The Search for Serenity

Bleepping Kitty Dipping

2012-01-30T12:35:00.013+08:00

"The EPF is assisting the rakyat to own houses; it is commendable that EPF is doing a public service."

Please. The EPF fund is not a Tabung Sosial for all and sundry.

It is OUR Simpanan Hari Tua, and we expect the fund to be managed for OUR BENEFIT and the way I see it, the huge RM402 billion fund is nowadays the Main Kitty for the government.

No wonder PMNTR was so smug with his declaration that Malaysia does not need to borrow from the IMF, bla bla bla..

Of course. Not when there’s a huge Piggy Bank with an almost open access to its content to be dipped into.

Assisting the Rakyat to own houses? Yeah, right...

It took me a long and often financially painful journey to be able to finally afford a home which a chunk of my hard-earned savings plonked into the EPF helped purchase.

Now, it seems that some Rakyats will get their loans to Perumahan Murah from the same EPF fund.

A small portion, I must concede, but the dipping into the kitty has been going on for years now like nobody’s business.

Who know what else the EPF fund has been subsidizing of late.

According to the Big Kahuna who seems to be popping out everywhere these days, (Side comment: A bid to propel him as THE MAN in view of an upcoming GE13 battle against Nurul Izzah perhaps?) there is nothing to worry.

"If the buyer does not repay the loan, then action will be taken. The house will be forfeited and sold to some 30,000 other housebuyers who are eagerly waiting for a chance"

Funny Ha Ha.

And where - pray tell - will these other 30,000 house buyers – whom I assumed will similarly come from the poor and down trodden to qualify for this – get their funding from?

Together now: THE SAME BLIPPING EPF-CREATED FUND.

As the Malays are fond to say: Gali lobang tutup lobang.

Stop dipping your greasy palms in the kitty as one fine day, it will dry up.

All it needs is like some 400 similarly-conceived schemes to supposedly HELP the RAKYAT.

KUNUNNYA.

Mytholitically Speaking

2012-01-19T12:26:00.008+08:00

"I know there is a perigi (well) Hang Tuah in Malacca but it was built by the local people and they go there at night to ask for numbers …"

It is good to know that someone so respected in the world of the Malaysian academia have a wicked sense of humour.

(What? It is seditious of the good Professor to sully the grave of the great Hang Tuah by saying so? Really, ahh?)

So then, should mythos and facts mix it up in our good old Malaysian (ahem) history?

Nope, but I do think that most myths are basically exaggerated facts so much so the tales become way too tall to totally tell.

One fact which I can tell is this: all these myths help make, urm, “history” the more pleasurable (the less tedious?) to learn.

Give the children (and adults too) some credit in that they will be able to discern which are facts and which are not.

There is of course the danger in driving through myths as facts to promote a certain agenda: but Churchill (Winston) was partially right when he said:”History is written by the victors.”

Partially because the human tenacity has often also seen scripts by the so-called losers filter out to the world, eventually.

Anyway, back to Hang Tuah.

The version that’s etched forever in my mind and memory is unfortunately P Ramlee’s and not the Hikayat due to the former being the more easily digestible form.

Political intrigue, love romance, comradeship, treason, an anti hero, fight scenes… and all within a mere one half hour of doing nothing.

Now, what is there not to like about P Ramlee’s Hang Tuah?

Just don’t forget to open the window to chuck out any so supposed factual facts.

The now immortalized words in PRamlee’s version of “Akukah yang bersalah atau Jebatkah yang bersalah?" though says a whole lot about the reason why the legend of Hang Tuah existed for so long though.

So, did Hang Tuah exist? Probably.

What of his exploits? Probably exaggerated.

PS: Posting's no relation to pix below.

Langkawi Posers

2012-01-14T08:24:00.003+08:00

One of my daughters has a creative way of hinting for something she wants and would like to have / do / go etc etc.

She would go: “Do you remember the time when …..” and depending on the item at hand, would insert the particular experience.

So, I was on red alert when she asked of Pulau Pangkor - we're somehow a regular visitor of the tourist attraction in Perak – as I sort of knew that wasn't the ultimate destination she was interested in.

Turned out she wanted to ask about Pulau Langkawi, a place we've never visited as a family despite the wifey's kampung being so close in Arau.

Individually, both my wife and I have been in Langkawi though.

My visit was like decades ago, and that too, was an official function so I was literally being ushered around - well, not in style as I was a junior back then – from one place to another. Sure saved a bundle in finding a suitable Langkawi accommodation and car rental for the said trip.

That trip did not provide a lasting impression though and nowadays, it seems that people are flocking to the island to shop.

My sister in law followed her husband (a civil servant) recently whereby their accommodation was conveniently within walking distance of the shopping attractions.

Seems that the Government's function organisers knows their destination very well!
They did mentioned that the school holidays are probably not the best times to visit Langkawi as prices tended to hike up a fair bit during these busy season including the hotels and homestays.

However, with two school going kids in tow there is no way we could make time outside of these free times to visit the place.

So, visiting Langkawi would likely NOT be a spur of the moment decision with quite a fair bit of planning necessary.

Need to keep the destination in mind from now as the kids will surely again (and again I'm sure) prop the hinting questions one blue moon.

Asgardian Magik

2012-01-13T12:03:00.014+08:00

Weird one this:

Tenaga Nasional Bhd, Malaysia’s biggest power producer, received an advanced payment of RM1 billion from the government on behalf of state-owned Petroliam Nasional Bhd as compensation for additional costs arising from a shortage of gas supply, CIMB Group Holdings Bhd said in a report today.

Imagine that.

Never mind that Petronas was recently reported to be in a general disagreement with Tenaga over the whole gas shortage issue but, Hey Presto!, the Government chips in.

Read : “on behalf” technically means that it is NOT from Petronas’ coffer. Or is it?

(Am really wondering where our Government is churning out all this money from. Couple of billions here, there and everywhere in between. What’s with all the RM500 extras for households earning less than RM3,000 per month and more.

Aren’t we in budget deficit or something?)

There’s more in fact: Bloomberg says that a CIMB Analyst says - without the latter attributing from where he got this one from - that Tenaga may get another RM1 billion from the government within this financial year ending August.

There you go.

That said, RM2 billion technically is not a whole lot of money for the Government to be so murah hati: but hold on here; are we talking about the Gomen’s money or Petronas money here?

Or is it the same thing that the Petronas money is basically Gomen’s money? (Not the other way around, though, mind you).

Sometime last year from I cannot remember when, my monthly electric bill went up by some 7%.

Yep, I’m one of those who is guilty of using excessive electricity to power my internet, aircond unit (no “s” there, please note), fridge, the occasional Astro viewing, laptop charging, washing machine etc.

It is a substantial 7% hike for me and from what I gather, this month’s onwards I will kena another 1% for some Green thingy initiative for using more than RM70++ worth of electricity every month. Maybe, or maybe not: we shall see.

In the meantime, Tenaga is like bleeding money.

Why in heaven’s name is there a monolith of a power generation project constructed way out there in the Sarawak wilderness is best known to those who concocted the project in the first place.

For a muslim, one should therefore be thinking that there in a less than Barakah element in all these income that the country is earning, no?

Maybe: I shall leave this question to those who are way much more knowledgeable than me to ponder.

In the meantime, pay we shall do.

Bookend Decree

2012-01-10T16:43:00.013+08:00

I issued a “decree” yesterday to my eldest daughter: She is to read at least one book a month followed through with a report on it.

One book in 30 days should be a cinch; to a bookworm it would be nothing, but the actual challenge would be in the report on whatever it is that she has read.

I told her that the report would have to alternate between English and Bahasa Melayu, and that she could have her pick on the books she wants to read as long as they are not comic books and school text books.

Her language skills needs sharpening, but what I am more worried of is in her somewhat urm, fear, of expanding her thoughts beyond what she thinks her teachers (perhaps even her parents) would deemed as correct.

Thus, when she was asked to write about a particularly funny experience with her loved ones, it was quite the chore for her.

Of course, she is only entering her first few days in Standard Four, but there are obvious barriers that need removing.

Her younger sister will also be doing the same minus the report so I’ve bought two glitzy coloured notebooks as their “Books-read Diary”.

I’m keen to see how things progresses from this little experiment to perk up my children’s creative juices.

All the same, I realized that I, too, have not read a good book for quite a long while now. Not even a good comic book so much so that I cannot recall the last which created a lasting.

The last two which did perk me up was a thick book on Islam by an Indonesian writer who I have since forgotten (discovered this at the spankingly new Shah Alam public library only to later found out that that it was a “reference only” copy) and Reza Aslan’s “Tiada Tuhan Melainkan Allah”.

This was the translated version of “No God but God” first published in 2005, but I was hooked after reading the first few (tens, in fact) pages when I chanced upon it at Times Bookstore near my workplace weeks ago.

Alas, the sole copy was sold off when I wanted to purchase it a few days later but there it was on the shelves during lunch today.

And so it sits inside a plastic bag next to my piles for in, pending and out files waiting to be read later tonight, something which I can’t wait to do.

I am wondering now if there was anything similar which had perked my daughters’ “reading buds” which they mentioned to me and my better half which we – in the haste of chasing after life – had conveniently or inadvertently let slip by without realizing its importance.

Words spoken but left unsaid. Really should start listening to them.

And, yes, the year started with a bang (three in fact, which is no laughing matter when you think of the seriousness in intentions) for Malaysia with Anwar Ibrahim off the hook for alleged sodomy.

The seemingly surprise verdict? Sure seems to me like a poker player dealing his good hands way too early, just like the whole Sept 16 debacle the last time for the PKR man. He will never learn, will he? Sigh…

Prime Eventualities

2011-12-30T17:01:00.009+08:00

It used to be that times flies when you’re having fun, but these days, times zips through regardless. In barely two days time, 2011 ends and in comes 2012.

Just what CAN we expect next year for Malaysia?

From the looks of it, pretty much the same of tired shtick in political maneuverings between the two combatants of Barisan Nasional and Pakatan Rakyat with a general election due to be called anytime between now and 2013; one which PMNTR surely hopes to finally give him the “official” mandate.

Right now he is up there courtesy of being an Umno president elected by party delegates which accounts for no more than 0.02 percent of the whole population.

I wonder if we can ever elect our choice Prime Minister ourselves. Say, from the list of Parliamentarians elected through the general election. Shouldn’t be difficult to do, give the technological advancements we’ve seen since the last decade or so.

That way, the PM will have NO CHOICE but to be accountable to the general public at large. The political party with the prerequisite number of seats to form the government gets to nominate the fellas to lead the country, but should the Rakyat feel the options offered are crappy, they can opt for another in their place.

Of course, each of them will have to tell exactly why we should choose them – something along the lines of having a Prime Ministerial debate session or so. Televised would be a good option in reaching the masses.

We can then assess if the upcoming leader of the country is truly worth his salt for a vote, or otherwise.

Thus we can take away the party’s influence (where the alleged warlord and what not interests can sometime hold a leader sway) especially when it comes to the financial benefits of being the hand that signs the document.

I think I made a list sometime ago of possible candidates from Umno, but with the party seems burdened with a bewildering inertia on all things civil and the ABU campaign being ramped up exponentially; we may need a second, an alternative list.

Perhaps the parties vying for the Rakyat’s vote can nominate possible PM contenders prior to the GE voting, so that the Rakyat can discard unwanted candidates right off the cuff and culling the list to the minimum, thus making the choosing much easier.

Fairer still, we should review the voting from the current first-past the post method with its inherent unfairness vis-à-vis gerrymandering of the constituencies to something more proportional.

(Proponents of the ABU movement will say that the current system tilts the balance to the long-time-lording-over-the-masses Barisan Nasional. Well, blahhh…. We don’t see any peeps from you guys on changing it. Or have you? MY apologies if I missed that one.)

Alas, this is wishful thinking, and come March, or July, or whenever it is that PMNTR finally decides to be the opportune time to dissolve the Parliament, the PM will be someone who is first and foremost a Party man and country second.

Hell, you don’t have to look any further than NTR himself.

Sigh… 2012 could very be 2011 replayed.

Trombone-ing Pastiche

2011-12-23T16:42:00.006+08:00

US truck driver David Dopp won a 640-bhp Lamborghini Murcielago Roadster, crashed it within 6 hour of owning and now plans to sell the convertible as the 34-year old couldn’t afford neither the supercar’s insurance nor its taxes.

Talk about luck, huh?

I was once stuck behind a Murcielago waiting for the traffic lights to change GO near the Kota Damansara toll plaza.

Know the feeling of being in a small car stuck in traffic with a behemoth of an old, diesel powered lorry shaking every nuts and bolts of your Perodua Viva loose? It was exactly the same with me and the Murcielago.

I think the owner did some modification as the exhaust vent was huge; enough to shove a whole head inside and check out what brewing!

Funnily enough, the driver didn’t actually zoom off the moment the lights turned green; happily ambling along like the rest of the ordinary automobile mortals.

Ivory white, so low slung that it seems to hug the road (is that the reason why you opted for slow, good sir?), the Murcielago was quite something to behold.

The driver was a youngish, bespectacled Chinese chap who had a smiley, friendly face so much that I didn’t end up envying him for having such a superb example of a motoring draw.

What would I do with a Lamborghini? Probably sell it like David Dopp. Only because I had a slip disk episode some time ago and couldn’t tolerate any sitting position other than the sit-upright style.

Tax and insurance? Yeah, that too. Even servicing my current two locally-licensed cars are already giving me quite a yearly headache.

And the money could sure go a long way in clearing off the long list of household debts which I hear is growing in good old Malaysia.

For sure, if your thoughts HAVE to veer towards such mundane things in life, a Lamborghini (or any other similarly high end motoring brand) is probably not for you.

These are the weekend toys for those whose worry is the next clear stretch for an 80 to 200kmh torque test.

Yep. All that thrum-thrumming coming for the huge exhaust is not for show.

Or rattling the nuts and bolts of its puny(er?) motoring counterparts.

Tasked Simply

2011-12-22T17:29:00.004+08:00

A little boy came to a bridge rickety
Made of wood, planks and steely bits
54 sens in his palm held tightly
Coins entrusted for purchase for treats

One step on the bridge, the boy started
Not too fast neither too slow the advice accorded
Careful of nails and steels bar, his mother had shouted
Off he walks on slippers thin threaded

A second step, and a third, his pace assured
Working into a rhythm, in his mind a song heard
A Sifu singing, streaming words on a species of a bird
Tanya sama itu Hud Hud, the boy’s soft voice stuttered

What was he to buy, this boy of age so young
Running errands to a shop so far flung
Shirt un-tucked atop black shorts worn low slung
Atop a bridge workers past worked unsung

He remembers now, the boy with hair uncombed
Salt it was, said it out loud with much aplomb
54 sens will get me a packet, he chirped out loud
While the light darkens, the sun hidden behind a cloud

Squinting his eyes, he saw the shop his only stop
Reaching the bridge’s end, from walk he hops
Passing bushes, rotted palms trees and fallen logs
Eager to show his mom he can earn his chop

A pack of salt, please he says
To a man who seems to has seen better days
Thrusting his hand the palm open its content displays
54 sens no more a single coin misplaced

A guffaw as the boy display a shocked face
“Don’t worry son,” the man says with practiced pace
Here’s the packet of salt, and a coin to replace
For the one lost, fell or simply displaced

And on to the rickety bridge the boy went with a grin on his red flushed face

Stenched Rotten

2011-12-20T15:15:00.004+08:00

“There is also a failure of leadership over the whole NFC debacle. Najib should have taken decisive action when it first erupted, and demanded Shahrizat’s resignation.”

“Not doing so would mean that he condoned what she did, no?”

Farah Fahmy asked a very pertinent question in her column , and I am pretty sure that many of us will say “Yes” to that.

At least I hope so.

There seems to be an information explosion on previously hush hushed public funds' misfeasance and utter corrupt acts that is as if a floodgate had opened from way too much accumulated crap and sludge that the silent walls just gave way.

Not a week passes these days without us discovering of yet another pillaging act, another act of abhorrence by the very people entrusted with managing our national wealth.

Everything is/was out in the open but the perpetrators – alleged or otherwise – seemed to be utterly shameless of their greed in (Still alleged? After all the expose?) siphoning the nation’s wealth into their and their likes own pockets.

Much has been written on this by more astute bloggers, including SakMongkolAK47 , Aspian Alias and others that about sums the utter disgust we should be feeling towards these modern day pirates garbed in an elitist, executive cloak that hides little of the stench emanating from within them.

They see nothing wrong in all the wrong things that they are doing.

Some are beyond saving, methinks but then....

Should the General Election be called soon while NOTHING is done and the same bunch are again propped up smirking on the political stage – this seems to be where the god awful rot starts – what does that say about us in the society?

That we are blind? That we are deaf? That we CONDONED their cheating and pillaging ways? That we find NOTHING wrong with such acts?

Or that we couldn’t care less so long as we get our teh tarik-roti canai / nasi lemak-kopi O / Jom Hebohing and EPL games weekend etc etc etc combo?

Gerrymandering can only do so much without voters who put a cross, a tick on the piece of ballot paper come Election Day on the very same Suspect Yahoos.

Ghost (and alleged-hastily created instant citizen) voters shouldn’t overwhelmed the millions of – dare I say – God fearing ordinary folks who should know what is right and what is not?

So what kind of a society are we if we allow these same swindlers to cheat us again and again and again?

Rather disturbing, isn’t it?

Submerged Ambiguities

2011-12-08T14:22:00.004+08:00

Sometime tomorrow, Lim Guan Eng and Ahmad Zahid Hamidi is going diving in one of the two Scorpene submarines said to be costing Mindef some RM6.7billion in public funds.

Apparently the dive is to disprove allegations, urm, floating around that the submarines can’t dive.

Never mind the peripheral issues on the same purchase – the justification of having such purchases, the said hefty price we are paying for the subs, the alleged commission paid to local company Perimekar, the horrific murder of Mongolian translator Altantuya etc.

A multitude of issues which points to the bigger concern in the non transparent nature of the national defence spending.

Nope.

It seems that our first priority would be that of proving to the critics that the subs (Sub? Only one will be involved, correct?) are actually dive-able.

Such a profound PR exercise.

How deep should a dive be to prove that a sub can dive?

How long should it remain under water to prove that it can dive?

How many man hours do you need to ready the sub for this particular dive?

How much in public fund do you need for the one-off dive to prove that the sub can dive?

What will the dive prove other than the fact that submarine we bought which are supposed to be dive-able can indeed dive?

And will LGE go all “Eureka! It’s actually money well spent, guys!” after the monumental event? Doubt so.

It sure looks like an exercise of scoring a political point without tackling any of the core issues on the subs.

What’s next, then? A ride in the Pars 8x8 to prove that they are worth the said RM7.6billion for 257 units of the armoured personal carrier?

It’s the equivalent of scooping the frothy bits from a bubbly coffee or teh tarik.

Won’t tell you jackshit as to how sweet the real deal is.

Progressive Retrogression

2011-12-07T14:22:00.003+08:00

I may be wrong here, but it does look like a new age of Islamic renaissance is growing in this country.

Not by way of the so-alleged Conservative Islamists movement or the CSL-fearmongering Hudud-potong-tangan version.

Nope. Not those but a religion that is a proponent of progression, education and professionalism.

For example, moves are in place for the setting up of a University Darul Quran - where you can learn and espouse all there is to know of the Al Quran (and perhaps even the Sunnah).

It's a future I wait with some impatience. Not everyone shares my enthusiasms, though.

Just this morning I chance upon this letter in the Sun, which amongst others said:

“… a disturbing trend among some parents who send their children to Tahfiz boarding schools, paying as much as RM250 a month for their education, food and boarding. I may be opinionated here, and I hope I’m wrong, but I think this is a retrogressive step as the students learn only the Quran and nothing else…”

The writer concludes with saying: “What future do they have?”

Hmm…. The future is blurry indeed, but for whom?

I am one of those old schoolers who “studied” – very loosely so – the Al Quran informally all those years ago, and unfortunately, my lack and dismal attention to what was being taught by the Ustazah sees me suffering the ignominy of crawling in my reciting of the Surah todate.

Imagine a 40 plus man having to go through a second round of learning the Quran. That’s me.

It’s not something I wish for my children and, yes, to me, having a Hafizah or two or three in the house will be heaven sent.

As to them having a future; well…

I believe that learning the Quran by heart helps one improve their thinking capacity, and being a Hafiz or Hafizah doesn’t stop them from taking on and excelling other, urm, worldly, professional disciplines.

In fact, if one does follow strictly the ethos of Islam, the acquiring of such knowledge is literally a Fardhu Kifayah as these will be the springboard to help the ummah progress as a whole.

Imagine having professionals with the Al Quran and all its principles firmly etched in their hearts and practiced in their lives. Professionals with the necessary tawakkal and who do not see money as everything there is to life.

Doctors and specialists who don’t only speak to you but also to your soul when you’re on your deathbed, for example.

Retrogressive?

If this is so, I certainly don’t mind going backwards all the way if this is the path to a new age where worldly possessions no longer hold us hostage.

Gleeful Convictions

2011-11-24T16:00:00.007+08:00

Its midday and at lunch, someone stifled a chuckle
Trembling bright pink lips which end forms a crinkle
Staring at her Tablet whilst waiting for her burger with pickles
Reading something with a rumbumptious sparkle

A stranger curious sneaked a peek at what she’s read
Must have spied something as forehead he slapped
Off he sidled joining his friends, his chaps
Questioning looks, worrying of inanity relapse

From the corner a guffaw boomed
Next to the door that leads to the restroom
A young couple waiting to be bride and groom
In a world increasingly growing in gloom and doom

Table after table the laughter spreads
A news flash seriously solemnly read
Some straining so hard their faces turned red
Tickled silly everyone looking like boneheads

It’s not only here the laughing rang loud
Everywhere it seems, wherever there is a crowd
Watching, listening or something thereabouts
Whatever joke played, it was a total knockout

Heard the word revolutionary, freedom and assembly
A jumble of phrases spoken with great conviction and dignity
Oxymoron stuff so funny so jokey and gaiety aplenty
Alas the man is serious and not talking cockamamie

He is serious and not talking cockamamie
And once the laughter dies, thus we’ll see
Whatever reform has been decreed
Strings all attached, nothing’s free

Nothing comes free…

Doltish Adulation

2011-11-23T16:34:00.007+08:00

Yet another sneak peek into the lucrative business of the political (and politically-linked) elites.

I hope The Malaysian Insider had paraphrased PAC chairman Azmi Khalid correctly that “money had been given to NFC management in 2008/2009 through a special account, when the agreement deal for the project was only inked last year.”

Talk about money on a silver ( gold would go for those billion Ringgit projects) platter, eh?

One after another the project is riddled with supposed shenanigans.

I remember reading an FB posting that the project went through a Cabinet Committee only instead of the full Cabinet. Can’t really verify this one, but PKR has been yammering for the Papers to be made public.

Yeah, for sure this one will happen. When the cows go home (pun fully intended) la!.

This community of ours – though not of late – is perhaps much too steeped in feudalistic adoration that questioning the conducts of these so-called elites are usually done behind the scenes and at Kopitiams etc, as mentioned by Marina Mahathir in her (as always) hard hitting commentary today.

We are forever kissing the hands that supposedly feeds us, mere peanuts notwithstanding.

Not all, but enough to make the money siphoning – Columnist Subky Latif coin this as “Bakhsis” aka commission - circus continue in its national and international tour and circuit.

Marina very pertinently asked: “So how long will we put up with imbeciles leading us? How long will we tolerate unbridled greed and hate?”

I do protest the use of the word “imbeciles” in this case, as these are not mentally retarded dolts but highly clever, conniving, calculative, fiendish and utterly feudalistic-inclined people who feels and sees no wrong, no shame, in what they are doing.

Be it the pillaging and plundering of the national coffer, playing one’s race, religion and group against another, manipulating community’s civil expectations or even the public relationship-ning of a much revered Rukun Islam!

Na’uzubillah...

In fact, it may well be WE who are the dolts.

Imagined Stupor

2011-11-22T17:06:00.004+08:00

Should I care
That the moon shuns a cloudless night sky
Should the sun cools a breezy afternoon
When a river trickles through a land parched
If the wind skips a sail held limp

Do I dare
Mouth words written silently in my mind
Capture images floating in a imagined album
Deny a memoir sketch from memory
Cast gloom on a dreamy fantasy

Don’t we fear
When children are adults too fast
Where rulers and peasants crowd the market selling
(Who’s buying we say as we turn away)
Of trusts treated like a private cask
Since liars masquerade as heralds born

Are we to enjoy
A hearty laughter from a stomach empty
At salesmen selling imagination for a fee
The measured trusts of dueling racial rapiers
When piled the land’s riches on barges
(Traversing the sea to destinations unknown)

My frame slouches
As the mind doubts
Of feigned interests
And caring, hyped

So we leave things be
Figuring somebody else
Will carry the burden of ascendency
A life in a stupor of faked serenity…

Schwinging Excellence

2011-11-18T10:55:00.009+08:00

And so it seems that it shouldn’t be the Menteri, whose family got themselves a Gomen project with a RM250m loan (not grant, mind you) at 2% interest for a 30-year contract of something or the other regarding cows, who should answer and / or relinquish her post.

Or something like so as demanded by the ever pesky Opposition.

No Sir. As pointed out vehemently by several Ministers and a non-Minister, all is well with the NFC project.

Nope, it is the Auditor General's team who, sadly, mucked things up.

Imagine visiting a cow farm after a flooding. Of, course the conditions would be atrocious and things seem so, to use the now oft quoted phrase, in a mess.

Go read the multiple news reports – by Bernama to boot; the epitome of reporting correctness – in the Sun today.

See. See. See….. All is okay one.

Even the reported Condo purchase.

Hell, if I have some un-utilised multi million Ringgits stashed somewhere I’d put it to good use by investing in such a, urm, rental scheme which gives you a near 13% yield. Where can you get like good money like that outside of a Skim Cepat Kaya?

A RM30,000 guaranteed monthly rental is darn great especially in this supposedly (alleged?) softening of the luxury property market period.

As to the so called alleged conflict of interest, urm, what conflict; what and whose interests’ conflicts?

As said, the Minister is not INVOLVED at all in the NFC thingy. Not a wee bit. No conflict. See. See.

Aiseyman! Methinks the AG’s team should really do a better job for next year’s AGR.

In the meantime, and as always in this great land of ours, all is forever well.

Gempita Tika

2011-11-16T17:25:00.003+08:00

Jajahnya luas tidak terlangkau pandangan akan hujungnya
Hujung yang juga titik punca pagi tiba dan senja menghilang
Hijau yang bercampur aduk kuning, biru dan jingga
Di suatu sudut sekawan lembu tampak terlena
Menumpang redup pepohon yang tunggal setia

Disebelah besi yang tercacak menongkah awan
Berdiri di kakinya but tinggi mencicah lumpur
Seorang mandor? Atau Super?
Sebelah tangan mencekak pinggang,
Yang bebas sibuk mengibas
Menyilat unggas unggas yang membingit rimas

Kelihatannya mencari sesuatu
Tolehannya perlahan kiri kanan mengeluh
Mata tidak mengerjip barang sewaktu
Teropong tergalas belum tersentuh
Agaknya apa kata dirinya
Meyelam keindahan hadiah yang Esa.

Sayangnya bising laguan memecah bicara sendu suasana
Tersentak si mandor Super lantas tangan pantas menggagau
Mencapai handphone, di poket kiri hitam warnanya
“Saya..Saya…” jawabnya kepada sipemanggil bersuara garau
Entah apa yang dikata, apa pula yang dikota

Tamat panggilan,
si lelaki kurus tinggi mendengus keras
Serabut tampak hatinya
alat di tangan seperti hendak dihempas
“Kerja gila!!” bentaknya bersuara
Berkerut bibirnya menjuih seperti benci akan kerja
Yang bakal datang tiba

Datang si burung pipit terbang menyinggah sebentar cuma
Sang mandor yang geram gempita tercuit sedar
Terpancar lembut kalimah suci dari jiwa tercalar
Mengangguk akur nikmat diterima walau sekadar masa
Meliuk pergi bagai sejuk angin menggigit kulit terbuka

Berdiri kembali memandang padang saujana
Di bibirnya senyuman terukir tanpa paksa
Bising pipit dibiar berkala
Entah esok lusa mungkin tiada...

Amazing Simply aka D'oh Rib Ticklers

2011-11-01T11:19:00.011+08:00

Amazing, surely.

Going by some Ministerial, Departmental and Agencial(?) pronouncements made over the last few days following the Auditor General’s revelations of financial, urm, miscrepancies (heh!), Tan Sri Ambrin had better get his crew sorted out as they apparently got did not do such a bang up job.

The so-called mismanagement of public funding in supposedly exorbitant procurements giving margins even Kedai 1Malaysia can’t discount for, below board directly negotiated deals, freebies and et cetera are explainable after all.

The latest: “Of that total, 5,742 were slaughtered up to November 2010. Therefore, the target of 8,000 cattle by 2010 was met. It is a success.”

Or this days-old one: “So we admit that the report is true, but we did not overspend. In fact our promotion budget was the lowest in 2009 and 2010, but the amount of direct [negotiations were] higher because we wanted to go right on and get as much value for money as possible.”

See, Tan Sri. Your Audit boys and girls muffed up in their auditing of the Public fund expenditures.

All is either well, explainable or accounted for. EPF non-gomen guaranteed RM55bil loan, Giatmara's sweet decimal mistake, racehorses that don’t race.

Wait. Have the Malaysian Marine Parks Department explained their hefty purchases?

No? Perhaps the higheesh price tags are due to maintenance fees being thrown in.

That’s it. All the man hours needed the service the binoculars and other items post purchase must surely needs to accounted for, don't they?

Something like the good money we paid for the two submarines, lah.

Of no particular relevance to the above posting, I am now reminded of one Harry Hoo, a side character from the campy TV show, Get Smart who goes around saying: "Amazing.." whenever Smart makes his, urm, smart deductions.

Amazing. Simply amazing.

Say it Harry Hoo style, please.

Knotty Insinuations

2011-10-27T16:42:00.005+08:00

I am really wondering why there is seemingly a concerted political cross hair trained on Penang Chief Minister Lim Guan Eng.

Those who stand steadfast by the ABU principle must be thinking that this young chap must being doing some great stuff in Penang to warrant such undue attention from the so-called cybertroopers as well as segments of the MSM.

Ever since my Uncle quit his job and moved to Alor Star, I have not been to Penang so I wouldn’t know how things are there.

It used to be quite the knotty place for especially the have-nots (mostly Malays); squatter homes crammed in between spanking new roads, high rises and commercial developments. Hell, things could still be the same, for all I know.

After all, every now and then some opposing politician from Penang (or elsewhere) shouting that LGE is Anti-Melayu.

Maybe he is, maybe he’s not. I do not know LGE personally enough to judge.*

BUT I can feel his anger and rage that his son is being picked on. By people who have all the clout, the standings, the what not.

Mere denial is not enough, they say. There must something there, they insinuate.

This despite being caught – literally – guilty of pasting the picture of a total stranger as the alleged victim of a make believe molest case against her.

Even verifiable facts are cast aside.

Which makes me now damn convinced that LGE is the real deal of a threat to Umno.

Not Anwar, who used to be the Pakatan Rakyat’s glue and cement to pepper the cracks between two opposing political force of DAP and PAS.

Of course, as a Muslim, I wish and pray for Allah to give LGE the hidayah to embrace Islam as his Ad Din.

Now THAT would shut them up for good.

For the moment though, LGE has my support in his quest to get the bully off his son’s back.

* I have covered his dad, though on countless occasion.

Once, when I was the only non-Chinese daily covering his function, I had the DAP stalwart all to myself for a lengthy interview, and I could see the twinkle in his eyes that seems to say: “Are you sure your article will get published, young man?”

He was wrong. It did and was in fact on the reading (odd numbered) page.

Circussy Syarkas

2011-10-25T13:35:00.006+08:00

It is the time of the year, albeit slightly (why, hmm?) delayed.

Malaysians – the readings ones, at least – are treated to an orgy of financial shenanigans by segments of the Government arm that borders on sheer criminality.

And yet…

The Auditor General’s Report comes with a BANG! and then out it goes with a whimper.

Just like a circus, you get entertained, going Ooh and Ahh at the right junctures and, then, the whole troupe leaves.

Good Bye, folks. See you again next year. And the next. And the next.

The AGR circus, however, has clowns who pull your nose and earlobes instead of theirs for laughs.

It’s the same old tired script. So much so you do have to question whether the AGR still serves a purpose for being when all it could ever be is a thick book to be kept as an Arkib Negara.

The miscreants who actively do all these procurement-bloating exercise knows the drill too, probably.

Hence the almost nonplussed reactions to the entire expose in siphoning of public funds.

Public apathy? Could be…

A lack of political will? Definitely…

Participatory acquiescence? Borderline criminality…

Fortunately for those busily doing the milking, “Que Sera Sera” is quite high up in the list of Malaysia’s well loved song.

Whatever will be, will be.

Because its one hell of a tired old joke...

A Smooching Great Deal

2011-10-20T16:42:00.005+08:00

Way back in the late 1980’s, my dad opened a grocery shop using proceeds from his golden handshake a few years earlier. Nothing fanciful; the shop was just an extension of the single-storey house we were living in.

He’d stock up every few weeks or so the dry stuffs, and two-days once or less for the perishable items like fish, chicken, veges etc.

I helped out a bit whilst waiting for my SPM results. Cashier, cooking gas deliverer, afternoon shift shopkeeper – it was a family business after all.

The business never did prospered; not helped by my irresponsible eating of the snacks and what not during my shifts, amongst many, many grocery-shops sins (sorry, Dad!).

Then again, though, profit margins for grocery shops are never that big anyway. If I can remember, dad got his extra to cover costs etc not only from the cheaper bulk buying price but also the extra items for every purchase. Buy 40 get 5 extra, so the additional covers my, ahem, siphoning.

Anyway, the shop died a natural death soon after both mom and dad went for their Haj. I think dad just got tired over the whole serving the folks thing as he was afterwards so active with his congregation.

Thoughts of the family’s once grocery store came back when I read of Kedai Rakyat 1Malaysia’s supposed ability to sell at 30-40% lower than market prices, while having a spanky setup complete with bar coding cash register, smiling uniformed-attired shop assistants and QUALITY stuffs to boot.

Wow. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how this is ever possible.

Huge margins are usual for high end items as these goes on brand names unlike groceries. Even the much vaunted hypermarkets which a Parliamentarian claim as hastening the death of small Pa Ma (Mom Dad?) shops could only cut so much from their pricing.

30 to 40% for ALL items is…. I don’t know what it is.

All well and fine for the Rakyat, perhaps, to be able to buy a RM6.20 can of sardine for RM2.99 (round it up to RM3 la) and I suppose, yeah, bulk-buying, no-frills-simple packaging could REALLY shed the difference while providing a decent profit to cater for the overheads.

Either that or someone’s operating a charity.

Ho Hum Bunkum aka My WishList

2011-10-07T11:09:00.007+08:00

“Mr Prime Minister, please ease the pain of mid-income group” makes a whole lot of sense, but is it too far too late a good proposition to incorporate?

We’ll know well enough later today when PMNTR go through the whole shebang of presenting the Budget 2012.

Once upon a time I used to enjoy the presenting of the budget by the nation’s Prime Minister. Until Pak Lah came along and made it a pain to sit through with some really, urm, awesome reading of the Budget Speech.

Aiyoh.

Last year’s Budget however a disappointment, particularly for the said middle income bracket (I’m in this one, perhaps within the lower to mid Mid Range band, if you may) group of rakyat as there was practically NOTHING for us.

The worst came later during tax assessment day when you realized that; “Hey, they’ve changed the bloody thing and now much of the relief I have before is either consolidated or mysteriously, inconspicuously, missing”.

Fortunately, the IRD (don’t you just the 1Malaysia era of astounding acronyms) came through with relatively painless refunding of excesses paid; though they did complain about employers paying too much of their staff’s pay vis-à-vis the PCB deductions.

My Budget 2012 wishlist?

Cheaper cars, or better public transportation system. Or BOTH and they can ditch the fuel subsidies.

BK Sidhu’s (as per her article mentioned above) wider range of tax brackets to allow the mid ones some breathing space.

Ditch the tax on Imported books (and comics too!)

To give more clout to the Parliamentary Public Accounts Committee to look / investigate / recommend / reprimand all the ketirisan in governmental expenditures.

A cool RM1 million in my savings account tonight at 6pm-ish.

This is MY WISHLIST after all, correct?

Sigh.

My inane wishes notwithstanding, I do foresee an abundance of feely-goody, smoochy-touchy, excellently WoWishly, news headline in all of tomorrows MSM.

Will any of these be of good news to us Mid Rangers?

That we shall know later today. Tune in, if you wish so.

Katsuhiro Otomo's Memories

A Dusty Tarred Road

2011-10-04T16:36:00.010+08:00

A tarred road that’s dusty
A rusty old bus dang creaky
A perky radio deejay so freaky
Yakking away, trailing words aplenty.

How could he sleep so still,
Eyes shut, his head lolling,
Mouth opens, his spittle dribbling,
Its reservoir an unwashed shirt with no frill

A journey long,
Passing a town ghostly
Of buildings tall,
Of façade ghastly,
Boxed by walls unsurfaced
Caretakers solo, facing idleness unfazed

Into a pothole tyres skipped
A jarring thump as the driver let it ripped
Awaken momentarily, he eyes her sleepily
A brief smile, a recognition she receives willingly

Sweet companion he is, in that she’s aware
Through thick and thin was her promise her dare
Her thoughts lost, she touches a ring, third finger, no stone so bare
A gift from long ago, when fantasy was beyond compare

In her mind she sighs
Thoughts of days past, of tomorrows yet to come
Of daily trudging and endless hours
Forever waiting for a weekend that’s calm
Slaving away in a country she thought her own
Born a Bumi, a Malay, a Muslim, taught, aged, all home grown

A journey continues
Of wrong turns and mistaken cues
From the speaker blares so loud a song
Lionel Richie (so old) singing “All Night Long”

Defining Time

2011-09-26T17:11:00.008+08:00

Callous

Adjective:
1. Having calluses; toughened: callous skin on the elbow.
2. Emotionally hardened; "a callous indifference to suffering"; "cold-blooded and indurate to public opinion"

Synonyms: indurate, pachydermatous, insensitive - deficient in human sensibility; not mentally or morally sensitive

A5540&74s.

Meanwhile, urmm, unrelated, this news:

Mis-Adventure, Confirms Coroner.

Okay. Whatever.

Kedahans will know these words: Dah Mangli

Pix from The Malaysian Insider

Abasing Exaltations

2011-09-23T12:03:00.006+08:00

It seems that being Prime Minister – in this country at least - is not as cut out as its grandiose and exalted nomenclature suggests.

No sooner than the PM announced intentions to make Malaysia the best democracy in the world , his subordinates (ummm, allegedly?) do just the opposite.

It was reported that a video promoting the right to vote has been taken off the air by local broadcasters because it contains opposition figures and Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah’s speech talking about Malaysia having problems.

Mind you, Ku Li – as Tengku Razaleigh is fondly known as – is, despite sometimes going against the thoughts-flow of the powers-that-be, a Barisan man. Part of the gang la.

What’s this about then? Insubordination? Miscommunication? ATNO? SOTDA?* Flippy floppy talky no walkie? What exactly?

This sort of wayang kulit sometimes justifies the prevailing general sense of cynicism whenever such grand proclamations are made towards reformation, transformation, whatever else tion there is supposedly planned.

Whatever is bloody wrong with talking out loud about the country’s problems anyway? Afraid that the FDIs would suddenly take flight? That the masses would sit up, think (for once!) and go, “hmmm…”?

Some in the Government seemed stuck in a time warp. An age where information is whatever RTM or the MSNs tell you over the airwaves and in print.

An age where people are unquestioning over what the authorities are doing and accepting things done as being for the greater good, whatever that means.

Either that or someone is being plain sneaky.

Baling batu sembunyi tangan kind of sneaky.

* In the spirit of the ETP's penchant for acroynms.

Slinky Slickness

2011-09-21T16:05:00.005+08:00

“So I’m afraid I think the whole thing is an absolute scam and a shocking and indefensible waste of taxpayers’ money,“ said Simon Anholt.

“If you look at the countries that have spent the most money on ambitious PR campaigns, they’re the places that are most despised and it hasn’t done anything to fix their image at all.”

Shocking. Simply shocking in that a Mat Salleh having the nerve to call our PM’s PR effort aka rebranding of himself in order to appeal to the masses allegedly using taxpayers fund with a yet to be called General Election ever looming as “shocking.”

As we all are wont of saying: Where got shock one?

It’s probably a latest fad for leaders all over the world to go for a makeover. Blame it on all those cable-network TV programmes that is always expounding the need to change this, to change that.

And the fact remains that in Malaysia wastage of public fund is no more shocking or indefensible as, urm… I digress: is there anything that fits such category, really?

Year in, year out the Auditor General will without fail lists all those leakages in funding for everyone to see so much so that the ”shock” value has gone quite limp.

At most is that the masses get some syiok in reading the shenanigans (some) or neglect (criminal? Ho hum) of such exercise in the procurement using public funding.

Look at it this way, Mr Simon Sir.

At least OUR PM (to go with THAT SONG by ND LALA) is doing something to improve his external image even if his core remains the same.

Looks like him, talks like him, sounds like him, it’s him all right.

Same ole, same ole.

Personified Coolness

2011-09-20T14:23:00.004+08:00

TV9 has this new programme called “Mahir Jawi” featuring one Ustaz Safwan Syafiq which my daughter would catch every other day since her friends make up part of the participants.

Yesterday’s show however was quite a bummer. Right before the ending, all the children (three boys and girls respectively) as well as the Ustaz - looking fairly awkward - launch into a rendition of the “Satu Malaysia” song, complete with scrolling Jawi inscription, karaoke-style.

I have to admit that I love the song. It has a contagious tune and the sung principle in the oneness of Malaysian is quite sound.

But this shoving it in a kiddie programme is crass, American-styled hype complete with the “Oohhh”, "Aahhh", “Sighhh” cue cards. Not proper, I think.

Worse was to come though, as a few minutes later and just before the 8 pm news bulletin, on comes a local artist – ND (he sings?) Lala – and a song with lyrics saying this PM is the PM for everyone or something to that effect.

My wife and I were stunned into silence for a short while before reaching for the remote and changing channel.

To quote an oft repeated phrase in the country these days: watdehe?!

I realized that this song (the second one) may have well (ahem!) top the charts in the mainstream TV channels for quite a fair bit of time*, but really, has the office of the most exalted administrator of the country sunk this low that this “fact” has to be announced over the airwaves?

I read today that there is a branding (re?) drive of PMNTR by some consultant(s) who also did Tony Blair.

Something to do with a “cool” PMNTR.

THAT explains the whole recording of PMNTR videotaping TV9 veejays in the studio. I wondered watdehe was that about when I first saw it.

Come to think of it; sink low doesn’t quite describe it. What’s lower than low?

I suppose if PMNTR does really win the hearts of all Malaysian with this cool new him, that it’s all well and fine vis-a-vis all this rebranding thingy, but in my mind, what this country needs is a leader who listens to his conscience.

To do what’s right for THIS country.

Can we get that from PMNTR?

BTW, last I heard conscience comes FOC. No consultancy fees whatsoever.

* Have since discovered that it’s an Information Ministry-driven thingy from June. Cringeworthy.

Chombee Days

2011-09-14T16:10:00.002+08:00

Upon returning home from England, I stayed with my uncle for some time in a place called Bukit Chombee in Penang. It used to house the Malayan Teachers’ College where my uncle worked in as a Lab technician.

His house was a nice, colonial (gasp!*) style bungalow atop a small hill overlooking the Straits of Penang. Very quaint place. Part brick and mortar and part wood, the house is rectangular in shape and had a long open air portion which links the stairs to the two other rooms and a huge bathroom right at the end; all of which is in the first floor of the two-storey house.

Sure do have some nice memories of the place especially a hair raising one where I answered a “Salam” uttered when there was no one around. Shudder!!!

Google the name today and you’ll get not much. I think in its place is the Minden Heights or something.

The word Minden is also familiar which I think refers to the portion where you drive in from the main road into MTC. It has been years since I visited the place ever since my uncle moved backed to Alor Setar.

Any developer worth his ilk in gold would surely salivate at the prospect of gaining hold of the location in fact. Ready infrastructure, green landscaping with serene cul-de-sac for open concept luxury bungalows, scenic views and, best yet, the right location for some good sales to be garnered.

Not so sure if this was exactly what happened to Bukit Chombee. This is something I need to get back to my uncle for more information.

The rush for good, prime location is not however something restricted to the Penang property market, but also that in the Klang Valley and to a lesser extent, Johor Bahru. Developers just continue building and building even when the strip of land is barely bigger than a kangkang King Kong (heh…always wanted to write that one!)

Alas, all this building seems to however target the rich and mighty. Scan through any advertisement of the three location these days and I dare say none is the so-termed “mampu milik” category.

I believe the pricing range of this to be in the +/-RM300K in the Klang Valley and Penang. Can’t get any landed properties at this range though so you have to settle for a high rise. Plenty of these in both areas, but at such price, they would be further away from the city centre.

Bukit Chombee. Fans of P Ramlee will recall the name to be the character played by the classically beautiful Zaiton in Ibu Mertuaku.

And just like the film, the name is now history.

PS:* Can I use this word nowadays with all the polemics about whether or not Tanah Melayu was a British colony? Sigh... Nasty Polemics when there are far serious things to discuss and focus on.

Stinky Brew

2011-08-11T16:21:00.002+08:00

In a letter sent to the GLCs and Danaharta by Minister in the Prime Minister's Department Datuk Seri Nazri Aziz, the GLCs and Danaharta were informed that the Finance Ministry had agreed to settle all outstanding civil suits against Tajuddin.

What does this mean? That the government will fork out its (read: public) money on behalf of the former MAS chairman?

And here we were thinking the country is cash strapped and that belts need tightening, lifestyles need crimping, sayurs need planting, et cetera.

What with the US debt, S&P down rating debacle and all.

How much really in “settlement” are we talking about here, I wonder?

Or is this a “Talk Only but No Do One” kind of thing? Or maybe a “Let’s Offset this with Something, why don’t we?” Or something else entirely? What could it be?

Oh the suspense.

Whatever it is, this news flash which The Star picked up from The Malaysian Insider sure opens a whole lot of cans.

For concerned fellow Muslims, let’s now shrugged our heads together in disbelief and say “Sesungguhnya aku berpuasa…”

This country seems intent to not rest in having these sensationally controversial stories. Even in Ramadhan. Go figure.

Shall we say: No rest for the wicked?

Kurma So Sweet

2011-08-05T17:04:00.002+08:00

Shadows dim the corner where he quietly sits
Eyes shut, soft murmurs slipping pass lips parched
The carpet is plush, his lithe frame skirting soft surface
Light green tasbih in his hands, finger moving the beads
A rhythmic beat, voicelessly synching

The boys, all white dress
(So pure)
Were boisterous in their reading aloud
Scriptures, faith forming in words
(So melodic)
Unchanged untouched its meaning resolute
Though generations have passed
(So long ago)

He misses the beduk, thinks the whispery one
Beats increasing in crescendo
Signaling an ending of a day of piety
Forsaking in life’s pleasures
Fulfilling a call a devotion
Of a month cherished
Of days much awaited
Of hours so relieved
Of minutes so blissful

The boys, working to be tahfiz
(How blessed)
Their readings stopped, they canter
(Still so childlike)
Finding a place to congregate to group
Awaiting the closure of another day
(So soon)
Of fasting compulsory

He smiles, stood up joining the now busy
Taking their places, drinks and food at the ready
Strangers amongst friends, relatives between families
In celebratory mood, another day passed

A day in Ramadhan
A day of Rahmah
A day of Barakah…

Blessed Surrender

2011-07-29T17:23:00.003+08:00

The silence unnerves her
A once bustling boulevard
Thrash strewn amidst jostling crowd
Of whom there were none this day

Slowly she walks
Afraid of hearing her own shuffling
Past what was once, what, a tent?
A smoldering heap, charred tinder

At the centre of the stillness
A hulk of a steely monster stood, once arrogant
A mangled cage, trace echoes of scream
Of its occupants dying a lifetime of death

Pass the iron horror she trudges ahead
Directionless, willed only by the need to move
Somewhere, anywhere
Where there is a soul
Kindred or otherwise
A soul she ask a soul she seeks

Except for the hulking wreckage where she gagged a vomit
The air is pure is clean is sure
A sun soaked clarity of a surround
Alas there was only sight but not a single sound
Except for a rustling of wind ruffled debris
Other than a gust of strewn dust

A square, of tents in people pushed to the brink
Finding their voices found long subdued
Only to be mutedly strangled
Tyrannical hands of vile might

Soon is Ramadhan
Is it not she thinks?
A month for shackling of lust of pride of desires
A month of peace of penance of repentance
A month of endless joys in blessed surrender
Ten nights of fruitful embracing of faith

If only
There was someone
Anyone to welcome
A month so waited

She trudges
Wondering why there was no scent
When death was too many
Too plenty too heart rending

Perhaps its Syuhada then
She thinks
She walks
She ponders

Dedicated to the lives lost in for making their voices heard.

Uselessly Yours aka Look Who's Back

2011-07-19T16:22:00.011+08:00

Mr Black Felt Tip Marker Penner is back and rather than feeling indignant or affronted by his acts, I am feeling mighty twangs of sympathy instead.

He has been lying dormant for a while – at least I think he is because good gracious golly gee is my Brian Azzarello’s 100 Bullets full of stuffs he’d blackened out swifter than the Flash could blink – he is back in action with The Economist being latest to feel the brunt of his mighty blotting.

Not the Sports Illustrated. Not the Maxim. Nope, not FHM either. Nor an issue of the National Geographic featuring a never-before seen human tribe yet to discover the wonderful invention of clothes.

(I am kidding on the last, okay.)

Nope. We are talking about The Economist.

To be precise, some texts’ lines in an article “Taken to the cleaners — an overzealous government response to an opposition rally” in the latest issue of The Economist.

Sympathy because I cannot imagine the tedium of going through whole stacks of the issue to the exact sentences (not even whole, mind you) deemed offensive.

Yep. Usually the black pen is a moralistic answer to all that is society (ours) offending. Or used to, going by the proliferation of girly (manly?) magazines at newsstands, generally speaking.

Sympathy because despite all his effort, the offending texts are not only still read, the blotting out is pretty much posthumous in that people would’ve already read the article in whole elsewhere.

Sympathy because his effort will only block the offending texts from the eyes of less than 9,900 readers (unless you count those lazing away at office lounges waiting for their turn in appointments), the reported circulation of the Economist in Malayia 2010.

Sympathy because in the day and age of the Internet, even those who don’t usually read the Economist can gain access to the article simply by asking Mr Google.

Sympathy that instead of being seen and justified as a moral guardian, he is now treated with disdain as yet another sycophant of a government gone bonkers.

Once upon a time, you could still justify his existence by way of the moral high ground argument of providing something akin to (though cursory at best) a filter against the unfettered, liberalization of so-called artistic endeavors.

Alas, those days are long gone.

Imagine being yanked from retirement to do something that is ultimately useless, and you realized how much Mr Black Felt-Tip Penner deserves our deepest sympathy.

Thus, scorn him not.

Pages Yellowed

2011-07-15T11:39:00.004+08:00

There’s apparently going to an adaptation of Katsuhiro Otomo’s “Akira” by Warner Bros.

According to Reuters, this Jaume (House of Wax) Collet-Serra directed movie is set in New York and follows a biker who tries to rescue his friend from medical experiments.

Good luck to them, but going by the dismal Dragon Ball remake, fans of the Manga shouldn’t hold their breath too much.

I bought my copy of Akira a long time ago for RM30ish (can’t remember how much exactly) at a bookshop in (then) Lot 10 across Sungei Wang Plaza.

The pages have yellowed since then, but every now and then, I’ll pop into the storeroom-cum-temporary reading room for a quick glance.

Wish I could get the whole series, but it’s a whole lot of money to be handed over to the cashier at RM100plus plus these days each volume.

The anime was also hoot, despite cramming the 2,000 page epic into 125 minutes.

Another favorite which also received the adaptation treatment was Kazuo Koike’s Crying Freeman.

Video cassette was still the norm when I got my hands on the first few chapters of the tear shedding assassin, Yo Hinamura.

Mark Dacascos fared well enough as Hinamura in the adaptation, but replicating the sleek, silky moves in the anime was an impossibly BIG challenge.

Back to Akira.

The crash-boom-banging nature of Katsuhiro’s Akira makes it the perfect cannon fodder for a similar CGI-filled, crash-boom-banging charge ala the latest installment of the Transformers series.

It is however up to a formidable comparison with the original anime, and that is quite a high benchmark to achieve in the eyes of fans.

Wonder if anyone intends to adapt Otomo’s Domu – A Child’s Dream?

Could be a blast of an adaptation.

Sleepy Notes Echoes

2011-07-14T16:32:00.005+08:00

Seconds in a minute of an hour for a day
Digitised ticking an elastic straining of moments held at bay
Outside, a sleepy sun sighs a silent sonorous slumber
Inside a mind blanked blinks a blanketed thought a sliver

A thousand books of gibberishy text
A playlist in songs of tuneless acoustics
Funnies two three four generations delayed
On the idiot box, a sitcom a trillion times replayed

On days like these a wishful wonder
A Kino, a Borders, a BookXS as neighbour
Or a box, old comics; pages yellowed staples rusted
Perhaps a radio show, a drama imagined, acts in the mind enacted

On days like these, to be elsewhere
Shades on whilst sunning under a shaded shadowed spot
Day’s paper unopened shirt unbuttoned a showing of body hair unflustered
Waves breaking the surf, the breeze moving at a trot

On days like these…

Maybe I should wish a simpler wish
A squishy marshmallow, a blissful nap, a walk impromptu
A surprise company with tales to astonish
Or maybe listen to a talking cuckatoo

Days like these…

Topping the Topper aka 6,000 and Going

2011-07-12T17:06:00.007+08:00

Pinched outright from Dilbert.

Alice: I ran 6 miles even though I was sore.
Topper: That’s nothing. I broke one leg and hopped all the way to the office this morning.
Alice: You hopped 40 miles on your one good leg?
Topper: The broken one.

Pointy Haired Boss: It was the biggest fish ever caught in the lake.
Topper: That’s nothing. I once caught a dinosaur using nothing but dental floss and a pull tab from a beer can.
PHB: I’d like to see this alleged dinosaur.
Topper: Too late. I also make the world’s best barbeque sauce.

Soi Lek: To gather ten or twenty thousand to demonstrate is nothing great. MCA can organised 50,000 if you want me to do it, anytime.

Really?

This coming from a party which had trouble filling up their election ceramah venues without having to give makan - makan.

Sure or not?

Our very own Topper ha ha.

Alas, he was beaten to the mark by Umno, who came out with a 6,000 odd (is this correct?) delegates thingy the very next day of BERSIH so-called 6,000 odd official figure city rally.

Customer: I competed in the Iditarod, an 1,150-mile dogsled race lasting 15 days over the world’s toughest terrain.
Topper: That’s nothing. I completed the race while pretending to be one of your dogs.
Customer: Now, I don’t want to buy from your company.
Topper: That’s nothing. Now I plan to burn my company to the ground.

Chilling.

Walking the Talk aka For the love of an Ice Blended Mocha

2011-07-11T13:21:00.007+08:00

Marina Mahathir walked the BERSIH walk. Imagine that.

While I was following the whole rally via Twitter and Facebook in the comforts of my home, the daughter of Dr Mahathir is with the very people her father – and a host of like-minded others - so deeply detests.

She started her post with a simple sentence: So I went.

Marina, you have both my envy and admiration.

Having read Marina’s BERSIH 2.0 experience, I am ashamed on at least two counts: one, for not being there despite my belief in the thrust of the rally’s objective, and two, for having doubts as to whether the BERSIH was worth it.

The latter came after witnessing the torrent of propaganda masquerading as “news report” churned out by TV3 and RTM1 news much, much later in the evening.

A TV3 reporter, supposedly reporting at the scene complete with the irony of an empty street for a backdrop, even quoted “unnamed sources” – aren’t they always - warning of God-knows-what unknown threats of unspecified nature but connected with all probability with the Haram Demonstrators still lurking around somewhere.

Pure bollocks and baloney. Nothing’s changed, I thought.

On top of these were particularly venomous postings and comments from the FB circle of friends.

What the freezing hell was that all about? Why the hatred for people who were basically walking to highlight their constitutional grouse for fair elections.

I was thinking, thus, of posting something along the lines of “So, have BERSIH actually achieved anything despite the euphoria of its supposed success…” and, in my mind, its mostly in the negative.

That was before I read Marina’s post. I’ve realized thus that in many counts, BERSIH has achieved something after all.

BERSIH has shown that it is possible to rally to a Rights centric cause in a non -partisan way. The rally last Saturday is ironically a showcase of the much spoken 1Malaysia concept with its diverse composition of walkers.

I particularly liked her comments of “reformasi” chants being drowned by a bigger chant of BERSIH. Rightly so, this is one movement that no one can hijack as it belongs to the Rakyat.

Sure, as one FB friends puts its “… so what if you have 100,000..”

Numbers are just statistics. God knows the current Governments churns them out on a regular basis with the consistency of a well blended iced tall Mocha Latte with whipped cream.

Notwithstanding the almost haphazardly organized look of the rally, this was a group that truly believed in their ideals and keeping to it.

Imagine that by 5pm, everything was back to the way it was and my so many FB Friends who lamented being burdened with not being able to lepak around KL can do so with complete abandonment.

Some roads will still be jammed through, BERSIH or no BERSIH.

But, who cares, right?

On To Something

2011-07-04T16:59:00.005+08:00

A Minggu BERSIH, huh?

I, for one, sure like this suggestion by Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin following our Prime Minister’s backtracking on the whole 9th July get together.

Imagine a sea of yellow and a fluttering of the word BERSIH everywhere. Of course, there will be an intermittent of the colour… - urmm, what is exactly the colour of dirt aka KOTOR? – as this is, as far as we can tell anyway, a relatively, ahem, free country.

For the BERSIH steering committee fellas, a week (or even a weekend) should be enough to push the message through, doesn’t it?

There’s no need to even have firebrand rallies at the stadium if this BERSIH Week or Weekend plan comes afoot.

Ibrahim Ali’s Perkasa and Khairy Jamaluddin’s Umno Youth can have the same week or weekend so that their supporters can fly their Anti-BERSIH flags and what not.

Better yet, there’s also no need for Mahaguru Omardin to control his 50,000 silatists' emotions then. Huge relief there.

And please, for one, leave the “It’s all to divert attention from Anwar's case” bollocks.

Yeah, yeah, we know all about it and you know what, I dare say that he no longer matters that much.

Remember the “Who can that be?” question posted by Umno wayward blogger SakMongkol47? One his frequent reader / postee / commentator / follower Walla answered definitely: “They must obey the clean-and-fair governance demands of the enlightened rakyat.”

Pure and simple, isn’t it?

There are whole load thesis written on the electoral systems the democratic world over, and how the current First-past-the-post voting system we’re using currently is, well, unfair as votes are not proportionally counted.

Instances include a constituency of say, 28K voters returns one rep as would one of 280K (usually urban) and, as such, garnering a 60% popular vote would not equate 60% in representation.

Unfair, ain’t it? Couple that with the mainstream news papers and television networks providing negligible coverage for other than, say, Umno politicians, and you could say it was a surprise that the Opposition Coalition (we were told to use that word the last time around) won the state that they did.

I remember the dreaded apprehension at the Perak MB’s residence the night of the 2008 General Election results.

Had Edgar Allan Poe been alive and present there, he would have be able to write a sequel to his “Tell-Tale Heart” tale of torrid, terrifying terror.

The former MB stayed indoors throughout the countdown as Perak went to the Opposition (until, that is, the defection of the trio of duplicitous creeps. I never did agree with Anwar’s defection game and this one must have hurt him bad, surely).

Anyway, back to Minggu BERSIH.

Even the title alone doesn’t provoke, does it? BERSIH is a clean (pun intended fully) word made dirty by a host of provocative campaigning against it.

You can certainly say the whole thrust of BERSIH 2.0 – for a fair elections – was indeed hijacked by politicians from all three sides (Ibrahim Ali being the third cog in the Pakatan vs Barisan equation) of the Malaysian political divide.

Dr Asri is on to something there, don’t you think?

So how now?

Shauny Shauncy

2011-07-01T16:48:00.003+08:00

Blogger Sakmongkol AK47 aka Umno’s Dato' Mohd.Ariff Sabri bin Hj. Abdul Aziz has posed this following question in his latest posting:

That person if one is around has to step up to assume the mantle of leadership to save this country from gross mismanagement, fraudulent management, corruption, widening income disparities, re organize institutions of governance, dispensing justice, stemming corruption and all that. Who can that be?

SM has been asking some hardcore questions to the Umno elites, most of which (or is it EVERYTHING, SM?) are left unanswered.

That he doesn’t believe in Pakatan’s and former Umno-man Anwar Ibrahim is also without a doubt.

His belief in that Anwar is no longer the key equation that Umno needs to tackle is something I agree fully upon.

Anwar is passé. He may be a magnet once, but nowadays, there is a much bigger crowd puller which unfortunately Umno is in too deep a stink to even remotely aspire to.

Ideals.

The country is at a stage where most no longer look up to the politicians as divine, infallible. As it should be, politicians are supposed to be the Rakyat’s servant and not the other around.

Those days of our poor elders waiting patiently for hours at ends for their so-called benefactor of a politician are coming to a forseeable end. Perhaps that particular generation of hand kissing, non questioning, populace is now in a bygone era.

Now we want our politicians to be able to provide answers. To be accountable. To question. To carry our aspirations. To sacrifice with us in bad times and to wait patiently for the rest of us to prosper before they do in good times.

Lofty ideals which requires someone with equally strong principles.

I used to think that leaders need to see the “bigger picture” in coming to decisions. Not anymore. Nothing can justify the trampling of justice and fairness.

We got thing so badly wrong sometime ago. Is there anyone indeed?

Curious too that SM limited his question to Pakatan Rakyat. Perhaps he does think that Umno is beyond saving, something which I think has been the case for quite a far while back.

We need heroes and heroines. Unfortunately they are too few of them around to fight to decadent many.

They need all the help they can get. OUR help.

Conscientious Contentions

2011-06-30T14:05:00.057+08:00

Why is Keith Bradsher* busybodying in a Malaysian’s affair?

He wrote: “But the construction and design may have serious flaws, according to the engineers, who also provided memos, e-mail messages and photos from Lynas and its contractors.”

There’s more: “An engineer involved in the project said that the blueprints called for the plastic waterproofing but that he was ordered to omit it, to save money. The plastic costs $1.60 a square foot, he said.”

Bradsher has been writing some critical expose on a major FDI for the state of Pahang which had caused** some people some mighty headaches.

Allegations such as the above should not be aired so openly, Mr Bradsher.

That’s not the way we do things here. Nope. We prefer to do loads of “kajian” (Research? Studies?) before putting on a huge smile and say everything is “Okay”. If it’s not, then we’ll do a fair bit more of kajians until it is.

All this talk about the rare earth plant being a contamination risk is causing undue alarm on the populace. Now, some of them have gone on and protested against the whole project.

Perhaps if you had not written way back in early March on the same matter then the furore would have been more subdued and the plant would be up and running faster than you can say, say, Bukit Merah.

What’s in it for you, really? I mean, not even our mainstream journalists here are probing too deeply into such an outwardly, rosy-looking project that is worth much, much moolah to the country.

What? There’s a 12-year tax holiday, you say? Hmm....

Well there is that 0.05 percent research grant per revenue and the, ahem, spill-over impact on the surrounding area’s economic wellbeing.

Your article have now gone on to open a can of worms right before the authorities could announce today the results of an independent international review of the plant. (See **)

What if someone – would anyone, though? - asks the abovementioned points and there is no answer?

More headaches. Sleepless nights. Un, ahem, CLEAN-shaven days.

* Keith Bradsher is the Hong Kong bureau chief of The New York Times. Wonder where he gets his sources from? Pretty close to the project to get such delicate info.

** Had caused are the definitive words as the Menteris announced the Independent Panel okaying of the project with some 11 recommendations. Not sure if these addresses the concerns you've raised, though...

Eyes Wide Open

2011-06-29T17:10:00.003+08:00

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me--
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Martin Niemöller (1892-1984)

Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.

V

The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!"... and I'll look down and whisper "No."

They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father or President Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay.

Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice.

Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody Hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say.

Walter Kovacs/Rorschach

Hoodie Doodie, the Yeller Submarinee

2011-06-27T16:29:00.005+08:00

Green is a mixture of blue and yellow
Like a mango, at first green before going ripe and yellow
Or the Durian, so smackingly great, its flesh a goo-ish yellow
Never take a pineapple, unless its skins has turned plane, turned yellow

The Beatles once had a yellow submarine
They were cautioned – a yellow card, no less - for posing on the street
While the cars zoom pass, a yellow VW Beetle in the lead
Lo, the traffic lights turned yellow, it was first in line

Passing time, “That Yellow Bastard” artwork glanced
Brought as a TPB secondhand, pages yellow with time
Outside, the snow was falling, Yellowhammers chirping
Atop a man’s head-topping hat; standing silent, could he be a mime?

Stop for a while; says the police donning a yellow jacket
A limo’s passing through a yellow crest entourage blanketed
A right royally someone, yell ow loud a bloke behind
Hiding in the crowd, eh, not daring, a bloody coward*

Elsewhere, will there be a sea of yellow
All races, religions, gender, all fellows
Wanting to carry a prayer for a better tomorrow
In the face of bullies, ever wanting to come to blows

Lemons, then
Lemonade, thus
Drink it, in thirst
While the rest of us, wait, anxious…

* eponymous, I'd say

Kick Butting

2011-06-24T16:41:00.010+08:00

This is a country that’s fast compiling its list of “lows” and today it just picked another with the charging and fining of the three pawne-peddling Datuks.

Talk about an anti-climax, eh? (Sorry, can't resist the obvious pon, urm, pun...)

More than 90 days has passed since the March 21 so-called expose and mind you, there was no real need for any real investigations done as the three powno-peddlers had sort of confessed quite early on.

Like Wow.

Slapping our wrists is probably more painful.

(To digress, how do you spell incompetence, again? C-O-N-S-P-I-R-A-C-Y, or is it, I-N-C-A-H-O-O-T?

The spelling break has nothing to do with the three Ponno-Tuks charging, guilt-admitting and fining, mind you. Nope. No Sir. Not at all.)

Anyway, does it matter? Not one bit really for me.

I’ve always viewed PKR’s Anwar Ibrahim as a compromised leader, not by way of his criminal convictions and alleged sexual, urm, inclinations and shenanigans, but more his one-time affiliation with the now-corrupt and rotten entity that is Umno.

THAT "palit"ed (it's a Malay word that basically means smeared but is more fun to use) Anwar will a whole lot of foul-smelling gunk.

That said, Anwar did herald a major change in the Malaysian political scenario and, suddenly, a check and balance is finally arriving. The sooner the better I say.

Digressing again here on.

Today’s Friday Sermon at the mosque I went to was exhilarating to say the least. The Khatib talked about jihad and why one is necessary for the country.

Our country is now down in the dumps and deep in poop. Read the Sun for this piece of “news”.

My God. What has happened to our values?

(A ponder-able answer: What is this "our values" word I keep hearing?, says the powers-that-be...)

Is this the kind of future we want to leave our children and theirs? Surely not.

If the current batch of leaders cannot bring about a turnaround in the overall welfare of the country, we should give them a firm kick in their butts and appoint others more tuned to the needs of the Rakyat.

Cut the crap on “Rome isn’t built in a day” and spin-till-you-drop pronouncements. If you can’t hack it, leave. Go fly a kite, to quote a popular saying.

We don’t have much time any more. If July 9 is the day of reckoning, so be it.

PS:
If you're the politically squeamish type, do stay away from today's Prime time television news. I predict a field day of ponno-airwaving.

Clownish Lunkheads

2011-06-20T13:20:00.006+08:00

There are books I do not read alone at night and one of them is Stephen King’s “It”.

The murderous and downright horrific "Bob Gray" a.k.a. "Pennywise the Dancing Clown" in the novel is simply the stuffs of nightmares for children and adults alike.

Casting a clown as the antagonist was certainly a masterstroke for King. He probably knew right off that it’s an image that would stick in the dark recesses of the mind longest.

Right from the very first few pages, King hypnotically leads you to visit the horror of a malevolent creature that is “It”.

A clown. Imagine that.

Then there’s also Batman’s Joker. While not a clown in the clownish sense of the clowns’ world, the Joker still loves clowning around.

Far too many to list, some good examples of his murderous spree could be sampled in Frank Miller’s excellent "Dark Knight Returns", Alan Moore’s “The Killing Joke”, Neil Gaiman’s “Arkham Asylum” as well as Jim Starlin’s “A Death in the Family”.

Now, we have one right here at home.

Why this clown is being given a free rein of socking everyone who doesn’t accede to his view of what things should be is a BIG question mark.

Anyone else who does and says what this clown does and says would probably be swiftly straight-jacketed and thrown headfirst into a pvc-lined private asylum with a bowl for potty and no television throughout the stay.

I mean, WTFH is the authorities doing? Resting on their platinum / gold / bronze / silver laced balls, are they?

What? Still "Kita kena kaji", is it?

What kind of a country are we turning into when there is a “them” and an “us” and whatever the “us” do is right, fine and dandy not matter what.

Clowning around is fine when you’re in a circus and the bowling ball falling on your green-streaked hair is made of foam.

Is our country a big, fat, bleeping circus?

Cos it sure smacks (pun fully intended in a most sarcastic manner possible) like one.

Sweating Cash

2011-06-10T16:14:00.005+08:00

I once dreamt of a swimming pool
Olympic sized, its water bluish cool
On the undulating fluidic carpet floats
Millions in cash, a mix of red, blue and purple notes

In my dream on the diving board I stood
The world around me encircled in a fish eye lens hood
Readying to dive, thinking head first or foot
Into all that wealth, a life of riches, so magnificent a loot

Scents crisps of printed value assail my every inhale
To take it all in, I could well be a whale
Around me, people unknown, unrecognized, their laughter hearty and hale
Partaking a frenzied orgy, drunk from overfilled moneyed ale

I readied myself for a plunge so blissful
Encouraging shouts and whistle, urging and egging
Even as the watery stash gave birth to more cash by the bucketful
Spilling outwards, a bulging ogre’s torso to my horrific imagining

Jump, they shouted
Take the plunge, they brayed
A worldly paradise, they hinted
Arms wide, grinning, their words honeyed

The wind rushes past my flanks as I vaulted headlong
A whiff of sadness, whisper of regret
A soul succumbed, a fate forgone
My whole world then so sudden so quiet so dead

Notes red, blue and purple embraced my arrival
Edges sharp, cutting, snipping, engulfing, encircling
There was no water, in papers I was drowning
I thrashed, I grappled, my cries more and more audible

A plunge going deeper and deeper
All around me, chattering, chirping
Passing wealth of worldly boaster
A deathly oblivion, a sickened passing

I woke up in dread
A sweaty dream more a nightmare
As a RM note, red
Flitted freely traversing the fanned air

Stooging Stage

2011-06-08T14:27:00.007+08:00

There are moments when not talking can sometime be the best possible option.

For the so-called Obedient Wives Clubs (the now infamous OWC) management, this following excerpt quoted by the Malay Mail is, I think, one such moment.

“When we said that husbands should treat their wives like first-class prostitutes, we were not putting wives on the same level with prostitutes. We are talking about first-class elite types, not street hooker types.”

Goodness gracious. Golly ghee whizz.

Downright degrading words - Prostitutes, street hooker types and a first-class elite types.

Were they said in a single breath, I wonder?

My hope is that it was a statement loosely translated from Bahasa Melayu but I have my doubts.

Seriously, though, maybe it’s just a ploy by OWC to get some prominence in the printed pages and online.

There’s a Time interview waiting too apparently. More publicity and the inanity (insanity?) can now go global.

Superb. Just superb.

Shell Shedding Peanuts

2011-06-07T12:27:00.018+08:00

Despite my disgust of the current entity that is Umno, its member Nur Jazlan Mohamed has earned my admiration and wholesome support.

The Pulai Member of Parliament and eldest son of the late Tok Mat hinted his integrity and mettle by quitting his post as TM’s audit committee chairman after the irregularities were found but was not investigated.

His latest interview in the Edge on both the so-called Bumiputera (or should this be Malay) Agenda and UDA Holding’s plans for its Pudu Jail landbank is both frank and hard hitting.

Reading the two articles in whole is a welcomed breath of fresh air in a country stinking of rotten rhetoric and racial chauvinistic statements, especially when taken in the context that Nur Jazlan was also taking about advancing a much maligned idea of a community’s re-engineering.

There was no denying what needs to be done to propel the Bumiputera agenda further, according to Nur Jazlan.

“We have to have a format or formula on how to define this cost of the bumiputera agenda. If it is going to be the government giving money all the time, think again….. We don’t want to leave the next generation with debts.”

It has been something like 40 years since the so-called Bumiputera Agenda came to the forefront with the NEP.

Has the community’s economic standing been advanced all this while?

A burgeoning middle-upper class Bumiputeras group aside, the trickling down of the distributed wealth courtesy of the Bumiputera Agenda policies is exactly in such a state: TRICKLING.

The bulk of this wealth goes god knows where.

We have our suspicions, of course.

In fact, there is actually another Umno member whom I, urm, agree (not always) with - Blogger SakMongkol AK47.

SakMongkol, you see, has equally been hard hitting in his assessment of his party’s current ways of doing things though his words (posts) has basically fallen on deaf ears.

I’ve always asked him this question: “Why are you still there?”

Datuk Sak has his reasons, I suppose.

What of Nur Jazlan?

Kacang lupakan kulit; will say his detractors. Would he be where he is now had he not been Tok Mat’s son and a party member, they will decry.

It will be interesting to see what happens next and if the Finance Ministry would accept UDA’s so-called Bumiputera-interest's sidelining proposal.

I doubt so going by the MRT JV criteria’s fiasco.

One way or the other, pockets just simply need (side)lining.

Crummy Chums

2011-06-06T17:21:00.002+08:00

The room is musty, the sofa creaky
Old magazines, its pages tattered keeping company the lonely
Apt description for the kopiah wearing Pakcik (or is it Haji?)
All the way he came, paid 25 bucks for a ride in a taxi
To meet one who must surely be somebody
Inside a room, a secretary in front, so pretty

Reads, stands, sits, paces
Every once in a while he peers
At the young lady looking so earnest
A smile so sullen in caught glances

It’s his fault, this long wait, the Pakcik swears
Took the odd few minutes away performing his prayers
Could have well been the time he reached his queue
He tried, he did, queried for a clue if said was true
Didn’t want to pester the secretary too much
Don’t wish to be called an old grouch

He sighs, curls his lips slight
Second to minutes to hours passed
A small window of moment was all he needed
To tell that someone his very plight

The door open, solid wood adorned
From within earshot, laughter’s heard
Two men? Could, too, be a third
Guffaws, chatters, a merriness none awkward
Old friends, perhaps, the Pakcik guesses a hazard

Three, indeed, they passed him by
Quick glances, none which registered
The Pakcik had stood, had smiled, the smile since faded
Realising he was all but invisible

“Pakcik datang lain kali.”
“Hari ni tak boleh. Datuk busy.”
He smiled a smile that’s weary
Thinking he was simply, surely unlucky
To not be in the list, of people chummy
As down in the corridor, the laughter, noisy
Shoulders slapping, the warmest camaraderie

To be in the list, of people so chummy

Worldly Toils

2011-06-03T15:31:00.007+08:00

Last in a line of none
Staring was quite a luxury for him
Unblinking, the opaque screen was nonplussed still
How could it
Soulless, it talks without responding

Outside the freezing light-filled space
Motorists noiselessly zoomed pass
Under his breath came a choiced curse
Once inadvertent, now emitted nonplussed

Flickering neon numbers were certainly bigger yesterday
Four digits the result of a month's toil
Figures he wished higher everyday
Instead of one rollercoastering downhill

Where had they gone, he wonders
House, cars, bills, kids, he figures
Where else, he himself quizzes
Or, was he leaking like a sieve, he shudders

He sighed a resigned resignation
Fingers to panel, a three-figure number keyed
His mind tired to feign even frustration
Thinning wallet patiently waiting to be filled

A whirling of mechanicals then
The sweet, sweet sound of notes chugged
As he waits for a modern day drug
Stuck in an unfortunate, uncontrollable den

Pieces of paper jeer through an open orifice
In blues and reds, they beckoned his taking
What will be a week’s sustenance, for fuel and meals
Swapped from machine to wallet swiftly unflinching

Out popped his card, a small receipt follows
Black prints on white, its surface warm to the touch
Pulled it out, three digits the balance shows
The two behind, alas, not worth that much

Monthly toil
Gone in a whiff...

Zooming Dreams

2011-05-25T15:52:00.004+08:00

Once upon a time, I almost bought a car solely on its looks – a fastback Mazda Lantis.

The price was just about right at around RM50k, there was no major blemish to car’s exterior, the interior was clean and the Lantis simply looked fast even when stationary.

I was even ready to forgive its rather tight cockpit, but the laughable boot was a concern. An equally tight financial standing then put paid to any dreams of zoom zooming (sorry, just couldn’t resist this pun) in a poor man Alfa Romeo or something likewise.

Anyway, we ended up buying another car based on its looks alone, and THAT ended a huge disaster which has since put me of the brand forever.

Now, the car bug is back and I’m eyeing again the offerings in the second hand car market.

The wonderful world of the Internet means that I don’t actually need to hop from one dealer to another; not when sites like CarSifu makes the initial window shopping so easy.

Unlike those days of old when all you could rely on were words – one owner, no accident, showroom looks(!) – online window shopping allows you to actually view the cars in all their glory.

Of course, nothing beats seeing it in the metal once you’ve zeroed in on the possible. Running your hands on the flanks, tap tapping the bodyshell and the interior plastics to make sure nothing falls off without even the car being driven in anger; those kinds of pleasure.

Again it’s the Mazda that entices – this time around the Mazda5 midi MPV. Midi, I suppose, because they are just able to fit 7 in relative comfort and still allow some meagre space for shopping bags and other nit nats as oppose to the real MPV.

Sleek lines, looks smaller than it actually is and, just like the Lantis a few years ago, the 5 seems fast even when static and parked.

Again, realities of buying second hand intrude – maintenance, worn out parts and components replacement etc – do mean that this would still be a window shopping spree.

With the cost of living escalating like nobody’s business, it would remain so for the time being.

Zoom zoom dreams revisited, in other words.

Dandelion Dreams

2011-05-16T16:48:00.003+08:00

Cool winds buffeted her as she ran the length of the field
Silk ribbons trailing, her hair, free, flowing
Carefree, she tiptoes over dandelion patches
Patches of whitish yellow pastiches in a canvas green

Clouds, intermittent, pockmarked a bright, bright day
A swirling kaleidoscope of a shadow light show
Rustling leaves hushed tones a bare din of vocal delights
The high notes - laughter, cheery and spontaneous

A tree older than the day’s age stood solitary
Casting a shade oval in shape a comforting cape
Of when the sun is too hot and the wind to cold
To kinder a simmer in play, a slowing of pace and wonder

Lying atop a carpet of grassy snatch untrimmed
She imagines – no, dreams – of butterflies flitting
Jostling and hustling, a whirly merry flight
Flower to flower, stem to stem in touches so slight

She closes her eyes and wishes the day would stay
For second to crawl, minutes to stretch, hours unending
Dawn to noon, to sunset to night as the sun and moon
Exchanges roles, forever saying hello and bidding goodbye

A voice, familiar, a touch recognized so tender
“Time to awake, daughter to shower, to pray
To don your uniform, all crisps and proper
Lest we miss the chime of the first bell ring

There was no field, a duvet the cool, cool grass
A dream? Alas, a sweet passing too soon
“But dad, isn’t today a Saturday, a day to stay
With you, mom, and siblings; to work and play?

Yes, dear, it was but for the decree
Of added hours, a burden heaped on shoulders barely able
The world is in a rush, you see, already behind we lag
You have to cover thus for the years we slacked

She sighs slowly
Her steps ginger
(but) the towel is smooth
(thus) the dream lingers…

Bluntly Direct - A Review

2011-05-12T00:36:00.000+08:00

I can vouched that there is easily a trillion books at the recently held KL International Book Fair 2011. Bookworms will be utterly lost in the maze of books, books and more books at the many, many booths on the - was it three floors? - of the PWTC building where the event was held last month.

So, how many books did I get? A miserly two for myself, actually. One on theology and the other, Usman Awang's Enslaved Soul; the National Laureate's anthology of poems written circa the late 1940s to early 1960's. The latter was in Bahasa and English, courtesy of the Malaysian National Institute of Translation.

I've of late taken an distinct interest in poetry, and was thus very eager to digest the book - far too much, in fact, as such I made the mistake of reading both the original penning of the late writer and the translated work one line to one line, Bahasa to English.

Midway through the first poem, Awareness (1949), I had the sudden realisation of the prose being lifeless, bland. You just cannot appreciate the nuances and beauty of poems by taking them on in such a robotic manner.

The life of a poem lie in the flowing, lyrical nature of its words.

Alone, the lines of a poetry will seem disjointed, meaningless. Together however, they resonate and capture minds, imagination. Vivid descriptions that rely wholly on words tied to provide the contextual scenes in the readers' mind eye.

I can therefore imagine the trepidation the author's daughter, Haslina ( and co translator Adibah Amin) had in tackling the task of translating some 35 deeply symbolic works of a bygone era.

It is simply next to impossible to capture the feel and flow of a poem no matter how beautifully etched the translation might be and in the case of Enslaved Soul, I must humbly submit that in most cases, they do not work.

Usman - popularly known as Tongkat Warrant - is quite direct in his language: a line from "Aku Sedar" - the aforementioned Awareness - goes: "baru bangun dari tidur mengantuk". The translation meanwhile goes "that I have just woken up from a heavy- lidded sleep".

You have to admit the lurid bluntness in the first is lost in translation (pun fully intended).

On their own - and read in context of the original poem in the back of one's mind - the translated versions do come out fairly well written if awkward in some places, resulting from - I think - the need to inject the patriotism slant of Usman Awang's work.

The majority of the poems in this anthology revolves around the Malays' struggle for identity, standing and independence, as well as reference to battlegrounds - I wouldn't say war, and death. The Emergency? Possibly, given the timeline of the writings.

His "Balada Langit Tua Manusia Sengketa" (1959) is a lengthy, theater sript-like poetry which is very, very explicit in its depiction of the horrors of the arm struggle of nameless (except for Si Kurus Lapar - The Thin Starving One) men.

The translation, entitled "A Ballad of Ancient Sky and Mankind at War" is nonetheless one of my favorite English read, the clunky title notwithstanding.

Witness:
"Twin hills firmly enthroned
Like a pair of amorous giants
with thicket-like hair in the black night
at their feet nature's music whispers
song of a stream softly flowing
a cool breeze combs their summit."

How I wish I can write likewise. Read in its entirety, "A Ballad..." seems a standalone poem, especially if you don't have the original "Balada..." as a side by side referee.

As for the author's own work in this anthology, I love his "Pak Utih" (1954) best. The patriotic slants of his other efforts do come out too strongly for me, so the very easy going, laidback "Pak Utih" is a much welcome change in pace in very relaxed, easy reading proses.

However, "Pak Utih" only works in Bahasa, and not so effective in English, as the cynicsm (innocence?) is quite lost when translated.

I must admit that Enslaved Soul (Jiwa Hamba) is not an easy book to read in one sitting, due to the constant cross referencing of lines. While you do wish for a generally uninterrupted read, often times you find yourself curious as to the context of certain phrases, sentences, and use of words.

Unfortunately, this also takes away some of the enjoyment of discovering poems that just tugs at your heartstring and pummel your imagination with its descriptive prowess.

Enslaved Soul (Jiwa Hamba) is one of those book which requires several read and re read sessions to allow a fuller appreciation of the myriad of emotional outpourings within its covers.

Shaded Eaves

2011-05-10T16:58:00.003+08:00

An orchard that’s hectares big
Its aft runs a - unsullied water - creek
Carpeted green hued grass that is inches thick
A horizon that shows just a glimpse of a snowy peak

The plot once barren is shared by brothers three
Plough, trough, shovel in hands, they were pretty carefree
Working the land, down in the dirt, their palms all sweaty
Dreaming of a day they could live a life free and easy

Three men, a trio of family, a single bungalow
Two stories tall, a huge balcony for moments to mellow
In times past, long days of working until the sun casts shadows
Building a life, a future but looking no further than tomorrow

Romantic endings are really bollocks in the realm of reality
So arguments, tensions and a locking of horns were quite plenty
Didn’t get in the way though of their focus on ideals so lofty
Of living a life together blessed by the God Almighty

Generations past the golden aims are starting to fray
Utopian objectives mostly unachievable could no longer hold sway
Divergent interest, selfish inclinations putting long held visions at bay
All eyeing for a bigger bite, a larger share, the proverbial payday

Now the graying grand bungalow is all crumbly and rickety
Its occupants too busy, too engrossed in the parlay
The plumbing clogged, cracks unplastered, basement unattended and dusty
Do they not notice, don’t they care, or just wishing these away

Then one day
When emotions were in play
A tweaking of notions
The setting of motions
A casting of doubts
The severing of already weakened clouts
A bullying an ousting
Of persistent mongering
Insults whispered aloud
Insolence mucked so proud
A cocktail of fear and hatred so blunt
A once brother thus shunned

I too have a say, he says
In this house to live, to play, to stay
You’re too much, the other two though countered
Taking everything and leaving nothing, they thundered
Amidst the rising litany of shouts, the eaves do tremble
Symbolic shame of blood relations once so humble?

Outside the creaking bungalow the wind rustles
Blowing fallen leaves tempering dusty panes and musty spaces
Forgotten plough, trough, shovel, rusting in shades
A bungalow, an orchard, a dream soon fades

Anonymous Thoughts

2011-05-06T16:13:00.006+08:00

I wonder
Whose eye I saw the world
Whose words I hold true
Whose guide leads me forth
Whose beliefs I adopt and follow

Wasn’t it
You who nourished me
For weeks on ends
Selfish me, safe within
While you toiled, and sustain

Did I
Make nuisance a habit
A careless, sulky infantile
Throwing tantrums every so forth
While you smirked and roll your eyes

Have I
Ever moved you to tears
Hurtful words, neglectful acts
Expressive disdain over things mundane
Crushing hearts with hatred sustained

Could I (ever)
Bring the world to you
A cascade of joyful times
Buckets of grateful feelings
Cherished moments that just keep lasting

I wish
I knew the answers still
To read your mind hear your thinking
To save all memories for ease of retrieving
A threaded path to life, one worthy of living

It’s your day, mother
So, a world of love
From a son so smothered
Always indebted forever cared

You were
Always there…

A Hermit's Tale

2011-05-05T16:26:00.006+08:00

Far, far in the distance
Was a castle
Three stages tall
Its fringe a bridgeless moat
Of foamy, colourless river

Crushing surf impeded his journey
A sandy, footprint-less stretch
Glassy exterior layering a rocky core
Smooth, its surface shuns lasting touch

Skipping when he could
Crawling every when else
The construct looming closer
A lighthouse and a beacon
A red, fiery eye of hope
To sailors sailing blind
In rough seas, on tougher lands

A sudden crush of waves
Like a battering ram, pummeling
Lifting him in the air
A spineless doll crumpling
In a momentary heap, of topsy and turvy seconds
Amidst rocks, rubble and pebbles
Still he pushes, strongly he recovers

He stammers along gaily
Skipping the edges of craters fleeting
Watery graves, victims unsuspecting
Not he, not today, not easily

A touch away was his aim
Rocky, solid walls
A slight grainy texture
No windows no doors
A crooked pole, silent flagless
What manner of home, he thinks, so steep in blandness

A sudden laughter
From a giant of a shadowy figure
A thundery slamming, wrecking, ruining
Once a castle now a razed nothing

Startled, he stops dead in his tracks
As the air is filled with laughter and wails
A world of bullies and frails
A similar, revolving, revolting tale

Once a dream a hope no more
As a hermit turns its tail.

Walled Pretty

2011-05-04T17:12:00.005+08:00

A man once lived in a box of wood
Four by four by four
It had clear plastic for its hood
And nothing as its floor

It has slits for windows
And flaps for doors
The upkeep cost is pretty low
So very easy to keep the score

Now, he leads an easy life,
No worries no stress nor strife
Lives on eggs and rice daily
Finds the humdrum plain lively

Money in his life, you can’t say plenty
Just enough to get him by
Prides himself of being un-bitchy
Content to let and watch time fly

Elsewhere the world was in a rush
A blurry of things, a torrent, a gush
Leaving slowpokes in a hush
Had all and sundry in its crush

Outside his box, the walls grows
Towering, dwarfing, casting shadows
The man became weary, scared and in throes
Thinking about the strange, strange bedfellows

Is it too late for me to change, he thinks
To opt for concrete, glass and steel
Cooped up like so would surely stink
Though his life, he sees an even keel

But what of his box of wood
Could he leave it behind well and good?

Worldly Politicynicism

2011-05-03T10:28:00.014+08:00

Osama bin Laden is dead.

Going into details the politics pre and post the alleged* death of Osama will probably bust my brain to the point of allowing dark grey matters to ooze out via the ear canals from my cranial cavity.

I say alleged* because conspiracy theories are still abundant of it all being one big fat propaganda.

Just like the Yankee Doodle Dee bit about his death bringing “universal peace and harmony”. Imagine heaping all that is wrong in the world on the shoulders on a single man.

Well good golly gooberleaches hunky dory molly polly wack, the golden age of the world is back, then, with the master villain finally rid.

Pardon the cynicism but the cheering and posturing of some (I assume) Americans shown during NTV7’s afternoon news was just too much for me to stomach.

Was it really necessary to insert THAT segment?

Callous really, to highlight such rejoicing over the death of any, including alleged terrorist cabal leader.

Remember the late Saddam Hussein’s execution?

Methinks it should have been edited. In death, there is a parting of one’s soul to be judge by our Creator, God almighty.

Watching the news was accidental as I was in fact waiting for the late Leslie Cheung’s The Chinese Feast.

So I endured Obama, Barack talking about how the special ops against Osama is NOT America against Islam, but instead against a man alleged to be the mastermind behind attacks that targeted all and sundry, muslims and non muslims alike.

(There was also a curious brief mention of his predecessor, George Walker Bush, asserting the same. Not sure why. Could be a reference point of sort for the general American public.)

Alas, the celebratory cross over snippet spoiled my mood to listen further to Obama’s speech.

Read in full today, I found that I didn’t miss much as Obama never did go into the whys alleged terrorists like Osama and his ilk came into being and there was a whole lot of US of A as world power’s posturing.

Hence the “USA! USA!” celebratory chants.

My ever favourite radio IKIM had Osama’s alleged (re above) death as its morning topic today and there was a gush of early callers who seems to agree with this outlook.

Yes, America is not against Islam and Muslims per se, but the general sentiment seems to be that its policies vis a vis the Middle East (especially Palestine and Israel) runs contra to this assertion.

World politics. You need steel-lined stomach for its smooth digestion.

Dreamy Drizzle

2011-04-29T15:21:00.006+08:00

Today’s a good morning
Though no sun rays peep through cottony white clouds
A great start to the day
Despite the dollopy drops of water falling from the heavens

It's raining, pouring

Blessed be the ticking seconds
So deep a man in his Zikrullah, muffling a thunderclap in the distant
Invigorating goes the minutes
Cascading shower on naked skin, cooling cleansing, a loving so tender

Thoughtful, worthy minutes pass
As drivers ponder an airwave sermon, their rides stationary in a choked waterlogged highway
Unbridled freedom from self made walls,
Breathed a man with a thousand employees, trading air-conditioned cell with the outdoors unshackled

So falls the rain

Such warmth
Thinks a boy, soaked, drenched head to toe as he dances a jiggly wiggle
What joy
Giggles a girl, bare feet, bottom submerged in a green-hued moat of a grassy mini castle

A gift so blissful
A gesture so beautiful

Let fall the rain…

Wonky Discourse

2011-04-28T11:46:00.009+08:00

The on-going RCI on the death of the late Teoh Beng Hock has taken interesting turns of late.

Initially, it looked as though the RCI was turning into a farce with allegations of corrupt practices re-bandied again on Seri Kembangan assemblyman Ean Yong.

Suddenly, cans of worms – maggots? – began to open at regular intervals from the wanking - sorry, watching - of porn whilst a witness was in interrogation, rewriting of records, outright lies to cover your boss’ ass orders.

Wow.

Then again, while all this makes for the kind of head-shaking, goodnessgracious, whatthehell ecstatic reading, I do realized that in the end, not much while come out of the whole exercise.

Probably there will be a Paper (white, blue, flowery pinkish base?) on things: how to pick future staff, safe interrogation practices, guidelines on following orders, how to cheat and get away with it et cetera.

Those guilty of anything (lying is technically not one unless you’re an obstruction to justice and here in Malaysia, this topic warrants Tolkien-length discourse) will probably be suspended or transferred or something.

BUT are we closer to the truth?

Nope. Sure doesn’t look that way.

There are insinuations at most, which is far from even the balance of probability level of evidence required in civil proceedings, much less the beyond reasonable doubt vis-à-vis criminal ones.

Maybe the panel forming the RCI can find a coherent straw from the mish mash of information and misinformation, but it sure seemed that the truth passed along with the deceased that fateful day in July 2009.

It was the same open ended ending in the Sarawak Department of Environment (DOE) investigating officer Rumie Azzan’s case, wasn’t it?

All these (not the tragic death but the ecstasy of disclosures of something-rotten-in the-closet and the surety of its blanky (got ahh, this word?) aftermath) is highly reminiscent of something.

Now, what could that be?

PS:
Should we be reading so much into the postponement of the RCI of one day? Again, insinuations here especially in the light of self-damning responses from MACC's own officers.

NST reported the postponement coming as "much to the surprise of reporters and several witnesses who turned up", quoting spokesperson, while Bernama cited "all witnesses for the week had testified".

Fish sold by katis
Veges goes by ikats
Witnesses for RCIs
Goes by weekly batches

Rosy Bleakness

2011-04-27T16:01:00.005+08:00

There was a man who lived his life with a whistle on his lips
Baggy, checkered pants, with him a hammer and a chisel
Walked with a swagger, an exaggerated swing of his hips
Every day he goes down a path crowded with overgrown thistle

He had the look of a man with an aim
Of doing something, perhaps a claim of fame
He answers queries with a smile so plain
Voiceless answers and questions slain

Where he goes nobody knows
Of what he does, nothing shows
A cryptic task, a secret held close
But a harmless endeavor, the need to know never arose

He walks alone, this man unnamed
Head held high, face haggardly weathered
Of what he does he has no shame
In his heart though his soul has floundered

The graveled path he’s been using
Brings him to a mountain centuries in standing
Had hammered his chisel a continued chipping
No pause, no rest, he was just unrelenting
A silent hope, a prayer for achieving

He toils away, this lonely man
Intent of finding a breach, a crack, a rent
He traces his effort, act on his plan
From the slightest trickle, he's looking for a gush, a torrent
Of spring water so clear,
So cool, so tender

He thinks it’s there, he hopes it’s true
Basing his faith on the barest of clue
A slight pause so sudden that’s out of the blue
“What if I have been but a fool, a victim of ridicule?”

A stop so short though seemed an eternity
He shrugs his thoughts, gutting his temerity
Hammer to chisel, the core of this entity
Hammer and chisel, his quiet dignity...

Resonating Melody

2011-04-23T13:26:00.003+08:00

His iron steed astride a solitary tree at a street barely awoke
A secret rendezvous, an invisible eavesdropping
It was not his first, nor his last, he hopes
A newfound peace, a long sought solace
A chance discovery, from an outset of thievery

From four, there were now five, once there were six,
Seated across each other, while the neighbourhood continues its slumber
One after another they read from a scripture he'd seen but never touched
A melodic resonance of phrases he heard often but never understood
Strung together, they bring calmness to his harried soul.

Yes, he has one, this man of sullied, soiled past
An aimless, directionless journey he never envisioned
Thoughts of only in the next fix, of the next high
A slave hooked to a chain of undoing
Stuck in a road tearing apart his very being.

He closes his eyes now, letting the sweet melodies awash his very being
Deep within he felt a stirring, stung by the sudden warmth
A clarity of thoughts, a clearing of minds
A soothing of soul, a calming of nerves
As tears begin the swell between his shut eyelids

What's that he feels now, a soft touch on his shoulders
A soft "Insyaallah" in his ears, he opens his eyes to spy a smiling stranger
Sitting across, a simple gesture a welcoming an invite
"Am I not unclean? Aren't I unworthy?"
"Am I not to be allowed into a home so pure?"

What is filth, what is pure is not for me to judge, he says
Are we not all in the same journey on the premise of an astrally faith
A trip fraught with ebbs and tides, of lurid temptations
An earthly bridge, so thin, swaying, rocking, inviting surender
To plunge headlong into an abyss so deep.

A second chance, he thinks, a journey he says
Stepping from the shadows made smaller by the peeking sun
A lighted house an inviting recital an open door
Claspings hands so warm so tender.
Insyaallah, he stutters.
Insyaallah, he answers...

Pastaly Ponders

2011-04-21T16:47:00.002+08:00

Overripe tomatoes on the precipice a wooden chopping board
Peeled, waiting to be diced, tiny bitty cubed?
Or smushed, a pulpy juicy slush?
Waiting, voiceless, choiceless.

Pale reddish in hue, bits of grayish white pock a pack of minced
Once hale and hearty, grazing greens beyond the windowed walls
Ready for pot, or skillet, or pan,
Crackling fat gushing salivating aroma.

Solid but brittle egg yolked durum in plastic opened one end
Fettuccine? Tagliatelle? Or plain Spaghetti?
Poached, boiled cooked El Dente,
So exotic Oh Mama Mia goes the cook

Mini shrubs on the kitchen top emitting a minty balsamic scent so sweet
Distant cousins to the bottled shreds
Italian herbs, American sourced
The end user a cook in a distant land

A place somewhere where snow is but fluffy, clotted cotton
Melting never, never minding hot, sweltering heat
An afternoon that last and last from the peeking of daybreak
Saying goodbye later at the slip of dawn

The coming together, a mixing so tender
Minced, diced, cubed, shredded, tied in an elegant promenade
The slightest touch, a salty intrusion so sparse
Seared stir fry, sizzled sauté, frizzling fried
A final heave ho to the mixing bowl so deep
Meal so handy, ingredients so plenty
Thus with a soft "In the name of Allah"
Buon Appetito then…

Crystalline Longings

2011-04-20T01:09:00.004+08:00

Listening, he hears words
Words that reaches to his left, his right
Front and back, the soliloquy flows
Slipping past, passing through,
Whistling phrases breeze
As cold as mountain stream
Hot as the streaming lava
A staccato of phrases
Touching hearts and minds
As tears flows freely
Elsewhere
Why does he remain empty
Elsewhere
Tears in eyes red from strains of innocence
Coddled souls in search of salvation
He peers bewildered
Spying a child cocooned in a grown man's husk
Weeping silently,
Fingers hiding in vain a steady flow
Tears, abundant tears
He hears the words
A silent rendition
He thinks then of a time
A time when he hears the words
Every vein, each pore
Overwhelming, humbling words
As a crystalline heart melts

He longs for the words
He longs for the feeling
He longs for tears flowing freely
Listening and hearing
Recounting of a sacrifice unrepeated
A love trascending time
For total strangers
The sharing a single love
The praying for a simple solace
The searching for a accepted redha
He longs for such moments
When tears flows freely...

Mergering Blues

2011-04-19T13:32:00.009+08:00

As an armchair critic whose opinions doesn’t matter a hoot in the large scheme of the (Malaysian) universe, I am all for the proposed Proton – Perodua merger proposal.

Why in the world would ANYONE protest to such a move is certainly beyond me.

As I got a C in A-Levels Economy, I know enough about economies of scale arguments bla bla, optimization of capacities yada yada advantages of the proposed merger.

BUT, and it is an important BUT mind you, my show of hands to this plan goes more basic.

In its article on the subject, The Edge puts in this line “…concern on whether a merged Proton-Perodua would deprive consumers of better choices in the car market…”.

Kidding, right?

Heck, the merger would do wonders instead to the choice-deprived poor, not-that-rich and so-so-only-rich motorists and motoring enthusiasts in the country.

Imagine if you may what could (would? I am not a clairvoyant…) happen should the merger proceed.

Right now, we only have, what, Protons, Proton-badged Mitsus, Perodua-badged Daihatsus cum, by a long, long stretch, Toyotas in the national makes category.

A marriage – though they are national car makers, the differences in shareholding makes the union non-incestuous in nature – would then allow (sorry, could allow) us to have Proton-badged (a really, really, really long stretch but still possible) Toyotas.

Imagine the pride and joy of driving a duties-subsidised Altis, Alphard, Caldina, Wish or Camry? Of course, their names would be Proton/Perodua-ised, but hey, they will still look the part.

And, in the economies of scale bla bla and optimisation of capacities yada yada point of view, the meger could (ditto) mean sale figures of 437,600 trimmed by, say, 30% from rationalization of models – surely the merger will scrap those in the same category, no? – which will get you figures of around 306,300 cars per year.

That’s easily more than what each company can do individually.

And though a recently received Proton Inspira of a close one’s colleague intermittently leaked rainwater into the boot, the much alleged unreliability of Protons are, as said, alleged.

Who knows, the merger may even bring in the much-said kaizen philosophy into Proton’s makeup and identity. A corporate culture thingy.

Imagine also the pride of seeing wholly national makes-dominated roads and highways – choked right after the tollbooths in Klang Valley as they are – all throughout the country.

Now, doesn’t that makes you want to shed patriotic tears?

Nationalistic fervor doesn’t get any realer than that.

So, how? Anyone keen on Produa (Opps. Seriously needs a rethink here..)

Bottled Genie

2011-04-14T14:52:00.003+08:00

Well, well. Looks who back in the limelight.

It was two posts ago that I mentioned him and hey presto, like the genie in the bottle (with thanks to Christina Aguilera) we have him pasted all over the news – online, print and even the idiot box.

Not all bad though things though as RPK did re-clarify that the allegation against the two Lieutenant Colonels are, well, allegations from a third LC.

What gives, though? Why now? Why TV3? Whazzup, Tengku?

To distract us from the Sarawak (buy) state elections? To add more straws on he-who-everyone-thinks-will be/should be/could be/may well be-Prime Minister’s already heavily burdened back? To add spice to the already colorful Malaysian political scenes?

Perhaps it the latter.

The Sarawak (buy) State election seemed to be fast turning into an ala-Middle east uprising against a long-time alleged despot, so I doubt if it all the shit about him-with-the-burdened-back will mattered.

Sarawakians disgusted with the rule of Taib M and the vast wealth gained through business acumen yada yada will vote against him, and those who think he’s done good will vote for him.

And the rest of the Candidates? Cogs in the wheel.

Commentators have spoken about the need to rebuild Sarawak, to allow more access to the riches that the state has.

Reading the vibe from the Middle East uprising, this has also been the central theme which has seen much bloodshed.

I’ve never been to Sarawak and the closest I got was a plan cancelled by the foot and mouth disease scare of 2006. Alas.

But there are enough to suggest for a rallying call to change, and change for the better.

You can’t forever be living hand to mouth after all.

Or the occasional vote-buying handouts.

Patin Reprieve

2011-04-13T14:16:00.005+08:00

The RM13,000 Patin Kerdau episode is a very, very fishy story.

First it was RM13,000 for 50, with the Bernama-sourced report going:

“According to one of the diners who did not wish to be identified, he had taken his friends to lunch at the restaurant which served kampung food, including freshwater fish, ulam (raw greens) and kampung vegetables.

He said after the meal, the restaurant owner handed him a bill of RM13,000, and he had no choice but to pay it.

"The bill came to about 260 per person, which was more expensive than eating at a six-star hotel in Kuala Lumpur!" he told Bernama.”

Suddenly a day later, the feasting crowd inflates to 350 and in one type of the key makes the bill all halal and kosher.

Again, the story was from Bernama:

“A diner who was reported to have paid a whopping RM13,000 for a patin meal at a restaurant here recently, today said the bill was reasonable as it was for 300 to 350 people and not 50 as reported.

He said the menu for the lunch held after the naming of candidates for the Kerdau state seat by-election, included the prized river patin and krai fish dishes, udang galah (freshwater prawns) and several other dishes.

"The total bill came to about RM13,000, or less than RM40 per person, which is reasonable as we ate the rare river patin which is costly, and not patin from the farms," he said.”

Weird, ain’t it?

Two stories. Same Bernama reporter, same diner, same “friends“, same meal?

Two VERBATIM quotes, mind you. Not paraphrased, ie. there’s no “I was misunderstood / misread / misrepresented” bullshit escape here.

It’s quite a (hilarious in fact) spectacle to see such a flipping and flopping of statements.

What gives, Mr Diner, Sir? A late afternoon indignant phone call, perhaps?

I shouldn't be so surprised about the whole thing especially since the (must be a heck-of-a) meal is political in nature.

The Malaysian political scene of late has been throwing us a lot of not-easily digestible, erm, “news” so I suppose the Patin story is pretty passé, eh?

Me? Got the heebeegeebees when I saw the amount of blood from a Patin (reared, of course) being processed for the pot.

So, whether its RM260 or RM40 per pax, I’ll take a rain check.

Crushing Minutes

2011-04-07T12:50:00.004+08:00

Dread creeps fast yet silent
Filling gaps in her mind
Leaving reasons in the farthest reaches
Could it be, could it be
Her quiet shudder
Her silent mouthing
Lips once luscious go dry
As her heart quickens

Flashing neon in the not quite distant
A foreground of murmurs, of rumours
A multitude of meaningful, meaningless words
Rising in pitch clambering, out shouting
What is what is it she says
Words that did not escape a mouth cupped
Trembling, those dry, dry lips

Not him (He’s always early)
Not him (He’d always call)
Not him (He’s rock steady)
Not him (He’d never fail me)
Not him (PleasenothimpleaseGodpleaseIbegyouplease)
Not him, she thinks, she prays
As eager strangers piled forward

Is that (a bloodied limb?) she spied
Murder, someone offered
Robbery, says another
Personal violation all the same
Most foul, most vile still
An empty alley vacant no longer

(Usually calls)
A steady demeanour no more
(Always early)
Unsteady knees close to buckling
(Where is he where is he)
Her hand grasping, seeking
Finding nothing but shoulders of strangers
Strangers... strangers total

Nina, Nina
(Why do I hear him now)
Nina
(My mind my mind is it gone?)
Strong hands steadied her
Recognised the warmth, she turns to see
A face sporting a thousand guilty faces
A wearied smile disguising a haunted look
So sorry, so sorry
It’s not like me to be so late, he says
Too many things, too caught up in everything
He says.

ThankyouthankyouthankyouGod
You've answered my prayers
Words rushing as tears flow freely
A soul unworthy within she cries
A heart grateful, a woman assured
She held his hands, stared into his eyes
That glistens (love? she's sure)

Then she remembered
Of the stranger
In a once deserted alley
Who could he/she be?

Spiking Copies

2011-04-06T18:13:00.008+08:00

My heart sure goes out to the Chief Editors of the Malaysian news media.

It has been quite the frenzy feast with controversial (juicy?) stories and attention grabbing headlines rushing headlong into the laps of our overworked Fourth Estate the last few weeks (Months?).

And today, another MACC related death.

With the Sarawak state elections revving up.

Not to mention the two videos of alleged sexual shenanigan of a so-called prominent politician who some thinks is a top draw for the Prime Minister’s position should he be afforded the opportunity.

There's an on-going Royal Commission of Inquiry of an earlier MACC's witness death.

May I also remind of the Customs department’s personnel alleged billion Ringgits siphoning of national would/could/should be revenues.

Or even the AlKitab compromise cum negotiations controversy that seemed to have escape some national dailies...

So many things pandering their already divided attention that I wonder if our newspaper men and women have time to breathe, much less eat, rest and do whatever it is that the rest of us do in our free time. (Blog, perhaps?)

Those are the current ones, but there are many others that simmer just beneath the readers’ (news) consciousness.

Shall we give these a go?

There’s the PKFZ inflated cost saga, the ongoing sodomy trial of a certain politician who many seems to think as Prime Minister material, RCIs that never seems to have closures, a displaced renegade anti establishment blogger, huge arm spendings we can seemingly ill afford, bleeding of the national coffers year in and year out through sheer (alleged) negligence and (alleged) inflating of bids and tenders, allegedly rigged ones, horrific crimes that remained unsolved…

I got tired of thinking them out and simply gave up at the dot dot dot.

I don’t begrudge the odd (is there any?) Chief Editor who decides to throw the towel (or spike the copy..heh) on hot controversial reads and zoom instead to the feel-good ones.

Alas, these headlines are either too few and far in between, or smack too much of political hypes and gerrymandering.

Hence my own hiatus from commentaries; turning instead to rambling, pathetic attempts at nonsensical lyrical (I hope!) writings.

Unlike my former colleagues/bosses/compatriots, I am plain tired of grabbing headlines.

Now, if only I can veer my eyes away from them…

A Banquet Ignoble

2011-04-05T17:16:00.006+08:00

Amidst noisy chatter, they sliced and they diced
Steel to wood, up and down side to side
A hand swats a buzzing irritant enticed
A heady mix of sweat scented allure

Ketchup and soy, salt and sugar
A syrupy sauce, a bubbly concoct
He spits to his side uncared aghast
Spatula in hand empty pot his disgust

Woof woof they circled a boned carcass
Earth red furs blanketing strewn hoofs
Six, seven, eight, counted the children
Stick in hands shooing hushing cackling

Tuk Tuk Tung the signal came
They are here, he is here, they say
To everyone, to no one, to all
They know, we know, all of them know

A banquet, a meal, three four dishes in all
Appetizer none (what is that) rice plenty
A curry something, a chili same thing
Salad on the side, all green and crunchy

He is here, he is here
Is the food ready, became the chatter
It’s ready but let him speak
Let’s hope it’s short not saccharine sweet

A wonderful meal of a worthy meat
Speared yesterday slaughtered soon after
It’s a must, it’s a must they told them so
Remnant advice from a forgotten stranger

Wonderful allusion, praiseful words
Something about caring, something of concern
Arabic quotes in the middle none understands
Tummy growling oh when oh when

The feast is on, the line is ready
Stacked plates, plastic, orange in hue
Fingers for forks, spoons and gravy
Children first, womenfolk the last
An adulatory banquet
A day of plenty.

Ticking Seconds

2011-03-31T14:58:00.009+08:00

At a sidewalk cafe she waits
A bittersweet cup her scant company
A lone finger lingering gingerly
Her cup, half filled, half empty
Her sights subtly wander
From stranger to faces familiar
Wishing for recognition,
A wink, a smile
A missing warmth.

By her side an unopened tabloid
Hidden masthead inviting passing glances
From strangers, familiar faces
Spying gibberish in meaningless fonts
Recollecting event passed
Of deeds done
Hours, days before
By someone, another stranger

A sigh escapes her lips
A trace, a print fringing the cup’s edge
Luscious red on skin, pinkish smudge on porcelain surface
The shine matching her skin so shy
Hiding beneath a powdered layer
Of tapered thickness
By touches too soft too light

Missing seconds dial ticks away
Invisibly racing past encrusted markers
Oh why does the time rushes?
She silently wonders
Her fingers animating a louder protest
Tap tapping a tuneless crescendo
A bravura performance
Of a solo recital

A sudden silent stillness
A cacophonous wail in the distance
Disturbed, she stood her height
Peering beyond a growing barricade
Of boisterous busy bodies
As beads of sweats
Preludes a growing dread…

Could it be?

Crystalline Opacity

2011-03-30T16:52:00.004+08:00

The edge so close, so near
A jagged line, so clear, so opaque
Ramrod, he stares neither left nor right
Stiff, unmoving, unflinching,
Unnerved?

Perhaps he wonders what lies ahead
Inch forward, Yards backwards
Which one?
Thoughts pinging in his mind?
Back and forth?
Or nay?

Beyond an expanse so vast
Pastel clouds pasted on blue so vivid
Pockmarked vibrancy in comforting hues
Reds, greens and yellows interlacing
A chequered canvas in nature's paint

Then again...

A plunge below so deep
Frothing waves, crashing surfs
Naked rusting groundswell of anorexic offshoots
Creeping, whispering silent wails
Of nails scratching on stone cold walls so white

Or maybe...

39 steps of weird zigzags
Unsmooth gradients, random shrubs
Tiniest blooms, flitting butterflies, trailing crawlies
Uneven tracks, loose pebbles, solid soil
Leading nowhere, heading everywhere

So
Inches or Yards
Which shall it be?

Bluesy Bleats

2011-03-28T16:30:00.003+08:00

I should hate Mondays.

A day so promising looking dead set to end otherwise.

I suppose I should look for the silver lining

My day’s seemed right down in the gutter

But its a matter of perspectives

I am here instead of somewhere else

I am a nobody instead of a somebody

(With a permanent crosshair no matter which shirt they wear)

I am penniless instead of having to care for the pockets of many

I am listless instead of a husk, lifeless

I am troublesome instead of burdensome

I am clueless instead of blameless

I am instead of am not

Monday is just a day thus

Like any other

A day

Of grace

Of opportunities

To care, to atone, to love

To live, another fine day...

Suki Des'u

2011-03-17T13:12:00.011+08:00

Tiny sparks flicker in darkened void
In guarded moments he lets his mind wander
How fares his Mayumi?
He wonders
Of his sweet Akemi
Purple ribbons, pony tails
He wonders a bit longer
Seconds passes at a crawl.

The hose a writhing, snarling snake coiling his arms
Aft, steam hissing, a musical interlude of angry cries
He looks ahead
A grim visage of a man stares back
Mere reflections through opaque lenses
A window (his only)
A suit so soft, a reprieve so false
Sticks barricade
Against a crunching invisible onslaught
He stops shorts
Tasukete at his lips' edge.

Iie, he lightly laughs
His mind smiling as his hands suddenly remembers icy rivulets
A stream, so cold, so soothing
Mayumi chuckling in the distance
(Making ramen?)
As Akemi splashes about
Pony tails spraying icy cold droplets
Icy rivulets
The images hazy, the sensations so clear
A sharp pang unnoticed.

…

Who is that calling?
He hears shouts
All in the fringes
Voices in the peripheral
So distant yet so close

Is that Kami beckoning him a journey,
He wonders
A land he’s heard but never seen,
Yomi?
He sighs
As bluish lips let slip,

Daisuki desu, Mayumi
Daisuki desu...

Zomba Zombe

2011-03-16T11:07:00.011+08:00

I’ve been enjoying some good laff riot sessions with my youngest over Mamat Khalid’s “Hantu Kak Limah Balik Rumah”.

(I know it’s like a gazillion years since Kak Limah’s debut on the silver screen but... )

She knows the movie from A to Z now, but there will still be the occasional question like: “Ayu tu hantu ke Bah?”

Some movies do have the knack for tying your emotions down, and Kak Limah is one such. Kudos to Mamat Khalid for such a gem.

This is not a review of Kak Limah – it’s been done to death (heh. Pun TOTALLY intended) – but more of re-acquaintance of movies which stick to my mind (and interest) longer than others.

Kak Limah is not top in my list, though. No, numero uno is shared between P Ramlee’s Tiga Badul and Labu Labi (The first version).

I laughed at the jokes when watching it as a newly graduated law student years ago with my cousin and still laughing when I watch them these days as a father of two growing daughters.

Whether or not I will continue laughing at the (same) jokes years from now (maybe when I’m loafing away as a retiree?) is uncertain but from the way things are, it looks like a surety.

There’s an Australian film in the list, too, by the way: Strictly Ballroom and a Japanese manga: Crying Freeman (The Mark Dacascos version is a pale cousin in comparison).

Kak Limah is a far enjoyable fare than its predecessor, Zombi (Hussin calls them Zombe and Pak Jabit, Zomba) Kampung Pisang. The man is growing in his directing skills, surely.

I am looking forward to the third installment. I hope there is one, especially with the, ahem, cliff hanging - another intended pun! – scene as Hussin rides off into the horizon.

And speaking of jokes, ya, here’s a lame-o one courtesy of our good old government: The move last month to reduce toll for Petaling Jaya Selatan 2 (PJS2) toll plaza will cause (cost? - my emphasis) the government RM90 million.

Talk about costly discounts, eh?

Funny also in that NST missed out on the spelling error.

Deathly Halo

2011-03-14T17:17:00.004+08:00

We read the news, hear the reports, watch the footages, but truthfully, Japan is a land far, far way, isn’t she?

The devastation, the misery is surreal.

Perhaps I am generalizing far too much so let this be in the first person: let me thus replace We with I instead.

I am stunned by my lack of empathy to the unfolding tragedy in the land of the rising sun. It was as if I am merely watching one of the many – far too many, to me – disaster movie, driven by over the top CGI where the heroes and heroines win and hopes restored.

In my mind, I see a man munching away at potato chips, bits falling onto a semi plush carpet, while in the idiotbox, a news caster pays homage to growingly bigger death count (somewhere, the man thinks, not here); the children bickering just earshot away.

It's a cold image.

Maybe it’s just me; but even as I type this, colleagues around me are doing what they (we, really) usually do on any typical working day: fun and frolic, worries kept until towards the month’s ending when the wallet thins.

Japan: too far, nobody we know. We feel pity, but hey, life goes on.

The heart is a cold, cruel world.

When did compassion die, I wonder?

Solicitous Wick

2011-03-11T16:00:00.004+08:00

It sure seems like ages since I last posted something in this blog.

Not that there wasn’t items of interests to comment on, just a “Nah…” feeling of "Hmmph... Whatever lo...”

So what is different about today, then? Nothing, except for thoughts of mortality.

I learnt from an insurance agent today of a waiver clause whereby you no longer needed to pay for your coverage, but (of course there is a but here) the clincher is that this point is reached when you’re 100 years old.

A centenarian.

When I read of people living past 100, I often wonder what makes them continue ticking? Why are they still around when so many of their compatriots have passed on the mortal coil? Is it due to modern medical wonderment? Healthy lifestyle?

What, exactly?

Often times, I just think that it’s mainly unfinished business.

I hope my own ascent into my, ahem, senior years will be graceful. Rid myself of this horrible debt-culture which our generation and the next have been burdened with through escalating cost of living.

And, I pray, be closer to Allah in all ways.

My once icon (note the word once) published his memoir recently and, while admitting that I will probably not read the book in full, I am beyond aghast that at his stage in life, Dr M is still rattling his sabre.

Why exactly, Doctor? There are both good and nasty words in the books (I’m basing this on reviews, so am pleased to be corrected) aimed at people both dead and living.

I supposed the Memoir will be an enlightening read for fans (and detractors) of the good doctor. There'll be ample divisions and rifts, applauses and jeers, criticsm and praise.

Some will find solace and serenity as their lives march towards the end, while others continue as if their wicks are forever and ever, unending.

As for Dr M? He writes his memoir and welcomes all sullied by his words to take him on.

Like I said: unfinished business.

How sad.

Tearing Away

2011-03-04T16:57:00.005+08:00

I am positively bewildered with the “Girl convert no longer a Muslim” news piece in the StarOnline today.

And here we are thinking that people convert due to a newfound faith in religions (whichever it may be).

It’s not supposed to be a flippant act. Today a Muslim, tomorrow a Hindu then a Christian next Sunday. THAT would be beyond blasphemous.

The article seems to suggest that if the legal procedures are not followed, the convert will revert back to whichever religion (if any) he/or she was professing to.

This contention is simply mindboggling.

So what happens if the said convert still hold his/her newfound beliefs? Are they supposed to wait until they reach legal age to proclaim so?

Sure enough, there are cases where children became the unfortunate fodders in a battle between Masters and Missuses.

The assumption is that both parents want the best for their child and that would include being in the faith they believe is the true belief. Sometimes the battle gets nasty and you can easily traumatize a child forever with the tug and pull.

The Penang news itself is unclear on how the girl “had been converted to Islam without her family’s knowledge”. What happened? Who did what? How did the conversion occur?

What color was her kebaya and did it match her tudung?

Okay… Now I am being flippant.

Seriously, for someone to convert to Islam, they have to cite the Syahadah, and from the news article, it could also be deduced that this was done without her parental consent.

If your children wanted to convert to a different religion from the one they were brought up with, would you?

.......

Exactly.

So what now? Where do we go from here?

Or do we sweep in under the carpet as per norm?

Kramer vs Kramer (1979)

Bloody River

2011-02-22T15:22:00.012+08:00

"The shooting is not designed to disperse the protesters,” said one resident, who wanted to be identified only as Waleed, fearing for his security. “It is meant to kill them.”

Muammar Gaddafi’s son mentioned “rivers of blood in Libya.”

He meant Rivers of Libyans' blood.

And his goons are making good his promise.

Senseless. Lunacy. A leader gone MAD.

Yet we are still keeping a deathly SILENCE?

WHAT THE HELL ARE WE WAITING FOR?!

Silent Prayers

2011-02-21T13:34:00.007+08:00

“You can’t send your troops with machine guns, kill people and then expect to start a dialogue.”

It is disheartening to read the news on the protests in Libya and Bahrain.

In reports of security forces firing live bullets into crowds: benevolent rulers don’t do this to their own people.

Why?

Were they armed and dangerous?

Or was it that the shouts for some measure of dignity to return became too deafening?

Too much that it had to be silenced.

Silence too seems the golden keyword over here.

Deathly silence.

Begging the question: Why are we? Why are we selective in our holier-than-thou?

In Memoriam - Tehran, June 20, 2009

Lateral Visitations

2011-02-16T16:24:00.005+08:00

Google has a new toy named googleartproject and it looks great.

Ever since the search engine made, uhm, searching for stuffs easy, searching for paintings (apologies for the triple - now quadruple – use of the phrase "search" ) became a cinch.

Well, relatively a cinch as sometime it will lists everything under the internet sky (not so brilliant after all, eh, Mr Google?) that you still have to go through a whole lot to get to the one you are looking for.

Being a fan of Vincent (he who cut his earlobe off) Van Gogh, I was excited to see that the Amsterdam Museum is one of the listed few.

It was a mixed experience as nothing beats being there since the 3D rendering is a bit clunky – ala those old days FPS games – so visiting the museum virtually does feel passé at best.

The View Artwork option, though, is another thing altogether and brilliant is certainly an adjective to describe it.

Well into several frames of vibrant colors, I had to force myself to quit the site as it was getting too much of my attention. You really could get lost in the show od detailings.

It really IS the closest you can get to seeing the real thing real time.

Also read from the Edge that googleartproject features some 486 artists’ paintings (sculpture etc).

Am looking forward to some quiet time some time (there I go again!) to start exploring.

TQVM, Google Sir.

At the very least, though, reading this took my mind (and attention) away from some growing histrionics on the country’s mammoth MRT project that’s looking a lot like a “bulldoze first and ask questions later” decision.

Then again, this is what you usually get from consulting the public – grouses.

Did read some glowing, rave comments though, mainly by analysts who think the properties in and around the areas where the new MRT line lie will appreciate in value.

Really, ah?

Did they, with hindsight of the now positively Paleolithic LRT, Monorail and Komuter lines?

I think I shall go back to looking at paintings than muddle my mind with this rethorical question.

Off Peeled

2011-02-12T00:33:00.003+08:00

MBPJ is going for a neighborhood-wide Gotong Royong later this month at my workplace.

A target of this Clean Zone programme: To clear those pesky illegal advertisement and the likes.

You know them: Personal loans. No guarantor, Blacklist also CAN, Adult toys kinda ads.

When I first joined the job market, these illegal adverts were among the best - sometimes the only - avenue if you're looking for room to let at a very, very afforable rate and preferably with minimal deposit to be placed.

The tear-off, self-printed ad jobs were everywhere. More often than not, strategic locations where the advertisers think the room seeking lads and ladies would converge.

You'd see them at bus stops, phone booths, empty (no longer when one ad appears as others will follow like mushroom after a bout of rain!) walls...

Not public toilets, though. Those are the different kind of ads. Specific ones, too.

Anyway, the lure of the tear off ads is understandable as they are pretty cost effective in getting the most number of response.

So, was my first one rented room led by similar source? Nope, I was lucky to have a friend who is already renting and could afford a squatter who soon heard of another vacancy close by.

My second was such, however, and I got myself a house and a housemate that could spun tales whole novel long. Loads of memories from there. Mostly the bad sort. Maybe something for another time, another post.

Nowadays though with the internet providing a far easier, more cost effective not too mention the widest of audiences, I wonder why people still resort to these pasted (some even hung) ads.

The cost of printing them, paying somebody to go around pasting, hanging them etc must be marginally more (ie more than FOC) than posting on the many free-ad service websites.

Those looking for rooms and houses are quite pampered nowadays with some pretty specific sites catering for just such needs.

Be careful of doing some actual checks on your housemates, though.

I've been there, and its quite the goosebumpy experience to be had.

Dashed Joviality

2011-01-28T12:21:00.005+08:00

Long time fans of Lat would have notice the non-too-subtle change in the later editions of his classic “Lat, Kampung Boy”.

Lat has always managed to skirt the fine line of sensitivities in all his work, and Kampung Boy is a definite gem, not only in its rawness, but the total honesty in the way the story is fleshed out.

I’ve lost my original copy, by the way, and was dismayed when I found the changes made in the newer prints.

I’d like to think that it was a conscious move by Lat himself to replace the pages especially that of him returning home with a can full of tin ore, his dad waiting on the stairs of the their humble abode.

Readers can literally feel the disappointment in both father and son in the slapping scene over (if I am not mistaken) a three-page spread.

No one could have done it better.

A very, very powerful showcase of emotional exposition on Lat’s part especially when you take into account the joviality of his (late) father and the equally fun-filled episodes – swimming in fish filled rivers, exploring tin mines etc - involving the growing up cartoonist and his friends in the preceding pages.

Alas, these (slapping scene) pages have been replaced with a “safer” new version of father chasing son all around the kampong. Even the pen strokes were tamer in comparison.

Suffice to say, I didn’t bother getting a copy.

And now we have the Interlok “amendments”.

I must admit that I have not and have no interest in reading the novel, controversy notwithstanding. There are enough books which can occupy my precious few hours of reading time to not expand the list whenever a title crops up in the news papers.

Aren’t we opening a can of authoritarian worms here with this move to amend so-called offending scriptures?

Offensive texts are literally everywhere in the writing world. Choose the right kind of titles and you’re apt to find expletives strewn all over the place.

Would it be morally correct to go in with a black marker to blank these out as to sanitise the work?

Perhaps you could justify the national unity and respect for all communities facet in the amending of the Interlok, but what’s to stop the authorities (if they have not already done so) from doing the same to other books, titles and works deemed offensive?

Where do we stop?

Doesn't the author have a say in this?

And it was only recently that some of us protested the selective nature of our historical text for schools; in how we're publishing only those views which the authorities want to officially recognize.

Aren't we a bunch of hypocrites.

Chirpy Moments

2011-01-25T14:07:00.008+08:00

“I was awake and meditating in my hut, and as the Muslim call for prayer began, I experienced tremendous peace, more bliss than the normal peace that I experienced daily.”

Believe it or not, the above are the words of a Buddhist monk who was taking about the early morning Azan and it resonated with exactly the kind of serenity I (and I suppose, countless other muslims) experienced.

Unlike the other Azans, the early morning or Subuh has the words “the Prayer is better that sleep” and listening to that alone (in Arabic) is sinmply melodic to not only the ears but also to the heart.

The Malay words of “sayup” (Is there an equivalent English word? Not sure, really) is reflective of the feeling. You can be within the vicinity of the mosque or surau, or well away, and yet the words feels as if spoken from a distant.

Like the sound of chirping birds while boxed in a concrete jungle.

Or the sound of cascading waters in a barricade of trees and the thick foliage of a tropical jungle.

It’s the magic of the Azan to invoke such a feeling of peace. The accomplished Bilals (taken from Bilal Ibn Rabah, the Ethiopian former slave?) does wonders to the Azan, loud speakers or not.

One of the many definitive moments in legendary (Tan Sri) P Ramlee's (many) movies was his reciting the Azan in Sumpah Semerah Padi. Controversial as it was (there are differences amongst ulamas as to whether such infusion of melodies is allowed), the Azan was well nigh beautiful.

I am sure you’ve heard of this before, but the timing of the Azan is such that as the world moves on its axis, so too will the call for prayers from one time zone to the other, mere seconds or none apart should the sequencing be perfectly timed.

Imagine the continual wave of serenity that then follows.

Even in the mind’s eye, it’s simply beautiful.

Rendered Beautiful

2011-01-24T14:33:00.009+08:00

My daughter surprised me with her tenacious spirit this morning, one of many similarly wonderful out-of-the-blue occasions.

Still recovering from a nasty flu, she was coughing rather badly all through the 30-minutes drive from the house to her school in Shah Alam. I said nothing during this except to pass her a plastic bag in case she felt like vomiting.

It’s the kind of dry, throaty cough that I know to be both unpleasant and painful so in between overtaking slow cruising lorries and cars on the NKVE, I made up my mind to send her for another medical check-up, get an MC and let her rest the day out.

And if need be, take an off day myself to babysit.

As any other school-ferrying would vouch, reaching the school is the breezier phase of the whole routine with having to navigate crisscrossing kids, kids and parents, late-arriving teachers and haphazardly parked cars and MPVs being the other - more curse-prone moments - half.

I spied a small space in between two parked cars, slotted mine, switched off the engine, turned around and asked if she was okay, half expecting a “Not so” reply.

She said she was fine.

I checked my hearing: “Are you sure you’re able to attend class today?”

“I’m okay,” she said starting to sling her school bag across.

“Okay... Don’t forget to tell your teacher if you feel bad. Get her to call me. Can you do that?”

“I will.”

Father and daughter then trotted their way to the school gates as the school bell started clanging for the children to converge to the grounds for their Monday morning assembly.

She might not have realized it but holding her small hands then was a father filled with silent pride.

I bade goodbye and watched her joined her schoolmates in a frenzy of swift walks through covered walkways and endless chitter chatter, twice turning to see me standing near the guards' post.

And feeling truly blessed.

Slippery Stepovers

2011-01-19T14:36:00.002+08:00

“The present prime minister, by training, by education, by upbringing, is most suited amongst Umno leaders to implement progressive and modern changes to the country. But he will not get the support from the many layers of extremists within his party.”

Well, there you go.

So much for hoping somebody could step up to fill the void in leadership for the country, as yet another greaser steps into the fray.

Am wondering why Zaid is in such a rush to prop up the Prime Minister with the above grandiose pronouncement?

Call a spade a spade, for goodness sake.

If the Prime Minister hasn’t the balls to stand up to the extremist in his party, he is of not much use to the country now, would he?

Thus far, the Prime Minister has made a whole lot of yak and not too many of the do.

Are we saying the country just needs to be yakked along to greater heights? A yak yak and a yak yak there and everything’s fine and dandy?

Perhaps I am reading too much in generalities, as the KITA main man (nice one, pun fully intended) did slip in “amongst Umno leaders” which narrows the scope and span considerably.

Sigh… I digress.

While I am neither too fond of the yahoos in the PR line up too, several notables personalities have shown certain steel in offering some hope to the nation.

Nurul Izzah, for example, have shown some good sense in her statements – the blip in her congratulatory message to the Malaysian Tigers notwithstanding – of late.

Fortunately for her, a MSM in The Sun in giving her space to say her piece other than the online ones.

Being the daughter of a former DPM does invoke the “by upbringing bit”, but she has certainly stepped out from his shadow.

About time, I say.

SOMEBODY needs to.

Tunnelish Memories

2011-01-13T00:01:00.002+08:00

Last weekend, I did the unordinary in having lunch-cum-lepak session with some old college mates from my pre-University days.

There were four of us and over individual meals of Nasi Arab (three of which is of the very tender Lamb Kabshah variety) we caught up with each other’s latest in life development.

As is usual when long-time friends meet (I think!), there were also bouts of reminiscence in the “good/bad old days”.

I was really amazed with the recollection my fellow college mates had of the period a good 20 years ago. Such superb memories!

They remembered names, places and incidences right down to the most minor of details.

I am ashamed to say of having to go “Uh Hmm”, “Ah Yes, I remember him/her” and such just to keep pace even as I tracked into my own memory vault for something, anything to trigger any floodgate, however small, of whatever it was they were talking about.

There were, of course, bit and pieces – mostly nuggets in selective memory bank – which I could see with my mind’s eye, but for a good length of time during the (ahem) discourse I was as blank as a whiteboard at a MySpace “What’s our next plan?” meeting.

(Pardon the totally inane and witless metaphor)

It was good to reconnect with old friends, but it made me realized how far removed I am from the previous-life circles, where I stood today.

We come to these junctures on countless occasions, I suppose, and for some, they will not only collect valuable experience and enter life-changing decisions but also lifelong friends (sometimes even life partners).

Kid (Kelantanese guy from Bachok who’s into gym these days and who once sport a Morten (AHA) Harket hairdo) commented – quite exuberantly, in fact – that I had a pretty tunnel-like “radar” aka perception.

How very perceptive, I thought.

This could very well explain why I am so ill equipped when it comes to the glossary of life’s experiences. Either that or I just have a very, very lazy memory-bank workforce whose idea of file retrieval is limited to those file within fingers’ reach.

Is that good, bad or somewhere in between?

I don’t really know, but it does leave you behind during Alumnus and what not.

For what’s it worth though, I’m okay with my ROM, limited as it is.

I sure don’t mind improvements in my RAM, though.

Loved to have a greater level of zippiness to my thoughts...

Demon Speedsters

2011-01-10T10:38:00.005+08:00

“The Road Transport Department has deployed plainclothes officers across the country to keep tabs on bus drivers.”

Reverse psychology is it, Dear Mr. Transport Minister? So that bus drivers will be wary of committing fouls like speeding?

After all, they won’t know if there is actually A plainclothes RTD officer around taking notes (actual notes, mental notes, any kind of notes?) of breaches in safety protocols “like overtaking illegally, using their mobile phones while driving or speeding."

What of speeding lorries and trailers? No plainclothes to act as boogey man for them?

Some years ago, there were talk of putting in speed limiters into all these heavy vehicles, but this idea was shot down. One of the reason put was that drivers could as easily bypass and tweak the speed limiter thingy (pardon my technical deficiency) to render it useless.

In place, what was mooted was an airplane black box system, which also didn’t take off and finally – at least according to this Malay Mail article – operators (express bus services, methinks) have opted for a “more sophisticated speed limiter and GPS system”.

Must be the reasons why buses and lorries can zoom past us these days on the highways with such impunity…

I wonder at what speed the speed limiter is set at. 230km/h?

Am wondering, too, what happened to all those enquiries, reports and what not of previous tragic accidents involving heavy vehicles? Gathering dust somewhere, maybe?

I see so many drivers these days taking the safer approach when confronted with the speeding road demons. Just give them the widest of berth and hoped that they will speed their way off our radar.

Safety first.

So what if the law breakers are given a free reign?

Sigh...

Where's a hero when you need one*, eh?

*With thanks to Bonnie Tyler.

Reality's sacrier

Fictional Furore

2011-01-07T17:44:00.002+08:00

A (admittedly miniscule) blogo-furore has sort of erupted over the inclusion of a so-called muslim character as a Batmen-franchisee operating in France.

You’ve really got to love those passionate folks who wrote in their (to me, somewhat bigoted) views on the wrongness of such a move given that there is no actual person in fact.

22-year old Bilal Asselah aka Nightrunner is no more real than Bruce Wayne aka Batman will ever be. There a predictably muslim villain going by the name Colonel Abdul al-Rahman as part of the Liberators in Ultimates 2, so what is the big deal in having one as the front line good guys anyway?

Comics – fiction and fantasy that they are – can sometime be reflective of reality in the hands of great writers.

I still remember a Peter David’s Incredible Hulk take on the issue of HIV. A single issue with no preaching, and no answers pushed. Just like things are in real life.

The problem here is that the comics institution is pretty much localized.

Western comics – DC, Marvel, Dark Horse etc – are steeped in the ideals encompassed in Christianity, liberal, democracy etc.

Heck, our very own Zoy – whose super-skillful pendekars graced the Sunday pages of Berita Harian – infuses Malay, Islamic ideals in his fictional character.

Breaching these set barriers can be thus quite blasphemous in the eyes of chronically stoic-minded fans.

Do I think it’s a good idea to have Nightrunner @ France Batman?

Not really. It is after all so easy to run awry of ideals.

Hell, the character Batman himself is an anarchist, who skirts the law as best as he can. Sure, he doesn’t kill, but he bashes them all the same and do employ dubious methods in combating the so-called villains in his storyline, doesn’t he?

Bilal Asselah’s bashers do not need to worry as they will be times when the faith, belief of the French will be put to the test.

How the writers will tackled this eventuality will depend very much on their own set of beliefs and faith, won’t it?

Lighten up, dudes.

It is Comics after all.

Or would you rather than something like the Comics Code incident to recur?

Status Blipping Quo

2011-01-06T12:21:00.008+08:00

It’s barely a week into the New Year and some things looked pretty much status quo for the country.

The (ahem) alleged dipping of greedy hands into public coffers and land reared its ugly head again with this piece of news today.

Curious though as to why this featured in the Metro instead of the national pages. Hmmm…

There are some nice aerial-view pictures, too, ala a dentist and former Selangor MB’s multi-million Shah Alam’s home expose some time ago.

From the article, it sure looks as though the alleged dipper (heh) had decided to “fu*&ing GungHo” it with regards a disputed land for public use to come up with some nice, beautiful, unaffordable to the masses, homes.

The report mentions some VIP as well, alas, minus their glorious names, as owners of these homes.

This land dipping allegation, however, show up a certain political solidarity with PKR, Umno and MIC in the thick of things notwithstanding the existence of the so-mentioned VIPs.

Kudos to them, I say.

I wonder what can be done against the alleged offender in this case. We’ve seen a fair share of illegally constructed building (mostly miniscule ones, though) being torn down in the past by local authorities.

Would Dewan Bandaraya similarly take a “fu*&ing GungHo” approached IF the encroachment is indeed illegal? Will it?

I seriously doubt so.

Federal Territories and Urban Wellbeing Minister Datuk Raja Nong Chik Raja Zainal Abidin was quoted in the report as saying that action will be taken in the matter against the alleged offender.

What kind of action? As paraphrased: “a notice would be issued to the developer”.

Sure makes you want to holler out loud until tears gush down your red, flushed cheeks, doesn’t it?

Expect the case to go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on…

Yep. No ending in sight.

Like I said, it’s pretty much status quo in Malaysia.

Déjà Vu, even.

Culinary Democratisation

2011-01-05T16:44:00.005+08:00

For the life of me, I cannot recall when I first started eating raw fish aka sushi.

It could very well be something which followed closely my interest in the yesteryear Manga (the days of Domu, Akira, Lone Wolf and Cub etc).

Fortunately, this dish is now easily found in the country, thanks to Sushi King and other outlets without you having to frequent posh so-called Japanese restaurant for a taste.

I had a go at the real deal during my trip to Japan sometime ago. As a layman (as opposed to a true blue food connoisseur, I suppose) I could not really tell the difference between that and those I usually take in Malaysia anyway.

Aside from the authenticity factor, a sushi is as good as the sticky rice that goes with it. And, according to my tastebud, the tuna is also not half bad too as sushi ingredient. Add a dash of wasabi and you’re good to go.

Once I read this piece of news about a US396,000 342-kg blue fin tuna, my mind started racing as to how many sushi pieces this giant would be able to make.

At home, we are so used to cooking fish whole. This is so unlike the Western style of filleting and boning the fish, or the Japanese fine art-ish, sushi-pieces slicing act.

The years of intermingling of the racial/cultural cooking pot however, have certainly blurred this culinary divide, and nowadays, even Mat Sallehs can be found digging into Nyonya-style, fish head curry.

You just have to love the democratization of eating habits, don’t you?

Don’t bother looking into symbolism as this posting is nothing more than a rambling.

Now, if only there is a sushi outlet I can short-drop-by on the way home...

Wishful dreams Crappy days

2010-12-29T14:48:00.002+08:00

I dream a dream today
A dream of going somewhere someday
A land where daydreamers are free to dream
Of going somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, any day

I dream of reading an Ode yesterday
An unfinished script an ode to a poet
Who writes to pass the day
Days just like today, yesterday and any other day

I might dream another dream tomorrow
Dreams that may or might be a dream I’ve dreamed
I wish it will be a dream I wish to dream
A dream I can dream about in my dreams

I wish I’m dreaming a wishful dream right now
Of vibrant places of exotic locales
Of beautiful people of friendlier faces
Of open skies of sunny, cool winds
Where every blade of grass is green and pristine
Where every fleck of snow is not bitingly cold
Where every ray of sun does not sting
Where the water is clear, warm and soothing
Every breath of air breathlessly clean

A place
I wish I be
Right now right here
Instead of just a wishful dream
I dream of daydreaming

Decisive Nincompoops

2010-12-14T13:47:00.003+08:00

All riled up from reading Sakmongkol AK47 “Truth is the ultimate blade to cut the crap”.

This once subversively-popular song springs to mind immediately. Links to follow if I'm "rajin" (Is there an English equivalent ?) enough.

Aku Bukan Musuh Harta - Kopratasa

Mereka kata :
Mengapa kita tidak kaya raya?
Tengoklah si fulan itu,bermewahan saja..
Aku bertanya : apakah caranya untuk aku kaya?
Tapi.. secara mulia dan tanpa berdusta

Bukan kita tidak tahu
Jalan, denai dan liku
Agar harta ditemu dan disapu
Tapi semuanya cara palsu dan tipu..
Bukan kita tidak mahu,
Tapi kita tidak mampu,

Takut dan terkedu
Mengenangkan Yang Maha Satu
Yang Tiada BagiNya sekutu

Ya, telah kaya para pengkhianat,
Dengan harta yang sarat,
Tapi mereka lupa akhirat,
Balasan yang berat,
Dunia, jiwa bertukar menjadi keparat

Ya, telah kaya para pendusta,
Syarat mereka : lupakan Yang Esa,
Harta rakyat, semua disebat
Harta awam, semua dibekam
Hukum syaitan, mereka bertuhan

Kita pun ingin kaya,
Ada harta, ada kereta yang istimewa,
Ada rumah mewah yang melimpah,
Ada hidangan yang bukan sebarangan,
Ada duit yang bukan sedikit

Tapi, jalannya hendaklah suci,
Bukan seperti seorang pencuri,
Jika ada jalan yang mulia,
Di hujungnya ada harta,
Tunjukkan kita, di mana saja
Kita bukan musuh harta,
Kita cuma musuh pengkhianat bangsa
Dan Negara,
Apatah lagi pengkhianat agama..

Dari Puisi Dr Asri

Dubious Duds

2010-12-09T16:16:00.006+08:00

Yann Martel’s Beatrice and Virgil starts like a foreward and that alone got me hooked to dwelve further. Brilliant gambit, if I may say so.

Actually, it was initially the size (actually lack) of B & V which prompted me to pick it from the tens of titles lining The Times Book Store’s “New Arrival” shelf during a lunch break.

Ever seen George Orwell’s Animal Farm? B & V is about the same size.

The summary on the back cover (Blurb, is it?) doesn’t tell you much about the storyline, except that it involved an author, a taxidermist, a donkey and a monkey.

It was only upon Googling the title up later that I came to know B & V was part fiction part allegory on the Holocaust (look it up if you don’t know what this word means).

A few reviewers compared Martel with M. Night Shyamalan.

(Not the “I see dead people” Shyamalan. The Happening and The Last Airbender etc Shyamalan.

Yes; the one (or two) hit wonder.)

Having found Martel’s writing style to my liking, I was quite flabbergasted with the bad press. Could it really be THAT bad a book?

Writing is a tedious, lonely job.

Writers hope to excite, to enthrall, to give hours of page-turning moments, to provide imaginative avenues and probing insights, or to simply to help readers pass dreadful waits.

For your work to be called a dud is certainly a downer. Especially if you slogged long and hard to come out with your so-called masterpiece.

I suppose Martel took all the criticism in stride as he did mentioned somewhere of working on another tale. Kudos to him.

According to Stephen King, writers are needy. He’s probably correct. Otherwise why do you spend hours, months and, even, years writing, rewriting to get it right for the reader, even if they are purely imaginary?

So, will I be getting the book then?

I’m thinking I will after all.

It might not be are emotionally charged as one of Leon Uris’s epic, but a book that can pass the hours in minutes is worthy of the attention span.

Insightful Mergers

2010-12-03T12:30:00.005+08:00

I used to be a bona-fide, die hard believer in the premise of our Perusahaan Otomobil Nasional Berhad.*

My first car was a white, black-bumpered, Satria 1.3GL before circumstances and bad financial/personal management saw me letting it go and replacing with a Proton Iswara 1.3GL.

As many Proton car owners would probably attest, hassle-free is definitely not something you equate with this particular car maker.

I persisted with a third model, the Gen2, and Proton rewarded my somewhat naïve "loyalty" with a horrendous lemon and after a few years of nervous, hair-pulling moments and much, much, outflow of money for repairs etc, I bid goodbye to the brand.

Never sagain, I promise myself.

By then, I had managed to experience the kind of mouse-squeak, bottle cap-rattle free motoring that should be the right of motorists paying their hard earn money – first a second hand Suzuki Swift, then an Inokom Matrix and a Perodua Viva.

The Swift had an early episode of a clogged up fuel filter during one early morning road trip south, but replacement was cheap at RM25, and then it was all fine and dandy, and now still providing its services to my brother in law, it’s 16-years age notwithstanding.

Yes, I accept that no car maker can assure total reliability, but in my case, two out of three models seemed like a chronic lack of a QC culture prevalent in the national car maker.

Just yesterday, I posted a short advise to another Gen2 owner whose engine temp had risen, much like what I had experienced countless number of occasions with my own before I said goodbye.

What irks me the most (and probably other Proton owners in similar predicament) is the stock standard answers we usually get when sending our cars for repairs, warranties etc: “Biasalah, Proton.”

As if that makes it all blipping all right. A kind of take it or take it proposition.

Just like the current “We want it, and we want it no matter what” attitude in pushing for a merger with Perodua.

Proton probably needs this to happen more than the latter. Reading between the lines of Proton’s man-in-charge statement seemed to point to it haranguing the Government to press its case home.

I have given up on the Proton ideals. So reading statements like “I strongly feel there is room to collaborate. It's not about Proton and Perodua, it's about the Malaysian automotive industry” is so gag-inducing.

The Malaysian automotive industry? Really? In what way? My feeble, non automotive-industry savvy mind can’t see how a merger of Proton and Perodua makes sense vis-à-vis the Malaysian motoring crowd, other than having lesser and lesser choices for the low-mid, mid price ranges.

A merger would mean that some line-up needs to be consolidated. I’m guessing the one doing the pushing for a combo would also be the one deciding which models are delisted.

Examples of overlaps: Saga and Myvi. Savvy (is this still in production? Not I really care) and Viva. Persona/Gen2 and Alza.

(Of course, this is the kind of worse-case scenario, conspiratorial outlook. Guesses. Opinions. Everyone’s entitled to them. This is mine.)

This is not the first time Proton’s man at the helm is pushing for a merger.

Usually I don’t give a hoot about what Proton does or doesn’t do. Not anymore.

Inspira a Lancer ciplak: don’t care. Exora going EV: whatever.

But a merger that might just consolidate the kind of “Biasalah, Proton” take-it-or-take-it attitude?

This I care.

Care that enough care needs to be put into its deliberation. Care that both sides are heard. Care that the interests of the motoring public at large is also considered.

Will they?

PS: Honda Insight at RM98,000: Cheapest Hybrid. My emphasis.

*Blame this on my once-upon-a-time TDM-reverence.

Asgradian Thoughts

2010-11-25T12:20:00.002+08:00

Unlike the yesteryears, drivers in the morning commute no longer need to endure banal chats and rants of radio deejays with info-focused radio stations around, namely Radio Ikim (for the spiritually inclined) and BFM (for the business orientated).

This morning, for example, I learnt the following from BFM’s much recommended Breakfast Grill:
In Norway, 73 percent of its populace is with tertiary qualifications and their primary schoolers do not undergo graded examination.

Instead the examinations are geared towards assessing if the teaching force (schools, teachers) are doing enough and equipped for the task and responsibility.

For the children, grading starts in their secondary schooling years.

Primary school goers still do homework, learn Norwegian English (hmm, what does this mean?), Math and Science amongst others.

My immediate thoughts were: how carefree – and reminisce that things were not that much different for Malaysian kids all those years ago when the only exam to worry about was the Penilaian Darjah 5 (yep, that’s how old I am).

Even then, not scoring there is not that big a deal although doing so would help get you a shot in one of the, admittedly not many, boarding schools.

Unlike today, tuitions for primary schools weren’t a norm. Schooling days consist of cycling/walking/bus-sing(?) to class in the morning and back in the afternoon, homework or play or both, then off to mengaji Quran in the evenings.

Perhaps I am talking only of my own experience, but my memories of how it was with friends seemed to place this as quite widespread a phenomena.

Thus with this in mind, I am rethinking if indeed the move to scupper the UPSR is a good one. Get rid of any unnecessary stress – and tension – creating item on the children’s part out of the way in the way of building their educational foundation.

Test the teachers and the schools instead by way of the non-graded assessment.

Can we do this, I wonder? What are the pitfalls of doing so?

Do we EVEN need to rock the boat?

Yes, we do. A young nation in a rocketingly competitive world, our children just cannot afford a dysfunctional education system lacking clear direction.

Our University international standing seems indicative of this. University Malaya, arguably the country top tertiary institution, have never been able to replicate its 89th THES (formerly The Times' Higher Education Supplement) ranking of 2004 and is at 207th placing this year.

So, how?

Storied Instructions

2010-11-22T16:46:00.006+08:00

“Three countries that outperform us — Singapore, South Korea, Finland — don’t let anyone teach who doesn’t come from the top third of their graduating class. And in South Korea, they refer to their teachers as ‘nation builders.”

The “us” above is the US of A, but it could very well refer to any other country including Malaysia.

There are several good points in the column, including (I think) the following: “There are three basic skills that students need if they want to thrive in a knowledge economy: the ability to do critical thinking and problem-solving; the ability to communicate effectively; and the ability to collaborate.”

Tough call? Perhaps if the rut in the education system is way too deep and too entrenched to rectify and revamp.

Immediately I am thinking of the move to make history a compulsory-pass subject. Will it allow the three elements above come into play?

Much depends, probably, on the way the subjects are being taught in school. I’ve heard of teachers who go beyond their syllabus to make learning enjoyable - dare I say - again…

These are the cream of the crop, and contrary to the view above, I don’t think high grades are the sole criteria for such lofty ambitions. Passion is just important as teachers, too, learn while they teach, don’t they?

I’m wishing, though, that I know how exactly to instill these traits into my own daughter.

Just this weekend, she and her cousins joined their auntie for a jaunt at KL Pavilion, with the Times book store one of the outlets visited.

Clearly in a generous mood, their auntie had acceded to financing their purchases so off they went to the children section.

There weren’t that many books, but still enough to whet any bookworms’ appetite*, but in the end, my daughter exactly what her favorite year-older cousin chose. A diary. One of those lockable types which I know will end up being a doddling book.

Sigh...

She’s always seemed so reluctant to make her own decisions.**

Her younger sister is the exact opposite. Didn’t care what her elder “sisters” were browsing for, saw what she wanted, queried her auntie if the price is within the range permissible and got them. A magazine and an activity book.

She five, going six, but I know the magazine will be read from cover to cover.

Critical thinking and problem solving, communicating and collaborating, eh?

I wonder now if these are skills taught…

* PS: Found a copy of Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess “Instructions”. So beautiful yet so expensive. Tried to be sneaky in getting the girls interested but no such luck.

Ah Well…

** PSS: Perhaps I am being too hasty in my assumptions. Could it be her cousin was the follower instead? I sure wish so...

Wordy Eloquence

2010-11-15T16:56:00.003+08:00

The Big Bad Wolf book sale is in town again and, in what is turning out to be an annual ritual, there I was with the whole family in tow.

South City Plaza was the chosen venue this year, and unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to find as it seemed on the internet-sourced map.

All that matters was that we managed to get there plus a few cousins of the young ones.

As usual, there were like a billion books in the somewhat claustrophobic hall. Once we have left the children in their section, my wife and I proceeded on our own search for books.

Alas, there weren’t that many which really said “Pick me up” for me. Being such an old timer, I was looking very much for the seasoned, tattered cover novels of old, and what BBW has plenty was the newer ones.

There were still plenty for those really willing to go through one title to the other.

I was practically skimming through only the hard covers, and picking out those which featured pleasantly-designed overleaf before reading the summary at the back page.

And the sum result of the long exercise – two books. A fantasy and another on the (US) comics industry.

Alas, as usual, comics remain the elusive category which BBW is lacking on. There were some Manga titles, but not that many.

I discovered some old-style, illustrated, “Tales from the Crypt” over at the children side and managed to read quite a bit whilst doing the book – search.

(Ironically, the same is also an aspect covered in the book on the comics industry I bought. Haven’t gotten round to reading it yet, though.)

A question bugged me later on: Where exactly am I as a reader? Am I someone concerned with storylines? Do I look more for wordsmith artistry? Or was I somewhere in between?

The more I thought about this, the more convinced I was of falling in the second category.

Sure enough, there are stories which I read and re-read until the pages required extensive re-glueing and patching up, but there were clear signs that there were also stories where the words attracted me more than the story.

Sure tells a whole lot about the person, doesn’t it?

I was hooked by the fantasy after reading the summary exactly because of the elegance in its prose.

Suddenly, the crowd was no longer there. There was only me and the words for the briefest of moments.

Preceding events meant that reading the whole book would have to wait.

I will discover then if the pages within fulfill the promise reflected without.

I’m hoping it’ll be a good journey but you just never know.

PS: The eldest cousin of my children bought two copies of “Tales of the Crypt.” Will wonders never cease.

Non Secret Woes

2010-10-01T16:30:00.008+08:00

RM341.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the price tag; one that I could never stretch my budget for.

Wednesday provided an enjoyable hiatus from work and visit to a favorite bookshop courtesy of a work-related meeting with a former college-mate.

There it was, slotted next to a host of Marvel Omnibus (whatever that means) series: Secret Wars by Jim Shooter and Mike Zeck and immediately, my heart skipped a beat.

Alas, for the second time this year, I have had to forgo wishes in deference to stark economic realities.

RM341 is a whole month’s groceries and more.

It’s a sum that could easily cover the petrol and toll bill, with extras for breakfast and lunch.

A figure that would buy me the full set of Geoff Jones’ highly acclaimed “Blackest Night” with extras for, perhaps, a Burger King set meal and the parking fee.

Yet, my fingers felt leaden when it came to re-slotting the phonebook–thick miniseries into its place in the rack.

Instantly I wished I was in Singapore, or back in the UK which would reduce substantially the cost of adding such a classic to my collection.

(Of course this is based on the proviso that I am earning in SGD and Sterling, that is.)

I never did manage to get a single issue of Secret Wars as the mini-series came out when I was still relatively wet behind the ears and pretty much (ahem!) penniless.

(Scrolled Amazon and saw the same being retailed at USD70 (around RM230 at current conversion).

Still way too expensive to make sense, unless, that is, you’re an American buyer. Wonder of anyone of my friend’s going to the US… Hmmm…)

I took stock at my wallet-situation and decided instead on the reprinted copies of Marvel 1602 (Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert) and Arkham Asylum (Grant Morrison and Dave McKean).

There was also Kabuki (David Mack), the aforementioned GJ’s Blackest Night’s series, parts 1 and 2 of Old Man Logan (Mark Millar and Steve McNiven), the New Krypton (GJ, again!)... the list goes on and on…

Next occasion considerations.

Yep. It’s been a while since I hung around the aisle of Kinokuniya’s comics’ section.

Perhaps the next visit will see even a paperback compendium of Secret Wars?

That'd be nice.

Serene Moments

2010-09-08T12:50:00.005+08:00

Something a colleague said just on visiting the graves of loved ones cuts straight into my heart.

I felt a tinge of sadness and a great relief at the same as I have always been fearful of being too bloody cold hearted.

There have been quite a few deaths in my life and through most of them; I do seemed to breeze pass with minimal emotional showing.

So the sharp twang in realizing that it has been a while since I last visited my grandparents graves is a MAJOR thing for me.

It used to be a routine for me to drop by the Alor Merah mosque muslims burial grounds to offer my prayers to both of them.

I know some thinks that its bidaah to do so and that the offering of prayers to those who’ve passed away can be done anytime, anywhere, but it does evokes a different kind of feeling.

One of serenity, in fact.

Unfortunately, it’s been years since the last visit.

Often, we conveniently blame the lack of time in bypassing things which we rate as peripheral to our lives, and usually, life has a way of turning this around to bite you when you least expect it.

A few days ago, a close relative and childhood friend of my better half passed away. She was cancer stricken and had spent her last days at the Sungai Petani hospital.

Her death hit my wife quite badly, as she had talked about her, thought about her but never got round to actually visiting her.

It hit me hard even when I typed those words above.

Mike and The Mechanics’ “The Living Years” hummed in my mind.

I supposed it is normal to wish (pray?) for at least a closed one to be with us in out final moments.

The last thing we’d want is to pass this mortal coil with bitterness in our minds.

Or worse.

This part is a small obituaric afterthought to hate-mongering assholes.

Marina is correct. It has been a particularly fractious Ramadhan.

Seems to be that it’s bye-bye restraint for some quarters, with acts ranging from name-callings to downright warmongering.

What gives, hombres? Not enough sugar ka?

If only we can shut out these nincompoops and their horrendous babblings, eh, and the world may just be a better place for the rest of us.

Rain Speak

2010-09-02T16:28:00.004+08:00

What is it about the rain that triggers such melancholic state of mind?

An afternoon walk provided a rare “hujan panas”, and as others scuttle and scurry in flight for shelter, it was my thoughts going on wayward ways.

On wondrous days of being soaked to the skin without a single worry.

Of serene occasions whereby the world is as close as the space around you.

In wonderfully expressive songs of joys and sadness of a well-understood symbolism.

In my mind’s eye, the English light drizzle is still crystal clear in the serenity that it brings.

I forget though the sheer joys of the warm showers of my yesteryears, growing up in a village which everyone regardless calls home.

Watching streams flow though crevices into fields unscathed by crude concrete intrusions, knowing the puddles formed will point the way to beautiful fighting fishes scooped simply with the smallest of open palms.

Hearing the laughter even as elders looked on in disdain (wonderment?).

The pitter patter of naked soles splashing about in sync with the falling water droplets hitting haphazard obstructions.

Waiting for the aftermath, imagining the breaking of sheer white clouds, visualizing the vibrancy of colors rising to the heavens.

Days long gone.

Sigh...

Franken Companions

2010-08-18T13:07:00.008+08:00

More often than not, students do not usually have much memories of their “Cikgu Besar” (Principal, Headmaster or whatever it is they are called).

This is simply for the reason of proximity, or lack of it, unlike the classroom and subject teachers whom we see, hear and converse with every day of the week.

Nope; the Cikgu Besar is someone who sits in a lofty place high up in the school hierarchy.

Sometimes I do wonder if this causes a detachment to the (ahem) raison d'etre of why schools exist.

Before even the (ahem, again...) allegedly racist “Cikgu Besar” debacle, sorry, misunderstanding, (at least according to Education DG), I was confronted with just such an incidence which prompted similar misgivings on these lofty teacher-cum-administrator.

A few weeks ago when my daughter was late to her school in Shah Alam on a Mon(Assembly)day due to a bad case of traffic holdups, she was rounded up with her fellow latecomers and given a berating by several teachers.

Nothing wrong with that, as what was spoken were pretty much spot on – wake up early, prepare for contigencies bla bla.

Then spoke the Cikgu Besar.

She asked where the students live.

My daughters says, truthfully, Meru, and this, shockingly, sets of a tirade from the Cikgu Besar of parents who sends their children to the most convenient of schools without considering the lethargy of distant commuting et cetera et cetera.

Somewhere along the lines, out came something akin to “We don’t want outsiders here" during the tirade.

(Actually, lots more came up which I have since buried in my grey matter.)

My daughter is only 8 this year. Very much like me, she is the sort who keeps things bottle-up inside, and I don’t think I would ever know of the episode had I not decided to hang around the school then.

Had it been my better-half instead of me there, the Cikgu Besar would have had to contend with much more than just silent disapproval.

My daughter was late. Fine. Punish her for that offence.

Casting aspersions against her for being not from the area is similar to the so-called “pendatang” call from the Johor school principal.

What they are essentially saying is this: “You don’t belong here. ”

Not the same, but eerily similar in context.

Did it leave any impact on my daughter? Like I said, she retained much of my traits including those of letting bygones be.

Me? I’m wondering what goes on in the mind of the Cikgu Besar when she said the things she said.

Frustration? Indignation? What was it?

We have decided to move her out from the school next year. Perhaps it is better for her to be closer to her home, but the way lives are lived these days still means that she will have to transit somewhere before she goes to the religious classes and later gets home.

Perhaps it is time for me to seriously consider a full time writing career.

At least that would then put me closer to my daughters (the younger one is also due to the national schooling system soon).

Lest some aloof Cikgu Besars accuse my wife and I of “Not loving our children enough”.

Yes: that was another contention made in her tirade. In my daughter’s face, mind you.

Nasty, isn’t it?

"You live, but you don't."

Kang Kodos

2010-07-26T11:26:00.007+08:00

“Query over aliens using credit cards to buy petrol.”

Not only are they here in Malaysia Truly Asia aka 1Malaysia, they are also apparently buying OUR subsidised RON95 using credit cards.

Must be a common sight too – these aliens pumping subsidized fuel – as there is hardly any picture of them anywhere in either our MSM or NMSM newspapers, MSM or NMSM news portals, et cetera et cetera.

Shame of these aliens for tapping our subsidies, isn’t it?

Here we are slogging hard to fork out enough moollah for the government to be able to give back some in the form of subsidies and these ALIENS zooms in, used their credit cards, pump our RON95 subsidised fuel and zooms off again.

At least that is what the HEADLINE implies, that is.

As I don’t usually read NST these days, am not sure whether the same headline is used in the print issues. It is a weird slip unless the word Alien and Foreign is understandably interchangeable, that is.

I.e. Ministry of Alien Affairs, the Alien Student Exchange Programme, Alien Exchange Rates, the need to study Alien Language..

Hmm… That is totally alien language there.

In the meantime, Samuel L. Jackson – whose mugs seems the basis for Marvel’s Ultimate’s Nick Fury – announced the cast of the upcoming Avengers movie.

Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man, Scarlett Johansson as the Black Widow, Chris Hemsworth as Thor, Chris Evans as Captain America, Jeremy Renner as Hawkeye, and Mark Ruffalo as The Hulk.

I didn’t see iron Man I and II, will not be going to Cap America, Thor is a maybe NOT, but Avengers? This is a definite, highly possible “Maybe”.

Just hope that it would be along the lines of the super hip Brian Michael Bendis or Geoff Johns’s than Jeff Loeb’s Ultimates/Avengers scripting.

Can’t wait.