Holy Creatures

It is always good to end the half year with pictures of holy creatures.

Waiting for slop.

Enough of waiting! Damn human is never punctual. Yawn.

Surveying his turf.

Stand down.

Wait and see. Any interesting stuff? Boring.

Human can play with his iPhone. I can't be bothered.

These Days

Except for Sundays, this is the my daily routine.

Woke up at 7.00 a.m. Feel like I am about to die. Drag myself out of my slumbers while my fogged brain struggles with articulating my curses about my cuntry and my wretched existence.

Finish slop at around 7.30 a.m.

Take a crap. I won't be taking another for the next 9 hours or so because the shithole in my shithole of a gulag has no crap paper and I won't deign to bring any to that Hell.

Leave my house and on the way to my gulag, I check the SBF for news. I may decide to contribute to the discussion.

Reach my gulag at a bit over 8.30 a.m. From then until maybe 5.40 p.m, the shit begins. People yelling and rushing one another like overeager souls on the road to reincarnation. Check the SBF during slop. The rest of the day follows the same pattern. I get rubbish from people. My *superior* is bo chup, my PE is a blur and emo old fart who should seriously think of retirement, my admin can't type out a job sheet without making any grammatical mistakes or typos, an old fritter talks to me to educate me so better to demonstrate how experienced her, my gulag mates in the workshop ask me questions etc. I get all kinds of shit and when shit happens people come to me. I am like fucking Jebus.

Check the SBF on the way home and reach my residential area around 6.20. If I have driving lessons, I'll have slop before my attempt not to kill anyone on the road. If not. I'll get a drink or some cold snack and walk back.

Reach home and have slop. Check the SBF. Some hot topic may inspire me to add my wisdom to the discussion.

Listen to the BBC or music on the radio. May walk around the neighbourhood and say hello with the cats down my block.

In short, my existence is meaningless and the sheer monotony of it drives me crazy and reminds me of the dreary and routine regime of an existence behind bars.

I am degenerating. If I don't suffer a mental collapse, my physical frame will disintegrate and my bones will be dust before long.

I am becoming very slovenly in appearance. My hair has gotten long and I don't even comb it.

I am losing my English. Articulating myself in English is an issue now. My Mandarin, however, has improved as I use it to talk to my Chinese gulag mates nearly every day. My language has become more colourful, thanks to the Sammyboy forum and the influence of the people I toil with.

I give less of a damn these days. Since my education has not succeeded in getting me anywhere, I might as well act like some boor with a primary four certificate.

Randomness and Ranting

Agnostics believe that it is impossible to deny or affirm the existence of Gawd. They are wrong. All they have to do is die.

One cunt in Guangdong is offering her virgin cunt for an iPhone 4. She is really a so hai. iPhone 5 is coming out in September and she wants to allow her cunt to be invaded for a product that is going to be phased out. However, the real so hai will be the bloke who takes her up on her offer. Why pay so much $ to bonk her when prettier whores can be had for much cheaper rates?

According to Forrest Gump, life is like a bunch of chocolates: you never know what you are going to get.

So is whoring.

My libertine xtian friend has had some sextisfying experiences with whores but also more unsextisfying ones.

- Being mercilessly teased by the whore for having a big belly (no, he's not fat).

- Finding out that the air-con was not on only after concluding his exhausting - and sweating - business with the whore.

- Having his hand slapped away when he tried to feel the whore's butt.

- Being told to mind his own business when he asked the whore for her name.

- Unable to shoot after thrusting furiously for 20 minutes and having to pay an additional $50 to extend the service duration.

Conclusion: His useless god is not with him. The divine bugger is probably impotent as well.

The Thai spec who lost both her legs to the oncoming train when she fell onto the MRT track may well become a millionaire if Sinkies continue to send in donations. Last time we checked, donations reached S$400,000 and her family wanted to sue the railway operator for more than S$3 million.

Ordinarily not a supporter of asSMRT, I have found cause on this occasion to defend the bastards.

First, as aSSMRT was not at fault in the first place, why should they be obliged to pay the Thai? The railway has been running without safety barriers for decades and the issue of safety never came up. In fact, most of the railways in other parts of the world do not have any safety barriers erected. Insofar as the railway industry is concerned, having no barriers is clearly not a breach of safety standards. The only thing they did wrong in this debacle was to pay the victim a measly S$5,000, which is not only extremely insulting, but also tacit admission that it was their fault the accident happened.

Second, the Thai spec's parents had to share part of the blame. What kind of parents lets their 14-year old child stay in a foreign country alone? Sinkieland may be a safe country, but that does not mean parental vigilance should not be exercised.

Third, the Thai spec should have taken more responsibility for her own safety. Why did she stray so near to the track when she was giddy from the medicine she had been taking?

It is absolutely ridiculous that the Thai spec's parents are suing the asSMRT for more than S$3 million. If I go to your house, lean out of your kitchen window to ogle some busty chiobu who happens to be walking by the block, overreach, fall out of the window and break my legs in the fall, do I have the right to sue you?

A friend said that in the US, if a burglar injures himself while bungling his victim's house, he may sue the victim for causing harm if it is proven that the 'dangerous objects or objects placed dangerously' in the house caused the accident. I replied that in the US, it is also possible to sue a non-existent entity like Gawd and the legislation in some states decrees that creationism must be taught alongside evolution as valid theories in public schools, but does that mean we have to follow their stupidity? If I see a person jump down from a tall building, it does not mean that I have to do follow suit, yea?

Lastly, I don't know why in the Hells Sinkies are so gracious to foreigners just because of the media promotes a sob story. Every year our military personnel die or get seriously injured in military exercises and IPPTs, but how come no Sinkies step forward and give them and/or their families money? Every day many Sinkies lose their jobs to foreign trash and find it hard to make ends meet how come some fucking Sinkie rich man or jibye Rotary Club give them $?

We keep KPKB-ing about foreign trash flooding our cuntry, depressing our wages and jacking up the fucking property prices until a fucking pigeon-hole of a flat becomes unaffordable to Sinkies, but when it comes to action, we bend over like some two penny whore in Desker Road for some fucking ah-neh. What rubbish is this? Think about it. If a Sinkie takes a train in BangCock and gets his legs amputated in an accident, do you think the Thai public or some Thai millionaire will solicit donations on his behalf or the railway company there give him $ as a sign of 'goodwill'? Sinkies need to fucking wake up their idea. I am not belittling the Thai spec's agony. We are talking about a young girl who has had her future ripped away from her and who will be spending the next 50 years or so without her legs. It is certainly not a joking matter. But Sinkies should care about ourselves first because if we don't look after our own interests, nobody else will. Foreigners won't give a shit and the scum in white who let in so many trash certainly won't give a shit about Sinkies like you and me!

Sinkies! Let us not be gong jibyes! LOOK AFTER OUR OWN INTERESTS FIRST!

Our Pilgrimage to the Holy Land

Last night I met Fuzz Car for slop. We went to the Holy Land, found a slop house, and ordered frog legs porridge and fried eggs with oysters. After four months of absence, I found myself delighted to be back in the Holy Land. As we shot the shot over slop, I basked in the wonderful and vibrant sights of this hotbed of vice. Across the street a club flashed its large neon signs. In an hour – it was around seven – the working girls would turn up and entertain its patrons. Already several scantily clothed specs walked past our table. Dressed to titillate, their cleavage seemed to flash in the dim light of dusk and every stride accentuated the creamy whiteness of their slender legs. Just as we did, more than a few male glances shot their way, appraising the whores and no doubt fantasizing of ravishing them.

Seated at a table near ours was a couple. The spec had generous funbags and a hard look on her otherwise pretty face, but in terms of aesthetics her companion could not approach her. He looked like an Asian version of Wayne Rooney, a brutish specimen that should have seen the back of a Nazi gas chamber had he existed in more civilized times.

A charlatan of Chinese nationality came to our table and requested to see our fortunes. We waved him away. He went to the fake Rooney’s table and after receiving a similar reception, crossed the road, no doubt looking for easier marks. An old woman then came and tried to sell us tissue papers. She got the same treatment. Our immigration policies are abject failures. The regime allows in all kinds of dregs from regional shitholes and in doing so, deprived us of livelihoods and forced old folks to suffer the indignity of peddling tissue papers. Our country is the dump of the world, a cheap whore who spread her legs and invites invasion into her loose cunt for the price of a beer. This cuntry is a blight on the face of the earth, and as I said earlier, if we were in earlier and civilized times, this cesspit would have met the same end as the ogre at the next table.

We finished our slop and proceeded to the central business district (CBD), where the priciest merchandise are. At first we lost our way but we reoriented ourselves and soon found ourselves at the road junction leading to the CBD. A line of Indonesians or Pinoy specs - I can never really tell the two species apart, since generally speaking, they are short and unimpressive - stood at the side of the road. Few shoppers deigned to walk to look at them. The presence of these undesirable and obviously inferior products is degrading the value of the area in which they stand. It is like setting up a This Fashion shop in Orchard ion, right next to the shops offering Prada and Gucci bags. The eyesore stands ut like a sore thumb.

After Fuzz Car deposited his pail at the side of nearby building – he was carrying his carwash equipment – and we went to the Darlene Hotel to look at the specs there. One just emerged from the hotel lobby after her client and joined her sisters. The quality of the Chinese merchandise has dropped. Out of the four we saw, only one deserved the $100 price tag and even then, she barely tipped the mark. I may sound like a broken record, but we are taking in more and more rubbish. It is time to be stringent in our immigration policies and be selective of the foreigners we take in. There are way too many foreign trash than foreign talent.

My friend decided he wanted to try the spec who was worth the $100 price tag. However, he was short of funds and we had to go to the nearby automatic teller machines to retrieve some cash. Unfortunately, in the twenty minutes it took us to do this, the alert was sounded and the streets vacated. We sat at the railings in front of the Darlene Hotel and waited for the alert to clear. While we were complaining about the poodles and their spoilsport ways, four of them appeared. They took down the license plate of the illegally parked bike a few metres from us and then continued on their merry ways. It really pays to be a fuzz. No armed gangs, mafia, and terrorists to deal with, just the occasional domestic dispute to resolve - so easy to be a fuzz in this shithole.

Having gone impatient of waiting, we decided to move to the fish tanks. We went to a few houses. The majority of these establishments were peddling Thai flesh at $50 a shot/25 minutes but one in the middle offered a different product: Chinese flesh, massage and ‘full package’ at $100 for the duration of 50 minutes. We saw half a dozen cnspecs in the fish tanks. I thought 1 and 6, with their whorish looks and high (and big) breasts looked good enough, but Fuzz Car felt that the ‘teacher’ (the spec in question was wearing specs) was compelling. He decided to get on with it. I felt that he made the wrong choice but I had no chance to tell him as he just went ahead and paid the proprietor.

I have to digress for a while. The proprietors of these fish tanks know more about marketing techniques like product placement than many of our business or marketing graduates and professionals. Take this case as a case study. Six specs sitting in a fish tank. The prettiest ones will almost always be placed to the end of the line. Why is this so? Simple. When a potential mark walks in, the tendency is for him to look right at the middle (where the average or least attractive specs are placed) of the bevy of beauties. As his eyes will fall on these least marketable products first, there is a higher chance of him purchasing one of the comparatively inferiorproducts, even though superior packaged products are placed just next to them. If he buys the products, good for the proprietor because he has managed to sell a harder to sell product. If the mark dismisses the products in the middle, he will naturally look at the products at the sides (if a little cajoling from the proprietor to look more carefully if he makes a move to leave) and it is likelier that he will buy the better-looking merchandise. In either case, the proprietor will have made a sale. Show the lousy goods first (20% chance of being purchased + 1 to 10% for the ‘first impression’ factor), and then the superior goods next 30% chance + 1 to 5% for ‘contrast’ factor.) Note that if two products of different perceived quality are placed next to each other, the superior-looking product will always appear to be ‘more’ superior. By presenting his merchandise in this manner, the proprietor is essentially giving his products a second chance. If he does it the opposite way, he has only one chance, i.e., the mark, after rejecting the superior goods, will not deign to look at the inferior goods.

I wandered around in the vicinity and there was much to see. I crossed to another district where the dilapidated shophouses had long become a congregation point for all manner of cheap whores (mostly of the Indian variety). Groups of blackamoors, smelly and ugly, inspected the cheap merchandise on display. A few chatted with the specs – for all we know they could have been from the same village next to the equally smelly and dirty Ganges river.

The plump middle – age lady, whom Chicken and I dubbed ‘九阳神功’ was sitting in her chair. Wearing her customary shades, she cut a commanding figure as she watched the cheap whores in her area. She has been in the Holy Land, in the exact position, for so long that she is like figurehead. Although her best years are now behind her, one cannot deny the force of her presence, the compelling aura she radiates, and the strength of her personality. She is like a calm river, one of quiet power and still reflection.

I soon reached the crossing which would lead me in the horrible district known as 乱世 but decided not to go. I had no intention of walking into a district thronged by mobs of stinking blackamoors and the cheapest and worst whores the Holy Land has to offer. I walked on the pavement leading adjacent to whence I came. I saw a few old and ugly whores by the roadsides. Despite their reputation of fucking anything that has a hole, not even the blackamoors were interested of them. Depressing.

I soon backtracked to the $80 street. The alert had evidently been cleared, for the merchandise were back on display. I was walking back to the fish tanks when Fuzz Car called me to tell me he had had a most horrible time. I met up with him in front of the stretch of fish tanks and he was cursing and swearing away. Apparently the ‘teacher’ gave him more than he could chew. She looked quite unappealing after she removed her spectacles, and she was hostile to him. When they were in the room, she would not let him have fun and threatened him. Only after he had finished the transaction – I was surprised that he could still function – that he realized that she did not switch on the aircon. Fuzz Car said that it was the worst $100 he had spent and instead of feeling happy, he now felt frustrated. I let him rant and advised him to write a field report (FR) on Sammyboy to warn the brothers. He said he would do it and he regretted coughing up the money to be abused. I told him that I would have gone for 1 or 6 but it is purely academic now, isn’t it?

Our exertions had made us hungry and we went to a famous bean curd shop across the street. There we ordered fritters and bean curds, ate, and watched the moving scenery. We met an ex-gulag mate and exchanged pleasantries with him. He was out for supper with his wife and kid. Among those of us who are married, he appears to be the most settled. Married life agrees with him. As for the rest of our married peers, it is sometimes necessary to seek entertainment that the wife does not need to know about.

And so concluded our night. It was a pity that Chicken could not join us. Once you get married and have kids, you lose your freedom. Marriage is a contract that enriches only the female and emasculates the male. These days a married man has to be a wife: wash, iron, fuck, and etc. No more pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Most depressing.