Day 7:
two loaves of bread with butter and jam + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + fruit (lunch)
a bowl of duck noodles
homemade dishes + fruit (dinner)
a packet of prawn crackers
a scoop of ice cream
a packet of chocolate milk
500 ml of plain water
35 press-ups
Martial arts practice
Day 8:
2 eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a bowl of laksa + fruit (lunch)
a scoop of ice cream
a bowl of chendol
homemade dishes + fruit (dinner)
a packet of hon fan
500 ml of plain water
I felt quite nauseated when I looked at the job sites today. My lousy diploma in Mechatronics from Singapore Polytechnic has screwed me up badly, and continues to do so. It is simply not relevant; a piece of junk that delivers only disappointment.
This reminds me of life in my shithouse of a university.
(Xianghong, my bro, I hope you read this. You can still back out.)
Why UniShit is UniShit.
Laughable entry requirements
Any joker with a recognized diploma, two years of work experience and sufficient dough can enrol himself in a course. There are neither minimum academic standards to meet, nor applicants required to pass entry requirement tests. As a result, each intake comprises mostly of people whose sole idea of academic pursuit is a better paying job but disregards other benefits of higher learning.
Indeed, the mediocre are legion. During my short time in this education travesty I have been consistently left befuddled and frustrated by the balderdash I had to proofread in my group reports. Everybody makes grammatical errors. I am not implying that my English is impeccable – it can be abysmal at times. However, there is a clear difference between the odd grammar mistake here and there, and entire paragraphs that absolutely make no sense.
To call my editing efforts a suicidal experience would not be far off the mark. I am only in my first year, and already I had corrected writings from teachers, argued with a fucking imbecile on how to interpret an assignment question (I was right and he turned around and claimed I was wrong all the while.) and wasted countless hours trying to correct things that practically defy any such attempt.
This is what you get when you just take in any Tom, Dick and Harry. The university should implement a proper selection scheme. Applicants for “soft-science” courses should be made to sit through an English test and only those who passed deemed eligible. Likewise, for hard sciences like IT and engineering – applicants must pass basic math and science. What is the point of churning out en masse graduates who lack even basic writing skills? Or worse, graduates who have zero aptitude for their chosen pursuits?
If even private universities have “bridging” courses for new students, I don’t see why UniShit could fail to establish a proper selection process. While education is primarily business these days, there is a difference between a business and a racket.
Pretty my ass!
If you like to ogle sweet young things, UniShit is not for you. Go to SMU.
Tiny compound
UniShit has tens of thousands of students, and its premises are about as big as the EC Department in the Singapore Polytechnic. What else to do, but rent classrooms from the polytechnic next to it. Pathetic.
Come examination period, you can hardly find a seat in the lavishly renovated and one-story university library. The table and benches around the premises are either occupied by people who pretend to study, or couples who are too cheapskate to pay for a hotel room.
For those who are keen on “having a healthy lifestyle” in spite of being overworked, take note that there are no fields, courts, and gyms in the premises. Masochists may happily torture themselves at the nearby venues: NUS school track, Clementi Stadium, and Clementi Sports Complex.
Course notes
The imbeciles who are writing the seminar notes and case studies ought to be sacked. This is a university, not bloody nursery school. You can’t have glaring errors in the handouts you expect your students to print themselves. Poor grammar, wrong mathematical values, ambiguous wordings, unclear instructions – if only I had a penny for each mistake they made.
Even the online quizzes are not exempt from criticism. A few questions are simply wrong, or have wrong answers. The problematic question I had for my Qualitative Methods last season still remain uncorrected, as I found out when a friend asked me for help as she tackled her quiz. I guess these lazy bastards UniShit employs just can’t be bothered.
Stop being so cheapo Unishit! You are rolling in dough from your racket! Pay some money for an editor! If you are even too cheapskate for that, at least ask your course chairs to fucking look through the bullshit you give your students.
And we have to print our notes. And the papers and ink cartridges cost money. Not to mention fucking troublesome.
Shame on you UniShit! Shame! Shame! Shame!
High attrition rate
According to a staff, the attrition rate for my Business course is 40%. 40%! I thought poly was bad. I don’t think SMU, NTU and NUS boast such impressive figures. What is this?! The fucking Normandy landing?!
The girl whom I did my Stats project with last season dropped out. A month ago, my friend who was in the same course as I, threw in the towel as well. I may not see the start of next season. Little wonder. Shithouse university, shithouse chances.
No higher studies
Forget about getting your Masters or doctorate at this university. They have none to offer. Of course, if enough people are willing to pay good money…Or maybe they do now. There’s a sucker born everyday.
Food (Slop)
The food court offers slop at affordable prices. Slightly better slop can be purchased at a higher price at the cafes. In the end, it’s still slop.
Modules
To complete a basic degree, you have to pass 24 modules and 3 “enrichment’ modules. This translates roughly to: 24 online multiple choice quizzes, 24 group assignments, 14 -18 examinations and 6 – 10 individual projects. The ‘enrichment’ modules vary in workload, but are less draining. You can max it within three years, or space this torture within a maximum length of eight years.
Each module is to be completed in six weeks. Imagine learning Statistics and Economics in six weeks – oh the challenge! Think that is fun? Nay! For your individual project, expect to produce a written academic report (usually 4,000 words or 12 pages long), a 15-20 PowerPoint slides, and a video presentation five to ten minutes in duration. According to my Stats lecturer, we are the first university he had seen, that requires its students to do video presentations. Moreover, not only do we have to submit our written report on the university website, we also need to burn our written report (in doc. format only), PowerPoint slides and video clip in a CD and submit the damn thing to the Unishit office! And we have about slightly more than a week to do so after the end of the last lecture. Mission excruciating.
Come on UniShit! Wake up your fucking ideas will you?! We are not the Toastmasters Club! Many of us cannot even articulate ourselves without resorting to Singlish and if you buggers think the video presentations will be good practice for us, you are sadly mistaken. If you want your students to do this kind of thing, at least make them go for ‘presentation’ courses first! We may be all working adults, but only a few of us have to do presentations as part of our work. What in the Eighteen Hells induced you to think that we can suddenly ‘magick’ something up? And to demand that we DO NOT refer to any slides or notes during our performance is simply ridiculous.
What you are doing is painfully obvious! GIVE UP! STOP imitating SMU! UniShit can never be as good as SMU when it comes to producing students who can present themselves. Both are overhyped and overmarketed but this is where the similarities end. They are a prestigious university with an American teaching style, whereas UniShit is an upstart that cannot even get their seminar notes right. It’s like comparing a 1980s Hyundai to a Ferrari. No prizes for guessing who the imploding vehicle is
Back to the watered down modules. How much can you possibly learn about a difficult subject like International Economics in six fucking weeks? Add to this difficulty is that you are just a part-time student. It hardly makes for conducive learning when you have to turn up for class after a hard day at work and missing dinner so that you can make the 7pm timing. How much can you absorb in three hours? Make that eighteen hours in six weeks, and I have not even subtracted the toilet and refreshment breaks from this total.
With courses already abridged as they are, how much can a student, even a studious one absorb? Not very much certainly. Emphasis is placed not so much on learning as much as fulfilling certain requirements and passing examinations. Is this what real education is all about? I suppose who the fuck cares, so long this fucking cuntry gets its share of graduates to compete on the globalization front (who the fuck believes this shit anyway?). This is what this university is all about: a paper mill. Pay, suffer and get degree, critical thinking sold separately. 24 modules! Why not up the fun and double it to 48?! More revenue surely.
The group assignments they give us actually add to our burden instead of allowing us to better our understanding. How so?
First, the group forming. You often have to form groups with strangers and work on an assignment worth 30% of the overall marks with them. You may end up with hardworking and intelligent people if you are lucky, but don’t count on it. There are too many parasites around who don’t want to do the work, have stinking attitudes or are just plain stupid.
Second, being a part timer, you will never have enough time. Imagine you have your online quiz to clear, the baby’s crying, the boss calls you up to stress you with more demands and questions, your wife complains you don’t have time for her anymore and hints she will find some prick who can afford some much needed time and affection, you are struggling with the stupid case study, a couple of your group mates have gone AWOL and the deadline is near. You are sick and tired and you have to attend to some shit that coops up…
40% attrition rate ladies and gentlemen! 40%!
Third, it’s so too tempting to ahem…refer to some kind soul’s paper. There exists an informal network that ‘facilitates the exchange of ideas’. All you need is to find the right sources and ask. Ask and it will be given. Just remember to paraphrase so that the stupid plagiarism software doesn’t put you in the red zone. We have been warned time and again about plagiarism, but as long as you are not overt and they turn a blind eye, it’s must be regarded as a viable option. I would even say it’s almost a moral necessity when the deadline is 24 hours later and you haven’t even touched the damn shit.
It’s not that most students are crooks. Unfortunately, unreasonable constraints and circumstances make people do the things they do. It’s regrettable, but a fact of life nevertheless. (The course mate and friend I mentioned earlier knew nothing about International Economics, but he plagiarized and got an A for his enterprise. To the Abyss with morals and ethics!)
Why not replace the group assignments with individual tutorials that are marked each week? Less plagiarism and puts the parasites out for good. Less stressful yet fulfils basic learning objectives.
The examinations. Unlike our contemporaries in other universities, we do not enjoy the luxury of an ‘examination break’. Remember, we have to work and have other commitments to tend to. If it had not been for the revision lectures (read: hints fests), many would have been dead and buried.
As mentioned, we have to do three “enrichment courses”. The one that teaches you how to do academic writing is compulsory while you get to choose what you want for the other two. The first one is an abject failure for reasons previously stated while the other two can either be actually useful, or just time-wasting. I’ll not go into detail here, but this is just one of the ways UniShit conspires to add value to its marketability while at the same time earning additional revenue.
Accreditation
Unlike other private universities, UniShit only offers degrees that are recognized locally. If you are thinking of using that piece of paper as a stepping stone for migration/emigration, hard luck pal.
Other universities
There has got to be an easier way to earn a degree. SMU, NTU and NUS offer much better degrees. The presentation skills that you will acquire at the first institute will benefit you for life (and did I mention it has better looking broads?) True, it may not offer part-time courses, but if you must, borrow money from the bank. If you can get in and emerge with a degree, you will be able to pay off the damn loan in no time. Employers are always on the look out for articulate and confident people. That piece of paper is already a selling point in itself.
As for the other two, their certifications are internationally recognized, and they make the top 100 list for universities worldwide every year. Best thing is that since they are owned by the regime, you can pay your school fees via CPF. Their degrees are automatically recognizable locally so you needn’t worry about credibility issues.
UniShit is also a ‘recognizable’ institute. However, compared to the three ‘official’ institutes, it is not only a poor cousin, but one that is basically living on scraps and about to be dumped out to the streets for the curs. I don’t feel at all confident going to a job interview with a UniShit degree when I see besides me candidates from SMU, NTU and NUS. It’s like pitting a .38 revolver against an AK-47.
Although the course fees of other private universities are not subsidized by the regime, they offer their own advantages. Why suffer three years (or longer, if you are relegated) when you can get a degree in two years or even a year and a half? Why endure the stupid group projects and the uniquely stupid video presentations and PowerPoint slides when you have little time to begin with? Why not just turn up for classes, study at your own pace, and take the examinations? Why bother to endure the bloody traffic congestion to get to UniShit when your school is in the city area and therefore easily accessible?
Sure, the degree may not be as ‘credible’ as the mainstream ones in this cuntry, but what if you are overseas? Not all local employers look at the university an applicant hailed from. Sometimes it’s just how you present yourself during the job interview, or if the bloke likes your face or not. Maybe you have to ask for a lower salary, but hey, a couple of hundred dollars less is not as tragic as compared to the amount of suffering you went through, the time wasted at Unishit doing tons of fucking projects, and all you show for all your efforts is relegation (extra time and money wasted) and a 001 added to the attrition total because after two years you decided that “I have enough of this shit”.
The point I made regarding the job interviews and credibility issues may seem contradictory. Look at it this way. Your reward should be equal to the effort you put in. If all I have to show for, after three years or more of torture, is a degree that barely ranks above the non-mainstream ones, why should I take the damn course?!
Traffic congestion
Imagine you are late for class, and the fucking traffic just won’t move! You can be assured this will happen during evening time. That is, provided you managed to get on the over packed bus in the first place. You are exhausted from work, pressed on all sides by equally tired-looking people, and trying to keep your balance with the start stop start stop of the bus as it edges itself forward in traffic. Try to endure this for 20 – 30 minutes. If it rains, double the duration.
Breathing can be a challenge when over 50 people are using up oxygen in a single-decked bus, and nigh impossible when some idiot smells like a skunk in heat. To breathe or not to breathe – that is the question. At any rate, it just doesn’t put you in a good mood for higher learning. If you don’t asphyxiate first.
If you are fortunate or rich enough to drive, good for you. Just put the music on and be patient. Gloat at the losers suffering on the buses. Whatever.
SMU and other private universities are in the city area. If the roads are congested, take the train. The trains may be packed, but you will almost never be late. Can’t say the same for UniShit.
Left outside alone
Most of the teaching staff teach on a part-time/contract/assignment basis. They do not have their own offices in UniShit. Unlike our peers in NTU and NUS, we can’t go to our professor’s office and ‘ka-ciao’ him or her every time we have a problem. The best we can do is to send an email to our lecturers and hope they quickly respond, or call them directly and convey our problems over the phone, and then try to understand the explanations – no easy feat.
In short, we are mostly left to our own devices. If we sink, too bad. It’s nobody’s problem but our own. At the end of the day, UniShit still collects money from us.
You just can’t play by the rules anymore. I suggest this: When in doubt, collude. When utterly lost, plagiarize. If you are an educator who is reading this and feels offended, it’s your problem. Just don’t make it mine.
Online communication
When project deadlines are impending, watch out! The system may crash from the sudden overflow of data. Why they would place the deadlines of so many courses into such a narrow time frame is anybody’s guess. They had already extended the project cut-off date once this year due to system malfunction. The trend looks set to continue.
Every announcement, addition of notes and course materials, and submission of assignments is done online. While this is a necessary evil given the nature of the coursework, surely they can send us a notification to our personal emails to tell us which modules are affected? We don’t have time to search through the whole Blackboard site!
At the end of each season, we are required to do online assessments for the courses we have taken before we are allowed to choose our courses for the next season. It would help to alleviate this inconvenience if the fucking system doesn’t hang or lock us out, as it did for me. Unlike the full-timers, we pathetic part-timers don’t have time for this rubbish. Or would UniShit prefer that we forward an email stating our complaints to the top management instead? Bloody hell.
If I strike the first prize in the state lottery this weekend, UniShit can kiss my ass. Goodbye shit, hello SMU/[insert foreign university].
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
My Struggle - Day 5 and 6
I lost a bit of form today.
Day 5:
8 butter cream biscuits + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + fruit (lunch)
a bowl of laksa
a cup of yogurt
homemade dishes + fruit (dinner)
a packet of coconut buns
a scoop of ice cream
a packet of chocolate milk
500 ml of plain water
35 press-ups
Day 6:
a mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + a bowl of dragon fruit (lunch)
homemade dishes + a bowl of pear (dinner)
Pig organ soup + a bowl of rice
half a 'Gulp' of Coke
2 scoops of ice cream
500 ml of plain water
I wonder how much I weigh now.
Day 5:
8 butter cream biscuits + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + fruit (lunch)
a bowl of laksa
a cup of yogurt
homemade dishes + fruit (dinner)
a packet of coconut buns
a scoop of ice cream
a packet of chocolate milk
500 ml of plain water
35 press-ups
Day 6:
a mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + a bowl of dragon fruit (lunch)
homemade dishes + a bowl of pear (dinner)
Pig organ soup + a bowl of rice
half a 'Gulp' of Coke
2 scoops of ice cream
500 ml of plain water
I wonder how much I weigh now.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
My Struggle and Delap's Inspiration
I'm barely hanging on.
Day 3:
2 eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a plate of chicken rice + a can of Coke (lunch)
homemade dishes (dinner)
8 butter cream biscuits
a packet of chocolate milk
a litre of plain water
three hours of knockout football.
Day 4:
a bowl of instant noodles + servings of vegetable and eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a bowl of chicken porridge + a bowl of fruit (lunch)
a plate of chicken rice
homemade dishes + a bowl of chendol (dinner)
a bowl of mincemeat noodles + a can of Kickapoo
500 ml of plain water
30 press-ups and stretching (before bed)
Step aside fucking Cristiano "Ingrate" Ronaldo! Rory Delap truly revolutionizes football!
LOOK AT THAT THROW!
Delap for Footballer of the Year! VOTE FOR DELAP!
Day 3:
2 eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a plate of chicken rice + a can of Coke (lunch)
homemade dishes (dinner)
8 butter cream biscuits
a packet of chocolate milk
a litre of plain water
three hours of knockout football.
Day 4:
a bowl of instant noodles + servings of vegetable and eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a bowl of chicken porridge + a bowl of fruit (lunch)
a plate of chicken rice
homemade dishes + a bowl of chendol (dinner)
a bowl of mincemeat noodles + a can of Kickapoo
500 ml of plain water
30 press-ups and stretching (before bed)
Step aside fucking Cristiano "Ingrate" Ronaldo! Rory Delap truly revolutionizes football!
LOOK AT THAT THROW!
Delap for Footballer of the Year! VOTE FOR DELAP!
Friday, November 21, 2008
My Struggle - Day 2
My Struggle continues:
Day 2:
2 pineapple tarts + 1 mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + a serving of grapes (lunch)
one serving of Bak Kut Teh with rice
half a packet of soy bean milk
homemade dishes + a bowl of fruit (dinner)
a plate of mixed vegetable rice
1 cup (Gulp) of Coke
500 ml of plain water
Did 25 press-ups
Stretching (before bed)
I feel like puking.
Day 2:
2 pineapple tarts + 1 mug of coffee (breakfast)
homemade dishes + a serving of grapes (lunch)
one serving of Bak Kut Teh with rice
half a packet of soy bean milk
homemade dishes + a bowl of fruit (dinner)
a plate of mixed vegetable rice
1 cup (Gulp) of Coke
500 ml of plain water
Did 25 press-ups
Stretching (before bed)
I feel like puking.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
My Struggle - Day 1
I'm 60kg. The machine said so.
Day 1:
2 eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a plate of fried kway teow
a packet of soy bean milk
homemade dishes + an apple (lunch)
a plate of chicken rice
a packet of sugar cane juice
homemade dishes + half a papaya (dinner)
a bar of kit kat
a bowl of yong dou fu
a can of soy bean milk
500 ml of plain water
Did 20 press-ups.
Stretching (before bed)
I must be strong. Nothing shall come before me and my Vision.
Standing at 1.8m tall and weighing 80kg sounds about right. 20 kg to go.
Day 1:
2 eggs + a mug of coffee (breakfast)
a plate of fried kway teow
a packet of soy bean milk
homemade dishes + an apple (lunch)
a plate of chicken rice
a packet of sugar cane juice
homemade dishes + half a papaya (dinner)
a bar of kit kat
a bowl of yong dou fu
a can of soy bean milk
500 ml of plain water
Did 20 press-ups.
Stretching (before bed)
I must be strong. Nothing shall come before me and my Vision.
Standing at 1.8m tall and weighing 80kg sounds about right. 20 kg to go.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
FAT!
I am too thin.
I look like a concentration camp inmate, an opium eater, a junkie, and a goal post or may-pole (if I actually dressed in bright colours).
Everything about me right now is weak. I look at my biceps and I see the word weak. I look at my thighs and I see the word weak. I have been posturing myself in front of the mirror these few days and I thought I heard the damn mirror sniggering and going weak, weak weak!
Weak! I am a weakling!
The girls are jealous of me. They desire my height. They lust for my slimness. And they would bed Michael "Wacko" Jackson for that infernal metabolism of mine. The blokes, on the other hand, either think I make a good target for intimidation (fortunately my height tends to put most off) or secretly envy me for my washboard abs.
I enjoy contact sports but my pathetic muscles and thin frame curtail my performance. If it has not been not for my speed, I would either be kicked to death or left to decompose on the bench.
At 1.8m, my 60kg (or do I even weigh that much now) just doesn't cut it. I am determined to be fat. Not just fat but FAT. Not just FAT but very FAT. (Okay, maybe not fat, but fat in certain areas.)
The spoon is mightier than the sword. Therefore I shall eat, and eat and eat, until I can eat no more, then I will eat again.
I shall drink more water.
I shall start to really exercise. I haven't been doing so for a month now. No wonder my muscles have atrophied. Some weight training with really heavy weights ought to stimulate muscular development.
I shall use imagery (mental and real) to motivate myself. I shall always think FAT. When in doubt, FAT. What does not kill you makes you FATTER. I shall also put up pictures of FAT cats (the real ones, not the crooks in our regime or Wall Street) as wallpapers on my handphone and computer, around the house and in my wallet.
Goal-setting theory demands I set a clearly defined and achievable goal within a specific time frame. 30 lbs in three months?
I shall get my friends to motivate me. Guys and girls, I'll appreciate if you drop me a line on MSN, SMS or call me. Start off with something like "Are you FAT yet?" - But preferably not at three in the morning.
At the end of the day, FAT!
I look like a concentration camp inmate, an opium eater, a junkie, and a goal post or may-pole (if I actually dressed in bright colours).
Everything about me right now is weak. I look at my biceps and I see the word weak. I look at my thighs and I see the word weak. I have been posturing myself in front of the mirror these few days and I thought I heard the damn mirror sniggering and going weak, weak weak!
Weak! I am a weakling!
The girls are jealous of me. They desire my height. They lust for my slimness. And they would bed Michael "Wacko" Jackson for that infernal metabolism of mine. The blokes, on the other hand, either think I make a good target for intimidation (fortunately my height tends to put most off) or secretly envy me for my washboard abs.
I enjoy contact sports but my pathetic muscles and thin frame curtail my performance. If it has not been not for my speed, I would either be kicked to death or left to decompose on the bench.
At 1.8m, my 60kg (or do I even weigh that much now) just doesn't cut it. I am determined to be fat. Not just fat but FAT. Not just FAT but very FAT. (Okay, maybe not fat, but fat in certain areas.)
The spoon is mightier than the sword. Therefore I shall eat, and eat and eat, until I can eat no more, then I will eat again.
I shall drink more water.
I shall start to really exercise. I haven't been doing so for a month now. No wonder my muscles have atrophied. Some weight training with really heavy weights ought to stimulate muscular development.
I shall use imagery (mental and real) to motivate myself. I shall always think FAT. When in doubt, FAT. What does not kill you makes you FATTER. I shall also put up pictures of FAT cats (the real ones, not the crooks in our regime or Wall Street) as wallpapers on my handphone and computer, around the house and in my wallet.
Goal-setting theory demands I set a clearly defined and achievable goal within a specific time frame. 30 lbs in three months?
I shall get my friends to motivate me. Guys and girls, I'll appreciate if you drop me a line on MSN, SMS or call me. Start off with something like "Are you FAT yet?" - But preferably not at three in the morning.
At the end of the day, FAT!
Monday, November 17, 2008
Our Group
I had said I will not write about Atheism on this blog, but what the hell...
Too many cooks spoil the soup? Or is it the lost ones?
We have a site on each of the following medium: Facebook, Blogger, Youtube and Yahoo. Atheist Nexus is a touch point (think of it as an ad.)
There is also the Atheist Haven account Xianghong and I set up on meetup (now defunct). Despite our announcements that we are shutting down the site, it seems many people still referred to it as a bulletin board for our meetups.
One might have thought that the number of sites we have are sufficient. But, recently quite a few online groups are set up by one of our guys. We have the following on yahoo:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singapore_atheists
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/friendlyatheists
One other yahoo group (the url eludes me).
It became so confusing that people asked me why there were so many yahoo groups. (Yes, somehow I had to be the one to answer.) I wished I could offer an explanation, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t the one who set up these sites and I didn’t understand the rationale behind it.
Prior to this, all the messages we posted on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singapore_atheists were inexplicably erased. I can never figure out the reason behind this overkill. We thought we had a good thing going when we started the group, but now the forum is neglected. Three months since its inception, grand total number of postings: ZERO. One could almost cry.
On that accursed night of 27th October 2008, we endured over five hours of online conversation over conspiracy theories about one young punk who was alleged to be “behaving suspiciously”. Our dear friend got XH and I to vote if we are going to remove him as a writer on the blog. To implement such an extreme measure on the lack of concrete evidence for the punk’s defection was astonishing. What was even more shocking was that XH seconded the vote, I was kicked down, and we lost a writer.
Sometime around this time Clara entered the conversation. XH left to appease his wife and the three of us started debating about what was going on. I remember we were trying to talk to one another, but failed quite abjectly. Both Clara and I are very direct people. We believe that if you have a problem with someone, you talk to him or her. Our friend is quite the opposite. Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), and therefore non-confrontational, he refused to talk to our red-carded ex-writer. He believed that lots of things that are unproven are nevertheless true. Apparently being a HSP confers extraordinary powers of observations not available to the rest of us ordinary mortals.
Here lies the problem. How can answers be had if no attempts are made in the spirit of open inquiry? Human beings are inherently biased and perception is often skewed. We made wrong decisions all the time. We need people to remind us we are wrong. However, these facts of life cut no ice with our friend, who thinks in quite diametrically different ways. Around twelve, our young punk came online. Sick of the dead-end our conversation was heading, Clara yanked him into the window and demanded that they trashed things out.
What happened still gives me nightmares. The young punk was desperate to clear his name. He was willing to undertake whatever measures to achieve this, but our HSP friend would not hear of it. To him, giving him a chance to defend himself was akin to abetting his lying. The four of us were going on uselessly, trying to put our points across and I never thought the day would come when I, so often the agitator, had to play mediator in asking people to calm down and speak rationally.
Then the friend went hysterical (at least that was what I felt then, reading his words.) He thought we were putting him “on trial” and “hurting him.” From the start Clara and I had no such intention. We just wanted to get things resolved and hopefully everyone can become friends again. But it wasn’t to be. Surely a simple, old-school man-to-man talk would have accomplished more than what five hours of online typing could not. Why the need to drag things? Anyway, seeing our HSP’s desperate words appeared on my screen disturbed me profoundly. It looked like the final, hasty muttered words of a dying man. We tried to pacify him. I said we are not his ex-church and promised him if they ever tried to send him warning letters and threaten him again, I’ll walk right into that goddamn church with him and give the bastards hell. I don’t know how badly he suffered under that regime, but I meant every word I said and would welcome the chance to prove it.
Towards the end I had to turn in for the night because I had to get up early to work. Clara was with him for an hour. I rang her up and we decided to get Pearl out to discuss this (since she seems to be the most level-headed among us; and frustratingly we couldn’t get our HSP friend to sit down and talk.) Unfortunately, she wasn’t interested in this travesty so we got XH out instead.
We went, we talked, and we ended up lost. Anyway, our HSP guy’s temper seemed to have abated. (He even invited us to Flickr.), so we asked him out to celebrate Clara’s birthday.
He did ask about what we discussed during our little private meetup. I answered him quite succinctly and thought no more of it. After all, the five of us had fun, and surely it was water under the bridge. We talked about many things, including the need to have fewer groups so people won’t get confused. It all seemed fine to me then, but imagine my surprise when I received an email from our guy at 3am on Sunday morning, requesting I send him the transcript that the four of us had. Due to my Marketing report, I only answered him two days later. My MSN doesn’t keep records of conversation. I don’t know if he believes me or not, but maybe not.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that after that night (27/10/2008), I have never seen him online ever since. When we celebrated Pearl’s belated birthday on the same weekend, we couldn’t reach him at all. He did say he had something on, but we worried for him. For the past weeks I didn’t seem to be able to reach him or see him online. I am starting to feel like I’ve done something really bad. I would welcome the chance of talking things over. All these second-guessing are not very healthy.
To complicate matters, in one of the groups, I was demoted from moderator to member, before finally being removed. Xianghong said he was ejected too. While I could understand my “sending off” (for being sharp at a nimrod who happened to be in the group), my friend’s ejection was totally bewildering. He hadn’t done anything! No explanations were given. I think we deserve at least that much.
If even close aides could be cast aside without a thought, I think the rest might one day be kicked out. So the Clara and I decided to take matters into our hands. I added the Lass as a writer and changed the address of our blog from singaporeatheists to singaporeanatheists. (So better to emphasize our heritage.) We set up our own forum http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singaporeanatheists and a corresponding one on Facebook. Clara, XH and I will be the moderators of the yahoo site. Under our administration, nobody will “disappear”, unless for very good reasons.
It doesn’t ameliorate the mess when the friend suddenly unsubscribed from my group. Usually people would just sign up for a group and then became a ghost member. To unsubscribe seems extreme.
I thought I had done something horrendous, given my talent at pissing people off. Then I talked to Pearl and came to understand what was going on.
Our dear friend had taken upon himself to write a report, justifying my dismissal from his group and then sending it to every one of Pearl’s email accounts. It’s ludicrous, considering she wasn’t in the group and therefore uninterested in this ludicrous case. Instead of having my dismissal explained to me directly, I had to listen to the facts pertaining to my case from another person, as the “judge” didn’t deign to talk to me. There is something surreal and undeniably tragic about this sad affair. And later I even found that he had closed up his personal blog. What was that all about? What have we done?
Why the fixation with these blasted online sites?!
An online group is only as good as the commitment and sincerity of those who signed up. 5,000 members may seem impressive, but if nobody bothers to really get to know one another, it all amounts to zilch. At the end of the day, what are you going to do? Anybody with too much free time on his or her hands and an internet connection can sign up themselves up for lots of things, especially when these are free-of-charge.
People whom you have met in the flesh, and talked and done stuff with – these are what really matter. Look at Atheisthaven. Three years on and what have they achieved? Lull periods broken up by the odd ejaculation or heated pseudo-intellectual debates, and complemented by a willingness of its members not to see each other’s faces. Xianghong and I were so sick and tired of all these posturing and this is exactly the reason why we decided to form a real group instead.
I want to take this opportunity to reiterate XH and my Vision for the group:
We are primarily a group for Singaporeans and Singapore-based internationals who are atheists, agnostic, freethinkers and non-religious.
We also seek to provide the newly deconverted with support, as well as educate people who want to find out more about Atheism.
We are a non-profit group.
We encourage our people to mix around freely with each other. This is after all, a social network for Atheists and the non-religious.
We do not advocate violence and discrimination.
We are not political, activist, or support agendas beyond that of Atheism and social networking for the non-religious.
We do not restrict people from doing what they feel that is in their best interests. However, we take exception when such actions disrupt the group or harm its members in any way.
Please adhere to the principles stipulated above.
Finally, seek to clarify any doubts you may have. The moderators are there to assist you.
I cannot stress more vigorously the importance of having effective communication. Why are people seeing shadows where none exist? Are back-talking and stabbings more attractive than old-fashioned face-to-face chat? Why the need to imagine so much and seal yourself in a cocoon?
For the benefit or our misguided friend, nobody is going after you. None of us wants to exploit you or harm you. We are not forming any alliance with any other group, Atheist or otherwise. We operate according to the “manifesto” I included in this post, but should anyone feel some other groups are more congruent to his or her personal views, he or she can feel free to participate there. Even so, we shouldn’t “excommunicate” him or her because in principle and practice, people move between their friends. Nobody belongs to so-and-so exclusively.
We have no rights to stop people from following their heart, nor can we demand absolute obedience from them. If you feel something is wrong, voice it out. Keeping it to yourself and brooding on it is hazardous to your health and ours as well.
Because we give a damn.
Too many cooks spoil the soup? Or is it the lost ones?
We have a site on each of the following medium: Facebook, Blogger, Youtube and Yahoo. Atheist Nexus is a touch point (think of it as an ad.)
There is also the Atheist Haven account Xianghong and I set up on meetup (now defunct). Despite our announcements that we are shutting down the site, it seems many people still referred to it as a bulletin board for our meetups.
One might have thought that the number of sites we have are sufficient. But, recently quite a few online groups are set up by one of our guys. We have the following on yahoo:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singapore_atheists
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/friendlyatheists
One other yahoo group (the url eludes me).
It became so confusing that people asked me why there were so many yahoo groups. (Yes, somehow I had to be the one to answer.) I wished I could offer an explanation, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t the one who set up these sites and I didn’t understand the rationale behind it.
Prior to this, all the messages we posted on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singapore_atheists were inexplicably erased. I can never figure out the reason behind this overkill. We thought we had a good thing going when we started the group, but now the forum is neglected. Three months since its inception, grand total number of postings: ZERO. One could almost cry.
On that accursed night of 27th October 2008, we endured over five hours of online conversation over conspiracy theories about one young punk who was alleged to be “behaving suspiciously”. Our dear friend got XH and I to vote if we are going to remove him as a writer on the blog. To implement such an extreme measure on the lack of concrete evidence for the punk’s defection was astonishing. What was even more shocking was that XH seconded the vote, I was kicked down, and we lost a writer.
Sometime around this time Clara entered the conversation. XH left to appease his wife and the three of us started debating about what was going on. I remember we were trying to talk to one another, but failed quite abjectly. Both Clara and I are very direct people. We believe that if you have a problem with someone, you talk to him or her. Our friend is quite the opposite. Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), and therefore non-confrontational, he refused to talk to our red-carded ex-writer. He believed that lots of things that are unproven are nevertheless true. Apparently being a HSP confers extraordinary powers of observations not available to the rest of us ordinary mortals.
Here lies the problem. How can answers be had if no attempts are made in the spirit of open inquiry? Human beings are inherently biased and perception is often skewed. We made wrong decisions all the time. We need people to remind us we are wrong. However, these facts of life cut no ice with our friend, who thinks in quite diametrically different ways. Around twelve, our young punk came online. Sick of the dead-end our conversation was heading, Clara yanked him into the window and demanded that they trashed things out.
What happened still gives me nightmares. The young punk was desperate to clear his name. He was willing to undertake whatever measures to achieve this, but our HSP friend would not hear of it. To him, giving him a chance to defend himself was akin to abetting his lying. The four of us were going on uselessly, trying to put our points across and I never thought the day would come when I, so often the agitator, had to play mediator in asking people to calm down and speak rationally.
Then the friend went hysterical (at least that was what I felt then, reading his words.) He thought we were putting him “on trial” and “hurting him.” From the start Clara and I had no such intention. We just wanted to get things resolved and hopefully everyone can become friends again. But it wasn’t to be. Surely a simple, old-school man-to-man talk would have accomplished more than what five hours of online typing could not. Why the need to drag things? Anyway, seeing our HSP’s desperate words appeared on my screen disturbed me profoundly. It looked like the final, hasty muttered words of a dying man. We tried to pacify him. I said we are not his ex-church and promised him if they ever tried to send him warning letters and threaten him again, I’ll walk right into that goddamn church with him and give the bastards hell. I don’t know how badly he suffered under that regime, but I meant every word I said and would welcome the chance to prove it.
Towards the end I had to turn in for the night because I had to get up early to work. Clara was with him for an hour. I rang her up and we decided to get Pearl out to discuss this (since she seems to be the most level-headed among us; and frustratingly we couldn’t get our HSP friend to sit down and talk.) Unfortunately, she wasn’t interested in this travesty so we got XH out instead.
We went, we talked, and we ended up lost. Anyway, our HSP guy’s temper seemed to have abated. (He even invited us to Flickr.), so we asked him out to celebrate Clara’s birthday.
He did ask about what we discussed during our little private meetup. I answered him quite succinctly and thought no more of it. After all, the five of us had fun, and surely it was water under the bridge. We talked about many things, including the need to have fewer groups so people won’t get confused. It all seemed fine to me then, but imagine my surprise when I received an email from our guy at 3am on Sunday morning, requesting I send him the transcript that the four of us had. Due to my Marketing report, I only answered him two days later. My MSN doesn’t keep records of conversation. I don’t know if he believes me or not, but maybe not.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that after that night (27/10/2008), I have never seen him online ever since. When we celebrated Pearl’s belated birthday on the same weekend, we couldn’t reach him at all. He did say he had something on, but we worried for him. For the past weeks I didn’t seem to be able to reach him or see him online. I am starting to feel like I’ve done something really bad. I would welcome the chance of talking things over. All these second-guessing are not very healthy.
To complicate matters, in one of the groups, I was demoted from moderator to member, before finally being removed. Xianghong said he was ejected too. While I could understand my “sending off” (for being sharp at a nimrod who happened to be in the group), my friend’s ejection was totally bewildering. He hadn’t done anything! No explanations were given. I think we deserve at least that much.
If even close aides could be cast aside without a thought, I think the rest might one day be kicked out. So the Clara and I decided to take matters into our hands. I added the Lass as a writer and changed the address of our blog from singaporeatheists to singaporeanatheists. (So better to emphasize our heritage.) We set up our own forum http://groups.yahoo.com/group/singaporeanatheists and a corresponding one on Facebook. Clara, XH and I will be the moderators of the yahoo site. Under our administration, nobody will “disappear”, unless for very good reasons.
It doesn’t ameliorate the mess when the friend suddenly unsubscribed from my group. Usually people would just sign up for a group and then became a ghost member. To unsubscribe seems extreme.
I thought I had done something horrendous, given my talent at pissing people off. Then I talked to Pearl and came to understand what was going on.
Our dear friend had taken upon himself to write a report, justifying my dismissal from his group and then sending it to every one of Pearl’s email accounts. It’s ludicrous, considering she wasn’t in the group and therefore uninterested in this ludicrous case. Instead of having my dismissal explained to me directly, I had to listen to the facts pertaining to my case from another person, as the “judge” didn’t deign to talk to me. There is something surreal and undeniably tragic about this sad affair. And later I even found that he had closed up his personal blog. What was that all about? What have we done?
Why the fixation with these blasted online sites?!
An online group is only as good as the commitment and sincerity of those who signed up. 5,000 members may seem impressive, but if nobody bothers to really get to know one another, it all amounts to zilch. At the end of the day, what are you going to do? Anybody with too much free time on his or her hands and an internet connection can sign up themselves up for lots of things, especially when these are free-of-charge.
People whom you have met in the flesh, and talked and done stuff with – these are what really matter. Look at Atheisthaven. Three years on and what have they achieved? Lull periods broken up by the odd ejaculation or heated pseudo-intellectual debates, and complemented by a willingness of its members not to see each other’s faces. Xianghong and I were so sick and tired of all these posturing and this is exactly the reason why we decided to form a real group instead.
I want to take this opportunity to reiterate XH and my Vision for the group:
We are primarily a group for Singaporeans and Singapore-based internationals who are atheists, agnostic, freethinkers and non-religious.
We also seek to provide the newly deconverted with support, as well as educate people who want to find out more about Atheism.
We are a non-profit group.
We encourage our people to mix around freely with each other. This is after all, a social network for Atheists and the non-religious.
We do not advocate violence and discrimination.
We are not political, activist, or support agendas beyond that of Atheism and social networking for the non-religious.
We do not restrict people from doing what they feel that is in their best interests. However, we take exception when such actions disrupt the group or harm its members in any way.
Please adhere to the principles stipulated above.
Finally, seek to clarify any doubts you may have. The moderators are there to assist you.
I cannot stress more vigorously the importance of having effective communication. Why are people seeing shadows where none exist? Are back-talking and stabbings more attractive than old-fashioned face-to-face chat? Why the need to imagine so much and seal yourself in a cocoon?
For the benefit or our misguided friend, nobody is going after you. None of us wants to exploit you or harm you. We are not forming any alliance with any other group, Atheist or otherwise. We operate according to the “manifesto” I included in this post, but should anyone feel some other groups are more congruent to his or her personal views, he or she can feel free to participate there. Even so, we shouldn’t “excommunicate” him or her because in principle and practice, people move between their friends. Nobody belongs to so-and-so exclusively.
We have no rights to stop people from following their heart, nor can we demand absolute obedience from them. If you feel something is wrong, voice it out. Keeping it to yourself and brooding on it is hazardous to your health and ours as well.
Because we give a damn.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Spring Time with ME.
I am staring relegation down the throat and honestly, I don’t really give that much of a shit.
My attitude towards the Managerial Economics examination I endured this morning was nothing short of cavalier. “I went, I saw, and I wrote rubbish” just about sums it up. In truth there was little else I could do but to “take pot shots and hope one of these ends up at the back of the net.”
It’s funny, how you can use football parlance to describe academic pursuits:
I was there early and met Kenny, who was my project mate for that thrice-damned BUS 353 Project Management module. Both of us were taking the same examination and we weren’t exactly too optimistic of surviving it. It was his sup-paper (he failed managerial economics last season) while I contemplated the fate of following in his footsteps. We shot the shit more than we did our revision. Kenny said he struggled with his past year paper until five this morning but still failed to complete it. I looked at his paper and agreed with his less than favorable assessment of it. Somebody should throw this piece of trash to those fat pricks at Wall Street and make sure they answer it. What is not meant for normal human beings should be fit for those de-evoluted creatures.
After 30 minutes of non-productivity, we went up and waited outside the examination hall. This must be what pigs must feel when they are dragged to the abattoir. I saw many faces looking lost. Maybe lots of people will fail and they have to modulate the marks. Hope springs eternal.
They called us in and I went to my seat. It was somewhere at the back and I was appalled at the lack of good looking broads in my vicinity. I had planned to write my name; wait for the mandatory 30 minutes before leaving. Some lovely scenery would alleviate my boredom during the tedious 1800 seconds. However, it was not to be. It turned out quite the opposite as I had envisioned.
The questions didn’t seem too difficult. Problem was, I was hardly on friendly terms with them. It was compos mentis for me right from the start. I was calm and collected, in full possession of my facilities. I went nice and easy, taking nearly 20 minutes to answer four 2-4 marks questions. I then decided to skip the second part of the first question and tackled the other three questions instead. I ended up doing these by bits and parts. What I could remember, I wrote. What I couldn’t understand, I wrote. What I completely didn’t understand, I also wrote. In football, we call this the percentage game. The more crosses you swing into the box, the higher the chance of someone getting on the end of it. I scribbled as much rubbish as I could compose, or imagine. A half-mark for bad trash and some marks for good trash – hopefully they all add up to 40 points (the minimum to escape relegation).
Towards the end the strain got to me and I lapsed into non compos mentis. I thought of the broad I saw earlier. She was also in my Organizational Behavior class ‘last season’ and she stood out from the rest with her 1.8m height, and more importantly, her impressive rack. I fantasized about making out with her and I nearly paid for my lapse of concentration by substituting in the wrong value. Tsk! I should have kept my eyes on the ball. But which ones? I looked around and I saw no balls. I returned to my papers and I caught no balls. Balls! Balls! One could go BALListic!
Anyway, I returned to the first question and tried to conjure up some magic with it. The question required that I find the values from points A to H. No formula materialized in my mind, and with the minutes ticking away, I decided that desperate situations demand desperate measures. Using my ruler, I measured the points on the graph and co-referenced their positions to the values given on the x and y axis. The results? Values that come from nowhere! Not very academic I know, but they didn’t explicitly tell us to explain how we arrived at our answers. So what’s wrong with good old Gawd told me so?
I didn’t even proofread my answers. Why bother checking when you don’t even know what to check for? This is the most relaxing examination I have taken since I enrolled in my university. According to Buddhism, “without attachment, there is no fear.” Spot on! I wouldn’t call it “without attachment” – “don’t give a flying shit” sounds about right.
Most people stayed until the final whistle. The lumbering fashion in which the invigilators collected the scripts reminded me of extra time. I needed to go to the washroom badly. I tried to distract myself from my pressing need by ogling at the broad sitting at table F30 (I think). From my diagonal view she had a nice rack but her elephantine waist and nondescript face turned me off. I shook my legs, closed my eyes, thought of the broad (the one with my height and good rack – hers, not mine). They finally satisfied themselves with our agony and everybody shot straight off from the ground.
I have Marketing on Friday morning and I don’t feel like revising it now. That’s why I’m writing this. My head hurts and I think a nice siesta is in order. (A good workout with the broad is also a pleasant alternative, but I have to make do with sleep, at least for now.)
Two games in the space of 48 hours. Damn. These over-paid Premiership footballers think playing three games in a week is bad? Try swapping places with me and see how these over-rated and over-hyped twats fare. It’s sickening.
By the way, Paddy Powers and William Hills are offering good odds on me being relegated this season. SingaporePoo are also taking in bets, but at a “statistically significant” 1.00000001 payout, punters should keep away.
That’s it. SHUT DOWN!
My attitude towards the Managerial Economics examination I endured this morning was nothing short of cavalier. “I went, I saw, and I wrote rubbish” just about sums it up. In truth there was little else I could do but to “take pot shots and hope one of these ends up at the back of the net.”
It’s funny, how you can use football parlance to describe academic pursuits:
I was there early and met Kenny, who was my project mate for that thrice-damned BUS 353 Project Management module. Both of us were taking the same examination and we weren’t exactly too optimistic of surviving it. It was his sup-paper (he failed managerial economics last season) while I contemplated the fate of following in his footsteps. We shot the shit more than we did our revision. Kenny said he struggled with his past year paper until five this morning but still failed to complete it. I looked at his paper and agreed with his less than favorable assessment of it. Somebody should throw this piece of trash to those fat pricks at Wall Street and make sure they answer it. What is not meant for normal human beings should be fit for those de-evoluted creatures.
After 30 minutes of non-productivity, we went up and waited outside the examination hall. This must be what pigs must feel when they are dragged to the abattoir. I saw many faces looking lost. Maybe lots of people will fail and they have to modulate the marks. Hope springs eternal.
They called us in and I went to my seat. It was somewhere at the back and I was appalled at the lack of good looking broads in my vicinity. I had planned to write my name; wait for the mandatory 30 minutes before leaving. Some lovely scenery would alleviate my boredom during the tedious 1800 seconds. However, it was not to be. It turned out quite the opposite as I had envisioned.
The questions didn’t seem too difficult. Problem was, I was hardly on friendly terms with them. It was compos mentis for me right from the start. I was calm and collected, in full possession of my facilities. I went nice and easy, taking nearly 20 minutes to answer four 2-4 marks questions. I then decided to skip the second part of the first question and tackled the other three questions instead. I ended up doing these by bits and parts. What I could remember, I wrote. What I couldn’t understand, I wrote. What I completely didn’t understand, I also wrote. In football, we call this the percentage game. The more crosses you swing into the box, the higher the chance of someone getting on the end of it. I scribbled as much rubbish as I could compose, or imagine. A half-mark for bad trash and some marks for good trash – hopefully they all add up to 40 points (the minimum to escape relegation).
Towards the end the strain got to me and I lapsed into non compos mentis. I thought of the broad I saw earlier. She was also in my Organizational Behavior class ‘last season’ and she stood out from the rest with her 1.8m height, and more importantly, her impressive rack. I fantasized about making out with her and I nearly paid for my lapse of concentration by substituting in the wrong value. Tsk! I should have kept my eyes on the ball. But which ones? I looked around and I saw no balls. I returned to my papers and I caught no balls. Balls! Balls! One could go BALListic!
Anyway, I returned to the first question and tried to conjure up some magic with it. The question required that I find the values from points A to H. No formula materialized in my mind, and with the minutes ticking away, I decided that desperate situations demand desperate measures. Using my ruler, I measured the points on the graph and co-referenced their positions to the values given on the x and y axis. The results? Values that come from nowhere! Not very academic I know, but they didn’t explicitly tell us to explain how we arrived at our answers. So what’s wrong with good old Gawd told me so?
I didn’t even proofread my answers. Why bother checking when you don’t even know what to check for? This is the most relaxing examination I have taken since I enrolled in my university. According to Buddhism, “without attachment, there is no fear.” Spot on! I wouldn’t call it “without attachment” – “don’t give a flying shit” sounds about right.
Most people stayed until the final whistle. The lumbering fashion in which the invigilators collected the scripts reminded me of extra time. I needed to go to the washroom badly. I tried to distract myself from my pressing need by ogling at the broad sitting at table F30 (I think). From my diagonal view she had a nice rack but her elephantine waist and nondescript face turned me off. I shook my legs, closed my eyes, thought of the broad (the one with my height and good rack – hers, not mine). They finally satisfied themselves with our agony and everybody shot straight off from the ground.
I have Marketing on Friday morning and I don’t feel like revising it now. That’s why I’m writing this. My head hurts and I think a nice siesta is in order. (A good workout with the broad is also a pleasant alternative, but I have to make do with sleep, at least for now.)
Two games in the space of 48 hours. Damn. These over-paid Premiership footballers think playing three games in a week is bad? Try swapping places with me and see how these over-rated and over-hyped twats fare. It’s sickening.
By the way, Paddy Powers and William Hills are offering good odds on me being relegated this season. SingaporePoo are also taking in bets, but at a “statistically significant” 1.00000001 payout, punters should keep away.
That’s it. SHUT DOWN!
Monday, November 3, 2008
18, now 25.
Pearl turns 25 today. Here's wishing her a splendid birthday.
We'll give her a nice celebration.
I love PZ Myer's blog and its tagline: "Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal."
I want to emulate him.
"Random ejaculations from a philistine" sounds about right.
All blokes are voyeurs.
Marriage - engagement ring, wedding ring, suffering.
Cockroaches! I am besieged by cockroaches!
Dog: a slobbering, obnoxious, loud, awkward and devolved creature, bereft of intelligence and having none of the elegance and beauty of a cat.
I am gentle, kind and loving.
The world needs more HSPs - Highly Sexy Persons.
We would all be holy and religious if God were Monica Belluci. But then, maybe not.
I thank God that I am born an Atheist.
Replace the ugly cast of Sex and the City with Denise Milani, Jessica Alba, Monica Belluci and Lucy Pinder.
An extraordinary day.
We'll give her a nice celebration.
I love PZ Myer's blog and its tagline: "Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal."
I want to emulate him.
"Random ejaculations from a philistine" sounds about right.
All blokes are voyeurs.
Marriage - engagement ring, wedding ring, suffering.
Cockroaches! I am besieged by cockroaches!
Dog: a slobbering, obnoxious, loud, awkward and devolved creature, bereft of intelligence and having none of the elegance and beauty of a cat.
I am gentle, kind and loving.
The world needs more HSPs - Highly Sexy Persons.
We would all be holy and religious if God were Monica Belluci. But then, maybe not.
I thank God that I am born an Atheist.
Replace the ugly cast of Sex and the City with Denise Milani, Jessica Alba, Monica Belluci and Lucy Pinder.
An extraordinary day.
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