A Murder of Crows

Video Addict I Think I Am.

2006-09-09T22:49:00.000+08:00

Some videos to watch.

This was from the news the Friday before this NUS semester really began.

Time for some Culture. Now with video

2006-08-03T01:56:00.000+08:00

There has been some lack of culture here these days, so I now leave you in the hands of Mr. Neil Gaiman.

Harry Potter and the Horse's Wang

2006-07-29T02:14:00.000+08:00

Someone, I am not quite sure when, got the idea into his head to replace all instances of "wand" in the prose with "wang". I think I enjoy it more this way:

..........................................................................................................

Purely in the interests of science, I have replaced the word "wand" with "wang" in the first Harry Potter Book
Let's see the results...

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wang in half an' everything

A magic wang... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

"Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wang. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wang for charm work."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wang. Eleven inches. "

Harry took the wang. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wang above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wang, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wang had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

He bent down and pulled his wang out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wang, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wang at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

Ok
I have found, definitive proof
that J.K Rowling is a dirty DIRTY woman, making a fool of us all
"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wang very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding.... Any second now, he might hear his mother again... but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to... or did he?
O_______O
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wang

Then, with a sigh, he raised his wang and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wang.

...........................................................................................

Source: http://www.bash.org/?111338

What prompted this post? This.

Guess the many Harry fans will be screaming until they're horse. I think he is too young to show his firebolt, and he will be saddled by this decision foal a long time. Though if he can pull this off well, and prove his neighsayers wrong, he will be galloping to the top for sure. I guess he is behooved to do this to ensure a stable career and to prevent him from being typecasted into bit roles. Just hope they put blinders on the underaged to prevent them from knowing about this and getting disspirited. Wouldn't want to stirrup trouble now would we? I just hope he knows when to pull the reins.

Challenge: How many puns is that?

In Case the Guide Didn't Work

2006-07-28T17:58:00.000+08:00

I wrote a Guide in the previous post. If I didn't write it timely enough, and you have been dumped, there's always this site. NSFW by the way.

PS: Girls, if any of you are actually on the internet and *GASP* are reading this, try not to end up there. Personally, I think that the existance of girls on the interweb is an urban legend, so I'm probably talking to myself here.

Misogynistic Post: Beyond There be Dragons.

2006-07-27T04:49:00.000+08:00

The ULTIMATE GUIDE TO SCORING CHICKS

by Me

Today I received an email from someone --no names, you know who you are-- containing a guide to dating and sex. Newsflash: I don't need no stinking guide. My legendary skills caused Casanova to disembowel himself with his penis when he heard of my exploits.

Besides, the guide was utter crap. It got everything wrong, which is not surprising, seeing how most people who write these guides don't know thing one about scoring chicks. Those with the knowledge, like me, would never write a dating guide. It's like one of those Kung Fu things where the Kung Fu master would go, “ There are three important guidelines in Kung Fu. First, know yourself. Second, never reveal everything you know.” Except I won't even tell you how many guidelines there are.

Did I say never. I meant never before now. Because I am going to bequeath substantial, encyclopedic knowledge to you. Just know that what I am revealing here is just the tip of the iceberg, a drop in the sea, an electron in a tritium atom of my limitless knowledge. Only people who have proven their worth through the Trials, which include stuff like swimming in a lake of lava during a meteor storm and running through a lake without getting wet—HINT: you have to dodge the water molecules, can take up apprenticeship with me. But I am sure this short post will improve your game 100000000000000%.

Step 1: Attracting Women.

Okay, the first step in getting a date is to start a conversation with them. Forget the lameass pickup lines, that stuff is for the retards. Women like dominance, so what I recommend is to charge at them and pin them to the ground. That's why they call it tackling girls right? It doesn't matter how you tackle them: Rugby tackles are fine, as are two footed tackles from behind. While not strictly a tackle, a Zidane headbutt is also acceptable. Just try not to damage the goods (unless you like damaged goods). So while an Aikido move is OK, the Tiger Attacking Crane style flying kick is not. Your goal here is to pin her to the ground without killing her (unless of course you are a necrophile) or seriously injuring her. Once you have pinned her to the ground, stare into her eyes until she looks away. Repeat ten times or so until you are sure she is totally submissive. You da man now dawg.

Sometimes this will be hard to do. The place might be to crowded, there may be police around, whatever. Or maybe you want to hit on a gang of girls simultaneously. In that case I recommend this second approach, also known as the R Kelly. It works especially well if the girls are at the bar, though it could be adapted to work anywhere. Wherever you decide to do it, the first step is to get on higher ground. THIS IS THE KEY. From your high ground you can then proceed to pee on the girl(s). Aim for the face, though you should try to get some on the breasts as well. For best results, shoot into their mouths. The more concentrated your pee (read: more yellow) the more potent the effects are, but you will have less pee to spread around and hence the less girls you can simultaneously hit on. Conversely, the less concentrated your pee, the less potent it is but the more girls you can target at once. This is known as the R Kelly Catch 22. Also, keep in mind that your mileage may vary. That is to say that just because one person's 200ml of 2 mol/dm3 might affect 3 girls satisfactorily doesn't mean that the same volume and concentration of your pee would do the same. Whatever your minimum dosage, a successful R Kelly will cause the girl(s) to go mad with lust. Seriously, it's like catnip. Only better. And without cats.

Now that you have broken the ice, it is important that you project yourself well. The brilliant opening is useless without a proper follow through.

First, appear smart. Girls dig smarts, so don't be afraid to pepper your conversation with random Nietzsche quotes, metabolic pathway equations, Monte Carlo integrations, and allusions Hawking radiation even if it has nothing to do with the conversation or doesn't make sense at all. Oh, and poetry. If you recite a poem, she will gush downstairs, guaranteed. For real. If you can't remember a poem just fake it. All you need is to take an object, say a red chair, and talk nonsensically about it, pausing to indicate the line breaks. Bonus points if it rhymes. Super bonus points if you insert words like thou, thee, thine and art into it. If they ask you what it means then you can either act indignant that they are too stupid to understand your genius or you can act faux-scholarly and ask them what they think you meant. Either way, they will be awed by your intellectual depth. Needless to say, that in every part of the conversation you should be using obscure words like ergo and tumescent and pedantic and defenestration and viz. and to wit (make sure you actually say, “viz and to wit”). So a line like, “When he saw my tumescent member, the pedantic raconteur—whose glycogen stores were no doubt being broken down by a(1-4) transglycosylase, glycogen phosphorylase and phosphoglucomutase—committed an act of defenestration, viz. and to wit he jumped out the window. As he fell in the strange arc which can only be described using Monte Carlo integrations, he emitted Hawking radiation. Ah, how can I compare him to a summer day/ He is more beautiful and more temperate. Ah, the irrationality of a thing is no argument against its existence, rather a condition of it. Ergo, he died.” will bring you instant pussy.

While words are good in seducing chicks intellectually, I would not be a good teacher if I did not teach you the art of physical seduction. The trick of physical seduction is to think subtlety. Subtle physical contact is your watchword. For example, if you are short, and the both of you are standing, you can pretend to look down deep in thought, then while deep in thought place your forehead on her chest then look up as though startled, rubbing your face in her breasts. Bonus points if you say, “Wouldn't this keep my ears warm.” If you are taller, you can always pretend to drop something or tie your shoelace. As you get up rub your face along the centerline of her body. Again bonus points for mentioning earmuffs (geddit, geddit, earmuffs as in an allusion to breasts and muff diving. I'm so funny I scare myself). More bonus points for getting your head stuck in her skirt on the way up. Champion level points if you say, “I see Paris, I see France, I see [insert name]'s underpants” while you're at it. Also, you can have one of those flashbacks, go nuts and start pawing her. Make sure you foreshadow the flashback early on so that she knows that you are blameless, and that it was the flashback's fault that you touched her bathing suit areas. However I recommend this only if you are a Vietnam vet or have done a lot of acid in the past.

If you follow my directions, you will be walking home with at least one number—and then only if you were picky. No sweat.

Step 2: Pre-Date Prep.

Now that you have the number, you will doubtless want to call her and set up the date. Stop. How you call her is important, as is when you call her. First call her immediately after you reach home. Your goal is to call her before she reaches home. This shows how much you like her. So, rush home. Usually I advocate chartering a helicopter but I suppose renting a McLaren F1 would also do in a pinch. As I mentioned, how you call her is also important. You have to call her enough times to let her know you care. I suggest you invest in a wardialler and call the heck out of her. If she left you her email as well then set up your computer to DdoS the shit out of her.

While your wardialler/computer is doing their work, drive on over to her house (you did put a tracking device on her didn't you?) There you should serenade her. It doesn't matter how you do it or what music you use—blasting punk rock on a boombox or playing folk music with you guitar works equally well. The point is to let the neighbors know to back off and that you are courting her and also to let her know you care.

If you do this you will get a date 100% of the time, but before you go rushing off to said date, there is one side trip that you have to make. On to her father's house.

It is a scientifically proven fact that all girls want to bone their fathers. And because that is illegal, they will accept the next best thing: people like their fathers. The first thing you should do once you have broken in is to steal steal his wardrobe. Unless of course her parents are still awake, in which case the first thing you should do is knock them out without being seen. Once you have the clothes and the parents are unconscious, you should then proceed to rub the clothes on the father and try to get his scent on it. Best places to rub on are the armpits, the feet, the groin area (beware of wood!!!) and the ass. Also if you can get him to bleed on the clothes all the better. In fact, if you want you can ditch the clothes and coat yourself in his blood, using it as body paint. Like Mystique in X-Men. Only red. The downside of this is that you will probably attract attention during your date. Also, you could run into snags at those No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service places and be forced to eat at McDonald's.

Step 3: The Date

This part should be a no-brainer. Continue what you were doing in step one. Periodically piss on her and pin her to the ground. Touch her. Talk to her. As per step one. You are decked out in her father's clothes (or in his blood), carrying her father's scent. You are untouchable. Almost.

What you can do at this point is to cement your Alpha male dominance and project it to everyone. Pick fights with random people. Stop a random person and ask him why he hasn't paid you back the $1,000,000 he owes you then punch him in the face screaming WHO'S THE MAN NOW, LOUISE HUH WHO'S THE MAN NOW. Your date will be very impressed. It doesn't matter if his name isn't Louise or that he doesn't owe you money: You are punching him in the face—he won't care.

To really establish your male dominance what you need to do is whip out your dick and choke the bishop. Violently. Beat your dick like it owes you money (yes I realise that beating things that owe money is starting to be a recurring theme). This also has the side benefit of turning on your date. It's the teaser for your sexual prowess. The appetizer so to speak.

When the bill comes, do not pay for it. Do not even go dutch. Instead slap your date on the face and say, “Pay for this bitch!” This shows her that you respect her as an equal and fully capable of paying the bill. This shows her that while you are an Alpha male, you are not a male chauvinist. If you can cry while slapping her, do so. Girls love it when you show your sensitive side.

Part 4: Transition

I wish I could say that you now have a 100% chance of getting laid but you don't. Sure, the chances of not getting laid is small, infinitely so. But it's there. And I leave nothing to chance.

The trick is to be invited into your date's home. If you have been following my instructions then it is almost a given that you will be invited in, that is if your date hasn't already succumbed to your charms and decided to take you in the elevator, or in the car, or even in the restaurant (or cinema or wherever the fuck you took her.) In many cases, the seduction works so well that the couple decide to get it on before they met. (It's complicated. To explain it I would first need to explain to you my modified theory of Relativity, exciton-photon coupling in photonic wires, and stuff. Take my word OK.) On the off chance you are not invited in, or if you just don't want to take that chance, what you can do is force your way in. What you do is that when you are approaching her house, tell her that you saw somebody inside through her window. Be as specific as you can. And as scary. Definitely be scary.

Good: “ I saw Cthulhu through your windows. Only it was carrying knives. Did I say knives? I meant katana swords. And Damascus swords. And the Sword of Rapists +5 against lone females, with 3d6 acid damage. And lightsabers... uh purple lightsabers...with BMF written at the base. And AK47s. And a Gauss rifle.... Did I say Cthulhu? I meant Cthulhu the White, from Krypton with solar charged cells. And a Green Lantern ring. With Mother Box technology. And the speed force. Oh, and with 10 razor sharp, spiked, penile appendages.”

Bad: “I saw someone in your house. He looked dangerous.”

Then, immediately run up and bash the door down. Pretend to check the place out and, voila, you're in. And once you're in, you're golden.

Part 5: Sex.

Ah, the culmination of your efforts. It's simple. Once you're in, and your date is in, grab her and throw her against the wall, screaming THE PENIS GOES INTO THE FRONT HOLE repeatedly. It doesn't matter if it actually goes into the small hole, though if you accidentally go into the rear, then it is convention to shout BOOYA as you withdraw. You can actually shout anything you want. WHO”S YOUR PAPA...SMURF would work as would I'M A LITTLE TEAPOT SHORT AND STOUT. Basically, just shout. Be Old Skool. Not Dr. Dre Old Skool. Or even that guy who rapped Chocolate City (or whatever). I'm thinking Kunta Kinte. At least as old skool as Kunta Kinte who used to shout, "STOP. I JUST WANT TO CUT WOOD." during rough homosexual sex. No, that is incorrect; he was gagged, so he would have shouted, "WOOP. M WIPN WOOM U MUT WOOP."

And the rest is repetition.

Mourning the Morningstar

2006-07-25T23:24:00.000+08:00

Today I finally read the last issue of Lucifer, after putting it off for more than a month now. If you don't know what I am talking about, and I am sure most of you don't, here.

The series premiered sometime in 1999, though the titular character appeared way before that early in the Sandman series, and I have been following the story since. And what a story it was. Impeccable pace, brilliant storytelling, nicely woven mythologies and featuring one of the greatest anti-heroes of all time: Damn right I was hooked.

I don't normally recommend comics to people, in spite of being a total comic book nerd -- hell, I learned to read from comic books ( and those EXCITING Peter and Jane books. They were totally incestous) -- but I really recommend reading this, and the Sandman, and Preacher, and Midnight Nation, and Y:The last Man, and... hmmm, I probably should do a comic recommendation post next.

Seriously, if you haven't read any of the books and want to, I can pass them to you (caveat: if you don't know how to contact me, there's probably a reason why). The bad part is that you will probably never watch another comic book movie again without thinking that it was crap, or at least that it could have been much better.

A page from A Season of Mists :

The conversation between Dream of theEndless and Lucifer. For context, Lucifer is here abandoning Hell, having chased everyone out, and is locking the gates. Click to enlarge.

Goodbye Lucifer Morningstar. It has been a wonderful ride.

And the Oscar goes to...

2006-03-17T21:12:00.001+08:00

I want to watch this show. It has the best trailer I have ever seen. View it for yourself here.

Suicide Tendencies

2006-03-13T23:35:00.000+08:00

I had a post a while back about how one could abuse a councellor position to say, talk suicidal people into commiting suicide. Earlier today, I happened to stumble upon this teenage advice forum somewhere and decided to have a look. A thread caught my eye, one about suicide. I don't remember the specifics, or rather I refuse to remember the specifics cause the suicidal dude wA$ tYP1nG 1iK3 th!s ( which actually is a good reason to commit suicide, for my sake if not for his).

Anyway this guy posted something like, "I am feeling suicidal. I think I will commit suicide in the next 24 hours. Can anyone help?", and then 48 hours later comes back and scolds people for not caring, how he could have commited suicide and that the forum-ers would have had his death on their heads. He ends it by quoting some stuff from the Bible (something along the lines of brther should help brother) and saying that people were not doing their Christian duty and stuff.

Because I felt for him, I was tempted to insult him and, with any luck, make him want to commit suicide again. Thankfully I was too lazy to register and my porn--I mean my lecture notes had just finished downloading.

The point of this rambling post is that I want to form a group to go around these forums and prank the obvious stupid-heads, you know the kind who threaten suicide because they cancelled Power Rangers and thus have nothing to do when they get home from work to attract attention. One guy could like persuade "the mark" that suicide is the best option, while the other could keep reminding him how it would hurt, and see how he reacts. It would be like Reality TV, only more real. Then at least I can tell myself that I didn't plough through Austen's Persuasion for nothing.

OK, I guess suicide is too big an issue to play around with (faggots!). How about we just spread misinformation. I saw a couple of threads asking if people could get AIDS by fucking too much (YES!) , or if blowjobs could get them pregnant (naturally), or if he should wear a condom (never, condoms are a ploy by the latex cartels to boost their sales margins. Latex cartels are the MAN and we must stick it to the MAN). There are probably stupider threads somewhere.

Join me. It will be fun.

Social Experiment

2006-03-11T20:01:00.000+08:00

I was looking through the logs and found out that this blog actually gets visitors. Visitors! As in people other than me and, Mr Happy, my limbless cyclopian friend (because he has no limbs, just a head and one eye). So I have decided to become a net whore... that is I will list things that I think will attract traffic from search engines and then laugh at the people who come here. The things I list will obviously be some sort of free association, stream of unconciousness bullshit that has nothing to do with me or my experiences. For example, though I haven't listed anything yet, I can predict that the majority of things will be about porn. This is because the internet is for porn. I have never watched porn in my life. Never ever.
So here goes.

tentacle rape hentai
albino midget porn
underage bukkake
golden shower rim job
fingerbang rabbits and ferrets
how to insert an animal into your rectum the safe way.
peephole camera tutorial
A lesson in terror: A guide to getting rape victims to shut up and not call the police.
Disposing bodies without a trace using common household materials for Dummies
Clown porn
Why dildos are purple?: practical ways of teaching sex education to children.
Date rape hypnosis.
The healing properties of semen - why facials are good for you.
Enhanced salamander tissue grafts in humans- the creation of healing factor.
956,758 different free Snuff films for download. 100.00% real. 100.00% dead.
Hacking with Windows XP. How to become a SUP4H L33T motherfucker who can haX0r other faG0ts in command prompt.
How to smoke cow dung for a lucid, mellow high.
Do it yourself abortions with a spoon. Cheap. Safe. Secret.
Planning the perfect murder.
Man having sex with roadkill.
Transexual lesbian orgy.
Gay mime exhibitionists pictures.
Alien "flying saucer" schematics
homemade nitrous oxide for cars
Getting girls to put out and shut up: a dating guide
Fake viagra prescriptions.
Methadone prescriptions. Order now.
The Batcomputer runs Linux
Fat crease fetish. Man fucking fat crease picture. Subcategory: Non-penatrative sex.
Free college essays. Essays from top colleges. Subcategories: Science Literature Psychology Antropology and many more
200TB free email
African tribal orgy video REAL!!!
Getting rid of creases: Ironing your scrotum.
Vagina weight training for muscular vaginal walls
NINJA! Techniques of the art ninjitsu free home study course. Master your ki, vanish without a trace, move like a shadow. View the stolen lecture notes from LT5. Learn the secret Koga-Ryu Whispering Hand technique.
Carbon nanotubule condoms for extra protection
Painless suicide methods. Quick and painless. Plus!!! How to write a suicide note following the Chicago Manual of Style.
The most up to date repository of porn website passwords
Cyberstalker: How to be an Internet detective
The CIA wetwork handbook. Stolen. How to be a spy.
Anwar blowjob sex tape
Tammy NYP tape. Digitally remastered. Download now.
How to set up a porn site

OK that should be enough for now. If, on the off chance that you were lured here under false pretences (as opposed to true pretences?), hahahahaha.

Term Paper

2006-03-10T22:02:00.000+08:00

I came across this on the Something Awful Forums. This is an actual term paper, albiet animated. Read that again, an actual, final draft, term paper. Now your crappy term paper doesn't seem too bad, does it?

"I will do anything I want! But you forget -- you are in coma." My god it cracks me up.

Scientific

2005-11-25T20:48:00.000+08:00

I really shouldn't be posting. I have a biodiversity test on Monday and I haven't even touched my notes yet. Didn't see the point, seeing how nothing was going in, not with all that Organic Chemistry junk in my brain. But this will be a short post, mostly cut and paste.
You see, after the Organic Chemistry exam on Thursday, I decided to give myself the rest of the day off from mugging and watched South Park (Season 9 Episode 12, I think " Trapped in the Closet"), which was about Scientology. At first, I thought they were making fun of Scientology, you know exaggerating the stuff to make it seem funnier, but they weren't.
Here is what they believe (from wikipedia):

Seventy-five million years ago, Xenu was the ruler of a Galactic Confederacy which consisted of 26 stars and 76 planets including Earth, which was then known as Teegeeack. The planets were overpopulated, each having on average 178 billion people. The Galactic Confederacy's civilization was comparable to our own, with people "walking around in clothes which looked very remarkably like the clothes they wear this very minute" and using cars, trains and boats looking exactly the same as those "circa 1950, 1960" on Earth

Xenu was about to be deposed from power, so he devised a plot to eliminate the excess population from his dominions. With the assistance of "renegades", he defeated the populace and the "Loyal Officers", a force for good that was opposed to Xenu. Then, with the assistance of psychiatrists, he summoned billions of people to paralyse them with injections of alcohol and glycol, under the pretense that they were being called for "income tax inspections". The kidnapped populace was loaded into space planes for transport to the site of extermination, the planet of Teegeeack (Earth). The space planes were exact copies of Douglas DC-8s, "except the DC-8 had fans, propellers on it and the space plane didn't." DC-8s have jet engines, not propellers, although Hubbard may have meant the turbine fans.

When the space planes had reached Teegeeack/Earth, the paralysed people were unloaded and stacked around the bases of volcanoes across the planet. Hydrogen bombs were lowered into the volcanoes, and all were detonated simultaneously. Only a few people's physical bodies survived. Hubbard described the scene in his abortive film script, Revolt in the Stars:

Simultaneously, the planted charges erupted. Atomic blasts ballooned from the craters of Loa, Vesuvius, Shasta, Washington, Fujiyama, Etna, and many, many others. Arching higher and higher, up and outwards, towering clouds mushroomed, shot through with flashes of flame, waste and fission. Great winds raced tumultuously across the face of Earth, spreading tales of destruction. Debris-studded, and sickly yellow, the atomic clouds followed close on the heels of the winds. Their bow-shaped fronts encroached inexorably upon forest, city and mankind, they delivered their gifts of death and radiation. A skyscraper, tall and arrow-straight, bent over to form a question mark to the very idea of humanity before crumbling into the screaming city below...

—Revolt in the Stars treatment

The now-disembodied victims' souls, which Hubbard called thetans, were blown into the air by the blast. They were captured by Xenu's forces using an "electronic ribbon" ("which also was a type of standing wave") and sucked into "vacuum zones" around the world. The hundreds of billions of captured thetans were taken to a type of cinema, where they were forced to watch a "three-D, super colossal motion picture" for 36 days. This implanted what Hubbard termed "various misleading data" (collectively termed the R6 implant) into the memories of the hapless thetans, "which has to do with God, the Devil, space opera, etcetera". This included all world religions, with Hubbard specifically attributing Roman Catholicism and the image of the Crucifixion to the influence of Xenu. The interior decoration of "all modern theaters" is also said by Hubbard to be due to an unconscious recollection of Xenu's implants. The two "implant stations" cited by Hubbard were said to have been located on Hawaii and Las Palmas in the Canary Islands.

In addition to implanting new beliefs in the thetans, the images deprived them of their sense of identity. When the thetans left the projection areas, they started to cluster together in groups of a few thousand, having lost the ability to differentiate between each other. Each cluster of thetans gathered into one of the few remaining bodies that survived the explosion. These became what are known as body thetans, which are said to be still clinging to and adversely affecting everyone except those Scientologists who have performed the necessary steps to remove them.

The Loyal Officers finally overthrew Xenu and locked him away in a mountain, where he was imprisoned forever by a force field powered by an eternal battery. (Some have suggested that Xenu is imprisoned on Earth in the Pyrenees, but Hubbard merely refers to "one of these planets" [of the Galactic Confederacy]; he does, however, refer to the Pyrenees as being the site of the last operating "Martian report station", which is probably the source of this particular confusion.[1]) Teegeeack/Earth was subsequently abandoned by the Galactic Confederacy and remains a pariah "prison planet" to this day, although it has suffered repeatedly from incursions by alien "Invader Forces" since then.

Bloody rubbish.

On Forest Floors

2005-10-07T13:18:00.000+08:00

Have I gone over to the dark side with stupid lazy man posts like this?

Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. Can you... ahh nevermind. Just did the quiz and thought it was interesting. I mean, after NS, who the fuck wants to sleep on the forest floor... honestly.

Not me.

Rough guy my ass.


	Your travel type: Rough guy When the going gets tough, the rough guy gets going! Sleep outside, hike up mountains, eat raw lizards for breakfast, that's his perfect holiday. Ten days of hiking through unspoilt jungle between Colombia and Panama, that kind of thing.
	top destinations: Ciudad Perdida Darien Gap Ngorongoro	stay away from: Paris Venice Tokyo

get your own travel profile

Dream, Of the Endless

2005-10-04T18:50:00.000+08:00

I have been having these weird dreams lately, and what is even more surprising is that I actually remember them. Most days, when I wake up from a dream, I will try to ... grasp it, especially if I vaguely remember it being interesting. Invariably, it will slip through my mental fingers.

But these few day have been different: I remember. Sure, I don't actually remember the specifics, nor the exact chronology but I can remember what it was about, and that is more than I can say for my normal dreams.

On Thursday, I was chased through some swampy, foresty place by a creature I just knew was Fenris for some reason. I was at some volcanic, deserty place before I realised, in the dream, that I was dreaming and conjured magma golems, harpies and a giant silverback gorilla to whup Fenris's ass. I remember it being quite a fun dream, mostly due to the fact that the silverback had heat vision.

On Friday, I rode a rollercoaster through some hydrocarbon molecule whie it was going through multiple reactions. I remember being afraid that the KMnO4 was going to cleave C=C bond before I passed it, effectively breaking the track and forcing the rollercoaster to plummet into the abyss. Real fucked up dream... bloody organic chemistry.

On Saturday I was eaten by a giant aborted fetus, which had for some reason an autopsy scar on it. I was forced to break one of it's bones ( I thought of it as a wishbone, in dream logic. It was Y shaped) and use it as an unpicker to ...uhh... unpick the autopsy scar from the inside.

On Monday, I chased the devil through some floating stairs while he was playing the violin. Sound familiar? What was different was that the devil was playing bass-y techno dance music... on a violin.

So, to all you who have read Freud and/or are psychology majors, analyse this.

Glassware

2005-09-04T07:00:00.000+08:00

I am a menace.

So far, I have broken 2 x measuring cylinders, 1 x vacuum flask, 1x Lienberg condenser and 1x agar plate (blood agar included) all in one day. Woohoo! I am getting my money's worth in glassware. Wonder what else I will break next week.

Wonder if I can take a computer lab module. I have never broken a monitor before.

Getting My Jollies On

2005-08-26T21:52:00.000+08:00

I got hit on the face today - on the nose to be exact.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was there, blood starting to come out of my nose, my eyes tearing, with the guy who had just smacked me with his elbow apologising, trying to get tissue, that I realised that I hadn't been hit - really hit - in a long time. So, I did the only sane thing at that moment, I asked him to hit me again.

He said no. I said yes. He ended up punching my shoulder, which was kind of a pussy compromise... but whatever works right.

So, does anyone want to hit me. Anyone at all. Anywhere. Well anywhere but the happy sack, and I would take it as a personal favour if you avoid the eyes and nose (well at least until it heals up a bit).

Oh, and I guess it would be a good idea if I avoided bruises or any large cuts... I really don't need to explain myself to everyone I meet. Also, it could possibly screw up my concentration, so please try to hit me after classes if possible... I mean I can hardly write coherent lecture notes as it is.

No brass knuckles or rolled up coins. Hell, no weapons at all. If you are afraid you will bruise your knuckles, you can backhand, judo chop, slap, whatever... it's all the same to me.

Remember, it is only courtesy to call the ambulance should something happen. I mean, NUH is only that far from the school.

Boomtown or Bust

2005-08-22T22:02:00.000+08:00

I broke the adapter for my mp3 player a few days ago. Don't ask me how, I'm stumped too. One minute I'm trying to pull it out of the socket and the next it falls apart, literally disintegrating in my hands - disintegrating, I kid you not.

This forced me to search through the storeroom. No that is incorrect. It forced me to search through dum-dum-dum The Storeroom. I must have waded through a coupla tons of shit before I found another 5V 2A adapter that must have come from 1973.

Obviously it didn't fit into my mp3 player... so I had to go down to Sim Lim Tower to find another adapter and wade through more junk. What suprised me was that nobody there seemed to understand what an adapter was. People would come into the shops and ask where the 3 ohm resistors were, whether they had some microfarad dohicky, where to find the phase shift particle accelarator, and then when I ask whether they sold adapters the shopkeeper gives me the look - as though I just asked him whether I could screw his dog while his daughter smoked the ganja.

Finally, I found a shop that sold adapters, and found out that an adapter cost $36. $36? Wtf? For $36 I expect my adapter to have carbon fibre casing, gold wire, and friggin studded diamonds, not some dusty plastic, China-made, crap which probably cost all of 30 cents to make. The storekeeper must have heard some insanity creeping into my voice cos she ended up showing me the adapter pin I could solder into my old adapter to make it fit, so tomorrow, I will be playing D&T.

Incidently, a replacement charger from the manufacturers would cost 41 something dollars... shipping inclusive. If I fail tomorrow, this looks like a better option, assuming I don't blow up myself and the mp3 player.

Boomtown or bust. I hope this works.

To the Zoo... and Beyond!

2005-08-19T22:31:00.000+08:00

Today, I went to the Zoo.

It was part of our Biodiversity practical, this field trip to the Zoo and it was fun. However, if they expected us to actually learn something - to observe the diversity of vertebrates, and the diagnostic morphological characteristics of various vertibrate groups and subgroups; the diversity of adaptations and forms in various vertibrate groups that have evolved for various functions, in relation to habits, habitats and other external factors - well... lets just say that I would have learnt the same amount of biodiversitic knowledge if we were touring a crackhouse.
Nobody's fault really. After hearing that the red swellings on a female baboon's ass was supposedly attractive to the males, and wondering whether baboons have a spank fetish, I kind of switched off. Some things I don't want to know.

After that, this other guy and I spent the rest of our time forming leagues. It's simple: eleven members from the same species form a team. This team plays in their continent's league and has to fight with another team of a seperate species from the same continent till an entire side dies. For example, in the African League, a match between the White Rhinoceroses (Rhinoceri?) and the African Elephant could happen.

Also, the fights will be on a large, flat plain (surrounded by electric fences), so no water-living animals, though crocodiles, turtles,etc. that can fight on land can and will compete. All animals are given drugs to make them fight the other team but not their own teammates. It can be assumed that neither side will be holding back and that all animals are the best that can be found. No time limit, the fight goes on until all members on one side have either been killed or severely injured (rule of the thumb is that if it can move more than 1 meter, it can fight).

The top 4 teams from each continent (obviously with casualties replaced) will compete in the Champions League. All league matches will be broadcasted on ESPN. Every week, a panel of zoologists will predict the outcome of the matches. Everytime before a match, newspapers will have articles... who is match fit, who just recover from injury, who on-form, etc.

People will be able to place bets the same as in soccer. Some bookies will give/ eat ball. For example, if the bookie says, "lions win, I eat three ball" and the lions do win the crocodiles, which I bet on, but there are only two survivors... then I win. Also can bet on total goals - how many animals die in total. There are many other ways to bet... these are just a few.

I think that the rhinocerus will win the Champions League... eleven rhinos charging together is a force to be reckoned with. They have a low center of gravity which should give them an edge over the elephants, and if they use a hit an run strategy, they should be able to take them down. They should also win against the big cats as long as they keep their distance and not allow the cats to pounce on their backs and engage with their fangs and claws. The rhinos will have problems against the venomous animals, especially fast ones like the Komodo Dragon... hopefully their thick hide will protect them long enough for them to stomp out their competition.

My friend thinks that the Polar Bears will win. Sure they are freakin strong and pretty darn fast, but I doubt they can handle the charging animals like the elephant or rhino nor are they capable of taking on coilers like the reticulated python. They could possibly hold their own against the big cats and a Polar bear - brown bear/ black bear/ grizzlie bear/Mountain Gorilla slugfest could be one of the better fights... but no, they won't win. They will make it to the Champions League though and be top in their own league (what's there to fight on Antartica anyway?) but they will finish mid upper table at most.

Tell me what you think. Who do you support to win the Champions League? Why?

Calling All Perverts

2005-08-16T17:24:00.000+08:00

Usually, when I send my brother to school, I will cut through a community center. Today I was finally bored enough to stop and read their notice board.

Apparently, the C.C is looking for volunteers to start up some kind of crisis hotline - catered, I assume, for troubled suicidal teens. Interesting.

Now, I am not a pervert (stop laughing, I am not), but if I were, I would definately have signed up. I mean, you have a bunch of troubled, confused teens, many of whom have proven to be sexually irresponsible calling you, asking for help and whatnot... doesn't take a genius to exploit that now does it? Especially since they trust you as an advisor, seek your approval and maybe even feel indebted to you for helping them out.

Also, if you do get somone of the same sex (and you don't swing that way) or someone fugly or if you are just not intersested in getting STDs from teenagers or whatever, you can always talk them into committing suicide. Probably won't take much... just a nudge or two in the right direction.

Scenario 1:

Suicidal Person: I want to kill myself.
You: Yeah, your life is fucked up. Do it before you lose your nerve.
Suicidal Person: But I am scared.
You: Fuck you lah! You think my phone got free incoming izzit? Hurry up.
Suicidal Person: Is it pain?
You: I tell you what, you take tubing put on your exhaust pipe. The other end put into the car. Then you on the car and listen to radio. Confirm plus chop not pain one. Like sleeping like that.
Suicidal Person: OK OK. I go now.
You: Eh, wait. Don't forget to write suicide note. Like that then cool. And can delete my number from your phonebook? And your dialled list oso. Thanks.

Scenario 2:
S.P: I owe Tai Long $100,000
You: Dun worry, last time my friend also owe money. Ask family to pay. Settle liao.
S.P: But my family no money.
You: Then you hong kan. Mampus understand?
S.P: Then how?
You: Lan lan suck thumb oh. You sure kena hantam jialat-jialat one.
S.P: I scared.
You: You scared pain then you commit suicide lah. Easy way out.
S.P: How?
You (insert favourite suicide method here)

OK, I think that is enough. My point is doesn't the Town council know this stuff could happen? I mean you are entrusting the lives of people to complete strangers... strangers that could be a sex addict, child rapist or insane serial killer. Yeah, I am sure they have screenings and training and some form of supervision... but if anyone really wanted to do what I just wrote about (or worse), I do not think it would be too hard.

Disclaimer: The examples above are just there to illustrate my point about how the system could be abused. I do not endorse, condone or participate in any of the illegal acts mentioned in this text. I repeat, they are there for illustrative purposes only. Do not do anything illegal. I will not be responsible if you choose to perform illegal acts. I wash my hands of you.

Wanna get High?

2005-08-14T14:10:00.000+08:00

The supermarkets are selling drugs. Real, illegal drugs that would cause you to trip balls. Don't believe me... see for yourself:

That is right. Special K. A whole box full of Ketamine... enough to OD on several times over.

Jokes aside... what do you think the people at Kellogg's were thinking when they decided to name their corn flakes after a drug. Do you think they were trying to corner the junkie market? What next? Cocaine Pops? Crack Loops?
I mean, won't they be vulnerable to legal action for false advertising? I can't wait to see the day when some junkie sues Kellogg's after they find out that they cannot get high eating corn flakes.
Interestingly, I read somewhere that Mr. Kellogg came up with corn flakes as part of a remedy for masturbation. He believed that masturbation would cause anaemia, blindness, a future tendency to miscarry during prenancy, anti-social behaviour, overly social behaviour, weakness, unnatural strength, hell, basically anything anyone can do was a symptom.
I think he prescribed corn flakes as a cure. I am not sure. I read this a long time ago and cannot be bothered to read it again.
So I quote Towelie when I say, "You wanna get high?"

The Missing Months

2005-08-13T23:54:00.000+08:00

Those of you who actually follow this blog would have noticed that I was MIA for slightly over 3 months. Here's why.
I had decided, way back in May, to take a week-long sabbatical. My dwindling bank account had made it... difficult... for me to go out with any frequency, and lets face it: blogging about how I stone at home all day playing marathon bouts of Knights of The Old Republic isn't exactly entertaining.
Today I was Darth Revan for 12 hours straight and I killed a whole shitload of people with my twin lightsabers and Force Storm.
See what I mean.
Then, because apparently it takes a whole month for companies to process your job applications, I found myself innundated by job offers. At one thakfully brief point, I had 3 jobs at once (and what a fuck fest THAT was).
The first job was some data entry/ telephone answering crap. It was slack but also terribly boring. I swear, if I ever have to say "Hello, Onix shipping. How can I direct your call?" again I will shoot myself. In the head. With an 84mm.
The second job, unbelievably, was even slacker than the first. It was at a brochure design company, where
a) there was practically nothing to do - they were finishing up work for one client and waiting for the green light from the other;
b) the boss had me there to assist the designers, the designers thought I was there to assist the boss and I played along. I was basically just a coffee boy there anyway.
I was consistantly an hour and a half late for the entire week I had 3 jobs and nobody even noticed. Then again, all I actually do there is talk cock and watch people play around with Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator and InDesign. Hell, even the designers there are super-slack. One guy, a friggin cool American (citizenship-wise. Born here. PR here). Kept bitching about how useless his Master of Fine Arts in English was, and refused to do work 'cos he was working on his novel.
My third job was as a waiter in some crap Japanese Restaurant and it was the worst. During the peak period, I was literally running around non-stop. That fucker wants to change table; that asshole wants a new set of cutlery, cups and bowls; a giant 18 person group need joined tables; people want their drinks but there are no more cups; etc, etc, etc. Fucking horrific.
On top of that, the manager was a bitch. Does she help? No. What she does is either to make her personal calls on the phone, or follow people around to harass them. People will be fucking busy and she will come up behind you and screw you for using 4 ice cubes instead of 3, or for having the water level a cunt hair above the "mark" in a cup, or for other miscellaneous infarctions. And she does this in front of the customers. They didn't now shit, and were perfectly content with the extra ice cube or whatever.
The other waiters were kinda OK though. Many were Vietnamese and couldn't speak English so we had to resort to sign language. Still some stuff is universal. The guy would point, make a thumbs up sign and say, "Girl", and the rest of us would flock there and rate the girl on a 1-10 scale. Sad, I know. But what to do.
So, if you are a relatively good-looking chick, or if your girlfriend is, and the next time you eat out you see a bunch of waiters hanging around your area for no reason... well you know what's happening.
Also, words of advice. Try not to wear hipster jeans when you eat out, especially if you are a guy. Or, if you reallyhave to at least wear some underwear. Realise that everyone can see your fat ass clevage when you sit. Ugggh. Also, position yourself properly if you are wearing a miniskirt. I see Paris, I see France and all that.
Speaking of miniskirts, there was the time where I spilled half a bowl of hot soup on someone's thigh. Well the good news was that the miniskirt wasn't stained. And the bad news? Let's just say that lobster red thighs don't look nice.
Anyway the job was cap and I spent nearly a week trying to get fired ( to quit, I had to give 2 weeks notice and pay 10% of my total pay. If I was fired, then I could F.O immediately without paying anything. Think it is an oversight). And it was the most fun I had. Seriously, you should try it at least once in your life. Just walk around bo-liao. Irritate the manager. It is catharatic.
Eventually, I got fired. Here's how:

Manager: Blahblahblahbahblah. Do you understand?
Me: Unh
Manager: Unh? What's meaning unh?
Me: Unh is the sound I make when I don't give a fuck.

And that was it. I was out of there. Quite honestly it was a bit scary. Heart skipped a beat when I said fuck. But pissing off the manager... well that is the most fun I can have without having to cuddle after.

Go, Go, Temasek Go!

2005-08-12T12:06:00.000+08:00

This is my first post in a hell of a long time. My sabbatical lasted a lot longer than I expected it to and I had wanted to write about what happened to me during those missing months today... but then I found out something that I just had to write about today.
Chan Chang Hee is in Changi Prison.
Now, you non-Temasekians (and some Temasekians) don't know who the fuck Chan Chang Hee is, and are probably just amused by the irony that someone named Chang Hee is in Changi Prison, but to those Temasekians who do know him (especially the Scouts), here is the kicker. Wait for it.

He was arrested for having sex with an eleven year old girl.

Seriously.
When I found out about this I laughed so hard I peed a little. Though to be honest, I wasn't that surprised. I mean, if you had asked me to name the person most likely to be arrested for a sex crime back in secondary school, I would have named Chang Hee. Well, him or Ridzuan Rajuddin: they both tie for first place.
Who here was there back in Secondary One where the fucker took out his dick in front of us because... well actually I forgot why. I think we were calling him a pussy or he was trying to show us his pubic hair or lack of it. I dunno... anyone who remembers? Dinesh, I am pretty sure you were there. Hakim? Anyone?
Then, in Secondary Four, he told us that he was taking condoms, filling them up with a mixture of water and dough or something, and putting them in the bag of a female classmate, although I think he was lying.
I think there was no dough in the condom, only his... well you know.
I mean, I am not exactly well adjusted. Hell, people keep my number in their phonebooks under Psycho and yet until he told me about what he did, the idea of putting semen filled condoms into people's bags had not even crossed my mind. Vomitting into people's bags, maybe. Raping people with a severed horse's penis/ giant cactus/ broken glass bottle, sure. Putting bull semen on tampons and waiting 9 months for a minotaur to be born, yeah. But hiding a used condom inn someone's bag, like a little Easter Egg surprise - not even a shadow of it in my mind.
So, what Mr Chang did this time was to bring back an eleven year old girl after meeting her at a basketball court and bed her. Apparently the girl was ahead in the puberty curve and ended up pregnant, much to the delight of her mother, who reported her delight to the police. The rest, is history.
There is something... unaesthetic... about reaping in springtime don't you think? Hell, in this case, he was probably reaping in winter, but I digress. I know that there is a school of thought that says that, "It is fair if it got hair", but still. Eleven years old... thought maybe it was a game or homework or something.
I dunno, but I would have a marginally higher regard for him if he were caught screwing a dog or something, and I am willing to bet that his prison mates, especially those with 11 year old daughters feel the same way.

Prisoner 1: What you guys here for?

Prisoner 2: I was caught fighting with my gang.

Other Prisoners: Wah, respect.

Prisoner 3: I murder my wife's lover and his whole family.

Other Prisoners: Wah, Hardcore. Respect.

Chang Hee: I had sex with an 11 Year old girl.

Prisoner 1: Eh, Prisoner 2, isn't your daughter 10 years old this year.

Prisoner 2: Ya. Nabeh, like that small-small also you like. Chee bye. Later showertime you watch out. Drop soap only then you kena.

And so on. Well at least he isn't deprived of sex in there.

Fuck you fuck me

2005-05-14T19:43:00.000+08:00

I spent a significant portion of today trawling websites for fun. And while I have found a few good sites, the trash to treasure ratio is really, really depressing.

The treasures, though, almost make up for it. Check out either The Shizzolator or Gizoogle if you want to see what a webpage reads like in gangsta. Also, if you haven't already checked out masamania, now is the time to do that... and trust me you will not regret it (unless of course you are a limp wristed pantsy, in which case the phrase "Fuck You" or even "Fuck off" should cover it). The folks at Bullshido run a pretty lively forum if you are into that kind of shit.

I spent most of my time on blogs though, trying to get a feel of what most bloggers actually write about and maybe find any html code I think is worth stealing and I found out that a disturbing number of people post their poetry. For the first 20 blogs or so, I thought that it was my fault that I was not in touch with my sensitive side and all that but by the 21st blog I realized the truth: their poetry sucks ass.

Mind you, these were not personal blogs. I could forgive suckass poetry on personal blogs. Hell, I support the right to have suckass poetry on a personal blog. But these blogs were in the running for the Hottest Blog award, on a freakin blog search engine, meant to be read by millions.

Sure, the poems are supposed to reflect their inner angst, uncertainty and boundless rage. Of course a person in a middle-to-high-income family, with an internet connection and reliable power supply has a lot of angst. I mean even though your name is sExY FloWeR GirL or some shit like that doesn't mean you are not angsty, uncertain or infuriated. Yeah, I can dig that. The same way I dig that Avril Lavigne is a punk because she wears skater clothes, pretends to skate and that, millionaire or not, she is actually rebelling against the MAN.

Right.

The hourglass stands
Flowing, the sands
Walls close in
I cut, I bleed
My pain is red
Darkness

There you go, now I am all angsty and angry and uncertain. What does it mean? Be fucked if I know. But did you get the heaviness. Can you dig it. That nobody understands what the fuck it means is a sure sign of its genius. It is just there, sounding all angsty and shit. See it has the words bleed, cut and darkness. I am the angst-master. I am the insecurity-king. All you other angsters can't touch my angsty tush. You cannot see my angsty tush.Fuck off. Better yet stay there and kneel before my Mondo Supremo uncertain self. No no. Fuck off then come back and kneel before my Mondo Supremo Uncertain self. I make Woody Allen look like Samuel L Jackson. You have been owned.

So please, go off in shame and delete those suckass poems because it will never compare to mine. I am the T.S Eliot of the angsty poems, I am the Robert Frost of angry poems and you, you are an asshat.

The center cannot hold, so sod off before everything falls apart.

Filler Post

2005-05-14T10:06:00.000+08:00

I was just about to blog/ bitch about something when I stumbled upon this site. How's that for mystry meat navigation.
But seriously, read it. The worst that could happen is that you die laughing.

Stuck in a Moment That You Can't Get Out Of

2005-05-12T12:52:00.000+08:00

I was on the MRT, with empty seats on either side. On the other side of those empty seats, were occupied seats, such that the arrangement was as such: occupied, empty, me, empty and occupied. OK, get it?
So, I was minding my own business, listening to Afroman and how he got high, all docile-like when two fat sisters came in and, in a carriage just filled with wide stretches of empty seats, sat on the seats beside me.
Now, the sisters weren't fat as in plump. They were not "a few pounds overweight." They had no baby fat on them. What they did have was blubber. If the adage "you are what you eat" is true then the lipid sisters must be the joint-Presidents of the Whale Eating Club.
And like all fat people, they took up significantly more space than what was allocated to them and thus started squirming, trying to get more space.
Then, one of them, when it became evident that there was no more space to squirm into, had the cheek to give me the fuck-you-for-not-giving-me-space scowl and tsk-ed me. And that was crossing the Rubicon.
I declared war by spreading my thighs as far out as they would go pushing against fat, yeilding meat. I squirmed and forced them off my part of the seat, then, alternately, crossed their border and took parts of their seats, all while giving them the fuck-you-for-not-giving-me-space scowl.
Yeah, right back 'atcha bitch.
Pushing against 2 walls of fat on either side is hard work. What made it harder was that I had to keep exactly in the center of them... otherwise I would have experienced their gravitational pull.

Gennious

2005-05-09T21:21:00.000+08:00

Today I finally got my last acceptance letter from the US universities I applied to. I was accepted into Amherst and Brown, but rejected from Boston. Unbelievable. I got accepted into two of the most selective colleges in America but rejected by my safety school. What the hell??? That I will not be going to any of those schools is beside the point. That I got rejected by my safety school, a school that is effectively 2-3 times easier to get in, is. And what a funny point that is; had me laughing for an entire MRT ride.
I believe that I got rejected by Boston U because they were looking for geniuses and I am not a genius. Sure, according to those online IQ tests my IQ is 160, technically qualifying me as a borderline genius, but come on... an online test? Sure. The internet always tells the truth, doesn't it? I don't even know the sequence of months in a year.
No, I believe that the only way to become a genius is to act like one... an asshole. It is a universal constant: geniuses act like assholes, unless of course they were born retarded or something and had to overcome that disability like Einstein or something. The frickin vast majority of them are assholes, or otherwise downright kooky. Hemmingway used to get drunk and beat up women and Edgar Allan Poe used to get drunk and fuck dead women.
So, because I am loathe to fuck dead women ( I am reliably told that most people actually make their own holes in the decayed flesh (cause the punani has already dried up) and that the sound it makes is like the sound of crushing a wet paper bag), I figure that the path to intellectual enlightenment is in violence.
And now.... the bait.

People I have a beef with:

1) People who try to sound cool by typing in netspeak.
There are 3 strains of these fuckers.
First, those that substitute z for s at the end of the sentence. These are mostly girls. You know the type: Those that type: I hate haterz, smokerz and bitchez in their blogs, friendster accounts or webpages. You know who you are. Stand up. Take a bow. I want to thank you for absolutely pissing me off. What the fuck is wrong with you all? Despotic dictators, the AIDS virus and President George W. Bush running around and you hate haterz, smokerz and bitchez? Come on.... you hate haterz? Do you even know how moronically stupid that sounds? Hmmm? And adding z at the end of a plural noun in lieu of an s doesn't buy you street cred. What, you think just because you call yourselves friendz or playaz that you automatically become cool? Fuck you.
Second: Those that insist on using leetspeak. Yes... barge into a random thread and feel free to say: I am a 1337 h4ck3r. I w1ll h4ck u. It doesn't matter if the thread has nothing to do with hacking. Hell, it doesn't even matter if a few posts ago you asked how to run an .exe file. Feel free to ask how to start a bittorrent download, or how to use a crack file in leetspeak. I mean you are obviously t3h d34dly h4ck3rz.... too engrossed in hacking to actually know how to install a program. I mean you speak in leetspeak, the language of hackers. You could break into my 72 bit key Twofish encrypted archive without breaking a sweat. I am pissing my pants dickwad.
Third: Those that cApItaLizE random letters in a word. Fuck you, you eyesore causing asswipe. Trying to act cute? I swear I will CaRvE your motherfucking, eyesore causing face; I will leave one eye, one side of your mouth and a ear larger than the other by peeling away your eyelids, one side of your lips and a ear to sort of.... capitalise them.

2) Creators and fans of Japanese anime/ anime products/ live action children's shows.

Can someone tell me why the people in Jap anime have weird cloured hair? I understand that those Power rangers and their clones only swing their arms around when they speak to show who is talking because they are wearing masks that cover their mouths, but why the hell do anime characters have coloured hair. How many people do YOU see with lime green hair?
Also, what is it with Pokemon? A bunch of kids exploiting animals in what can only be described as illegal cock-fighting with superpowers. The X Men fight for a political ideal, G.I Joe fights against terrorists but Ash and gang... they fight for badges. Yeah, lets electrocute that other animal there, then blast it with a jet of fire. Yeah. I need to collect little badges so I will severely injure my little pokemon friend. Besides, it is not as though I take any damage.
That is crap. What makes it even more crap are those nonsensical slogans on the anime products. "Without generation, all women love ice cream." What the fuck does that mean?
I don't know what mushrooms japanese creators are eating but it sure as hell ain't shitake. And if you are actually a fan of crappy jap cartoons you are a goddamn donkey raping ass fucker.

3) People who suck worse than I in CounterStrike.

Haha fuckers. You have been owned. All your base are belong to me. Motherfuckers.

4) People who are better at CounterStrike than I.

What the fuck is wrong with you. Don't you have anything better to do? Watch Trainspotting cumstain... then maybe you will:
"Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers.Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends.Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life."
Or maybe you would rather work on your CRT tan.

5) Faggots
Yeah, I am talking to you, you goddamn shit stabbers. What are you going to do about it?

So there it is. I want violence. If you are offended, my address is Blk 130 Tampines St 11 #10-320. Come and I will sort you out. Bitch.

Be safe

2005-05-07T16:36:00.000+08:00

The Adventure of the Unscientific Computer Experiment

2005-05-05T13:34:00.000+08:00

A quickie today.
I turned off Norton Internet Security for 15 minutes today because I wanted to see if it was slowing down my internet connection. During that time I went to only a few websites: google, downloads.com and gmail, trying to test connection speeds.
When I turned on Norton again, the firewall immediately unauthorised outbound traffic. I ran the virus scan and it detected 3 Trojans and 1 virus, and I was sure I had a clean system before the firewall went down.
For the first time this year, I checked the intrusion detection logs and wohoo. It seems I have been the target of 4106 intrusion attempts this year. That is 32 times a day, slightly over 1.3 times an hour.
Moral: Wear protection. Always.

Plums Defy!

2005-05-04T18:54:00.000+08:00

Goddamn it. What is it with me? Is it my face? Is it my name? What?
Today, someone who I have not met, and probably will not meet again, in a long time tried to sell me a magnetic mattress for $3499.
No that is incorrect. Rather she introduced me to her partner who did most of the pitch, which was understandable- if i were in her shoes, I would.... no wait. Strike that. If I were in her shoes, I would have shoved the mattress somewhere dark and smelly. But I digress.
The mattress apparently has magnetic strips woven into it which helps prevent everything from strokes to diabetes to gangrene to organ failure.
The mechanism is as such: The magnetic fields somehow interact with the haemoglobin and ions in the body and energize them so that the blood moves less sluggishly and miraculously destroys arterial plaque, heals wounds, and ensures a general happily ever after. Also since ions are the things that (sic) supplies the body with energy, fast moving ions would give us more energy.
When I pointed out that we were, unlike the Duracell Bunny, not powered by moving charged particles and that an application of the Left Hand Rule for force on a moving ion in a magnetic field meant that the ions would be moving into the blood vessel walls (perpendicular to the magnetic field and direction of blood flow/ion movement), he countered that my science was incorrect, that that was physics and this was Biology which is WAY more advanced ( which is probably true in a sense. Anatomy and advanced circulatory system biology does have more variables tham I am familiar with. Yet I somehow doubt that we are powered by moving ions in the blood).
He ( the partner) tried to further cement his case by showing articles, shady looking, badly typewritten affairs by "doctors", rife with grammatical errors and pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo (my favourite: in the morning the Sun's negative charge upsets the charge in our body, which achieves balance again only at night... which is why people sleep at night and not in the day (apparently the good doctor has never been to BCTC or any other Army camp). I think he was using that argument as proof that we all are slaves to our body's charge).
He did have a proper article though. One explaining how the MRI is done and how the MRI has improved medical procedures. He was particularly proud of this article also, I think, having highlighted the words magnetic, magnet, and magnetic field throughout the article, which, being a write up about Magnetic resonance imaging, cropped up quite frequently. So, he pointed to the Dat-Glo Paper Fomerly known as White, and insisted that it was proof that magnetic mattress work.
He pointed out that the Earth's magnetic field had weakened over the years, which why people in the olden days, basking in magnetic glory, used to live longer. Ahhh, the wonders of nostalgia. The old days were really good. Of course they lived longer then. Of course the water tasted sweeter... the livestock shitting upstream from your drinking point gives it that mountainy tang. Somehow the advent of modern medicine shortened the lifespan of the average person. Somehow our life expectancy dropped without us knowing it.
When he was done with the presentation, obviously pissed cos I had interrupted his flow, I asked him whether he believed in the product. When he replied the affirmative I asked him, as politely as I could, whether he would be interested in buying powdered water from me (Just add water!). Which was probably not polite enough since, after thinking about it (for longer than he should), he got up, muttered his thank you for your time bit, and left.
And here I thought I had a sale.
Incidentally, I just found out while typing this that their company, DW Group, is essentially a MLM, according to various Singapore forums. I couldn't find anything about the company proper even in the database of registered companies. I did, however, find out that DW stands for Dolphin Warriors. You would think that people marketing crappy products would at least give themselves a credible name.
Dolphin Warriors. Right. There is some investor trust for you. Maybe I should set up a company, call it Teddy Bear Fighters, and sell stuff like powdered water or solar powered torchlights (never buy a torchlight battery again. Works anywhere with sunlight).
Then maybe, I can lay back on my magnetic mattress and defy the laws of science all while watching the cash roll in.

Everything Old is New Again

2005-05-02T20:36:00.000+08:00

For some inexplicable reason, I woke up today at 0525 hrs. This usually would not have been a problem, except this time, instead of rolling over, cursing, and going back to sleep, I was wide awake.
TV at 530 am sucks donkey balls. This seems to be a universal law of some kind, one of the uncorruptable TV laws etched in stone somewhere in Teletubby Land. ( Another uncorruptable TV law: Ever notice how you only ever watch the same episode of TV programmes you do not follow again and again. Sometimes, it seems to me that I am condemned to an eternity of watching the same episode of Dragonball Z, seperated by the years, again and again and again.)
So instead of TV, I watched an old vcd I had... Leon- The Professional (those of you who have not watched this movie, watch it. Directed by Luc Besson way back in 1995, when Luc Besson still actually made movies worth a damn (Fifth Element anyone?). Following that I watched Citizen Kane and then Back to the Future (on TV).
These three movies were all great and yet none were decidedly big budget. Sure, Back to the Future probably cost more to make than I will ever earn in my life, but when compared to movies like Colleteral Damage, Pearl Harbour and The Titanic., it was a bargain.
And lets face it, Colleteral Damage, Pearl harbour and the Titanic aren't exactly cinematic classics, big budget or no. I am sure that right now most of you are accusing me of rehashing an old gripe. "Sure," you say, "we all know that Hollywood produces crap movies on a daily basis."
Of course they do. But why?
Consider: Hollywood is made up of professional players. Stars and agents and producers and directors and caterers and hookers that are among the highest paid individuals in the world. You would think that someone earning, at least, few hundred thousand dollars a pop would be able to differentiate the good from the bad, or at least make a distiction between movies like The End of Days and The Usual Suspects. Surely that is not too much to ask of the industry heavyweights. Surely the Direct-to Video option is always there if they absolutely must produce something bad.
Surely they can spare us.
Surely they can.
Surely.

Posting again for the first time

2005-05-02T13:36:00.000+08:00

Ok... procrastination over. The blog is finally up.
A whole ten minutes have passed since the end of the last sentence and the beginning of this one. I simply cannot think of anything to write. Writer's block. Or writer's blog if you are feeling particularly corny today. I am. Sue me.
Today, I just learnt that the collective noun for crows is a murder. To those of you out there who already know this, who already knew this since primary school /kindergarten /nursery /birth, don't laugh.
To the rest... haha.
It is amazing how a word like murder, a word that you think you know so well, and use so often, that you think about just before you sleep and just after you wake, can surprise you like this. Uncanny.
A murder of crows. Has a poetic heft to it, doesn't it.
An observence of hermits doesn't make sense; a mob of kangaroo is unjustifiably violent;a gaggle of geese just sounds stupid;a lie of politicians is funny but hardly mythic. But a murder of crows? Tell me it doesn't send a shiver down your spine.
So, in honour of the crows and murders: I name this blog...

A Murder of Crows.