Good Work!

I should receive the Nobel Prize for Literature for this!

The Philistine 17 July at 22:55

Dear Pretentious Twat,

From the utter drivel you have painstakingly written, I am incited to inflict on you extreme violence, having inferred that you are begging to have your gob smashed in. I have consulted my friends and I am certain they are right to offer this piece of exceedingly necessary and righteous advice. Before I depart for Denmark, I may yet do this cesspit a good turn by eliminating a pretentious twat like yourself from the face of this planet. In my esteemed opinion, you are without doubt a blight upon the land, a shrieking and howling popinjay and a muddied orifice into which all the scum of the multiverse defecate.

This very real knowledge, coupled with the compelling desire of wanting to meet you for the express and delightful purpose of rearranging your face, has put me in a state of anticipatory elation. The 'paradoxical predicament' of 'To Meet or Not To Meet' goaded the creation of this dreadfully long and perhaps unnecessary proclamation of violence.

I must admit that I have also taken the interpretation of your friend request quite seriously - and warily - and so have entertained for some time of deciding whether to hire a hit on you or do it myself and dirty my hands. But it so happens that our legislation does not tolerate violence in any form and until the moment comes when I see your unimpressive face I cannot be certain if I would do the deed myself.

This indecisiveness I suppose we can see enacted in the local attitude towards sex I find in you and I believe you have plenty of experience in this regard in that your manhood, insignificant as it is, cannot be trusted to deploy its head on when to stand, or indeed, if it can made to stand. Surely, you realize the wretchedness of your condition is of no cataclysmic proportion and the world will revolve, life will still go on, and pigs will continue to roll in the mud regardless of your ability to effect an erection and to sustain it.

Hearing that you have known of my plans to go to Denmark is the final straw for me. I am absolutely horrified that you may want to follow me and hound me like a lapdog. And when push comes to shove, I would like to push my foot up your thin ass and shove it deep inside until tears stream from your vacant eyes and you beg me for mercy.

And I suppose part of the reason as to the severe trauma I suffer at this moment by just thinking of meeting with you is the horrific tension of degradation that I fear may be imprinted on my consciousness and which will resurface every time I visit the toilet. Your orifice of a skull, and a numbskull at that, would remind anyone of a glory hole in the seediest swill hole.

Of course, to understand your nonsense requires the patience of Gandhi, the insanity of Kim Jong Il, and the perverse imagination of Albert Fish. I am sure that you have a lot to contribute to abnormal psychology and I urge you to check in as a permanent resident at Woodbridge Hospital and give your body to science.

I end this letter by asking after your mother.

Sincerely,
The Brain.

Important Questions I

There are some important questions one must answer before he is deemed to have achieved intellectual maturity. Due to time constraints, I will only post two of such questions. Over the course of my existence and this blog’s, I will be posting more.


Why are Sinkies physically unimpressive? Sinkies, especially the males, are really quite short. Most of the Chinese in my gulag are at least 1.7m tall but I estimate that only around half of Sinkies are as tall as their Chinese counterparts. Why? We have no shortage of slop in this country and hardly anyone ever goes hungry. In fact, our national pastime is eating and surely, our lack of stature is not caused by some cultural fad to be as thin as a goal post.

What about genes? Are our genes poor? It is certainly a possibility until you look at the mainland Chinese, HongKies, and Taiwanese, with whom our forebears shared the same ancestral home. They are not certainly short as we are or particularly physically unappealing. Surely it is not genetic.

Having eliminated genetics and nutrition from our consideration, we now turn our attention to geography. One cannot help but notice that the population in the SEA region are rather physically poor. Although I have no official data to aid in verification, I daresay that people in this region are the shortest and physically undeveloped in the whole of the world (excluding special cases like North Koreans and Ethiopians, as well as those unfortunate enough to exist in regions devastated by war and famine). There must be something in the water here. I firmly believe that if you want to produce children, you should get out of this country, leave this region, and bring up your children in a civilized country like Canada or Germany.


Why are some specs trying to be weather stations? I am sure you have encountered the breed. On Monday, they are nearly or as busty as Denise Milani, and then on Tuesday they are as flat as Joanne Peh. They are like the weather in Sinkieland. One moment sunny, the next rainy, pretty much like the mood swings of a woman on PMS.

I understand that some of the specs who are no as well-endowed as they would have liked, but surely they are taking the aided support a bit too far. The key is consistency. If you are an A cup and want some ‘enhancement’, at least have the common sense to push it only a size up and not change sizes like it is nobody’s business. Don’t push it up two sizes or more and then deflate it. It is like cheating and blokes notice it very quickly and we don’t like it. Instead of using wonder bras and padding bras that are about as thick as a breastplate, please go for bust enhancement. The thousands of doilars you spend on the procedure would be cheaper, in the long run, than the exorbitant amount you accrue from buying artificial paddings. And best of all, your guy will appreciate it when you have your private moments and everything is off.

Hush....Harsh....

Existence gets worse at my gulag and the rot shows no sign of stopping. Today my sales staff went crazy and issued work orders to my severely undermanned department. By knockoff time, the sole China bloke and a couple of his overworked mates were faced with around 15 work orders, some of which have to be completed by tomorrow. Even if they work through the night, there is absolutely no way they can finish everything. Understandably, the Chinese bloke, who has had to deal with the bulk of the mess today, ranted at my useless ‘superior’ of the injustice. He works the hardest, he said, but among all his mates he is paid the lowest. My *superior*, being the incompetent leader that he is, had no response to his enraged subordinate’s outrage. Tomorrow things will spiral into the deepest Hell. If I were the Chinese guy, I would ‘fall sick’ and see how they deal with the mess themselves. People only realize your importance when you are not around.

The Presidential Erection is set to occur somewhere in August. A three-corner fight is expected, with all three candidates having some kind of ties to the regime. To someone like me, who absolutely hates the regime, it is like choosing one of the following: Gawd, the deep blue sea, and the Fukushima power plant. I am contemplating spoiling my vote, but that would mean that I would have lost the right to complain if I discover later on that our next President is as useless as his predecessor. However, if I vote for one of the three candidates, there is every chance my choice will end up being another Prataman who is only good for collecting millions of dollars in salaries and bonuses for doing nothing. I am feeling quite stressed already as it is. I don’t need hard choices.

The Brain, the Lass and I went out last Saturday. Over slop the subject of Sinkies being marginalized by our regime came up. The Lass made some comments including the exorbitant prices of flats and other forms of suffering we endure under the scum in white’s ‘mandate’. One remark she made is particularly interesting. She said that maybe only a war can change things, and after the war we can start all over again. I am not sure if she was thinking of the courageous Libyans when she said that, but she has a very good point. Many others, if they heard her say such a thing then, might have dismissed it as immature nonsense that stems from the remnants of a rebellious adolescence. They would be wrong. Our country is stuck in a state of limbo, in which a caged individual believes he is free to act as he pleases. In one of her recent lecture, Aung San Suu Kyi said that a delusional sense of freedom is worse than blatant tyranny. An oppressed people, long frustrated at being persecuted, can be trusted to take up arms against their overlords. When you fight, you have a chance, no matter how small. But when an oppressed people believe that they are free and despite the hardships and injustices they endure under their oppressors’ rule, refuse to exercise their right to freedom because ‘the alternative is worse’, what chance have they? What chance have we? The recent Erections have only served as a reminder of our stagnancy, of our crushed spirits, of our willingness to take things as they are and suffer things as they come. There is no hope for gradual change in this cuntry. Only sudden, brutal upheavals will serve as a catalyst for change, to shock people into realizing that they are alive, and that they are capable of having feelings and aspirations, of finding things long stashed away in some forgotten corners in our hearts, of elevating our soul, and to feel energized and be humans and cease being some cog in a machine, some mindless automation in a factory. I, for once, would welcome an invasion. In war there is love. In love there is freedom.