Thursday, July 30, 2009

Littlespeck's Migration in reverse

From: Littlespeck.com


Trends
Migration in reverse
Jobless foreigners leave in droves but Singaporeans don’t seem to bemoan this recession trend. By Seah Chiang Nee.
June 13, 2009

(Synopsis: Most Singaporeans have no problems accepting migrants. What they resent is overdoing it, letting in such vast numbers.)

A SIMPLE inter-school badminton match has developed into a national debate over how welcome foreigners are in Singapore.

It began when a little-known sports school nearly became a giant killer through fielding players from the world’s best badminton nation, China – and created a public furore.

The coach of the Jurong Junior College, Haden Hee, whose foreign talents took it into the inter-school finals for the first time, ticked off his detractors, saying: “We Singaporeans should buck up and not resent foreign players.”

He said the complainants should stop acting like cry-babies.

It is happening at a time when resentment is growing about the government admitting too many foreigners in too short a time.

The critics had accused him of resorting to foreign talents, rather than groom its own, to win sports honours.

The girls’ team it fielded was all-China, while of the seven in the boys’ team four were Chinese, one Korean and two Singaporeans.

They swept away all rivals until the finals, when the team lost to Raffles Junior College (RJC), an all-Singaporean team.

It was an emotion-packed encounter that was cheered as a local-versus-foreigner contest.

The furore shows how deep the resentment has grown here over the massive influx of foreigners, who are accused of depriving locals of jobs and opportunities.

With foreigners now making up a third of Singapore’s population, there is growing concern over social stability, especially as unemployment is rising.

“A lot of us feel like we’re playing for Singapore against a foreign team,” said an RJC player.

Even some of its fiercest traditional rivals were rooting for the Rafflesians.

“This is a warning sign of unhappy sentiments against foreigners,” said Kevin Kelvin Teo at KentRidgecommon.com.

The local-versus-foreigner divide has become one of the three biggest social threats, admitted Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong. The other threats are an economic gap and race and religion.

Few people expect any large-scale violence, but the authorities are taking no chances.

The Public Order Bill has been changed to require any cause-related assembly to have a police permit, even if only one person is involved.

So far, the resentment of Singaporeans is confined to petitions and online insults, and even these are rising.

Early this year, thousands of residents of Serangoon Gardens protested against the building of a large dormitory in their serene private estate to house thousands of foreign workers.

Quarrels between mainland Chinese and Singaporeans frequently crop up over the former’s loud, boorish habits – and “job stealing”.

In a web survey asking whether Singaporeans welcomed foreigners, which is a regular government exhortation, 73% of the respondents said: “No, we’re overcrowded enough.”

The yes vote was 17%; the rest said they were foreigners (thus their views are not relevant).

Ironically, such unhappiness comes at a time when the recession is sending home large numbers of foreigners, mostly the lowly-paid, in a reverse migration.

Economists are predicting that as many as 200,000 migrant workers in Singapore will return home between this year and next. Many are from China, India and elsewhere in South-East Asia.

Credit Suisse said this could reduce the population by 3.3% by 2010.

This outflow is a world phenomenon, and is likely to continue. The Wall Street Journal reported that hundreds of thousands of workers from developing countries were leaving the West.

This U-turn will hit Singapore harder than the larger economies. Its economic growth and the high standard of services are owed significantly to the foreigners.

However, many Singaporeans are likely to celebrate rather than bemoan their departure.

Historically, this is a migrant society, and now cosmopolitan and multi-racial.

Hence, the vast majority have no problems accepting the open door policy. What they resent is overdoing it, letting in such vast numbers.

“Unlike the past migrants who came to settle here, the present lot are like leeches, who come just to make money and go home,” said one writer.

Was migration excessivwe?

A surfer posted these comparisons with some advanced countries of comparative size showing the non-citizen ratio of population: Ireland (11.1%), Norway (6.3%), Finland (2.7%) and Denmark (5.2%)

In Singapore, the foreigners’ proportion was 26 per cent in 2006 and 34.6 per cent last year, said KojakBT.

They have established an overwhelming presence in almost every part and sector of the city. It is beginning to transform the texture of its society.

Foreign exclaves have been set up in many areas where Indians, Thais, Filipinos and Burmese assemble in large numbers.

“Here Singaporeans are often the minorities,” said a news agency reporter.

As for the mainland Chinese, they are easily absorbed. “We have a one selling roti prata in Little India to India Indians, and unable to talk to each other,” said a resident.

One observer said: “I think the next generation of people born here will have a weaker sense of identity and attachment to this country due to the social upheaval posed by the ‘flood the island with foreigners’ policy.”

Realising this, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew has said it is imperative to cap the foreign population to no more than the present one-third.

(An expanded version of the article originally published in The Star today)


Best University in the World Sequel

This is what I call managing customer relationships!

For those who don't understand what I am talking about, click here.


From document format to PDF. Not bad at all.



Now, this is what I signed up for...

Sunday, July 26, 2009

A Shite Weekend

The Shite just whipped the Pussies 5:0. After producing a typical insipid performance in the first half, they came to life in the second. Of course, this improvement was facilitated by the Pussies’ changing their players to give everybody a run-out. This caused the formation to be skewed in favor of attack and allowed the Shite the chance to play football.

The English teams must love Singapore. When they cannot win anywhere else they can always count on beating Singapore. They came in 2001 and managed an unconvincing 2:0 win. ManUre came in the same year, played their goalkeeper on the left flank and whipped the hosts 8:1. Judging from the capacity crowd in the National Stadium, you would have thought that the Shite were the home team. When the Analfield anthem “You Will Never Walk Alone” was played, it inspired more reaction from the crowd than what our national anthem could ever have. Not surprising of course. Half the crowd were probably not from Singapore anyway, the same way the Shite are from Norway.

Although the scoreline suggested a convincing victory, the Shite were far from comfortable in breaking down an initially resolute opposition. This bodes well for their Premiership and European rivals. In the footballing sense, the Shite have no culture. The ManUre are famous for their attacking wing play, Chelski for their physical and defensive play, the Arse for their pretty passing football and Everton for their work antics and discipline. It is hard to pinpoint the essence of their football. To call it boring is too charitable. Boring is at least a recognized style. They are as inconsistent as a woman who is having PMS. No wonder they are so supported in Singapore. Like the Shite, we have the money but no culture to speak of. They are like a suffrage national side to us, although I must say that as a decent football fan and reasonably intelligent human being, I support neither.


……………………………………………


While the Pussies got creamed 5:0, we went one goal further. To call our performance abject would have been a gross understatement. Words cannot adequately describe our ineptitude, so I shall make use of some numbers here.

Teamwork: 1/10
With nearly all our better players unavailable, we were forced to bring in reinforcements. We didn’t know one another from Adam and our positioning and passing were about as hesitant as that guy from 40 Year Old Virgin trying to score in a club.

Fitness: 2/10
Half the team are in their early 20s, and none of us are below 30. To blame our lack of endeavor on the hot weather would be a travesty of the truth. If our opponents could zip around with energy, I don’t see why we were so zombified.

Goalkeeping: 2/10
As our first choice keeper was injured, we were forced to put our left wing (who had some experience in goal) between the sticks. He could have saved the long range efforts which were fired straight at him. We swapped another player after he had enough. He gave a more convincing display, but our goal kicks were still shite.

Defence: 3/10
Our full-backs were very weak runners. Getting beat for pace is one thing, but the lack of harassing and tacking from them were disappointing. The right-back was particularly atrocious. He basically left the wing empty with his zero positioning sense and his sprinting resembled jogging. Our centre-backs weren’t so bad. At least they did some things right.

Midfield: 2/10
A disgrace. The right winger was a weakling and he kept staying inland instead of hugging the flanks. Obviously he was too unfit and slow to be of much use. The left winger, or rather our sub, was better. The centre-midfield, of which I was a part, were basically outnumbered and chasing shadows. We could have offered our keeper more protection, but we didn’t have much protection from our partners either.

Attack: N/A
We could not muster a shot on target. Our forward(s) were starved of the ball. They could have dropped back to collect the ball but this category is about attackers and not midfielders.

Overall: 2/10

We should have been more negative. My friend said that it was useless punting the ball aimlessly upfield. We did that in the first half and trailed 2:0. In the second half we tried to pass the ball more and shipped four. There is nothing with negative football. Chelski under Mourinho did that to great effect. Stoke City escaped relegation on the back of some very unappealing and agricultural football. Italy won three World Cups with a strong defensive culture. Smaller and less skillful teams cannot swashbuckle their way like the big teams and the best thing is to do the simple thing and stop the opposition from playing. Nothing wrong with this tactic.

It would have worked for us, if our wingers were half-decent. Just punt their ball to the corners and get them to fight for a corner or throw in and try to sneak a goal from these situations. If I had my way I would have played a 4-1-4-1 formation. Four defenders, one anchorman, two strong defensive centre midfielders and two strong runners who are ready to burst forward, plus a striker who will hold up the ball and make a nuisance of himself. Eight defending with three in attack. If we can’t score, neither will they. People keep saying that clearing the ball, defending en masse and punting it high up in the air are not playing football, but I beg to defer. If this is not football, how come it is allowed?

Four games this year. Two catastrophic losses and two hard-fought victories. How cute.

It's a Shite Life.

My season started on Friday. My first act was to be nearly an hour late for class, and my second was to tell the two chatterboxes behind me to quiet down. I was tired, hungry, thirsty and frustrated. If the idiots hadn’t heed my advice the situation would have been very ugly.

Due to the two idiots’ inconsideration and my exhausted state I wasn’t able to concentrate on the lesson very well. My lack of business background exacerbated the situation further. I could probably only assimilate 10% of the lecture, which was pathetic. From the questions several of my classmates posed to the lecturer, it was obvious that I would be competing against people who already had financial background. This means that I might not be able to rely on The Curve, which I did in previous seasons. I must secure a straight pass in order to survive – no easy feat.

I got myself a group mate. The quiet guy besides me asked me if I had a group. I said no and now we are looking for another to ease our workload. I predict that they will handle the maths (I hope!) while I do the writing.

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

The Shite are in Singapore and will play against the *Lions* this evening. For the past few days the Shite fans here have been going crazy and “following” their idols like good dogs. I don’t know what the big fuss is all about. The ManUre may have offloaded Ronaldo and Tevez, the Chelski squad grown older, the Arse’s obsession with “little boys” will cause them another trophyless season, but the Shite will still not win the league.

You don't need a medical degree to know that shit stinks.
(Image courtesy of www.bluekipper.com)



More bewildering is the fact that people actually bothered to pay good money to watch that mob across the street play. I would not have paid a penny. They haven’t won in their last three friendlies and this tells you they are clearly in the mood for playing holiday football. If I want to see people go through the motions and being overpaid for their *exertions* I would have gone to a whore. At least the whore bothers to pretend she’s enjoying it. The Shite will probably put in 10% effort against the our Lions (pussies), so better to conserve energy when they take on the real pussies in Geylang later in the night.

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

Our keeper was admitted to hospital on Monday after he ruptured his kidney in the match last Sunday. I think that as a team we had let him down. We didn’t offer him enough protection and he had to put his body on the line to save us time and again.

I hope for a more collective performance when we play our fourth friendly later. Looking at the team sheet it would be yet another collective struggle. The better players are missing and I probably have to fill in for our right-back, who is overseas. We would like to win it of course, but considering the circumstances a draw would be a good result. Time to play negative football and park the bus in front of the goal.

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

W invited me to his wedding on the 2nd of October. He is making a big mistake. Not by inviting me of course, but in getting married in the first place. He does not even love his fiancĂ©e. I hope they don’t have children. Being born in this country is bad enough. They don’t need to suffer more bullshit from their parents.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Best University in the World


The cover page for Human Resource Management (HRM201) group assignment:



For those with vision problems, please refer to the picture below:


Another Victory

The miracle continues. Against the odds we stole a 2:1 victory. It was a tremendous display and an incredible achievement, considering that some of our better players were unavailable and we had to rely on reinforcements. A reasonable punter would have put his money on us getting creamed. Football is a romantic game however, a game of upsets and giant-killing and we showed that the fight does not necessarily go to the strongest.

To start things off, our midfield were shite. Our left winger could do nothing right and our right winger played like a weakling. The guy who was supposed to cover the centre with me had a propensity to drift to the right. Most of the time I was alone, trying to handle two, three opponents who were my size. I played arguably the most negative football a centre midfielder ever played. Every ball near me I either released first time to the forwards or the wingers, or just cleared it with no regard to its destination. I decided that if I couldn’t get the ball, neither would they.

Ordinarily any team with a modicum of intelligence should have just overrun the centre midfield. Instead, they pumped the ball to our left flank, where our left winger and left-back were being beaten for fun. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was not exactly I was holding my position particularly well. It was just that the left flank was so pathetic our opponents could have just walked around with a cup of tea and still retain possession.

To their credit our two forwards did try their best to drop back and help out. Unfortunately, starved of through passes, they were at times reduced to battling displays. The creativity was so severely lacking that our best route to goal was from corners. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I think my mates made a masterstroke in letting me take the corners. We could have scored from four out of the eight or nine corners we had (In fact we scored from one – partly thanks to our opponents’ incompetent goalkeeper).

It was largely a tale of two keepers. While theirs was a joke, ours could have made the great Lev Yashin applaud his sterling display. His positioning sense was perfect, his command of the penalty box impeccable and his reflexes lighting-fast. It is no exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t for him, we would have been looking at a drubbing. His task was further helped by our opponents’ very wayward finishing. They had maybe 20 to 30 chances but only scored one. In contrast we had less than half their opportunities and we got two. Football is about taking chances. If you don’t score you don’t win. Simple.

Our defenders deserved some credit as well. We rode our luck at times, but their efforts could not be faulted. We might have relied on some good fortune but without resilience and honest pluck no amount of good luck would have helped. Towards the end they piled on the pressure and could have levelled matters, but we survived to celebrate a most magnificent result.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Ashes and Dust


Death always comes too early or too late.



I wanted to write a review castigating movie critics but that can wait. This is something more important.

Today the football was a bit stale. Towards the end of our game one guy called for everybody to gather. At first we thought the guys outside the court were up to some bullshit but what followed reduced everybody to speechlessness.

With the gang sitting on the floor, the guy softly announced that X had passed away. His body was cremated on Wednesday. His death was unnatural. X’s brother said he was coping but it was just the pride talking. He wanted us not to message, call or send him condolences on MSN and Facebook. All the poor thing needs now is some time to himself. He also wanted us not to “broadcast” it, don’t tell anybody or write about it on our blogs. (That is why I am not using any real names here.)

He then went on to say that the suddenness of his demise caught everybody by surprise. We started to talk about it, to find out what happened but it was more conjecture than anything else. A Said that X looked very downcast when he came for football last week. Then the last week became “past weeks”, and how he had been very quiet. What problems did X run into? Did he break up with his girlfriend? Then B said X had quit poly, albeit unofficially. He had not been attending classes for the past few weeks prior to that fateful day. A said X hated the thought of serving the army. He tried to get a deferral but they didn’t approve it. He was so desperate he even contemplated joining the police force. A said that there was no need for X to fear going to the army so much – every guy in this country has to go through it.

The announcer guy then said that there we should not assume or presume the exact circumstances surrounding X’s demise. When the time comes, X’s brother would talk about it, should he feel like it. He then went on to say that we play football in SP every Saturday because we are like one big family. We could have just played at the void decks but football gives the gang a chance to get together. Many of us may only see one another on Saturday but that does not mean we are not friends on the other six days of the week. Right now, we should contribute to X’s family, see what help they require and give it.

Then someone said X’s brother is a xtian. X wasn’t. I hope the former’s priest and church members would not be so dim-witted and insensitive, making comments about the destination of X’s soul. (By the way, where was Gawd? Taking a shit and watching child porn when It could have saved a life?)

C said that X had a tendency to bottle up his feelings. If he didn’t say anything how could anyone had done anything about it? What happened must have been a kick in the teeth for his brother. Everybody is carrying a bit of guilt about it. If only I had done something, if only I had done more. One can imagine how the family must be beating themselves over it.

It is irrational, but I think on some level we have all failed X. Talking to X about football and shooting shit about stuff are all well and good, but it was a shame that few of us (to the best of my knowledge) talked to him much about the things that matter. We are all guilty of it, I suspect, whether with X or with our other friends. We simply don’t bother enough. I think being friends with someone carries some obligations. You expect something but you also give him or her something in return. It is a reciprocal relationship, based not on monetary values, leverages and advantages, but out from the heart. I don’t bother enough, and if you are reading this, chances are you are just like me.

I remember one of my lecturers, himself a retiree and having “seen it all” , said that one can have many friends. These friends are nothing compared to the rare few who will stick with you through thick and thin. I think he has a point, but unfortunately how many of us actually have even one friend like this in the first place? I am not talking about the kind of friend who will make dramatic sacrifices for you like in the movies, taking a bullet for you or donating his entire fortunes to save you. I am talking about realism, and often realism is very simple. I am referring to the kind who will bother to talk to you, to listen, to find time for you, and try to help you when you have a problem. The kind who actually bother.

Some people will think that suicides are stupid. What do people off themselves when the solution to their problems can be found? These people don’t deserve anybody’s pity. They should be castigated for being weak and by their inconsiderate action brought pain to the people who loved them. Well, I got news for you, you vindictive whoresons. People do not off themselves because they cannot find a way out of their problems. They off themselves because the pain is too fucking much to bear. It is not about finding answers like life is some fucking maths problem but dealing with debilitating pain.

Suicide is not a conscious and clear-headed choice, much like it is impossible not to feel pain when you are ravaged by cancer or tore apart by hounds. Everybody has difference tolerances and a pain threshold for each of these. Some can take lots of physical punishment but are emotionally fragile. Some are stone-hearted but cannot walk up a flight of stairs without gasping like if it’s his last breath. Different people, different tolerances, different thresholds for different tolerances. I have a friend who was a nurse. She told me that when you are depressed, you cannot function at all. It is not a simple thing of “snapping out of it”. You just cannot function. Full stop. Without help you are pretty much fucked. A suicide does not just “cannot function”; he wants to cease to function.

People who simply dismiss suicides as “losers” are more often than not popcorn-munching armchair commentators whose thinking is so magical they do not see the absurdity of complaining about trivial things in their carefree existences while seeing nothing wrong about telling people who are in worse straits how to cope with their fucking lives. I wonder if these insensitive and high-priced twats would have contemplated death if they were gang-raped and at the same time forced to watch the gang rapes of the female family members and the beheading of their male kin. This is an extreme example, but it is a bloody good one. It is a bloody good one because it happened during the war, when the goddamn Japs subjected the Chinese to unspeakable brutalities. What would these callous bastards say to the people who off-ed themselves after suffering shit like this? You are so stooopid?

What happened to X might not be as tragic-dramatic as my example, but it is not us to perceive what is truly horrendous and what is not. What X, or any would-be suicide perceive in his mind really matters. The rest of the world can just fuck off. It could be a relatively insignificant thing like relationship problems, but if the person attaches very great importance to it, then that is what it is: fucking important and a case for great fucking despair. The feelings of other people, and subjective/objective reality and all that claptrap are worthless. When next time somebody you know offs himself/herself, please remember what I said – or will you continue to cry stooopid? Goddamn nimrods.

Gold!

When I woke up this morning I felt suicidal. I had to clear my annual physical fitness test. After a quick breakfast of coffee (holy water) and eggs, I dragged my weary body out of the door. I thought it would be an arduous formality.

Surprisingly, there were not many people taking the test with me - I estimated a few hundred. The registration was fast and efficient and the briefing by the chief physical instructor was succinct. The waiting time was only 30 minutes or so (anyone who has served the army would know this is extraordinarily fast.)

So onwards to the static stations: sit-ups, jumping, chin-ups and sprinting. Everything was electronic. You had a number tag, which had a slot you must put your ID card into and then you had to place the whole thing at the test station you were taking. Do your best (or worst). Your result would be registered electronically. The instructors were only there to make sure nobody tried to be "creative."

I nearly scored full marks for the test, but for the jumping. On my first attempt I was denied full points when the system registered a "fault line." Apparently the toe of my boot had brushed the starting line. My second attempt was poorer, but it was still enough to secure me the points necessary in my pursuit of gold. I could have made another attempt, out of pride, but there is no difference between winning 1:0 and winning 3:0. You still get three points.

One champion did around 20 repetitions at the chin-up station. From the effortless way he went up and down, this human yoyo might have done 30 if the attending instructor had not told him to stop. Apparently the system had problems with the excessively high count. I say this guy was nuts. Even if he was aiming for full points he could have just done 12. Why not save his energy for the 1.5 mile run? I guess strange people are everywhere.

Within 20 to 30 minutes I had cleared the four stations with the minimum of fuss. What next was the BIG ONE.

The 1.5 mile route was conducted on the ground floor of a multi-storey carpark. The person who thought of this should be promoted. Unlike at most other test centres, people could take their 1.5 mile run regardless of the weather. In addition, the terrain was flat and there were no spills, depressions, crevices and other conditions that may upset a runner.

I felt like giving up during my second lap but my need for cash pushed me on. There was also the additional motivation of bragging about it to my colleague when I turn up for work on Monday (We male animals are egoistic creatures.) It was not my best performance - I needed a lap or two to get acquainted with the route - but I got what I came for.

When I got the result slip which confirmed I can add an entry in my Account Receiveable, I felt a measure of relief. Surely, for me to do remedial training just because I missed the test would have been an utter travesty.

My unbeaten streak continues, and when I am in another age category the test will be even easier for me. As I am typing this in my university library's computer room, I feel sexy and beautiful. (Unfortunately there are not many sexy and/or beautiful broads around. Hell, in fact there are none.)

I shall go for football soon. I shall play my usual game, which is negative football and quite like tennis. Ball comes to me, ball goes back. Roger Federer should come and see me play. The things he would pick up will help him cement his place as the greatest ever in tennis. I hope there are good-looking broads in SP. I hope to see the balls bounce and may they be big, firm and beautifully spherical.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Rant and Rant

While updating the computer system, I saw the hourly wages of the people working for the Editorial department. They are earning little over than $20 per hour, and even the contract staff are getting this amount. One can easily get over $3k a month correcting grammar and spelling mistakes. Comfortable environment, conducive organizational culture, cordial relationships and a cushy salary; what more can one ask for?

For the umpteen time I cursed my academic choices. I should have taken an English Language degree like XH. With the mostly mediocre competition and the almighty Curve, I figure I would not have any difficulty graduating. Maybe a first-class honours would be out of reach, but surely a second-upper is not beyond me. It’s still pretty decent. I may hate Shakespeare, literary studies and all that post-modernism, romanticism bullshit, but hey, they cannot be worse than the fucking Business course I am enduring right now. No online quizzes, the luxury of doing assignments solo, and no fucking video presentation. No maths as well. Just bullshit your way through. My kind of degree course.

Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side. If I were taking English Language, maybe I would be bitching about it and going green-eyed at Business students. Maybe, maybe not. In life we can’t always have what we want. Life’s a bitch and then you die. I had thought that I would be happier in a Mass Communication course. I mean, I would give a decade of my life to be paid for writing about football. Champions League matches in the morning, a hastily written match report, bourbon in the coffee, typing more bullshit for the post match commentary, three sheets to the wind while surfing porn until the next match comes along. Or covering sex scandals for Wanbao. Damn good job.

Anyway, I was a bit affected by what I saw. I felt like a fucking coolie. How much am I paid, staring at the screen for hours and risking my perfect eyesight? I kept switching back to the part of the program where the hourly wages were shown. It was as if I am being masochistic by punishing myself. Then I decided to see how much my colleagues in the Editorial department are earning, but Singapore employees are not included in the system.

Before lunch I remarked to a colleague how much people are earning in Editorial. She told me that they are qualified lawyers who decided that editing legal textbooks are better than practising law. She wondered why they gave up their practice and I replied that lawyers here are overworked and underpaid. Anyway, that is not important. The important thing is that I should have gone to college and studied Law. Okay. Maybe not. Seeing how my Business Law modules nearly relegated me, that doesn’t seem such a hot idea. But the grass is greener on the other side, like I said.

I don’t think a Law degree is a must for editing law textbooks. Most of the time it’s just grammar. The fancy Latin words they love to throw around so much in the legal sphere, ultra vires, bona fide etc, won’t give a decent English Language graduate much of a problem either. (XH, if you are reading this, quit your fucking teaching job and apply to be an editor in a book company/publishing house. Beats having to deal with bloody irritating parents and their obnoxious brats.)

True, $3,000 may not be a lot by any stretch of the imagination. In Canada a waiter can easily earn this amount. Even in Asia, there are many mediocre people earning much more. But when you consider that some skilled technicians here are earning $1.3K and ITE graduates (far better than their higher-educated polytechnic counterparts if you ask me) are offered $1K for doing a 12 hour shift six-days week job, something is fucking wrong. It is obscene. It is obscene not because the people in the Editorial are overpaid. It is obscene because people here are having their every drop of blood squeezed out and getting paid peanuts for it. What the fuck are the trade unions doing? The living costs are getting higher and higher but the wages, especially those belonging to the bottom to middle rungs are stagnant and in some cases, depreciating. Oh I forgot! We have no trade unions. Tsk tsk. People here are just commodities. Once they are past their sell-by dates they are basically like a turtle turned on its back – fucked.


My mood wasn’t helped when I logged on the stupid army website to check my reservist status (read: reslavery). To my absolute horror, I found that I have to clear the goddamn annual physical fitness test before my birthday, which is two months away. If I hadn’t checked I might have been later charged by the army for missing the dateline and then made to do remedial training with the rest of those sorry sods who can’t make it. Imagine a Brazilian supermodel standing in the midst of a truckload of Singapore car queens and you get the picture.

I am disgusted at having my time wasted like this. Instead of making me wake up early on a Saturday morning just so I could go to take some stupid physical fitness test in some stupid obscure army camp, they should just give me the money. I always get gold anyway. So just excuse me for this redundant exercise and give me the $400 so that I can go and get myself some much needed shades. It is a hostile country that I am living in – the sun here can burn your corneas. As if that is not enough I have to face the damn screen for hours every damn day. Hell, if I don’t get some shades or those fancy Transitions eyewear soon I may fucking go blind.

And one last thing. The people in this cuntry are ugly, and getting uglier as we speak. Hell, even the foreigners are looking worse. The women are short and flat, and the men weak and unimposing. There must be something in the water here. It could be the damn sun as well. And let’s not forget the stress. I foresee when the population swell to 6.5 million, abominations will walk the streets en masse. Our already inferior gene pool will degenerate further when inferior people breed with even more inferior people. Under such circumstances, it is better not to procreate. Sometimes being a responsible parent is not to be a parent in the first place.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

This is PASSION.

Images courtesy of Bluekipper.com





I don't think we can put up banners like these when we go to a football game eh?

What a boring cuntry. Another reason to leave this fucking shithole.

A Tribute to Monica Bellucci

It is time somebody write a tribute to Monica Bellucci. Michael Jackson may have passed on, but enough has been said about that legend, so let us move on, and contemplate a legend that is fortunately, still with us.

The first time I saw Monica Bellucci – it was in Malena – I truly fell in love. I had never beheld such superb acting skills. Bellucci gave her character life, every piece of dialogue she spoke was heartfelt, and her portrayal of the war widow driven to desperation heartrending. I left the cinema humbled and forever a willing supplicant to this most beauteous of goddesses.

Words cannot adequately describe her charisma. Her screen presence is legendary. She can brighten an insipid script like no other. All the CGI and the convoluted plots combined can never add up to her natural grace and talent as she sashays her way to cinematic perfection.

Her curves can make a blind man see, and her smile turns the darkest night into the brightest day. The form of the most tempting succubus, and radiant with the soul of the purest angel. A one woman Victoria’s Secret fashion show - the Angels look like imposters next to this seductress. Belluci truly embodies the epitome of beauty. She is the perfect woman – all others pale in comparison.

All women should aspire to be like her. If all women were like this, there would be no frustration. Wars will cease, poverty will become a thing of the past, natural disasters will not occur, and universal love and humanistic values will reign supreme unto generations.

Her qualities as an actress are impeccable, and her virtues as a woman beyond reproach. An intellectual’s muse, and a philistine’s fantasy. Had they set eyes on Bellucci, Helen of Troy would have wept in despair, and Narcissus would never have fallen in love with his own image. Men of all races, nations, religions, classes and dispositions will stand united as they pay homage to this living Aphrodite.

Hollywood should be condemned for offering her only bit-part roles in mediocre movies. Tears of the Sun, The Matrix, The Brothers Grimm… - these do not do justice to her immeasurable talent. If there is any justice, Monica Bellucci should have made a clean sweep of every award every time she stars in a movie.

The fact that Tara Reid and Cameron Diaz get more screen time and roles than Belluci in Hollywood movies is a vicious indictment of Hollywood’s detestable parochial attitude. American actresses are too often overrated and it is time the American directors, whose brains have gone south along with their overfed bellies, learn to give foreign film actresses, especially Bellucci, the recognition they so richly deserve.

Monica Belluci should be in Transformers 3. The sight of her will transform any emasculated and impotent man into the most virile Adonis. Even robots will short-circuit themselves as they realize the truth of the most superb piece of engineering before them.

It is often said that a woman depreciates with age. Not so for Monica Bellucci. I would say she is one of the rare few who appreciate as they become older, but to do so would be to put a value on something that is priceless. She is The MLIF of the film industry, and when she becomes a grandmother she will surely be The GLIF. Her timeless beauty puts women half her age to shame. Her smile can launch a thousand ships, and her voice makes them sail.

The world will never see the likes of such perfection again. Each film by Bellucci and every appearance she make should be cherished and treated like the most precious of treasures. It will be a black day when she retires from acting. May her daughter inherit every quality of her talented mother. Let the divine essence of the Bellucci line live forever, so that it inspires future generations as it inspires the current.