blind tasting. A 1961 Lafite should be looked at because you are drinking a bit of history.

Xrated movies and porn dont tickle my fancy. Pocahontas does.

"Yesterday.. all my troubles seem so far away". Until I woke up this morning.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. 2.52 am. Clocking out.

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Over to you, Lils! You promised.

A Post before the 100th

I'm a walking zombie with zero credibility. Luckily, I look good and smell nice. You get away with these sort of things in our society or so I thought.

Just figured out the meaning of Crisis Management after screwing up 3 clients. Pass the problems to your happy chappy partner and tell everyone he's the boss.

Unfortunately, its not so simple. They rather screw me.

The Tinker

Lurvely.

You know you're needed when a whole slew of problems awaits your return. So I'll do what I know best.

Catalogue the issues. It should make good seating.

Drive me, silly!

I'm monosyllabic at best with my driver. Even that, he doesnt quite get it at times.

The other day, perhaps I looked tranquilized from a heady mixture of multiple spirits, he capitalized on my fragile state and braved a question.

"Boss, I need to talk to you about something."

*grunt*

"Boss, I've got a problem. It concerns my manhood."

*feigns interest*

"I need your help."

"To?"

"I mean I've a problem performing."

At this point, I had to show some compassion. Afterall, my life is in his hands, literally.

"You mean after 2 kids, you're still doing it? Thought old married couples dont do it after a while. You can tell me the truth."

Silence.

"Boss, I love my wife and I.."

"So with your wife you cannot perform but with others you can?"

"Nooooo Boss!"

"Get new wife then."

"Nevermindlah, boss. Thanks."

*grunt*

I had to draw the line, unfortunately. I could have opened a catalogue of other problems if I had offered help.

Today, I still wonder why he thought I could.

*hmmmm*

The Ego Has Landed

Excerpt of the speech of Ehud Olmert, Prime Minister of the State of Israel, published in Maariv on Monday, July 31, 2006.

"What is it about us, the Jews, the minority, the persecuted, that arouses this cosmic sense of justice in you? What do we have that all the others don't? In a loud clear voice, looking you straight in the eye, I stand before you openly and I will not apologize. I will not capitulate. I will not whine. This is a battle for our freedom. For our humanity. For the right to lead normal lives within our recognized, legitimate borders. It is also your battle.

I pray and I believe that now you will understand that. Because if you don't, you may regret it later, when it's too late. "

The narcissistic nature of politics and politicans. There's little compassion for others when a solution offers those who do.

Last night, at an international event in Kuala Lumpur, the Minister officiating the event was 2 and the half hours late. The person was rightly heckled and the chorus of boos disrupted the ceremony. Of course, the photos in the papers showed a happy shiny Minister.

The British and Singaporeans Ministers wont be caught late for any functions. It has been drummed into their code of conduct that 1,000 heads are worth more than one. Apparently, Lee Kuan Yew takes it upon himself to discipline the tardy ones.

It only takes ONE head to clean the cabinet. Its time, he does.

Breath of A Blogger

There's so much media coverage on blogging these days that a blogger must be quite important . I noticed that bloggers have ceased to exist as people too. I've seen some declaration by ex-people who proudly announce that "I'm a blogger".

But I think its a secret society run by real people. They have all these clandestine meetings at fast food outlets where they meet and exchange photos. Conversation and common interests are secondary as long as you're a blogger.

There are benefits though. It gives you a job until you get a real one, hence, you can say "I'm a blogger". Your parents dont have to dodge the subject of your employment at family gatherings.

That is unless you're me. My business associates have heard about my blog which I vehemently deny. They think its a political blog which provides the occasional social commentary. Real people are so gullible.

I'm really confused though. Shouldnt blogging the activity be as intuitive as walking or watching CSI? Maybe I should glorify breathing then. "I Breathe, therefore I'm a Breather."

I like that. Everyone needs a breather.

Hour of Need

Parting is difficult when you've emotionally invested. The decision is for the better as I've neglected and have spent too much time away from an obsession that once consumed me. As the strain of this is starting to fray the delicate quilt that is one's passion, I have gone back to look at where I started, why I created this, how far I have come.

Collecting fine watches demands time and finances. I started young and have always restructured and freshened up the collection when appropriate. I had a plan in 2000 where my target was to collect a variety of horological complications from innovative watchmakers on the verge of becoming mainstream and selective pieces from the established watchmakers. Each piece invested must also have a story to it. It should reflect a particular milestone, mood and event that marked that purchase.

Then something changed. I became fascinated with stories untold. An old vintage watch makes you dreamy and leaves plenty to the imagination. A fighter pilot's watch, circa 1940s, casts me away to Europe during wartime and the intensity of a fleeting encounter across the room at the Moulin. An old Patek would tell you a story of a generation of wealth to the generation that squandered it, as tin lost its metal.

The transaction was easy. My prices were met although I was hesitant. But I needed to break away from the things that once defined me; starting with my watches.

A little about the watches I sold:

Lange 1 Moonphase

I was intrigued with the history of Lange. A German watchmaker who shutdown during the war and reopened in the 1990s. Lange 1 changed a stuffy industry dominated by Swiss watchmakers. The design was unconventional for its time and the quality of the craftmanship had no parallel. It won numerous awards and made collectors scour the industry for independant talents beyond the main houses.

I like Lange's innovativeness and its courage to disrupt markets. I was once that, I need to rediscover that.

FP Journe Octa Calendrier

FP Journe benefitted from the exposure of Lange. He's an independant French watchmaker residing in Geneva. He was the one I speculated on; the next big thing. He didnt disappoint. He's today feted by the industry and sets the benchmark for independants aiming to succeed. I wear the watch he wears and told him so in writing. He wrote back thanking me for my faith.

I took 6 months of research before buying this watch although I didnt exactly pay for it. It was in return for a favour. His business has since flourished.

I sold at the prices I bought. Perhaps, I could've done better but the watches are in good hands and he's wants to look at my other watches. Somehow, I think he wants to know my story.

Anyone keen on buying some cars?

Annoyingly Funny!

Today, I heard a joke. It was actually very funny.

It was so funny that I didnt just Laugh Out Loud. I went HAHAHAHA!!! with caps and multiple exclamations while rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.

People looking in started laughing too. It wasnt because they heard the very funny joke. They were laughing out pretty loud at me who acted funny because of that ridiculously funny joke.

I wanted to confirm the funny. So I heard it in my head. It was so contagiously funny because not only my head went funny but my hands and legs gesticulated in a slapstickly funny manner. My sides went a splitting and I may have peed but I wasnt too sure because I spilled my green tea.

I bet you guys would have found it deliriously funny and blog about it too.

A Marked Man

I was 9 when I stopped being smart. Mrs Chan said nobody likes a Mr Know All. I decided to be cool.

So I became addicted to Ultraman.

I was 13 when I stopped crying. Wei Jin said that I must learn to hide my feelings. I learn too well.

So I dont sleep much.

I was 20 when I stopped asking for money. I told my dad I needed money for rent. He send a cheque for the exact amount.

So I didnt eat much.

I was 29 for a long time. Some thirty year old said life starts at 30. But I enjoyed my 29s.

So I grew other ways.

I was 32 when I started my own business. An old man said you'll succeed if you believe in the struggle.

So I sold the business.

I am today for what I could never be if I was what I could be.

Pointless Political Post

Its not often you get an eclectic collection of politicans, pensioners and poets in a room. The ostracized politicans from Mahathir's regime namely, Tun Musa and Datuk Seri Anwar, shared private and long exchanges together oblivious to the observant crowd. Tun Salleh was consumed by the banquet and didnt offer fodder. He's no politican.

There were other Ministers past and present. Together with both the bekas DPM, they were charm personified. Only politicans shake ALL hands and laugh at ALL jokes. The lobbyists and moneyed are no better when in their company.

I had a good laugh too. At everyone including myself.

In most armies of the world, sex is repressed so that the soldier becomes very dangerous. He wants to hit hard, he wants to be violent. The American soldiers are allowed some sexual outlet to the extent that their potency at warfare is affected. Its been reported that at least 30% of the soldiers do not use their weapons. A sexually satisfied person is not really interested in killing.

Its a strange fact that whenever a society has been affluent and sexually free, it was destroyed by poor, backward and repressive societies. That was the fate of the Greek and Roman empires. That is probably going to be the fate of the Americans.

There's probably no correlation on the above to the ongoing Middle East crisis or the domestic dispute. It makes nice conversation when talking to politicans. Totally screws them up.

No Hope

Its really funky when someone looks up to you. Especially an Oxford graduate who's been working abroad for the last few years.

So I bullshit as usual and as usual he thinks I'm beyond him. All because I told him I write occasionally. I Laugh Out Loud with you folks.

I showed him my blog through my tree geez phone no less. He went "Wow! UNCLE, not Bad!! So I said disagreed, "Really I'm BAD".

"No, I can tell you're really sweet, UNCLE." " Tell me the secret of your success."

Now he wants a tattoo too.

* After writing this post and before he slept, sicko pee-d into the laundry basket. Dont offer him champagne today if you meet him.

Sicko At Work

The 100th post is a dozen short, a year of posts is mere months away. It is neither my birthday nor my sorrow that makes this post. This blog is meant to be apolitical, asexual and astute. It is void of emotional conflicts so it doesn’t reveal the vulnerability and pompousness of the writer. There are occasional lapses but mostly it is tempered so that the message is not clouded. When I write funny, I could be grieving and when my words look clever, I could be pissed out of my liver.

No wonder the blog is absolutely boring.

But it keeps me sane. That’s important.

Some SICism

The perennial battle of the sexes is not one that concerns this blog as;

the writer is not representative of the average male. *coughs*
And,
a debate is about conflicting views. There is no meeting of minds, let alone outcome.

Although, according to Sicism;

Its clear to see if one can see clearly,
That our differences are to be celebrated,
In spite of them.

Amen-d to that.

The Walk of Shame

The last commercial I did, left me wretched and scarred from the experience. It was Once Upon a Time ago, but those few days camped in the studio, shook the last remnants of naivety out of a delusioned youth.

I played the main lead in a cast of 7. Simple script, copied wholesale from the American version, where the magican walks across an uncovered bench of thirsty people waiting for a bus. I ended up at a vending machine that threw up cold bottles of the advertised soft drink which were gratefully received by that greedy lot.

It took 2 full days after some taichi, politicking and little cajoling to cast me away to the bench. The director decided I couldnt do the WALK and replaced me with his friend who was initially 'benched'. There I was thinking I had the swagger of James Dean on Speed, when there was this Caesarian plot going right under my crotch.

Months later, I bumped into them at a seedy joint. They were tongue wrestling each other and pretty much oblivious to my presence. Well, I didnt have a handbag to smack their pretty little faces so I cat pounded myself to the bar.

The TV ad ran for 2 short months. The drink flopped and only in the last few years it made a comeback into the local market. I was paid as per my contract as the lead while Brutus the Nutmeg got his dues, as per contract in the secondary role.

Perhaps there's little money in politics. Only airtime.

Louis Armstrong is Right

Just had grilled beef with kimchi at the neighbourhood Korean restaurant. While waiting for the food, I had a bottle of Heineken and some Japanese sake served by a delectable Filipino. She thought I might like to watch some old Wacko Jacko concert on the dvd. I didnt want to be rude, so I appeared Thriller.

While we go about our daily business, we get further entrenched into a cosmopolitan environment. Even the local monkey knows his kampachi from ikan terubuk.

Little amazes us these days. That is, until we meet a Chinese Mickey Mouse.

Its a sacrilege that individuality and intellectual properties can sometimes be forsaken for cultural and social integration.

* HK Disneyland is strange but I cant imagine Winter Wonderland in the tropics of Johor. Project still on ke? Or do we need to trade sand for snow now?

Fussy Logic

The greatest of philosophers and mathematicians have spent their lives dispelling certainties in lives; including long held views on logic and science. Classical logic generally deduces from a series of co-related events whereas, movements like Surrealism, by nature defies logic; it subscribes to nothing.

So are you one who says Fuck it! Shit Happens! Damn Luckylar!?

OR

One who doesn’t sleep at night?

A collector, through a middleperson, offered to buy one of my watches. The watch cost me a fortune a few years back. Its hardly worn, in mint condition and mostly forgotten. In addition, I've a dozen others which I regularly rotate. Although the offer was close to the purchase price, I couldnt part with the watch.

Nevermindlar!!

yet I cant sleep.

Saving Miss Universe

For reasons unknown to mankind, I was glued to the cattle show. I was hoping the finest cut of Kobe would Trump the Rump from Puerto Rico. I take Beef at the judges' choice.

The other funny thing I noticed is how the South Americans can ramble on continuously without taking a breather. I'm blown away at THE thought. No wonder they are always favoured.

I missed Miss Malaysia. I always do, at the blink of the eye.

The local organizer is a friend of mine. Needless to say, everytime we meet, I try to impose my views on how we can unearth and nurture new talents. In fact, I offered my services for free in exchange for a business card which states that I'm a talent scout. He has declined so far but with a long line of failure, he might just be desperate enough.

Really, I'm doing it to make the world a better place, to save humanity and to be a soldier of peace.

Confession

Before I get sued by some prospective advertiser, I'll admit that my invisible stat counter/site meter DOESNT exist.

Another confession. I had it for a few weeks months back but withdrew it because
1. It wasnt functioning well as it wasnt recording MANY hits.
2. I didnt need an effing software to tell me I'm my biggest fan.

Gimme me some lurveeeee!!

A Brain Tumor

Some fella, titled ex PM, has the affinity for building monuments. Monumental success or otherwise, its still open to debate. But whats unquestionable, is that you must have the ego the size of a rat strolling across a crowded mamak stall to do so. Granted, some say balls.

Since I've eaten more salt and drunk more whisky than most, believe me when I say, our face is bigger than our brain. You may laugh but some people just don't realize that.

A friend of mine made some money from flogging his miserable company to the public. He wasnt satisfied with his loot, so he proceeded to build the biggest house this side of Suez. A 40,000 square feet structure on a 20,000 square feet land for a family of four.

He hasnt seen them since.

A Pretend Post

Its hard pretending busy when you're actually busy. Everyone now thinks I'm REALLY pretending. That means I shouldnt REALLY be working. Hence, this post.

Point proven. Back to work*.

* I'm pretending pretend.

Dirty Martini

Golf is brutal enough playing under the sweltering heat and 3 abusive opponents. Its a frigging nightmare when your body is still purging from excessive alcohol bingeing the night before. I didnt risk any squatting posture, so how to read the putts?

Mr PM arrived back from Perth last night to a crowd of 2,000 of which half were kids and the other half were their mums and some lowly politicans. The bet is that when the ex PM arrives from Turkey shortly, there would be at least 10,000 people.

Read into it as you please but I see a lot of headless people running around looking for a clue.

I prefer mine stirred AND shaken. Served from afar.

I'm turning PRO!

I must be pregnant. I've just finished a jar of pickled salted fish. Well, it sure feels like it anyway.

Throughout my career, I've always disregarded authority and did as I saw fit. Funnily, all my bosses thought, since I was brighter than them, my future would be better served outside their organizations. Even when I was my own boss and counsel, I was sure I could run the country better than the Prime Minister. Like all underachievers, I flatter to deceive. I had neither the integrity, compassion nor the diligence.

But But, as in all mice and men, I'm never short of schemes. Analyzing my super invisible site meter, I'm clocking up an average of half a million hits a day. So, I'm turning PRO. Not professional, not prostitution but PROFITABLE. I've going to share my super hits with a specially selected advertiser of my choice since I can now demand.

My father taught me humility and magnanimity. I would like to share my killer letter to the advertisers with you.


Dear Sir/Madam

THIS IS NOT A SPAM. PLEASE GIVE IT A CHANCE! PLEASE! Please! please?

Since I've got your attention kind sir, please consider my win win proposition. I'm offering my blog's real estate exclusively for the purpose of developing your brand equity. My unique half a million hits a day includes key decision makers, namely mothers and wives. Really I kid you not, kind sir! If you cant fathom why a blog of this nature can garner the hits, just get your auditors to call me. I'll give them the exact number over the phone from my invisible stats counter. Yes sir! Hassle free and Honesty goes a long way in this business!

As you've have taken the trouble to read this far, a short CV is a good idea since I've NOTHING to hide.

Name : sic6sense
DOB : November 2005
Category : As you wish
Achievements : Apart from the millions of returning visitors, the blog has the ability to attract new market segments through crafty marketing. Its a trade secret, kind sir!
Ambition : To be of service to mankind, especially you kind sir!
Expected income : Its an exclusive deal and I've no intention to seek other advertisers, kind sir! (only USD 0.10 cents per hit and I'll 'special rebate' you. *wink*)

Please call me ANYTIME, kind sir! I'm only waiting for YOU.

Not a one hit wonder,

sic6sense


Select ALL. Send.

Eyes Wide Shut

A documentary has been released to cloud the evidence of September 11. If I say "conspiracy", you would say "theory". This predictable behavioral pattern is formed through years of cultural and political propaganda. Of course, being Supersic, I see things differently through my Xray vision contact lenses.

1.Marco Materazzi walked into the bald pate of Zidane. I can conclusively say that it was a chest thump and not a head butt.
2.My clone's (Superman) spandex busting crotch is the result of regular hernia operation. He's Harry Kewell in disguise.
3. Akadami Fantasia is not a talent show....... Ok that is OBVIOUS.

That was just some sampling of my ability to see beyond the fantasy. I really need to go take a pee at the ladies' now.

A Soft Sport

Something inexplicable happened during the course of the Wimbledon final. It was at the start of the 3rd set, when I wanted Nadal to compete and make Federer slog for his fourth consecutive title. By the end of the set, my loyalties firmly shifted towards a Nadal victory.

I love sports not for sporting reasons but for the nuances that turn a match into a compelling drama. It's beyond the shifts in momentum or the ability to conjure up a brilliant passing shot under pressure. The excitement lies in the demonstration of courage and fragility of the human psyche.

Notice during the coin toss, Nadal took his time and kept the umpire and Federer waiting?
Notice at the crossovers, Federer crossed ahead of Nadal at the start but by the end a pumped Nadal strode towards his chair like Federer was invisble?
Notice where Federer usually bounces the ball twice before a serve, he's now taking an additional bounce when serving out for the match?

Like everyone else, I love players and teams who play with flair and without fear. They are also easy on the eye unlike the dogged and determined ones who usually resort to winning ugly. Arguably, Nadal is the ugly dogged one but the intensity in his eyes conflicts with the softness of it. His demeanour off court is one of great humility and bashfulness. The boy is deep. There's more to him than meets the eye.

Only Zidane can save the World Cup. The competition needs a human story.

The Culture Boggles

Our values and culture have conveniently been made a scapegoat time and time again. What's so wrong when a disgrunted old man lashes out at the PM? Because our culture dictates we must not speak our minds when something's amiss?

Thats why I hate attending board meetings. Everyone's pussyfooting around and if they need to drive home a point, they take the scenic route. If we cant debate issues amongst ourselves, its unlikely that we'll thrive outside.

While hamstering on the treadmill, I took a curious glance at some programme called Akademi Fantasia (apparently its very popular :p). The Head of Costumes was defending the choices made for the participants. She also pointed out that none of the participants gave any feedback and accepted the views of the image consultant. That reminded me of some actress type I met a while back. She was going through an image transformation and was getting a new wardrobe and car to go with it. I always thought image was personality based.

On the positive note, I like this new development for the tourist industry. Our cities are dull. Many of you who have travelled and lived abroad would agree. I'm waiting for some sanctimonious nut to politicize this and deemed it culturally dangerous.

Maybe they are right, our culture is just too shallow, hence the reinforcements. And the self appointed enforcers.

Hope and Hopeless

She was so ravenous that she demanded a fist. Obediently, I knuckled down.

On a related note, I finally figured it all out. Life is not as straightforward as first thought; in fact, its in reverse. Consider for a moment that death is birth and vice versa.

If you check with your Gods , TV sermons and your parents, wisdom is directly correlated to age. Wisdom means clarity and clarity is the outcome of innocence. Based on my mathematical modelling using the Monte Carlo simulation, the wisest must be the most innocent who has the greatest clarity, and therefore, applying my Life Reversal Prophecy, we are dead at birth.

So you see, hope and hopeless are not always what they seemed.

*I know this post sucks but I need a closure on the previous series of hope and hopeless posts. So dont run away, normal headjob resumes.

Hope II

This is hopeful but I shouldnt have done it nonetheless.

I feel a need to write, so I wont say too much.

Hope

This is hopeful but I shouldnt have done it nonetheless.

I swallowed a handful of chocolates, it stops me from guessing what I'm going to get next.

Hopeless III

This is hopeless but I need to do it nonetheless.

I'm older now, I seek renewal.

Hopeless II

This is hopeless but I need to do it nonetheless.

My runaround car doesnt smell new anymore, I need a change.

Hopeless

This is hopeless but I need to do it nonetheless.

If England qualifies for the WC Final, I'll be going to Berlin.

Tit of An Idea

Flashes of the 9th Malaysian Plan and Vision 2020 rudely interrupted my day time fantasy of flossing Kylie's dentures. The Government and the Oxbridge type folks would thank me for the piece that will glue other pieces, the lie that will cover other lies and the killer strategy that will destroy all TIUs (This Idea is Useless).

And I'm giving away this miracle of a tit sucking idea free. This country needs 4 seasons. Thats right, you heard it here first. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. We have wrongly benchmarked DEVELOPED. Its not about GDP, education or the environment, its about the fact that ALL developed countries have 4 seasons. The damn Singaporeans are getting it right; they have airconditioned the whole island.

Imagine all industries would increase 4 folds. A black Kelisa for winter, the auburn one for autumn, baby blue for spring and hot chilli red topless one for summer. Even the Bakun project would become feasible as more power are consumed during those cold sexless nights.

My brilliant execution strategy comes cheaper than a 1 hp air condition. Really, its cummingggggggggg!!! ohHHH yeahhhhhhh!!!

Told you it was a tit sucking idea.

Damn Drama Post

Being a kiasu person, I shall also partake in the current wave of histrionics sweeping the blogsphere. Whether it's valid or gimmicky or just a cry for attention by the bloggers retiring, I want to throw out my toys too. I dont care!

So here goes my drama queen post.

"














" (A Gagged Gag)

Malaysia's Best World Cup

Apparently, Ukranians are not familiar with their national anthem. That got me warbling on ours without hitting the right notes. At least I knew the lyrics (although it didnt sound lyrical). Take my word for it.

Since we're only going to make the WC Finals sometime in the 2020s, coinciding with our Long Vision and notwithstanding our Short Execution skills, our best WC todate was the 1982 edition. The Tabung Rakyat, which put the finances of RTM to shame, was the best thing that happen to us since paper thin tosei. We were not only spared Osim's prancing horses but Shebby too. Back then, he was just Serbegeth Singh.

Although I didnt contribute to the Tabung as I was a mere student with raging hormones, I felt immense pride everytime Negara Ku was played before the live feed. It was the original long winded rendition but you knew everyone was singing it aloud from the Mamak to Melaka.

The football was excellent too. The best Brazillian team, a brilliant French team and the resilient Italians. I didnt like the Germans for their workmanlike approach but hate sure fueled the passion. Now, they that they have discovered flair and displayed vulnerability, the Germans have become likeable.

This WC's drama is yet to unfold. I suspect the definitive moment would be when Shebby finally makes the right prediction.

My Hump

I did my 'first everything' when I was a teenager. Many very many years later, I still behave like one.

Lacking parental guidance and interest in biology, I discovered sex (or rather spanking the monkey) through a book called, "The Flyboys in London", some poor excuse of a story to write about a humping airline and its crew. Key words that caught my attention then were " In, Out" and "Up, Down".

I was really clueless but since all my blood was rushing to a focal point, an explosion was imminent. With little help, the book was drenched, the sheets were stained and I was traumatized. When I finally regained my composure in an hour, I begin to appreciate the words and messages emanating from that dastardly story. So I did it again just to confirm my understanding.

This story mirrors my other accidental discoveries at that time. I was completely naive, but looking back, I wonder if I would have derived as much pleasure otherwise.

Headbanger

Bereft of ideas at the moment since the idiot box (re: World Cup) has taken over, I'm turning into a zombiefied lump of lard. No wonder I'm suffering a meltdown.

Hitting the treadmill like an overzealous hamster heading nowhere is cutesy but its begining to run its course. Swimming laps is great until you figured that you've been swallowing pee. All this exercise is giving me rushes and rashes for the wrong reasons.

And work. Thats why its called W-O-R-K. Its hard and gets in the way of doing things that you like. Like being a lard.

What about hobbies? Used to have millions of them like the very mundane (stamps, really) to the very expensive (watches, really). Hobbies are for those fertile with ideas and enthusiasm. I need fertility treatment.

Lets list down some ideas.

1.

I need help.

A Picker Me Upper

Since I needed a laugh after being emotionally drained yesterday, I made up a joke since I found others conventionally funny. So I call today's invention, 'Logic Defying Joke'.

How do you smell a rat?
Logic dictates that you hold it close.

How do you smell a rat from afar?
You can always smell a dirty rat from afar.

Dirty, clean or paraplegic, a rat is still a rat, right?
RAT-A-TAT-TAT! Thats why we shoot them down all the same!

Hahaha! That was so uplifting, just like a glass of champagne after work. I'm so perked up now.

Bring em' auditors on!!

Damn Emo Post

There's something about June that makes bloggers go emo. So many emo posts by bloggers I read regularly. So emo that I better not provide any links. I'm smart like that, although some say cold and clinical.

I'm getting really emo now, so here goes my emo June post. Raw and mostly rare.

"















" (A Silent Cry)


* Come to think of it, I've written emo before.

Go Figure

Given the knowledge you have 5 years post September 11 2001, would you change the course of history and erase the attacks on the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon?

Consider that many more have died than the estimated 3,000 that perished in the attacks And that the world has become more divisive because of politics
And racial and religious profiling have become more pronounced than at any point in history And terrorism and violence have been exacerbated since 9/11

Applying the Theory of Chaos and religious theories to this event, tsunamis, hurricanes and the bird flu epidemic seemed plausibly linked although its arguably rich. Invariably, the naysayers are 'positively optimistic' that the world will end. Morons of the oxy kind, I say.

What about the impact of the 3,000 families, friends and pets that have moved on? Would they want a different outcome given the lives they have today?

I'm still figuring it out apart from trying to figure out what made me figure out this in the first place.

The Common knows Sense

Small talk precommencement of big time negotiations by hotshot Oxbridge type fellas.

Ox : "all this calamity everywhere killing so many people. The pregnants ones sure become pontianaks"
Bridge: "Nolah!. Its the virgins and spinsters who become pontianak le"

Can someone please clarify this?

Overheard while getting stroked by my hairdresser.

Auntie: "market cannot play one. only the big syndicates make money and we all end carrying their babies. govmen just talk and talk about controlling them but no action.
Blowgirl: "haiya auntie, they always say that after the market koyak. When everything up, everyone syiok. When finish syiok, we all carry the baby lah.

I understood.

(picture: A pregnant pontianak?)

The Politics of Fear

For reasons which are unreasonable considering that I'm in the midst of a work crisis, my thoughts shifted to the French and Bolshevik revolutions and the politics of this country which is dominated by one party. Then I thought I shouldnt drink too much as my mental faculties are on sick leave.

Behind this randomness, I've discovered I've been manipulated by fear. Politically, socially and spiritually, the basic tenet of human behaviour is driven by fear. But is fear bad? In some context, fear is a virtue. Fear God for he is the Almighty and fear the powerful forces of nature. Its also fear that stop us from coveting our neighbours' spouses.

While we allow these sort of fears to heighten our appreciation of life, its also fear that incapacitate us, casting a shadow over our ability to trust our instints to survive and flourish. Browsing over some Macchiavelli articles, this culture of fear is embedded in politics, media and religion.

I suppose the answer to our fear must lie in the opposite definition of fear. Courage is more exhilarating than fear apparently.

A DAMN Football Match

Something's amiss when your PM is involved in a reality TV programme. Surely, there are more pressing matters at hand than an inconsequential football match. By attending the match, he put himself in a DAMN DAMN situation. Damn, if you showed allegiance to the national team (and incur the wrath of 50k oddballs) and Damn, if you supported your son in law's MyTeam (which he did by showing up).

I'm with FAM (the football association) on this. Why risk the non existant reputation of the national team further when they are already doing a fine job themselves?

I feel nausea just thinking about the whole thing.

Screwing Around

The little experiment is over and I feel liberated!

Since last Tuesday I've blogged daily excluding the weekends (even God rests) to test a theory of mine.

"Daily grinders make better whores"

Apart from loosening up, I've become more intuitive with the things that makes this experience gratifying. Anyway, I've got a plane to catch.

Daily service will resume next week. Muah!

Seeing is Believing

The first time I met the Prime Minister, I had the audacity to laugh at his high waisted pants covering his ample midriff. I've also had the pleasure of watching the CEO of a local conglomerate devouring nostril pickings. Another time, an unattainable luscious spread of a rather delightful dish slithering across the room had the bouquet of a constipated camel.

The people I met, but the rest were fabricated in my mind so that they become approachable, weak or undesirable.

The next time I look into your eyes like I'm all ears when I'm all mind, I'm trying to contain myself from getting into your pants. And dont mind that hint of a grin either.

Enola is not a Gay song

Mummy is no bombshell.


Enola Gay, you should have stayed at home yesterday
Oho it can't describe the feeling and the way you lied

These games you play, they're gonna end it all in tears someday
Oho Enola Gay, it shouldn't ever have to end this way

It's 8:15, that's the time that it's always been

We got your message on the radio, condition's normal and you're coming home
Enola Gay, is mother proud of little boy today
Oho, this kiss you give, it's never ever gonna fade away

Enola Gay, it shouldn't ever have to end this way
Oho Enola Gay, it should've faded our dreams away

It's 8:15, oh that's the time that it's always been

We got your message on the radio, condition's normal and you're coming home
Enola Gay, is mother proud of little boy today
Oho, this you give, it's never ever gonna fade away

I love this song by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD). 20 odd years on, its still ringing in my head, and then, it occurred to me .......IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE!

Enola Gay is the B 29 bomber which dropped the first atomic bomb at Hiroshima. Through some extensive research (google no less), I found out that the plane was named by the pilot, Paul Tibetts, in memory of his mother.

Sweet but if you're going to kill 40,000 civilians, surely mummy wouldn't approve let alone unload her booty.

Dangerous Ideas from An Idle Mind

I love the idea of rebadgeing cars and calling it our own. It sure saves you lots of money from unnecessary research, marketing and other important stuff that makes a business tick. This killer idea should have been incorporated into the 9MP and the Vision 2020.

Some would claim that this idea is not new as it has been implemented previously in trying to reverse the brain drain. This was an astounding success apparently, as shiploads of Indonesian immigrants were given citizenship to arrest this disturbing outflow. It was so successful that other peripheral industries benefitted. Construction of police beats and the security business saw an exponential growth in revenue.

On a personal note, I wonder if I can borrow someone else's blog and rename it. I like this person.

Da Vinci Demystified

because I'm a trend setter, i stopped reading Da Vinci Code and ignored everything about it when it became fashionable And because I set trends, and since the movie is out And since it has become fashionable to dismiss it, I'm going to watch it because I think its fashionable to set the trend of liking it.

I hope its a romantic comedy because I need a laugh.

Bird in Hand

I'm shedding skin and my Liverbird tattoo looks diseased and pink.


*big frown*

flamingo jokes would not amuse.

Mouthpiece

The perversion of power from getting a fellatio exceeds the derived pleasure.
The perversion of power from giving a fellatio exceeds the derived pleasure.

This heady exchanges are about the continuous transfer of power and sharing a common ground. Its a win win situation.

I share Vic's sentiments about the political and economic climate devouring this country. But there are changes, subtle it may be. A perceptive friend told me recently that NST, the beleaguered government mouthpiece, is gaining credibility with contributing columnists such as Yasmin Ahmad, Imtiaz Bakhtiar and the like. Sacred cows and left field ideas once censored are being debated.

I read Paddy Schubert's Mother's Day article in the NST. She wrote that at her son's funeral, a Malay friend sang Amazing Grace at the church ceremony. Editorial would have intervened 12 months back.

By giving back the freedom of expression and power, true governance and care will take place. You'll less likely get bitten,

A Virgin Whore Test

di·chot·o·my ( P ) Pronunciation Key (d-kt-m)n. pl. di·chot·o·mies
Division into two usually contradictory parts or opinions: “the dichotomy of the one and the many” (Louis Auchincloss).

If the dichotomy of gay men is Top and Bottom,
gay women must be ................?

A quiz that might interest all virgin-whores out there.

Indelible Love

For almost 90 minutes, I thought I had jinxed Liverpool by ingraining an indelible design of absolute love on matchday itself. Thankfully, the love was reciprocated.

The tattooist said I was the most excitable customer she had the pleasure of torturing. Perhaps it was my stupid little grin but I blame it on the fluttering butterflies in my stomach. To cut a long story short, the first cut is the deepest, cutting it close and cutting corners, I didnt faint nor did I cry. I was stoned silent.

Its still sore today and it doesnt help when friends slap you in the arm. I would be happier with a slap across the face.

The tattoo itself.

* Its a Liverbird and not the logo of The Chicken Rice Shop!

The Inconspicuous Benefits of Black and White

Watching the 1962 World Cup programme in black and white gave me goosebumps. Joanna Lumley remains my greatest perversion, World War II was the most romantic of wars and Alfred Hitchcock's warped films was the most unnerving.

There's nothing quite like the magnificence of colours and the stories they tell. But its the untold stories that piqued the senses. Imagine a spot of dampness in Joanna's red underwear. Colour will brush that accurately whereas the magnitude of the dampness and redness are left to your own in black and white. And mum will tell you that if your're left to your own devices, you're capable of the most heinous of crimes.

Even books should be read in black and white. Try reading the benchmark spy novel, 'The Spy who Came in from the Cold' by Le Carre uncoloured. The plotting and counterplotting, the cold and the barren landscape leaves everything to the imagination.

Grey matters in black and white.

Designer Love

I'm PUMPED

I'm taking the PLUNGE!

I'm ingraining an indelible design of absolute love. Right or left arm?

Shifting Sand, Hot Air and the Great Divide

The conspiracists are having a field day deciphering this stupendous curveball thrown by the Malaysian government on closing the negotiations on the crooked bridge. Needless to say, the Singaporeans are perplexed and stumped by this discontinuation of talks; that they probably suspect behind this preposterousness, there must be some kind of genius. I think people think too hard and try to see what's not there. The facts are there.

1. The announcement to end negotiations on the issue.
We've so many bilateral issues which has remained unresolved since the split. We could have KIVed the issue and revive it at a more opportune time.

2. The intervention of The International Court of Law or Arbitration (or whatever you call it, cant be eff to research).
Excuse me, the dispute hasnt arised yet and noone has brought the matter up to the concerned judiciary bodies. Why the speculation on the possible outcome of justice before deliberations on the negotiations are conducted?

3. Selling sand and airspace.
One is a red herring and one is a commercial matter to benefit a few. Airspace is the sovereign asset owned by the country and any revenue collected from it, directly goes to the coffers of the governement. Sand is different in that there are private stakeholders who own land and concessions who will benefit directly from it. Since sand is a strategic commodity, APs would have to be issued. We all know the rest of the scheme.

4. Negotiations to be called off because of legal implications.
The legal implication at this juncture is that someone has possibly made overtures to Singapore to include the sand and airspace in the negotiations. The plot was on the verge of falling apart, thus the need to close the negotiations before it unravels.

Of course, this whole conspiracy put forth is purely speculative and totally baseless. I kid you not.

A poem by the Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759 - 96):
The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft agley [often go awry]
And leave us nought but grief and pain
For promised joy!

Tree Top Mentality

No dirty linen on display BUT .......


All Valued Residents,

Dear Sir/Madam

Throwing Cigarettes Butts From Units Balconies

The management wishes to express its deep regret that despite writing to a few residents not to throw cigarettes butts from the balconies, we still see residents continue doing it. A week ago a resident had her shirt partially burnt due to a burning cigarette being dropped from the balcony. We seek all residents' cooperation to stop throwng cigarettes butts outside. Please use ashtrays and throw it in the dustbins.

Regards
XXX Management

Its not about the grammatical and spelling errors nor
about them witnessing the act nor
about a lady getting burnt nor
that we need to buy disposable ashtrays.

So much for living in a 'high class' condominium where its main occupants are provincial Japanese, crude Koreans and trashy Whites. The token local monkey is offended.

The Stephen Hawking Music Video

Truly bizarre and unsettling. Watch at your own risk.

http://ebaumsworld.com/flash/rubberjohnny.html

* Sorry Mr Hawking, but the likeness is uncanny. David Lynch's Eraserhead comes to mind too.

An Old Tease

Read this 'quiz' in Bangkok back in 1998.

Question: Who is he?

He was once expelled from his party because of his political views.
He wrote a book lauding racial chauvinism.
His country was poor until he industrialised it. He promoted the manufacturing of the first national car.
He launched a slew of mega-projects and hosted a world-class sport event.
He had to face a severe currency devaluation.
He insisted the problems of his country were due to a conspiracy by foreign powers.
He pulverised his political enemies and muzzled the media.
He had a deputy who called for reforms and caused jealousy among party big wigs.
His No 2, who had been with him for some 17 years, was finally removed under accusations of homosexuality and treason.

Answer/s: ???

One is dead and one is still speaking from the grave.

* I'm apolitical and think this comparison is unfair. Its just so easy to pick similar traits and events of 2 unrelated individuals. I'm sure Saddam and I have lots in common.

Fool's Gold

We're pretty ingenius in the way we conduct our market studies. I've seen many business plans from the private and Government sector that based their investment assuming a 1% market penetration of lets say, the PC market globally.

1% perhaps is the tolerable threshold for funders and fools alike. "Surely, if you look at my 150 pages of feasibility study, 1% market penetration of USD 600 billion market is highly achievable." But they forget that the total market is controlled by 3 dominant players who has a stranglehold on the market based on pricing, technology and sourcing capabilities.

"I'm just being conservative, I'm looking at a minimum penetration of 1% with an upside of 20% based on my aggresive marketing plans". Yeah, with the marketing budget being a tiny fraction of the development cost. They expect the product to walk out of the assembly line and sell by itself.

Mostly, they forget that its also 99% perspiration.

You're bloody useless!

This got to rank high up in my list of detestable phrases. "All said and done......", basically disregards whatever has been said and done. Just kena from my client but there are other phrases that just makes my blood boil.

"I dont disagree with you BUT". Oxymoron phrase used by pig heads.

"And so?". Blur phrase used by your associate who is fiddling with his handphone.

"And SO?". Condescending phrase used by pig heads.

"So how ah?". Desperate cry for help.

"So how?". You better come up with a solution phrase.

"I knew it!". You have just vindicated what I thought previously but I didnt want to tell you.

"I dont know". You're just buying time to come up with a credible answer after being caught with your pants down.

"What do you mean!". Can you please repeat it so I hear it right phrase.

And of course... "I TOLD you so". Asshole phrase.

Writing this post made me realize that I've been guilty of using some of these phrases. Actually, saying "Fuck it!", "You're bloody useless" and "Why you so stupid one" has better redeeming qualities than an ill disguised taunt. Everyone will feel better.

You're not that Great!

"Don't be humble, you're not that great!" .....(think it was Marlene Dietrich who said it to a visiting diplomat) (One of my favourite overused retorts)

This reverse snobbery concept appeals to my finances. Notwithstanding my lack of greatness, I plan to plant the seeds of humblelingus in order to sustain my other superfluous interests.

Sell cars. Buy a Myvi.
Sell properties. Buy a Timeshare.
Stop buying designer clothes. Consider BritishIndia.
Contain epicurean desires. Consider New World wines from Chile and chicken liver pate.
Forget biweekly RM60 haircuts. Do mamak No 1(or is it No3) cuts every 3 months.
Return Datukship offer to sender. (ok, thats the plan if it happens)

Not exactly the state of destitution but it will go a long way in paying for my drinking binges, football trips to the UK and (*coughs*) the deposit for this beauty. My mother would be proud.

Achieving greatness is a bit trickier. Notoriety doesnt count because its too easy. Neither does doing good (same example as notoriety!). Maybe i'll just emulate some great Malaysians and add myself to the Great Malaysian Blog List. Alas, the list doesnt exist because Great and Malaysian Blogs are mutually exclusive? I can do a Malaysian Record of sort. Largest collection of toe nail clippings might just make me Great.

Its just easier being Great without the stigma of being Malaysian attached to it. When your greatness transcend nationalities, its not questionable. The call for Towering Malays or Malaysians is bizarre given the need to shed our 'Jaguh Kampung' mentality.

Marlene Dietrich is wrong. We need to be humble because we're not great. Its easier that way; we might even gain a little respect.

Emergency Leave

Is meant for emergencies and not the day before a public holiday. Might as well shut the office.

Basic Instinct Refresh

Out with the old!!!

A little bit of Monica is all I need.

The 9th Malaysian Plan Illustrated (for Idiots)

Great Idea!

High Execution Risk.

Burn Baby Burn!

I want it badly!!! Fuck the circle.

how$How$HOW$$$$$$$$$$$$$$!!!

The Circle

I live in my own world,
for I know no other;
But they say its always better elsewhere.

Elsewhere I stood;
For now I know better,
why they say its always better elsewhere.

This circle of dissatisfaction doesnt have an end. Therein lies the point.

Rhythm Nation

Johnny Tan thought it was rather bright that privilege cards were handed out to the right crowd to garner loyal patronage and free spending in his club. Apart from waivering cover charges, these members had good discounts on food and beverage. The idea was that the right crowd would attract the wrong crowd who would pay the wrong prices to cover the discounted prices.

Suhaimi was one of the early members. Indeed, he felt privileged as he was lavished with attentive service and he knew he paid less than the others. Ganesh was of the others. A gangly lad with bad skin, he bided his time because he would soon be part of the faceless privileged.

Business was brisk and Johnny felt vindicated. A good majority of the patrons became members. But Suhaimi didnt feel special anymore and the staff's attention was diluted amongst the Toms, Janes and Marys. Johnny being a good man, extended additional privileges to Suhaimi in recognition of his standing. Of course, this cycle of discounting didnt stop there. Toms, Janes and Marys insisted on it because they felt they have contributed to the success of the club.

Ganesh became privileged but not a member. It didnt matter as he was rewarded with the fruits of discontentment of others. Johnny had to end the discriminatory pricing practices as he was losing money and it became operationally inefficient to have multiple systems.

Thats not the end of Johnny's tale. Like all great leaders, he had a Turnaround Plan, littered with KPIs (key performance indicators), no less. Lessons were learnt and 2 KPIs were set:

30% increase in revenue
Limit membership to 100 top spenders and reward them accordingly

The idea was to reward the selected members with points that could be exchanged for gifts as a result from their spending. Just like the credit card companies.

Suhaimi was member No. 8. He also got smarter after the first experiment. Ganesh became his quick buddy, and he extended his privileges to Ganesh provided he spends under his membership. Suhaimi gets his points, Ganesh gets his privilege pricing and unfortunately, Johnny gets a bigger debt. Screw the KPIs, the rakyat is happy.

Everything's dandy in Bolehland again.

The Global Local Orgasm

"Ive got someone for you"
"ermmm"

"Indian Muslim from New York"
"errrr"

"His holiday home in Martinique is featured in Travel and Living"
"Hmmmm"

"He's flying in on his private jet this Friday"
"mmmm oooooo ahhhhh"

"So I will reserve the seat next to him at dinner for you?"
"Yes! Yes!

The one with the multiple orgasm is an A list local socialite although she will be amongst other A listers. Some Bs and Cs are thrown in to create a menu so extensive that a bite is hard to resist, second helpings are welcomed and doggie bagging is encouraged. Of course, the protaganist makes good commission and promises more fat cats in future. Forget Local, Go Global.

Whats disconcerting is not the fact that our 'best' women are hankering for a better lifestyle but the fact that the perceived growth of male millionaires in this country is just a fallacy. There's just too few genuine ones for too many 'best' women. This is better explained in another post which involves economic, political and social dissection. Stuff that people talk about in pubs.

One other thing...... the concerned A lister was/is currently in a relationship with the son of a local billionaire.

Too Close For Comfort

The hair stylist and I have a great understanding, a relationship akin to an old married couple.

He has been doing my business for the last 8 years. Which suits him as I dont think he has many customers.

He is not the greatest of stylist, I've even coached him. Which suits him as he's rather dull and I dont think he gets to update himself with the latest trends.

I love the long silence and rather not indulge in mindless conversations. Which suits him as I suspect he's not much of a talker anyway.

He doesnt have an inkling of who I am. Which suits him because he wouldnt want to reciprocate, justifying his existence.

I can secretly read FHM and oogle at the scantily clad models. Which suits him as it disctracts me from commenting at his ineptitudeness.

He doesnt aspire confidence as his own hair needs to be styled. Which suits him as expectations of a great haircut would be low.

His confidence is so low that he looks at me all the time, seeking approval. Which suits him because I dont think anyone else cares for him.

So I put up with all his inadequacies and insecurities. But what really irks me is that everytime he does my sides, his crotch brushes against my shoulder. Which doesnt suit me, I need to move on.

A Hazy Sunday Evening

Some random thoughts..

1. The Government is damn stupid. Shouldnt have changed a successful formula.
Petrol price increased by 0.45 cents last year (albeit gradually), noone complained. A mere one time 0.30 cents jump, people react like goverment and Petronas owe them a living. Get real, the subsidized and overgeared lifestyle we've been used to has finally caught up.

2. This blogger needs help.
The Lie Will Set You Free. A blend of fact, exaggerated truth, vicarious nominees and fantasy will let you write freely. The intend shouldnt be the accuracy of the story but the sanctity of the message.

3. This blogger really needs help.
Size doesnt matter, they say. Of course it doesnt, when you dont have them. And when you DO have it, it doesnt matter either.

4. A 12 year old Bunny is no fun.
Just had her and she didnt do me. I'm surprised Jim Murray rated her so highly. She lacked character, had the aroma of overgrown grass and tasted like cockroaches' pee.

5. This is a very tired blog.
Read somewhere that 50% of new blogs will suffer a blog fade within 3 months. This blog is no longer a statistic, its 4 months old. Its also very sick and will take a short hiatus.

Good riddance.

A Short Message Service

"The abuse of alcohol and women is the very condition of their (man's) aspiration, if not their genius... Proust". SMS received from this rather scrumptious doll at 6.45 pm.

"Free for a drink? Time we caught up. :)" . SMS received from an old female acquaintance at 6.46pm.

The first message wasnt sent en bloc. It was intended for the recipient as it was thought relevant. Claiming she's not deluded, she intends to unravel the mysteries of the truth. A quest of sorts. Poor sort.

The second message merely confirms the fact that women will never learn.

*Update

Ok, it was suppose to be inspiration and not aspiration. The context of the post changes but the message remains.