Everton have finally signed an experienced player. A Russian international with a nice left peg and some 20 caps for his country. The news is that we are going to get an Argentine international on loan. We may be selling Lescott to that Al Queda from Manchester, but it is no big loss because we still have a decent defence. It is our attack that is shite.
It is all too obvious that after that horror show at Burnley, drastic changes are in order. We cannot just base our game purely on a solid defence and rely on our opponents to make mistakes. They will get smart to our plan sooner or later and at Burnley we got found out. It is time to attack. We must be the most defensive team in the division. Hell, we finished fifth last season. If worse teams than us dare to attack I don't see why we have to play tortoise.
And yes, the Shite lost to Villa this morning. Three games played, one win, and two losses. Keep it up you bloodshitting bastards. Let's see you do a Newcastle.
It's Sigma in two days' time. We have a healthy 4:0 lead from the first leg, and should go through. The more important game is the one against Wigan. After their capitulation to ManUre they are going to want to prove a point. Both sides are just as bad as each other. We got murdered 6:1 by the Arse at home and they suffered a 5:0 reversal, also at home. Both have lost to newly promoted sides. This has the feeling of a relegation 'six-pointer'. To happen this early in the season, well, the league has gone crazy and we are going through that sticky patch again.
Whatever the result, Moyes, please get the boys to attack. We are at home, Wigan are shite and if we attack them right from the start there is no reason why we cannot get a positive result. Get that beggary-looking Jo to play right wing. Osman is not fast enough to be a winger. Peanuts can play on the left. King Louis plays target man, with Fell and Joey alternating positions behind him. Rodwell can clean up things in front of the back four.
Get Neville to play right, Baines left, and in centre, Yobo and Neville, with the former as sweeper. Howard continues in goal. Play direct attacking football. Wigan will crumble.
At the end of all these, one thing which I am mightily relieved. Senderos is not our player!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
To Err is Human, to Complain, Divine
I have not been in the best condition for the past few days. I am suffering from a cough that threatens to worsen. My eyes are tired and my body is lethargic. My bloodied knee continue to seep blood and pus, making every re-bandaging a tedious and painful exercise. I have not weighed myself, but I know surely, from looking myself in the mirror, that I have lost a pound or two.
I curse this physical frame. I hate it for being weak. For all my efforts at bulking up and strength-training, it remains unresponsive. I should have been stronger, faster and sturdier but I seem to be getting weaker. It will not be long before I end up being one of those sad sacks who can never pass their annual physical fitness test, or the jokers who claim to be weekend warriors but look in danger of expiration ten minutes into a football game.
I curse my intellectual faculties. My learning curve should have been sharper, my memory more reliable, and my reasoning powers crisper. I am not happy. I feel that I am barely above the dullards that make up most of the general population. The more I read the more aware I am of my intellectual incapability. The difficulty in focusing, and the concentration lapses that seem to be increasing in frequency are worrying. I fear that I may be senile before I turn 35, and drooling away while mumbling 'gaga...' before 40. I have never known anybody who is 'gracefully senile', not in the way some who 'age gracefully' are. Former atheist philosopher Anthony Flew is a prime example. The Old Dog Thief who recently changed our National Pledge to 'National Aspiration' is another. There are men who have gone - to borrow from the Lass - wonky and died soon after. Then there are those who linger on like restless and vindictive spirits out for revenge, bringing pain to themselves and the people around them. Death is a mercy, and sadly it comes too soon for some, and too late for others.
Why am I writing this now? I have no idea. It is one of those days when you decide that you just have to ramble meaningless things that are meaningless to everybody else and equally as meaningless (well, almost) as they are to yourself. Some wit once said that writing sets you free. I presume he is now dead - and free.
Freedom is a strange word in these parts. Uttered frequently but never taken seriously, it has degenerated from a pedantic ideal to lip service, and now it is associated with anarchy and fear. What form will its degradation take next? Can it sink even lower? Give it a spade and let it dig, I say. It is but a mere word and nothing more. Just empty rhetoric and a 'mere puff'. How can anyone enjoy freedom when tyranny is in power? How can there be freedom when people do not even recognize they live under the thrall of oppression? How can people recognize freedom when they do not even bother to think beyond what the state propaganda machinery infests their brains with, or worse, fear to think for themselves because as we know, thinking too much does nobody good?
The Seventh Month is upon us. The streets are littered with scattered Hell notes, ashes, and remains of joss sticks and offerings. The air is arid, its smell the stink of Gehenna mingled with the smokiness of Hades. The perfume houses ought to bottle it up. It will be a great hit in Milan and Paris. Heavenly scenes are so passe. Hellish is in; they can name this perfume Hell, by Coco, or better still Stink, by Shithole. A fitting tribute to a land that sits in the middle of the Hells, haunted by the disembodied shades of Freedom, as it begins its inexorable descend into more abyssal realms.
What greeted me during lunch was hostile scenery. We are truly an inferior species. I choose the word 'inferior' over 'infernal' so as not to draw comparisons with the lower planar beings in mythology. I do not wish to insult them, even though I am an atheist and to me, they are nothing more than figments of some wild imagination. With these lower planar creatures you know what you are going to get. The horrible ones are suitably horrible looking (although still resplendent with horns, tail and bat wings). The beautiful ones (the sucubi and incubi) are simply stunning.
On a scale we would be somewhat in the middle, although in some cases the balance would be skewed towards the grotesque. I think we are an ugly people in general. Let's just leave noxious habits like booking seats with tissue papers and spewing Singlish like it's some legitimate language aside, and focus on the physical aesthetics. On a scale of 10, maybe I will give us a 3.5 or 4, the kind of score that hovers between outright failure, a provisional pass and a bare pass.
Many of us either appear malnourished or overfed. Many of the females look like they are permanently stuck in puberty. The thin ones are often short, reed skinny, flat, in some cases, have rough complexion. The fat ones have a propensity to dress themselves like they are some roast piglet about to be served as part of a wedding feast. The males are no better. Lacking in height and manly musculature, many carry beer bellies, thin shoulders and/or bad complexion. Our gene pool is undoubtedly bad. Considering our easy accessibility to food and healthcare, our bad physical attributes cannot be excused. It is all too easy to blame it on our humid weather. Why are Malaysian girls better looking than our local girls then? We live in the similar climates, eat basically the same oily food and why are the results so different? I think for males we are taller than our friends across the border but that is not an issue I care to concern myself with because I am not gay.
It is extremely demoralizing to wake up in the morning, board the overcrowded and suffocating train and find yourself encased (it feels more like entombed) along with specimens who are not only aesthetically unimpressive, but bereft of soul and spirit. There is no spark in their eyes, no energy in their movements. They could have been walking corpses, save for the barely inaudible sound of their breathing (wheezing). I could have been one of them. I am hardly impressive-looking myself, although at least nobody would ever mistake me for Frodo. The devil is in the details, and the details are in my eyes. Nobody will ever mistake my spiteful glare for the resigned look in the eyes of the doe-eyed sheep.
I am spiteful because I am stuck here. Stuck in this place where meritocracy is merely mediocracy, nepotism and cronyism repackaged, where efficiency is mistaken for effectiveness, where dreams are shattered and hopes trampled underfoot by an unyielding and spiritually repulsive mercantile culture.
My national aspiration is to live in a place where I have elbow space wherever I walk. A place that does not send people to court for the slightest of infringements. A place where people are truly diverse, not merely in the sense of skin colour, but in viewpoints and characteristics, and that the celebration or condemnation of this quality is not enforced by draconian laws and social engineering, but by the will of those who choose to live thus. A place where liberty is a necessity, not a privilege, where freedom of speech and expression is inviolate and the people allowed to pursue their dreams and live as they will. Most importantly, I desire a place where I can break free of this mediocrity, and raise to my potential, to self-actualize, to become. Never mind if this comes at a cost. The higher crime rate, the racism and the status of being a non-citizen (or a second-class one) cannot compare to the zombifying existence in this Hell. Some people live their lives, some earn their living, others just hope to die quickly and hope to be reborn in a better place. What chance of the first in this wretched place?
I curse this physical frame. I hate it for being weak. For all my efforts at bulking up and strength-training, it remains unresponsive. I should have been stronger, faster and sturdier but I seem to be getting weaker. It will not be long before I end up being one of those sad sacks who can never pass their annual physical fitness test, or the jokers who claim to be weekend warriors but look in danger of expiration ten minutes into a football game.
I curse my intellectual faculties. My learning curve should have been sharper, my memory more reliable, and my reasoning powers crisper. I am not happy. I feel that I am barely above the dullards that make up most of the general population. The more I read the more aware I am of my intellectual incapability. The difficulty in focusing, and the concentration lapses that seem to be increasing in frequency are worrying. I fear that I may be senile before I turn 35, and drooling away while mumbling 'gaga...' before 40. I have never known anybody who is 'gracefully senile', not in the way some who 'age gracefully' are. Former atheist philosopher Anthony Flew is a prime example. The Old Dog Thief who recently changed our National Pledge to 'National Aspiration' is another. There are men who have gone - to borrow from the Lass - wonky and died soon after. Then there are those who linger on like restless and vindictive spirits out for revenge, bringing pain to themselves and the people around them. Death is a mercy, and sadly it comes too soon for some, and too late for others.
Why am I writing this now? I have no idea. It is one of those days when you decide that you just have to ramble meaningless things that are meaningless to everybody else and equally as meaningless (well, almost) as they are to yourself. Some wit once said that writing sets you free. I presume he is now dead - and free.
Freedom is a strange word in these parts. Uttered frequently but never taken seriously, it has degenerated from a pedantic ideal to lip service, and now it is associated with anarchy and fear. What form will its degradation take next? Can it sink even lower? Give it a spade and let it dig, I say. It is but a mere word and nothing more. Just empty rhetoric and a 'mere puff'. How can anyone enjoy freedom when tyranny is in power? How can there be freedom when people do not even recognize they live under the thrall of oppression? How can people recognize freedom when they do not even bother to think beyond what the state propaganda machinery infests their brains with, or worse, fear to think for themselves because as we know, thinking too much does nobody good?
The Seventh Month is upon us. The streets are littered with scattered Hell notes, ashes, and remains of joss sticks and offerings. The air is arid, its smell the stink of Gehenna mingled with the smokiness of Hades. The perfume houses ought to bottle it up. It will be a great hit in Milan and Paris. Heavenly scenes are so passe. Hellish is in; they can name this perfume Hell, by Coco, or better still Stink, by Shithole. A fitting tribute to a land that sits in the middle of the Hells, haunted by the disembodied shades of Freedom, as it begins its inexorable descend into more abyssal realms.
What greeted me during lunch was hostile scenery. We are truly an inferior species. I choose the word 'inferior' over 'infernal' so as not to draw comparisons with the lower planar beings in mythology. I do not wish to insult them, even though I am an atheist and to me, they are nothing more than figments of some wild imagination. With these lower planar creatures you know what you are going to get. The horrible ones are suitably horrible looking (although still resplendent with horns, tail and bat wings). The beautiful ones (the sucubi and incubi) are simply stunning.
On a scale we would be somewhat in the middle, although in some cases the balance would be skewed towards the grotesque. I think we are an ugly people in general. Let's just leave noxious habits like booking seats with tissue papers and spewing Singlish like it's some legitimate language aside, and focus on the physical aesthetics. On a scale of 10, maybe I will give us a 3.5 or 4, the kind of score that hovers between outright failure, a provisional pass and a bare pass.
Many of us either appear malnourished or overfed. Many of the females look like they are permanently stuck in puberty. The thin ones are often short, reed skinny, flat, in some cases, have rough complexion. The fat ones have a propensity to dress themselves like they are some roast piglet about to be served as part of a wedding feast. The males are no better. Lacking in height and manly musculature, many carry beer bellies, thin shoulders and/or bad complexion. Our gene pool is undoubtedly bad. Considering our easy accessibility to food and healthcare, our bad physical attributes cannot be excused. It is all too easy to blame it on our humid weather. Why are Malaysian girls better looking than our local girls then? We live in the similar climates, eat basically the same oily food and why are the results so different? I think for males we are taller than our friends across the border but that is not an issue I care to concern myself with because I am not gay.
It is extremely demoralizing to wake up in the morning, board the overcrowded and suffocating train and find yourself encased (it feels more like entombed) along with specimens who are not only aesthetically unimpressive, but bereft of soul and spirit. There is no spark in their eyes, no energy in their movements. They could have been walking corpses, save for the barely inaudible sound of their breathing (wheezing). I could have been one of them. I am hardly impressive-looking myself, although at least nobody would ever mistake me for Frodo. The devil is in the details, and the details are in my eyes. Nobody will ever mistake my spiteful glare for the resigned look in the eyes of the doe-eyed sheep.
I am spiteful because I am stuck here. Stuck in this place where meritocracy is merely mediocracy, nepotism and cronyism repackaged, where efficiency is mistaken for effectiveness, where dreams are shattered and hopes trampled underfoot by an unyielding and spiritually repulsive mercantile culture.
My national aspiration is to live in a place where I have elbow space wherever I walk. A place that does not send people to court for the slightest of infringements. A place where people are truly diverse, not merely in the sense of skin colour, but in viewpoints and characteristics, and that the celebration or condemnation of this quality is not enforced by draconian laws and social engineering, but by the will of those who choose to live thus. A place where liberty is a necessity, not a privilege, where freedom of speech and expression is inviolate and the people allowed to pursue their dreams and live as they will. Most importantly, I desire a place where I can break free of this mediocrity, and raise to my potential, to self-actualize, to become. Never mind if this comes at a cost. The higher crime rate, the racism and the status of being a non-citizen (or a second-class one) cannot compare to the zombifying existence in this Hell. Some people live their lives, some earn their living, others just hope to die quickly and hope to be reborn in a better place. What chance of the first in this wretched place?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Share the Pain
I took home more than a 3:1 defeat in my football match this afternoon.
Not happy that I had robbed him of the ball, that whoreson of my opponent - with his accomplice in tow - chased me 20 metres horizontally across midfield. I was looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, but the entire flank was empty. My shock caused me to reduce my pace slightly, giving the two bugbears on my heels the chance to clatter into me.
I was sending flying into the sandy pitch, its abrasive surface unforgiving. If I had not rolled with the fall my kneecap could have been scrapped raw to the bone. As it happened, I escaped with a chafed knee and a few red lines on the back of my left forearm.
Guess what, not even a yellow card for the perpetrators. I should have stayed down, groaned like I am being drawn and quartered, and rolled about for effect instead of getting straight up.
Look at the blood, the furrows (don't they look like tract marks?), and the globules. Four hours and it was still bleeding.
It is now bandaged and no longer leaking. When I take it off for my shower tomorrow, it better not start.
Not happy that I had robbed him of the ball, that whoreson of my opponent - with his accomplice in tow - chased me 20 metres horizontally across midfield. I was looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, but the entire flank was empty. My shock caused me to reduce my pace slightly, giving the two bugbears on my heels the chance to clatter into me.
I was sending flying into the sandy pitch, its abrasive surface unforgiving. If I had not rolled with the fall my kneecap could have been scrapped raw to the bone. As it happened, I escaped with a chafed knee and a few red lines on the back of my left forearm.
Guess what, not even a yellow card for the perpetrators. I should have stayed down, groaned like I am being drawn and quartered, and rolled about for effect instead of getting straight up.
Look at the blood, the furrows (don't they look like tract marks?), and the globules. Four hours and it was still bleeding.
It is now bandaged and no longer leaking. When I take it off for my shower tomorrow, it better not start.
Monday, August 10, 2009
What Have I Done to Deserve This?!
The long weekend has been an extended nightmare. The only thing good that came out of it was that I was able to get some real sleep. And of course, let’s not forget that pulsating Charity Shield game between Manure and Chelski.
My neighbour from a few doors away is singing like his life depends on it. I don’t know how the family living next door to him can possibly put up with his death throes. They must either be dead or deaf.
Now, there is a very real difference between singing the karaoke and hollering like you are witnessing your mother, sisters and daughters being raped. If I were in a more charitable mood I would have compared his tuneless dirge to the squealing of terrified pigs at the abattoir, but no luck for this pest. For once I actually find our national anthem bearable. That takes some doing. The shrieking bastard should sign up for Singapore Idol. He would bring the house down.
My neighbour next door is just barely better. The problem with the family is that they can be hopelessly inconsiderate, although they have some mitigating factor on their side, like stupidity. I have no right complaining about people inviting more people for housewarming than what their tiny flat could have accommodated, but the least they could do is to make sure the animals they bring home do not smoke, eat and then litter in the corridor. Squatting on a neighbour’s doorstep like some hobo is really unnecessary. Surely an animal does not need to mark its territory when they are just passing through an area.
I hate dogs and personally I think dog lovers are generally stupid. It is therefore unfortunate that my neighbours two doors away has to keep a yapping mutt. We have notified the fuzz and the town council about the incessant row this obnoxious creature has been making but obviously no action has been taken because they still own the bloody thing.
At times I feel sorry that we are not allowed to own firearms in Singapore. With such people, there is a procedure when it comes to talking reason. First, you talk nicely. When it doesn’t work, you persuade them with a baseball bat. When that fails, a good spray with an AK 47 would to make them wake up their ideas, assuming they do wake up after that.
The football on Saturday was rather stupid. I was the only one in my team having a go. There was the haze, but even that was no excuse for not running. All I heard was pathetic wailing about how “I am tired”, and “how I cannot run”. This is pathetic. I have played football with guys 10 to 20 years my senior and for the most part they didn’t moan like some strumpet turning a trick. And here we are, talking about guys mostly in their early to mid-twenties.
It’s really pathetic. The younger generation is getting weaker. Some are even weak in the head. I nearly lost it when Ed told me that he COULD NOT mark their striker because he was too fast and skillful. I say, what crap is this?! He also had this irritating reluctance to use his left foot. I felt really disgusted as I kept seeing him jerk himself around so that the ball could be on his right foot all the time. It’s fucking ugly. Guess what his excuse was?
I CAN’T USE MY LEFT FOOT! Oh joy.
During rest time one guy said that we were not up to the other team. I replied that like them, we also have five in the squad and ten legs (even with Ed “I can’t use my left foot” around), so what’s the difference? They sort of shut up but I didn’t really get their ear when I talked after that. I am so expert at bruising crystal hard egos.
I think maybe I should switch sports. Take up Mixed Martial Arts fights. I generally don’t have a problem doing team sports, even if my teammates are less skillful or physically inferior. What gets my goat are the defeatists who keep wailing about how we are not good enough, how fucking tired they are, and how good the other team is, yabba yap yap. (If our opponents are that good, they would be professionals and not amateurs like us.) Besides being yellow bastards, they are stupid as well.
I saw a Muay Thai match at Singapore Polytechnic last month. It was an affair between SP and NUS. It was a sorry spectacle and a fucking disgrace. The two fighters – if you can call these clowns that – were basically “pillow fighting” each other, so weak their punches and kicks were. Maybe this is a sign for me to take up tournament fighting. If my opponents are like that I will surely win many matches. Unlike in football where I get let down by wailing slackers, there is no chance of that happening in martial arts fights. If I lose, I only get bloodied, without having the added torture of listening to crap from my crappy teammates. If I win, the credit is all mine. ALL MINE.
Earlier in the day I went to the nearby library to do research on my Human Resource Management (HRM 201) case study. It turned out to be a waste of time. I could not find suitable material there. I thought of going to my university library but a phone call confirmed that it is closed for the holidays.
I tried to do my research on the Net but the material was too specified for me to find anything useful. The problem with business research is that too often these fucking ivory-tower academics coin their own terms and then you cannot get them in other publications and sources. It is frustrating. I am looking at two group projects and two MCQs within the next week or so, and I have neither the clue nor the resources to complete my tasks.
Of course, the HRM 201 fiasco could have been averted had my university being more competent. It’s been three weeks since the season started and we haven’t got our textbook. As a “convenience” to us, the university have taken upon themselves to photocopy chapters from the textbook and distribute them to us. Instead of giving them to us a few chapters at a time, why not just give us the whole damn thing? Stop treating us like we are beggars asking for a handout, you shameless bastards! After all, the university DON’T EVEN KNOW when the supplier will come good and deliver the fucking textbooks! SO STOP THIS BULLSHIT! YOU WANT MONEY?! I am sure we can pay for a reproduced copy of the ENTIRE textbook.
WE CAN PAY! YOU HEAR THAT, YOU GREEDY MONEY GRABBING WHORESONS?! WE CAN PAY!
My neighbour from a few doors away is singing like his life depends on it. I don’t know how the family living next door to him can possibly put up with his death throes. They must either be dead or deaf.
Now, there is a very real difference between singing the karaoke and hollering like you are witnessing your mother, sisters and daughters being raped. If I were in a more charitable mood I would have compared his tuneless dirge to the squealing of terrified pigs at the abattoir, but no luck for this pest. For once I actually find our national anthem bearable. That takes some doing. The shrieking bastard should sign up for Singapore Idol. He would bring the house down.
My neighbour next door is just barely better. The problem with the family is that they can be hopelessly inconsiderate, although they have some mitigating factor on their side, like stupidity. I have no right complaining about people inviting more people for housewarming than what their tiny flat could have accommodated, but the least they could do is to make sure the animals they bring home do not smoke, eat and then litter in the corridor. Squatting on a neighbour’s doorstep like some hobo is really unnecessary. Surely an animal does not need to mark its territory when they are just passing through an area.
I hate dogs and personally I think dog lovers are generally stupid. It is therefore unfortunate that my neighbours two doors away has to keep a yapping mutt. We have notified the fuzz and the town council about the incessant row this obnoxious creature has been making but obviously no action has been taken because they still own the bloody thing.
At times I feel sorry that we are not allowed to own firearms in Singapore. With such people, there is a procedure when it comes to talking reason. First, you talk nicely. When it doesn’t work, you persuade them with a baseball bat. When that fails, a good spray with an AK 47 would to make them wake up their ideas, assuming they do wake up after that.
The football on Saturday was rather stupid. I was the only one in my team having a go. There was the haze, but even that was no excuse for not running. All I heard was pathetic wailing about how “I am tired”, and “how I cannot run”. This is pathetic. I have played football with guys 10 to 20 years my senior and for the most part they didn’t moan like some strumpet turning a trick. And here we are, talking about guys mostly in their early to mid-twenties.
It’s really pathetic. The younger generation is getting weaker. Some are even weak in the head. I nearly lost it when Ed told me that he COULD NOT mark their striker because he was too fast and skillful. I say, what crap is this?! He also had this irritating reluctance to use his left foot. I felt really disgusted as I kept seeing him jerk himself around so that the ball could be on his right foot all the time. It’s fucking ugly. Guess what his excuse was?
I CAN’T USE MY LEFT FOOT! Oh joy.
During rest time one guy said that we were not up to the other team. I replied that like them, we also have five in the squad and ten legs (even with Ed “I can’t use my left foot” around), so what’s the difference? They sort of shut up but I didn’t really get their ear when I talked after that. I am so expert at bruising crystal hard egos.
I think maybe I should switch sports. Take up Mixed Martial Arts fights. I generally don’t have a problem doing team sports, even if my teammates are less skillful or physically inferior. What gets my goat are the defeatists who keep wailing about how we are not good enough, how fucking tired they are, and how good the other team is, yabba yap yap. (If our opponents are that good, they would be professionals and not amateurs like us.) Besides being yellow bastards, they are stupid as well.
I saw a Muay Thai match at Singapore Polytechnic last month. It was an affair between SP and NUS. It was a sorry spectacle and a fucking disgrace. The two fighters – if you can call these clowns that – were basically “pillow fighting” each other, so weak their punches and kicks were. Maybe this is a sign for me to take up tournament fighting. If my opponents are like that I will surely win many matches. Unlike in football where I get let down by wailing slackers, there is no chance of that happening in martial arts fights. If I lose, I only get bloodied, without having the added torture of listening to crap from my crappy teammates. If I win, the credit is all mine. ALL MINE.
Earlier in the day I went to the nearby library to do research on my Human Resource Management (HRM 201) case study. It turned out to be a waste of time. I could not find suitable material there. I thought of going to my university library but a phone call confirmed that it is closed for the holidays.
I tried to do my research on the Net but the material was too specified for me to find anything useful. The problem with business research is that too often these fucking ivory-tower academics coin their own terms and then you cannot get them in other publications and sources. It is frustrating. I am looking at two group projects and two MCQs within the next week or so, and I have neither the clue nor the resources to complete my tasks.
Of course, the HRM 201 fiasco could have been averted had my university being more competent. It’s been three weeks since the season started and we haven’t got our textbook. As a “convenience” to us, the university have taken upon themselves to photocopy chapters from the textbook and distribute them to us. Instead of giving them to us a few chapters at a time, why not just give us the whole damn thing? Stop treating us like we are beggars asking for a handout, you shameless bastards! After all, the university DON’T EVEN KNOW when the supplier will come good and deliver the fucking textbooks! SO STOP THIS BULLSHIT! YOU WANT MONEY?! I am sure we can pay for a reproduced copy of the ENTIRE textbook.
WE CAN PAY! YOU HEAR THAT, YOU GREEDY MONEY GRABBING WHORESONS?! WE CAN PAY!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
More Writhing
I am following the Blues’ fortunes (or should I say, misfortunes) on Twitter. Lescott has verbally requested a transfer to the Shitteeh. The gaffer should extort the Middle-east bastards for 30 to 40 million. With that kind of money we should be able to get a couple of creative players to complement our hardworking ethos.
With Jo damaging his ankle and Fellaini struggling for full fitness after a virus, the Blues are left dangerously thin. Peanuts won’t sign a new contract. Arteta, Yakubu and Jags are out with injuries. This is easily half the first time squad unavailable for the opening day clash with the Arse.
Senderos may become an Everton player soon. Cry me a river.
Coropo left for the States this morning. I have only this to say. The States being the land of opportunities, I have no doubt whatsoever that he will find it easier to score there, despite the fact that US women are better looking than the vermin we have here. As a guy, I wish him all the best, and hope that if he is ever unable to “rise to the occasion”, he should tell the girl that he is from Vietnam or some similar shithole. We are pathetic enough as it is. Please refrain from doing further advertising. Horseface Sun is quite enough.
Thank you.
According to a recent survey, the Chinese trust whores more than they do politicians. I am not surprised at all. They both screw you, but at least the whore gives you a good time.
The most “trustworthy” groups include religious workers, farmers, whores and farmers. The scum include politicians, teachers, real estate businessmen and scientists.
No wonder our regime cracks down on the flesh trade. Obviously they fear people of integrity, having none themselves.
P asked me to lend him $500, promising to return it to me this Friday. He said that C wanted to approach their major about his money woes. Unfortunately he is overseas so no help there.
His SMSes stopped after I suggested that he borrow money from his church mates. He has the nerve to ask money from a friend who is skint, but shies from asking his fellow xtians for help. I don’t understand this. Maybe it’s because we non-xtians are going to burn in Hell after we die, so even if he doesn’t return us money in this life he can also escape this obligation in the afterlife.
I have been drinking Coke everyday for the past month or so. I wonder if it’s possible to die from caffeine overdose. I could just see the headlines in the Shite Times: MAN DIES FROM DRINKING COKE. HEALTH MINISTER DECLARES BAN ON COCA COLA. Something to boast about to the folks in Hades (yeah I know there’s no Hell).
Still, I shall continue to drink Coke. Life is too short to go un-caffeinated.
Recently I keep getting reminded of Freddy Shepherd, who was the chairman for the Barcode Army. He once complained in a Spanish brothel that Geordie women were as ugly as dogs.
Dear Freddy, come to my country. I’ll show you what a dog looks like.
With Jo damaging his ankle and Fellaini struggling for full fitness after a virus, the Blues are left dangerously thin. Peanuts won’t sign a new contract. Arteta, Yakubu and Jags are out with injuries. This is easily half the first time squad unavailable for the opening day clash with the Arse.
Senderos may become an Everton player soon. Cry me a river.
Coropo left for the States this morning. I have only this to say. The States being the land of opportunities, I have no doubt whatsoever that he will find it easier to score there, despite the fact that US women are better looking than the vermin we have here. As a guy, I wish him all the best, and hope that if he is ever unable to “rise to the occasion”, he should tell the girl that he is from Vietnam or some similar shithole. We are pathetic enough as it is. Please refrain from doing further advertising. Horseface Sun is quite enough.
Thank you.
According to a recent survey, the Chinese trust whores more than they do politicians. I am not surprised at all. They both screw you, but at least the whore gives you a good time.
The most “trustworthy” groups include religious workers, farmers, whores and farmers. The scum include politicians, teachers, real estate businessmen and scientists.
No wonder our regime cracks down on the flesh trade. Obviously they fear people of integrity, having none themselves.
P asked me to lend him $500, promising to return it to me this Friday. He said that C wanted to approach their major about his money woes. Unfortunately he is overseas so no help there.
His SMSes stopped after I suggested that he borrow money from his church mates. He has the nerve to ask money from a friend who is skint, but shies from asking his fellow xtians for help. I don’t understand this. Maybe it’s because we non-xtians are going to burn in Hell after we die, so even if he doesn’t return us money in this life he can also escape this obligation in the afterlife.
I have been drinking Coke everyday for the past month or so. I wonder if it’s possible to die from caffeine overdose. I could just see the headlines in the Shite Times: MAN DIES FROM DRINKING COKE. HEALTH MINISTER DECLARES BAN ON COCA COLA. Something to boast about to the folks in Hades (yeah I know there’s no Hell).
Still, I shall continue to drink Coke. Life is too short to go un-caffeinated.
Recently I keep getting reminded of Freddy Shepherd, who was the chairman for the Barcode Army. He once complained in a Spanish brothel that Geordie women were as ugly as dogs.
Dear Freddy, come to my country. I’ll show you what a dog looks like.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Writhe
The Blues look to sign Senderos from the Arse. We just fucked ourselves royally. That lump of Swiss cheese is going to make holes in our defence. His purchase will represent a step backwards.
While we are at it, why not buy Titus Bramble from Wigan? Partner them together. I have no doubt this defensive partnership will win us the first trophy in 15 years – the Division One championship. We may have to wait a season, and face the likes of Newcastle and Leeds United, but good things are worth waiting for, right?
Since we are penniless anyway, we should also sell Jags along with Lescott to the Citizens in a “1 + 1” deal. Give us 30 million for Lescott, and we will throw in Jags for 15 million. While stocks last! Rob those Middle-east terrorists blind I say!
Some riffraff wearing NUSSU T-shirts had been asking for handouts. I saw a couple near my place in the morning and I saw separate groups in Orchard in the evening. I would not have given these mobs my boogie. It is sad to see university students acting like beggars and failing to look the part.
The more I look at my Equity Securities notes the more suicidal I feel. I don’t understand a single fuck about the subject. No wonder we are having a financial crisis. With all that obfuscating mathematical formulas and equations, it must be really easy to hoodwink investors into thinking they are going to make a killing.
To think I signed up for a business course because I hate maths. Oh the irony.
While we are at it, why not buy Titus Bramble from Wigan? Partner them together. I have no doubt this defensive partnership will win us the first trophy in 15 years – the Division One championship. We may have to wait a season, and face the likes of Newcastle and Leeds United, but good things are worth waiting for, right?
Since we are penniless anyway, we should also sell Jags along with Lescott to the Citizens in a “1 + 1” deal. Give us 30 million for Lescott, and we will throw in Jags for 15 million. While stocks last! Rob those Middle-east terrorists blind I say!
Some riffraff wearing NUSSU T-shirts had been asking for handouts. I saw a couple near my place in the morning and I saw separate groups in Orchard in the evening. I would not have given these mobs my boogie. It is sad to see university students acting like beggars and failing to look the part.
The more I look at my Equity Securities notes the more suicidal I feel. I don’t understand a single fuck about the subject. No wonder we are having a financial crisis. With all that obfuscating mathematical formulas and equations, it must be really easy to hoodwink investors into thinking they are going to make a killing.
To think I signed up for a business course because I hate maths. Oh the irony.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Paper Mills, Anyone?
From the BBC
Universities 'fail on standards'
| By Sean Coughlan BBC News education reporter |
 MPs say degree standards must be made more consistent |
Universities in England are failing to safeguard degree standards, according to a damning report from MPs.
The current system for ensuring quality is "out of date" and should be replaced," the Commons universities select committee concluded.
"Inconsistency in standards is rife," said committee chairman, Phil Willis.
Universities UK attacked the report as "ill-thought through" and rejected the accusation that university leaders were "defensive and complacent".
The hard-hitting report calls for urgent action to improve how universities safeguard the quality of degrees.
It describes as "absurd and disreputable" the claim that the growing demand for courses, including from overseas students, is proof that university standards are being maintained.
'Unacceptable'
The cross-party committee attacks university leaders for failing to "give a straightforward answer to the simple question of whether first class honours degrees achieved at different universities indicate the same or different intellectual standards".
 | REPORT RECOMMENDATIONS Consistent degree standards required across all universities Independent standards watchdog needed Accreditation checks every 10 years Better protection for whistleblowers National bursary system More support for mature and part-time students  |
And the MPs question why universities have failed to explain the rapid increase in the number of top grade degrees being awarded.
To protect the "integrity" of degrees, the committee calls for a radical overhaul of the current watchdog, the Quality Assurance Agency, replacing it with an independent body charged with maintaining academic standards.
The report casts doubt on the reliability of self-regulation by universities and calls for tighter rules for external examiners and a way of comparing standards in different institutions.
"We are extremely concerned that inconsistency in standards is rife and there is a reluctance to address this issue," said Mr Willis, chair of the Commons Innovation, Universities, Science and Skills Committee.
The report says it is "unacceptable" for higher education to receive £15bn in taxpayers' funding "but be unable to answer a straightforward question about the relative standards of the degrees of the students".
As an example, the report says that there was no clear answer to MPs' attempts to find the answer to whether an upper second history degree from Oxford University and Oxford Brookes were equivalent .
Bursaries
Where whistleblowers have revealed worries about degree standards, the committee says they must be given better protection.
 Phil Willis says universities must be accountable for £15bn funding |
MPs also recommend a national system of bursaries to support students, removing differences in the amounts offered by individual institutions.
This proposal for a national bursary has been supported by the National Union of Students and the Million+ group of new universities.
NUS president, Wes Streeting, also welcomed the questions raised about value for money from degree courses.
"Tuition fees in England were trebled in 2006, but students have not seen a demonstrable improvement in the quality of their experience.
"We find it astonishing that universities continue to demand ever higher fees without showing how they make a difference to the people who pay them," said Mr Streeting.
But university leaders have rejected the criticism levelled at the higher education sector.
'Outburst'
"We are rather dismayed and surprised by this outburst," said Wendy Piatt of the Russell Group of leading universities.
"Universities are not schools. An essential feature of a university is its academic freedom and autonomy, with the responsibility to award degrees and uphold standards," she said.
Diana Warwick, head of Universities UK, said: "We reject the suggestion that the way to improve the system that protects standards is to create some super-quango or Ofsted-style Quality and Standards Agency. This seems to us a sledgehammer to crack a nut."
But Paul Wellings, chair of the research-intensive 1994 Group of universities, emphasised the need for maintaining quality across a diverse higher education sector.
The QAA watchdog, which the MPs want to replace, warns that "care needs to be taken that we do not put at risk the benefits of a diverse and flexible higher education system".
The report has also been challenged by Lord Mandelson, Secretary of State for Business, Innovation and Skills.
"I don't recognise the committee's description of our higher education sector, which is in fact world class and second only to the USA as a top destination for overseas students," said Lord Mandelson.
The Conservatives' university spokesman, David Willetts, said the report was a "refreshingly frank assessment of where things stand".
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