My project group for Managerial Accounting was truly mediocre. Indeed, I was most privileged to be part of it. Seeing our discussion on Good Friday yielded no concrete results, we forced ourselves to attend what we knew to be an insipid Saturday lecture. O didn’t bother to turn up. He should have just told us straight that he was not interested. We would understand. In fact, I myself was more intrigued by the fairly buxom girl sitting in the far corner than I was in my lecturer’s Avram Grant impersonation.
After the lecture, my project mate S and I decided we would just fuck it and write whatever we could. I later discovered, to my chagrin, that the drafts for the essay questions I complied for my mates’ benefit returned to me in roughly their original state. I finished question 5, which was worth 10 marks in 600 words. One guy sent me several copies of question 6 (worth 25 marks) before settling on a final copy containing the same number of words. I spent my Sunday morning in a state of despair. I hurriedly corrected the grammar mistakes, elaborated on the points and added a few of my own. After 40 to 50 minutes of feverish typing I churned out another 500 words. It was rubbish, no doubt about it. Still, beggars can’t be choosers and I had had enough of the damn report. This Managerial Accounting case study must have been written by a maniac. The essay questions were worth 47 marks alone. I thought accounting was all about numbers. Obviously I was wrong.
I quickly sent my bullshit to my mates and asked them to proofread it. O remained unserviceable and uncontactable. S quickly compiled the report – he probably just glanced through my claptrap – and then sent the final report to us for our check-through. I took about thirty seconds to make sure all the answers were there. I gave him the go-ahead and there concluded our sorry partnership.
O couldn’t give a damn. S didn’t as well. I couldn’t be bothered as long as Avram Grant II didn’t give us less than 13.33% for the stupid assignment. I just need another 4 overall marks to hit the required 40% passing grade for the assignment component of the course. Even rag-and-bone men pay at least a few coins for trash yeah?
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The Liang brothers, a girl named Cassandra and I practised martial arts yesterday. We started with some basic hitting, but I didn’t get to punch for long. The scabs on my left knuckles broke and blood oozed. I had to stop and clean the wounds. The bleeding soon abated but I couldn’t punch left-handed, lest I dripped all over the floor. (I hope this does not turn into a once in a month thing.)
After the preliminary hitting segment, we split into pairs. Xiangrong and Cassandra discussed about how their master (ex-master now) and the school are doing. Their former instructor is now left with five students. Apparently the bloke could not retain his senior students. Being of the old school type, he refused to teach his students the actual martial applications of each form until they were deemed to be sufficiently proficient. As a result his senior students defected and he had to handle the teaching by himself without their assistance. The class dwindled and he now has to survive on his income as a hawker.
He may be Shaolin-trained, but the finest martial artists don’t always make good businessmen. Obviously martial art schools should include business modules in their curriculum. One cannot live on fists alone. Anyway, Cassandra’s defection is our gain. We always welcome new practice partners.
Xianghong and I discussed about our martial arts techniques. There are similarities between our styles, such as circular movements and leaping moves. In fact his style does not resemble a Southerner’s. Anyway, I showed him how to do the ‘fa’. This technique requires you to move your arms parallel to your body while keeping them in a straight line and then simultaneously push one hand out in front and your other hand towards the back, We also discussed about the whirlwind and leaping kicks and the techniques for executing them.
I gave him a few pointers on how to pass his standing broad jump. Going back for reservist training is already a waste of time. We don’t need to add remedial training (for failing the stupid annual IPPT) to the list of meaningless obligations we owe our *motherland*. I hope my friend will pass the damn test. One of my project mates has to go for remedial training every Thursday just because he failed by one chin up. All the trouble for one miserable chin-up! Hell. I would take the damn test for them if I could. I don’t think my friends deserve to waste their precious time and energy for this stupid cuntry.
Where was I? Oh yeah we had our final round of group practice before Cassandra and Xianghong left. Xiangrong and I continued our training by smacking each other with a variety of kicks, punches and elbows. I hate my side kick. It makes me look like a duck about to lay an egg. We also set the hitting pad against the wall and slammed our elbows into it, much to the disgust of the kids practising their dancing several yards away. We had to stop, not because we were mindful of their feelings, but for the fact that the wall was in danger of collapsing. The bottom side of the marble slab had moved half a centimetre inwards. This was not a testimony to our skills, but an indictment of the building contractor’s. (Why am I thinking of Nicole Highway as I am writing this?)
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History was made tonight. Support for my Business Law II lecturer was overwhelming; the class was overfilled. Latecomers could not find a seat. My lecturer had to ask those who didn’t belong in his class to leave. Initially nobody moved. It was only when the bloke said that he would start to take class attendance that the ‘illegal immigrants’ began to find their good sense. And even then, he had to threaten the class a few times before more people took the threat seriously. It would have been easier if he had made good on his threat at the expense of ruining the class atmosphere. I certainly wouldn’t mind.
My university should sack the other Business Law II lecturers. It reflects badly on a lecturer when his students defect to another. If it had not been for the limited seats in the classroom, I suspect the illegal immigrants would have arrived en masse. While students generally like a lecturer who dispenses tips freely, the said situation was tragic and wretched. It truly brought out the ugliness in people. Seeing the lengths they went to just for a few assignment hints, one could hardly imagine what they would do if the stakes were much higher. I am a cynic, but even I feel disturbed. Intellectualizing about human nature is one thing. Experiencing it first-hand is a different animal altogether. Is it humans or just Singaporeans? I remember my Marketing lecturer, who is French, telling us that in Western countries people pay according to the amount of food they buy at the supermarkets. There are no weighing scales or price tags to compel them to do so; they – or most of them – don’t cheat.
After class my depression was exacerbated when my project mate P asked me if I could finish the remaining question. She said that her group mates for her Marketing module wrote rubbish and she had to do the whole project herself. (For all their incompetence, they have managed to survive into the third year. How…strange.) I replied I don’t mind helping out. The other girl is apparently too busy in her work. I think I am used to such things by now.
I continue to wonder if I am in the right course. Half the time I ended up as the proofreader for my groups. In maths-related modules I was usually the one tackling the essay/theory questions. This is ridiculous. What am I, an editor?
Writing a business essay is not difficult. Just make sure your points are valid, put them across in simple language and basically your job is done. Nobody is asking for fantastic vocabulary or style. This is a Business degree, not Shakespeare Appreciation 101. What is so damn terrifying about writing? I don’t mind doing it but it gets tiring after a while.Things are seriously wrong when some people don’t even deign to provide you with arguments and points for theory questions. They just look confused and expect answers to drop from the sky.
I understand that some people are terrible at writing. I don’t blame them because everybody has his strengths and weaknesses. As an ex-engineering student myself I know how we suck at putting thoughts to paper, and many of my peers were in engineering and IT. But would it kill anybody to think critically and exercise the creativity that Mother Nature had installed in them? If you don’t want to write, fine. Leave the ‘smoking’ to me. I can smoke my way out of nearly anything - but only if you give me sufficient ‘ammo’. I assume we want to end up in management because we are all suffering for the lousy degree. People in management like to talk cock and often come up with stupid ideas and suggestions. If you can’t even bullshit a little for a lousy assignment question, I suggest you quit the course now. The university also offers Engineering and Culinary courses. I am sure they don’t require bullshit, unlike Business.
And it seems that Business students are getting the short end of the stick. I have ranted about this and I am going to rant again. I don’t understand why in Tartarus we are overburdened with group and individual assignments, video presentations and online quizzes when the Art students (or whatever they are called in my university) just have to submit a few 2,000 word essays. The excruciating workload aside, their lecturers seem to be more lenient in their grading. XH said one guy in his class got a pass for producing maybe 500 words for a 2,000 word essay. And the average grade for his class is A. I might be wrong, but I don’t think the standards of our English Language students are that impressive. Best of all, they are allowed late submissions. We cannot even be a second late. Should we submit our assignment an hour before the 12pm deadline and can’t get it through due to the heavy traffic, it is OUR FAULT. Instant ZERO. No amount of begging, sobbing and pleading will get you anywhere. Okay maybe if your entire family got slaughtered they might make an exception. Otherwise ZERO.
Miss Sporty told me that she went through her Mass Communications degree in NTU on a part time basis. I felt fucked. Violated. Buggered. Raped. Cheated. Disenfranchised. Robbed. If I had known they offered a part time Mass Communications degree I would have robbed the fucking bank for it. Okay, I wouldn’t have to go to that extent. As NTU is regime-funded, I could pay my school fees using my CPF.
The reduced group work makes the course a mouth-watering prospect. Looking at my Business assignments, if I had to do my ‘smoking’ solo despite having a group, I might as well go for a course that often makes working alone compulsory. Not like there’s any difference.. Bloody Hell I don’t even think I need to do that accused video presentation! I would rather learn how to write a press release (more smoking!) than balance some goddamn accounts and wear a mask 24/7, backstab people and in general behave like an asshole without looking and smelling like one. Fuck the corporate world.
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Our Good Friday meetup ended in abject disappointment. Only Xianghong and I turned up. JY suddenly had school work and Gabby was uncontactable. Most of whom we invited and/or messaged didn’t reply. So much for our first anniversary.
I am a bit disgusted. There are people who actually bother to sign up for an Atheist group, some of whom are apparently so delighted at finding Atheists around but when it comes to a meetup, won’t even bother to reply whether they are coming. If you are not coming, tell me straight. I am not forcing anyone at gun point and saves me a lot of trouble. It is no joking matter contacting 10, 20 people and then reminding them a few days earlier before the event of the time and date. There are people who have never replied. And they are as atheist as they go – or claim to be.
Instead of attending Good News Singapore, XH and I decided to walk to Geylang for dinner. It was a fitting response and a tribute to the cause of Atheism. After we had our fill of our overpriced slop we tried to do a video on GL. We didn’t manage to film anything because even without the whores around, the lookouts were quite protective of their territory. When XH took out his camera in front of Darlene Hotel, immediately the bloke standing behind us glared and moved towards us. I told XH to keep his camera.
The only action we saw was a raid. A crowd had gathered to watch a white van packed full with whores. A squat goblinoid of a police officer was driving the onlookers back, shouting imprecations as he did so. I peeked into the van and saw Indonesian whores. Good. They didn’t get the Chinese merchandise. There were a few other white vans around the corner, but they were empty. I hate the bloody fuzz. I wonder if Goblinoid would be so arrogant if he were without his badge. Maybe if I ever see him in another country…
I walked my friend around, explaining to him the selection of goods that could be found at each lorong. Without the actual merchandise present, my tutorage was quite a difficult one. I decided to bring XH to the fish tanks to supplement the education. There were only a few whores available in the few establishments we went into. With the streets emptied of ‘black market’ goods, the legitimate businesses enjoyed an increased revenue. An example of simple economics, supply and demand.
After that I decided to continue XH’s education in another part of Singapore: Bugis. On our way to the train station we saw an old man, shirtless, sleeping in a rubbish heap, with his head stuck in a particularly malodorous part of it. He was so still, so oblivious to the smell that I thought he was dead. This was a Uniquely Singapore sight. We have no beggars. Yeah right. I don’t even think that hoboes around the world – okay maybe in certain parts of Asia – live like this. I am dead certain no hobo in a first world country looks as wretched as Mr. Rubbish Heap here. It was a pity that in our jadedness we forgot to snap a few shots. Kodak moment.
In Bugis I showed XH where certain establishments could be found. The backstreets of Bugis were seedy yet vibrant, like GL but without the whores and cheap Indian and Bangladesh laborers. Groups of yuppies smoked Arabic weed in front of the shops. As we walked along the darkened streets we saw revelers enjoying their soiree. A percussion from an Indian shop or somesuch stirred our blood as we passed it. It was like we were in Sin City, albeit a much sleepier version of it.
The shopping centres I took my friend were empty husks of what they had been. Save for one KTV lounge, their male-oriented health industries were no more. Thanks to the bloody and sexless regime in this cuntry, a man can’t even get his rocks off. I hope the fools don’t keep their pretense of Confucian morality – I personally think that it would have been better for China and the Chinese if that hypocrite Confucius didn’t exist or were killed before he could utter his pedantic ejaculations – or else two things will happen. First, the sex crimes in this cuntry will escalate. Second, men will go to neighboring countries to stimulate their economies because the whores there are cheap and readily available. A country run like clockwork will fall like clockwork.
There wasn’t enough time for me to bring XH to a shopping mall which its ‘health industry’ is still left unmolested. Oh well. We will get the chance. Maybe we will organize an Atheist meetup for this exact purpose. Male bonding. I think we should be able to get some proper attendance.
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I think being an Atheist sucks. Many of us love to laugh at theists being dumb and believing in all kinds of nonsense and doing all sorts of stupid shit like speaking in tongues and flagellating themselves in some religious-inspired masochism. Look at us! We cannot even get our own backyard in order and we are laughing at the people who can do it. If that is not shamelessness, I don’t know what it is.
I have evolved to a state where the question of whether Gawd exists has ceased to be of any relevance. If It ever existed, and exists still, It is unworthy of worship and therefore should be abolished. Why should It be worshipped, when It is merely a servant of He Who Is Greater? Why split the profits with the middle man?
On the other hand, if Gawd never existed, I would neither lose nor gain anything. Yet one cannot deny the power of organized mass delusion. They may be stupid, but they will crush the intelligentsia by their spit alone. Weak individually, strong collectively. And they are the exemplar of collectivism.
It has been said that herding Atheists is like herding cats. I think this statement is wrong. Not all cats are solitary as they seem. Lions live in prides, and even ‘solitary’ cats like cheetahs coordinate in a hunt. And all cats, regardless of size or temperament, fight ferociously when threatened. Atheists don’t deserve to be compared to cats. We couldn’t work together if our lives depended on it. And some of us are so docile they justify their cowardice and inertness with Kant, Nietzsche, the brain-in-the-jar theory, the eternal regression and other philosophies which they take great pleasure in regurgitating to order to show their ‘superior’ intellect and ‘vast’ learning and at the same time hide their deficiencies. Philosophy has been described in the textbooks as ‘thinking for the sake of thinking’. So where’re the applications? What’s the point of going ad nauseam about Hegel and the virtues of his philosophy when you can’t - or won’t – use what you learn?
For all their learning, intellectuals and their ilk the pseudo-intellectuals have failed miserably. They live so high in their ivory towers they are perpetually on cloud nine and never notice what happens on the ground. They only realize shit happens when the entire edifice collapses and they are on the ground with the philistines and unwashed masses they have derided as being inferior, uncouth and uneducated. Same applies to moderates and liberals. Oh we must be politically correct, we need more information, we can’t judge immediately, we must discuss in detail and lay everything out properly, Socrates said…yabba yabba abracadabra.
Not all Atheists are intellectuals (although many whom I met think themselves as such), but most are moderates and liberals. Atheists are stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. There, I said it four times. When XH and I wrote that ‘Atheism is an Abject Failure’ article, we (I actually got all the stick) were lambasted by a few atheists. If I may be shameless, it’s actually a brilliant article (the lousy English notwithstanding), as it highlights various points on why Atheists are pathetic compared to the theists. Apparently some people can’t handle the truth and instead of attacking my arguments, attacked me personally. Atheists are logical and relies on reasoning. Indeed.
Then there were Atheists who for some reason, do not wish to be associated with Atheism. They prefer to call themselves agnostics and freethinkers. Sadly, they don’t even know what agnosticism means. And from listening to them talk about their beliefs, it becomes apparent they are atheists. Agnostics are easily the worst of the lot. Those who actually know what agnosticism means like to demand that atheists prove ourselves to them that Gawd does not exist, rather than asking the theists to prove their case. It’s ridiculous! How in the Hells do you expect me to conjure out something out of nothing? Who am I now, David Copperfield? While we are at it, why don’t I also disprove the existence of myself (okay, we are back to that thrice-damned brain-in-the-thrice-damned jar argument again – Did I mention that agnostics tend to be intellectuals?) or prove that George W. Bush has an IQ of 200?
During our dinner at GL, XH made an astute observation: If one fine day we end up being prosecuted for being Atheists, we can safely bet that nobody will intervene on our behalf. Sad, but true. A Christian who sacrifices himself (let’s exclude terrorist acts in the name of religion here) is a martyr. The Christian community show their support openly. Fellow Christians will remember him with fondness and speak well of him. I wonder what will happen when Atheists are being persecuted and some atheist opens his mouth to protest. What will become of him then? “Oh it’s just another Dr. Chee, ignore the idiot lah. He’s just being stupid…” So my fellow infidels, atheists, agnostics, freethinkers, telly-tubby New-Agers or whatever you choose to call yourselves, it is you who are stupid. Not the Christians. Not the Muslims. Not the Hindus. Not the Taoists. Not the Buddhists. Not even the Teapot worshipers in Malaysia. There, I said it. I just spat on my own kind. Sorry, I mean ilk. So bite me.
Atheists and the other non-religious are even more myopic than the theists. The theists cannot see well, but at least they guide one another along. So many of us could not look beyond our oh-so sophisticated arguments to see that humans are never totally logical. We are more emotional and illogical than we would care to admit.
We don’t care for someone just because we agree with her intellectual arguments. We care because we like her. A couple don’t get married because they can connect purely on an intellectual level. Lust, love, affection, infatuation and other needs bring them together. Humans will always fight the hardest for people and causes they are most emotionally involved with. All ideologies and principles merely strengthen the emotional component and are not separate entities by themselves.
I will use a crass example here. What does a desperate, unwanted bloke really want? The best arguments that there is no kind and loving deity, and that he is on his own, or the feeling of being loved? I dare say many blokes become church-goers because for once in their miserable existence they feel wanted. Nobody wants to be lonely, as that Christina Aguilera feat. Ricky Martin song goes. What can you get for being just an atheist, the sole ubermensch amongst the apes? Destroying Christians in debates? Spending hours writing about how stupid religion is? Going to fellow Atheist blogs/sites and complimenting the writer in the secret hope that they will reciprocate and praise your ‘fantastic’ writing? While the desperate male I quoted is undoubtedly a pathetic specimen, but aren’t some Atheists as well? Both may be onanistic in nature, but at least the former actually knows he wants some girl to satisfy his needs.
As an infidel even I know that organized religion trumps organized Atheism (if there’s truly such a thing) any day. One cannot never underestimate the sense of communal kinship, the sense of love, care and justice, and the seemingly unadulterated affection members display that are found in religion. The shared values and common goal for its adherents. The collectivistic drive and focus. You know you have seem the best of slave management when the slaves actually enjoy it and defend their institutions with such fervor. Atheism only offers round after round of repeated philosophical discussions, barren intellectualism, zero goals, zero definition, zero this and then. It is purely NATO (No Action Talk Only) and in the end, when we are fucked we have only ourselves to blame. And we are so apathetic we won’t even bother!
Talking to some Atheists about the power of emotions versus intellectualism is a gut-wrenching exercise. No matter what I say I am always wrong. It is not Atheism’s fault, but my own. I am a loser and my failings does not reflect on secularism. It’s touché, touché and more touchés without reply. It’s like hitting a brick wall with a fencing foil. In the first place, why bother?
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Everton were held 3: 3 at Villa after leading twice by two goals. It had been a glorious opportunity to leapfrog Villa into fifth place but it was not to be. The high-scoring thriller was pleasing on the eye but stressing on the heart. We don’t usually concede three goals but on Sunday we switched off and paid the price. The ManUre stand between us and our first appearance in an FA Cup Final since 1996. The lads better tighten up at the back.
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I just found that my answer to Question 5 of my Managerial Accounting assignment was replaced by some Nobel Prize award winning material (Singapore Category). At 4am Monday morning, O made a miraculous recovery from his illness and the effect was for all to see. After reading it I immediately felt I was put in my place. Right now I feel suicidal and the compulsion to quit my Business degree course grows even stronger.
I didn’t even receive an sms informing me of the amendment. And who checks his email at four in the morning?! If I had known this would happen I would not have wasted an hour of my precious time doing the damn question! It’s not like I am pissed off because my hard work got rejected. If O’s rubbish were better than mine, I would have gladly taken his answer. But when it’s the opposite way round it just makes me feel like I am fucked for no good reason.
I wish I could put it up for your amusement but the plagiarism program the University uses will pick it up. I have enough on my plate already. I see no point in inflicting more pain on myself. There is only so much a man can take.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
It's a Funny Old Game.
The football results are better than what I expected. After 14 months and 32 matches unbeaten at home the Shite were murdered 3:1 by Chelski. This splendid and uplifting result means that the Shite will need to score at least three times and win by two clear goals to go through. A similar scoreline in their favor takes the tie to extra time. Will Stamford Bridge come falling down like London Bridge? Fat chance.
While you are at it, put trash where it belongs.
Barcelona cemented their place in the semis by annihilating Bayern Munich. But for some wasteful finishing the score line should have been much worse than the 4:0 debacle the Germans suffered. The return leg should be a formality. Barca can afford to lose by three goals – which they won’t.
A day earlier, FC Porto showed that the World and European champions ManUre are a grossly overrated side. Led by a striker nicknamed the Hulk, the 2004 Champions League winners pulverized the 2008 winners on their own ground. Only profligate finishing and a horrendous defensive lapse threw ManUre a lifeline. Now the Red Devils have to become the first side to slay the Dragons at the Dragon. And they have to content with the Hulk too.
After being played off the park at Villarreal, the Arse were in danger of being torpedoed by the Yellow Submarines. However, a spectacular goal by Adebayor cancelled out an early 25 metre missile from the home side. Now it’s to the Emirates. Advantage Arsenal. Will the Cannons sink the Submarines? Stay tuned.
Back to the English Premiership. Everton whitewashed Wigan 4:0 last Saturday and will attempt to achieve a positive result at Villa Park on Sunday. While a similar scoreline seems impossible, Moyes will no doubt be telling his lads – to borrow a famous Anarchist slogan – to demand the impossible. The Villains’ recent form is so wretched that they remind one of Newcastle, but for the different strip. After leading 2:1 at Old Trafford they let in an equaliser in the last ten minutes and conceded the winner in injury time. Given the Sunday encounter between the two sides is a six-pointer which may well decide who gets fifth and sixth, the Blues might as well go for it. The Shite disgraced the ManUre 4:1 in their own backyard. We can do the same to the Vanilla Milkshakes on theirs.
The Barcode Army has had their share of Messiahs over the years. Kevin ‘I’d luv it if we beat ‘em’ Keegan, charming old salt Bobby Robson, hopelessly inept Graeme Sourness, foul-mouthed Joe Kinnear of the Crazy Gang fame and the world record holder of using the most number of the word ‘fuck’ in a press interview, had tried and failed to lead the ‘Best Club in the World’ (sniggers) to where they belong (the exact location is still a source of great academic debate in the pubs of Tyneside.) Now, Mr. Premiership Alan Shearer has signed on to make sure they don’t end up in the First Division next season.
They take their football seriously in those parts.
The drama at Newcastle just doesn’t get any better. Club owner Mike Ashley, a target for vitriol in recent months has seemingly pulled a rabbit of out of the hat by installing the Premiership’s best ever goal scorer and local hero to try to save a team of jokers mired in the relegation battle. Upon his installation, Shearer’s stature immediately grew to even more majestic proportions when he got rid of the much hated Dennis Wise who was earning an astronomical amount at his post of Director of football (whatever that is), and forced the reviled owner Mike [insert your expletive] Ashley to clear the air.
Despite a home defeat by Chelski, Shearer remains hopeful. ‘We are not playing Chelsea every week,’ is the best post-defeat motivation speech I have heard in a long while. (The next time my Sunday league football team lose I’m going to say the same thing.) Shearer has seven games left to save the Barcode Army. They next play fellow relegation candidates Stoke City. It’s a six-pointer and neither side can afford any slip-ups. Stoke City’s agricultural brand of football – enter the human sling Rory Delap – will provide a bruising examination of the Barcode Army’s flimsy defence. When the Black and White get battered black and blue, what will Shearer say? ‘We are not playing Stoke City every week’?
Indeed, Newcastle will not be playing Premiership football every week very soon. I like Shearer; I grew up watching him score goals for fun. As a player he has an exemplary resume, but in his first - and possibly last – experience as manager, the black mark of relegation on his managerial credentials will be indelible.
What Newcastle really need: players like this.
While you are at it, put trash where it belongs.Barcelona cemented their place in the semis by annihilating Bayern Munich. But for some wasteful finishing the score line should have been much worse than the 4:0 debacle the Germans suffered. The return leg should be a formality. Barca can afford to lose by three goals – which they won’t.
A day earlier, FC Porto showed that the World and European champions ManUre are a grossly overrated side. Led by a striker nicknamed the Hulk, the 2004 Champions League winners pulverized the 2008 winners on their own ground. Only profligate finishing and a horrendous defensive lapse threw ManUre a lifeline. Now the Red Devils have to become the first side to slay the Dragons at the Dragon. And they have to content with the Hulk too.
After being played off the park at Villarreal, the Arse were in danger of being torpedoed by the Yellow Submarines. However, a spectacular goal by Adebayor cancelled out an early 25 metre missile from the home side. Now it’s to the Emirates. Advantage Arsenal. Will the Cannons sink the Submarines? Stay tuned.
Back to the English Premiership. Everton whitewashed Wigan 4:0 last Saturday and will attempt to achieve a positive result at Villa Park on Sunday. While a similar scoreline seems impossible, Moyes will no doubt be telling his lads – to borrow a famous Anarchist slogan – to demand the impossible. The Villains’ recent form is so wretched that they remind one of Newcastle, but for the different strip. After leading 2:1 at Old Trafford they let in an equaliser in the last ten minutes and conceded the winner in injury time. Given the Sunday encounter between the two sides is a six-pointer which may well decide who gets fifth and sixth, the Blues might as well go for it. The Shite disgraced the ManUre 4:1 in their own backyard. We can do the same to the Vanilla Milkshakes on theirs.
The Barcode Army has had their share of Messiahs over the years. Kevin ‘I’d luv it if we beat ‘em’ Keegan, charming old salt Bobby Robson, hopelessly inept Graeme Sourness, foul-mouthed Joe Kinnear of the Crazy Gang fame and the world record holder of using the most number of the word ‘fuck’ in a press interview, had tried and failed to lead the ‘Best Club in the World’ (sniggers) to where they belong (the exact location is still a source of great academic debate in the pubs of Tyneside.) Now, Mr. Premiership Alan Shearer has signed on to make sure they don’t end up in the First Division next season.
They take their football seriously in those parts.The drama at Newcastle just doesn’t get any better. Club owner Mike Ashley, a target for vitriol in recent months has seemingly pulled a rabbit of out of the hat by installing the Premiership’s best ever goal scorer and local hero to try to save a team of jokers mired in the relegation battle. Upon his installation, Shearer’s stature immediately grew to even more majestic proportions when he got rid of the much hated Dennis Wise who was earning an astronomical amount at his post of Director of football (whatever that is), and forced the reviled owner Mike [insert your expletive] Ashley to clear the air.
Despite a home defeat by Chelski, Shearer remains hopeful. ‘We are not playing Chelsea every week,’ is the best post-defeat motivation speech I have heard in a long while. (The next time my Sunday league football team lose I’m going to say the same thing.) Shearer has seven games left to save the Barcode Army. They next play fellow relegation candidates Stoke City. It’s a six-pointer and neither side can afford any slip-ups. Stoke City’s agricultural brand of football – enter the human sling Rory Delap – will provide a bruising examination of the Barcode Army’s flimsy defence. When the Black and White get battered black and blue, what will Shearer say? ‘We are not playing Stoke City every week’?
Indeed, Newcastle will not be playing Premiership football every week very soon. I like Shearer; I grew up watching him score goals for fun. As a player he has an exemplary resume, but in his first - and possibly last – experience as manager, the black mark of relegation on his managerial credentials will be indelible.
What Newcastle really need: players like this.Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sunday Ecstasy
Our martial arts practice last Sunday was enjoyable to say the least.
Baiqi (BQ), Xiangrong (XR), Ken, Xinyao (I’ll be cheeky and call her Miss Sporty) and I met at the entrance to the Esplanade. There we walked to Liang Seng where we did our shopping. Between themselves BQ and XR bought three punching pads, one big, the other two smaller. I feel like getting a sword and a staff, but could see no conceivable way to cart them home without being questioned by the security in the train station.
Having made our purchases, we went to the Esplanade atrium. The place was a bit crowded. As usual the arty farty people did their hip-hop dancing; we stayed clear of them. Obviously yoga has become quite popular. We saw quite a few people lying next to the wall, engaged in variations of the classic ‘corpse’ posture. Fortunately we managed to find a space and soon got into practice proper.
As we were still unused to holding the hitting pads, we spent the first twenty minutes or so experimenting with various ways of holding them. For some reason I just could not hold the damn thing without having it flip about when I got ‘hit’. Anyway, we started off executing turning kicks, taking turns to be the defender. I have not kicked a pad since I took unarmed combat in the army and it took a while to get used to it. On the whole we were quite okay with the front kicks and turning kicks. Ken and BQ were quite good; I think their Tae kwon Do background prepared them better for throwing turning kicks. XR and I were reasonably okay (traditional Chinese martial arts do not focus on turning kicks but that is a story for another day.) My left foot sucked through – I think footballers tend to end up predominantly one-footed.
Anyway, we got Miss Sporty to try and I think she is an absolute talent. She picked up the technique pretty fast and for a petite girl she certainly hit harder than one would expect. (Again, this is a reminder for me not to piss off a woman. But still, I like to tease ‘em….) We did a few side kicks, more for fun than anything else – my side kick sucked as well.
Oh well, my death wish aside, we also tried some basic punching and blocking moves. While Ken and BQ attacked each other, XR taught Miss Sporty and I the taiji way of evading an attack. I had a hard time getting used to it. I was taught the ‘hard-style’ method, which relies on speed and power, whereas taiji is softer and more technical in its application. It was quite interesting through.
We continued to do more punching and kicking. We also leaped and did jumping kicks. Ken had to leave early while Miss Sporty stayed longer. We blokes who remained continued to kick and punch and execute elbow strikes while Miss Sunshine watched us, possibly with some amusement, at the new age Neanderthals hacking away at one another. Prior to her arrival she had been cycling for five hours in East Coast Park. What a powerful woman! I think I may not look it, but I am also quite powerful. I played a football game before the training. I think I am a ‘strongling’ (a strongling is a strong weakling). XR and BQ are also powerful, pausing only occasionally in the training.
I think I am babbling now. I have just completed my Business Law question, and as we speak, am being eaten alive by mosquitoes that seem immune to my insecticide and fly unseen like goddamn Stealth Fighters. Don't mind me. I'm delirious.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yea, the powerful thing. Miss Sporty left around six - she was exhausted – leaving BQ, XR and I to our (torturous) devices. Each of us completed the following masochistic acts: 100 elbow strikes (50 for each side) and 50 turning kicks (using our left foot). We also timed ourselves to see how many punches and turning kicks (right-footed) we could execute in a minute. We could barely lift our legs to kick the pad and our waist was sore the act of bending over for the chambering. And air! We were practically gasping for air! BQ and I felt a slight headache from the impact. My right wrist is still a bit swollen from the blocking and the knuckles on my left hand is bruised. The little abrasions are a bit wet. My right hand is less sore but I can still write with either hand.
It was an excruciating exercise but I thoroughly relished it. We agreed unanimously that if we could keep this up week in week out we would be extremely fit.
On our way to the nearby food centre the three of us discussed about the martial arts. We didn’t really feel like eating when we got there, despite the good food; we were dehydrated – no, desiccated - from our exertions. I hope Xianghong, Cassandra and Miss Sporty can join us this Sunday. It would be smashing! Literally.
Baiqi (BQ), Xiangrong (XR), Ken, Xinyao (I’ll be cheeky and call her Miss Sporty) and I met at the entrance to the Esplanade. There we walked to Liang Seng where we did our shopping. Between themselves BQ and XR bought three punching pads, one big, the other two smaller. I feel like getting a sword and a staff, but could see no conceivable way to cart them home without being questioned by the security in the train station.
Having made our purchases, we went to the Esplanade atrium. The place was a bit crowded. As usual the arty farty people did their hip-hop dancing; we stayed clear of them. Obviously yoga has become quite popular. We saw quite a few people lying next to the wall, engaged in variations of the classic ‘corpse’ posture. Fortunately we managed to find a space and soon got into practice proper.
As we were still unused to holding the hitting pads, we spent the first twenty minutes or so experimenting with various ways of holding them. For some reason I just could not hold the damn thing without having it flip about when I got ‘hit’. Anyway, we started off executing turning kicks, taking turns to be the defender. I have not kicked a pad since I took unarmed combat in the army and it took a while to get used to it. On the whole we were quite okay with the front kicks and turning kicks. Ken and BQ were quite good; I think their Tae kwon Do background prepared them better for throwing turning kicks. XR and I were reasonably okay (traditional Chinese martial arts do not focus on turning kicks but that is a story for another day.) My left foot sucked through – I think footballers tend to end up predominantly one-footed.
Anyway, we got Miss Sporty to try and I think she is an absolute talent. She picked up the technique pretty fast and for a petite girl she certainly hit harder than one would expect. (Again, this is a reminder for me not to piss off a woman. But still, I like to tease ‘em….) We did a few side kicks, more for fun than anything else – my side kick sucked as well.
Oh well, my death wish aside, we also tried some basic punching and blocking moves. While Ken and BQ attacked each other, XR taught Miss Sporty and I the taiji way of evading an attack. I had a hard time getting used to it. I was taught the ‘hard-style’ method, which relies on speed and power, whereas taiji is softer and more technical in its application. It was quite interesting through.
We continued to do more punching and kicking. We also leaped and did jumping kicks. Ken had to leave early while Miss Sporty stayed longer. We blokes who remained continued to kick and punch and execute elbow strikes while Miss Sunshine watched us, possibly with some amusement, at the new age Neanderthals hacking away at one another. Prior to her arrival she had been cycling for five hours in East Coast Park. What a powerful woman! I think I may not look it, but I am also quite powerful. I played a football game before the training. I think I am a ‘strongling’ (a strongling is a strong weakling). XR and BQ are also powerful, pausing only occasionally in the training.
I think I am babbling now. I have just completed my Business Law question, and as we speak, am being eaten alive by mosquitoes that seem immune to my insecticide and fly unseen like goddamn Stealth Fighters. Don't mind me. I'm delirious.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yea, the powerful thing. Miss Sporty left around six - she was exhausted – leaving BQ, XR and I to our (torturous) devices. Each of us completed the following masochistic acts: 100 elbow strikes (50 for each side) and 50 turning kicks (using our left foot). We also timed ourselves to see how many punches and turning kicks (right-footed) we could execute in a minute. We could barely lift our legs to kick the pad and our waist was sore the act of bending over for the chambering. And air! We were practically gasping for air! BQ and I felt a slight headache from the impact. My right wrist is still a bit swollen from the blocking and the knuckles on my left hand is bruised. The little abrasions are a bit wet. My right hand is less sore but I can still write with either hand.
It was an excruciating exercise but I thoroughly relished it. We agreed unanimously that if we could keep this up week in week out we would be extremely fit.
On our way to the nearby food centre the three of us discussed about the martial arts. We didn’t really feel like eating when we got there, despite the good food; we were dehydrated – no, desiccated - from our exertions. I hope Xianghong, Cassandra and Miss Sporty can join us this Sunday. It would be smashing! Literally.
Is Religion the Biggest Obstacle to Gender Equality?
I was lying in bed and listening to the radio this morning when this topic came up on BBC’s World Have Your Say: ‘Is Religion the Biggest Obstacle to Gender Equality?’
They had a rabbi, an imam, a representative of some obscure woman’s rights organization in a spokeswoman for Freedom From Religion on the show. There might have been another but I can’t remember now so I’ll just cut to the chase.
The first three – or four – claimed that religion is not an obstacle and any subjugation of women has been the result of the predominance of patriarchal societies. They also argued that men and women were created equal by Gawd and therefore have different roles to play. (I suppose this explains why the bloody Arab world treats women as little more than sheep and do not allow them equal rights and opportunities. )
The rabbi was particularly obnoxious. He said that the removal of two female cabinet ministers from a press photograph is necessary to preserve the violation of female modesty. He justified this laughable assertion by saying that females have a ‘very high role’’ and therefore should be spared from public scrutiny. When the BBC presenter wanted to speak to his wife and daughter to hear their views on the matter the rabbi made a sorry excuse saying that ‘their English was not very good’ and refused to let them on air.
While the spokeswoman for Freedom From Religion was talking, the rabbi kept interrupting her. Listening to the show I felt fucking pissed off and if I were in the studio I would have fucking told the Jewish charlatan to shut his fucking trap or I would shut it for him. This is obviously a pig that does not respect women. My wretched cold cleared a bit – I suppose my anger helped – and as I listened to the programme I felt even more enraged at the bloody moderates who called it and said that women were never oppressed by religion.
So at 1.30am, I switched on my computer and accessed the World Have Your Say page. I left my comments on the blog. I just had to do something. I was practically trembling with rage. I couldn’t think coherently, and my fingers kept hitting the keyboard and I had to take off my earpiece to allow myself to focus. They didn’t read out my comments but I had to make a point whether anyone liked it or not.
Sandy from Singapore called in. She described her experience in a Catholic church and said that although the nuns have been working very hard they never received the same recognition as the men. She further said that religion never treated women as equals and I applauded her. For that brief time she was on air I was not ashamed of my cuntry. It was refreshing hearing a Singapore woman – I don’t regard women as inferior; I just have a low opinion of the local women in general – speak with such intelligence. She is a pearl indeed. I hope I can get to meet her one day.
Unfortunately after she ended a few moderates called in and defended religion. I was quite disgusted with the BBC. Why did they get so many bloody religious adherents and parasitic moderates to comment on a topic that rightly should not be discussed in this time and age? They should have gotten more atheists on the show. Possibly a few anarchists as well.
I felt like hitting some sod after the programme ended. I am still pretty pissed off.
They had a rabbi, an imam, a representative of some obscure woman’s rights organization in a spokeswoman for Freedom From Religion on the show. There might have been another but I can’t remember now so I’ll just cut to the chase.
The first three – or four – claimed that religion is not an obstacle and any subjugation of women has been the result of the predominance of patriarchal societies. They also argued that men and women were created equal by Gawd and therefore have different roles to play. (I suppose this explains why the bloody Arab world treats women as little more than sheep and do not allow them equal rights and opportunities. )
The rabbi was particularly obnoxious. He said that the removal of two female cabinet ministers from a press photograph is necessary to preserve the violation of female modesty. He justified this laughable assertion by saying that females have a ‘very high role’’ and therefore should be spared from public scrutiny. When the BBC presenter wanted to speak to his wife and daughter to hear their views on the matter the rabbi made a sorry excuse saying that ‘their English was not very good’ and refused to let them on air.
While the spokeswoman for Freedom From Religion was talking, the rabbi kept interrupting her. Listening to the show I felt fucking pissed off and if I were in the studio I would have fucking told the Jewish charlatan to shut his fucking trap or I would shut it for him. This is obviously a pig that does not respect women. My wretched cold cleared a bit – I suppose my anger helped – and as I listened to the programme I felt even more enraged at the bloody moderates who called it and said that women were never oppressed by religion.
So at 1.30am, I switched on my computer and accessed the World Have Your Say page. I left my comments on the blog. I just had to do something. I was practically trembling with rage. I couldn’t think coherently, and my fingers kept hitting the keyboard and I had to take off my earpiece to allow myself to focus. They didn’t read out my comments but I had to make a point whether anyone liked it or not.
Sandy from Singapore called in. She described her experience in a Catholic church and said that although the nuns have been working very hard they never received the same recognition as the men. She further said that religion never treated women as equals and I applauded her. For that brief time she was on air I was not ashamed of my cuntry. It was refreshing hearing a Singapore woman – I don’t regard women as inferior; I just have a low opinion of the local women in general – speak with such intelligence. She is a pearl indeed. I hope I can get to meet her one day.
Unfortunately after she ended a few moderates called in and defended religion. I was quite disgusted with the BBC. Why did they get so many bloody religious adherents and parasitic moderates to comment on a topic that rightly should not be discussed in this time and age? They should have gotten more atheists on the show. Possibly a few anarchists as well.
I felt like hitting some sod after the programme ended. I am still pretty pissed off.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Why Teachers Quit?!
Why Teachers Quit?! is a damning indictment of our supposedly world class education system. This brutally honest account reveals what it truly is: overrated, callous, insipid, shameful, stressful and mercenary; a system in which schools, which were sacred bastions of learning, are now corrupted parodies of their former selves.
Enzo Liow devotes much of his book on the four main areas which could break a teacher: students, parents, teachers and the system. Teachers are expected to maintain discipline, yet they are no longer granted the authority to punish errant students. Parents expect their teachers to do everything from teaching to instilling moral values. Instead of concentrating on imparting knowledge to their young and impressionable charges, our educators have to devote much time on non-academic obligations. From attending endless meetings and training courses, doing projects, conducting extra curriculum activities to ensuing their schools achieve commercial recognition like ISO standards and People’s Developer awards, teachers are overburdened and stretched to breaking point. Indeed, there is no respite in this debilitating profession. It only comes when he or she resigns.
Reading this book sends a shudder down my spine. Something is seriously wrong when the system is obsessed with results and will do anything to achieve the next accolade or award. The school environment is now a cut-throat corporate culture. Everybody is expendable and a commodity to be ruthlessly exploited to benefit the school and its management. A paradigm shift has occurred in education: corporatism has tainted it and reduced everything to bare monetary values. And our teachers and students are worse off for it.
The testimonials from ex-teachers make particularly gut-wrenching reading. Their words betray an underlying sense of despair, that of the idealist pitted against an uncaring system of crushing cynicism. Although Enzo Liow expresses hope for the teaching profession, his tone reminds you of a man who drinks himself to blissful oblivion to escape the harshness – and truth of reality.
Why Teachers Quit?! could have been a masterpiece but the author shot himself in the foot with his Singapore-style English and poor grammar. Smileys do not belong to a published work of this nature; their inclusion makes his writing amateurish. The book is also too short to truly qualify as a discourse on a serious topic.
Despite its shortcomings, I would recommend this book to any wannabe teacher. Rarely has a commentary been so refreshing honest and Enzo Liow deserves credit for highlighting a problem that has been swept under the carpet.
Ratings: 4/5
Friday, April 3, 2009
Hurray! It's Over!
Isn't it an irony that the G20 meeting took place during April Fool’s Day?
Measures worth $1.1 trillion are promised to tackle the deepening recession. The figure is impressive but how are they going to cough up the money?
The G20 meeting is held on the premise that 20 countries – 19 if you discount the EU - by virtue of making up 85% of the world economy, offer the best solutions to the current economic crisis. Considering that the world is made up of nearly 200 countries and only the top 5 to 10% is invited to the ball, this smacks of elitism. Surely the G20 will want to look after their own interests first. They keep going on about the importance of not implementing protectionism, but 17 of these 20 have already taken such measures. The remaining 160 plus nations are apparently too inferior to contribute, even though they live on the same planet as their richer counterparts. Capitalism at its best.
For all our sakes, I do hope that whatever the
As usual
So
Anyway, more money ($500 billion) is promised to developing nations. The rest goes to the IMF, international banks, promoting of international trade etc. (
Sanctions against tax havens will be set – er…okay. At least this issue was actually discussed. According to a BBC broadcaster last night the ‘green economy’ issue was only mentioned – and brusquely – in the 28th paragraph in the 29 paragraphed communiqué. So much for environmental issues. So let us cut down more forests to create more jobs for loggers. We cannot afford to reduce pollution! Millions in sweat-shop factories around the world would lose their jobs! We should deplete our natural resources and reserves. Make way for shopping malls and mines. Who cares about the animals? They got nowhere to go they will just die quietly. They don’t pay tax, don’t buy stuff and contribute to the economy, why bother?
I am just glad that this meeting is over and done with. I’m getting sick of the massive coverage of the London Summit. Now, on to more important news.
Pirated Inkblot Test
Another strange test (thanks Lass.)
Outcome C - The Scientist.
Outcome C - The Scientist.
Based on the descriptions you chose, you have quite a unique mind. You are creative, introverted, and find it hard to meet new people. You are constantly looking for new methods and ideas, and find excitement in learning.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
My Brilliant Business Plan
Business Law II class saw yet another record-breaking attendance. Apparently the lecturer from another class decided not to turn up so mine volunteered to take his. Instead of having our lesson in a classroom, we were packed in one lecture theatre. Apart from the students from the two scheduled classes, others from the devil-knows-where also joined us. (My lecturer’s reputation as a tips-giver with a great sense of humor has made him extremely popular.) The number of people in one enclosed space, coupled with the non-functional air con made the place rather stuffy. It was fortunate that my lecturer – I shall refer to him as Santa Claus – ended his lecture an hour before the scheduled three hours. He obviously does not believe in inflicting prolonged suffering.
Judging from the overwhelming support for Santa Claus, I wonder how the other Business Law II lecturers must have felt. A class typically consists of 40 - 45 students so we had 80 – 90 last night – it looked like 110 -120. After accounting for the absentees in our two classes (maybe 5 – 10), we were looking at 35 – 40 students who were bona fide ‘illegal immigrants’.
Indeed, I sympathize with the other Business Law II lecturers. Speaking to a half-empty class is demoralizing enough; coupled with the near-zero response of typical Singaporean students and the whole seminar becomes a Mein Kampf against the impulse of walking out or committing suicide. I believe they should alleviate the situation by doing what Santa Claus is doing. There is a Santa Claus in every lecturer and why not let him out? It levels the playing field: students who have reliable tips have an advantage over those who don’t. Moreover, they get back their students and their charges, I’m sure, will return the flavor of writing them a glowing review in the End-of-Course Assessment. Lastly, I personally would welcome the move. I don’t like to sit through a lecture in an overcrowded room.
Meanwhile, since my University embodies the spirit of corporatism, it is therefore interested in earning more revenue. I have a few splendid solutions. One way to earn higher profits is to cut costs.
Instead of assigning a lecturer to each class, why not remove the non-Santa Clauses? Empirical data has effectively demonstrated that students would ‘jump class’ to another if they perceive i) their lecturer is boring ii) the other lecturer is more interesting and likes to give tips. If the University can find more lecture halls and theatres to dump a few classes in, surely this is a viable and lucrative option.
Assuming one lecturer charges $150 per hour, a three hour seminar costs $450. Multiply that by 6 for a 5 credit unit module and the total teaching costs amount to $2,700 per class. This is a substantial amount. If there are ten lecturers for one module, and if you reduce the ‘dead weight’ by half, then the University saves $13,500 per module! As there are easily 20 modules in a Business degree, multiply this by 20 and the figure becomes an impressive $270,000! As the
Santa Clauses aside, we wouldn't mind having these as well...
The problem is finding more lecture halls. If I am not wrong, the University is expanding its compound. The new wing/building should comprise lecture halls ONLY. One may argue that this drastically reduces the quality of the education the University provides. There are less opportunities for students to interact with the lecturer and group-forming for assignments would be troublesome because nobody would know whom his classmates are. Again, ditch the rule that students can only from groups with his classmates. We are talking about HOLISTIC education here! Why impose unreasonable restrictions? Wouldn’t students benefit from working with people from different fields and courses? The world is becoming a global village, and the University should recognize this and embrace heterogeneity, even though this may take the form of cross-faculty interaction.
Fears of students receiving a substandard education is unfounded. It is unfounded because it is simply irrelevant. When have the University concerned itself with the welfare of its students? After the government subsidies were announced, the University cancelled the free refreshments for its part-time students. If I am not wrong, it also raised the school fees. Not concerned with this windfall, it has continued to provide students with notes and case studies that are riddled with errors. A few are so poorly written I dare say I wrote better when I was in primary school. Not satisfied with our already excruciating workload, the University even makes us do video presentations and demands that we submit these video files online. When the system inevitably collapsed, we had to submit our video file in a CD (which we had been doing prior to this ridiculous requirement.) The University cares for its students?! I have seen a hyena show more due care and diligence to a piece of carcass!
Why bother about us students? We are just commodities. We pay money and the University gives us our degree so that we can use it to make more money. It is simple economics. Supply and demand. Back to the ‘right-sizing’ of its lecturers. After the non-Santa Clauses have been made redundant, the remaining ones will be Santa Clauses and if they give their hints and tips with wild abandon, there should be no reason why students will not pass. Indeed, the high passing rate would encourage prospects to enrol in the University. With the increasing demand for places, the University can use this as an excuse to further increase the course fees. Again, supply and demand rules. Also it might be cheaper for the University to rely more on lecture halls rather than classrooms. I don’t know how much it costs to rent a classroom in SP, NP or BMTC, but less reliance on classrooms may provide opportunities for cost-cutting.
By reducing the incurred costs and increasing the revenue, the corporation will improve its annual turnover substantially. This translates to more bonuses for senior management and the increased expansion will lead to more jobs being created. The enhanced reputation of the corporation resulting from the improved passing and graduation rate creates a goodwill which although is intangible, cannot be understated. This leads to more profits and the improved success rate of this paper mill to churn out graduates will allow them to overtake SMU, NTU and NUS as the de facto standard of education in
Take me to your...university.
Martial Arts
Our first martial arts practice started off in an introductory spirit. All four of us have different martial arts backgrounds. Although the Liang brothers and their friend BQ were from the same school (Southern Chinese wushu), the latter has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do while XR practiced taiji and XH dropped off practice altogether. I, with my ‘Northern’ instruction, was the oddity.
We talked and demonstrated what we learned from our respective training before practicing some basic defensive moves. It was obvious that we were poor technically and tactically. XH and XR’s master only taught them the skills but not the applications. Among us, BQ is probably the best technically – he sparred when he was in Tae Kwon Do - only because the rest of us are mediocre. While my master teaches me applications, I have had little chance to practise as I have been lacking a sparring partner for the past five years. If it came to a real fight, we would probably be relying on speed and instinct rather than technique.
This deficiency highlights the inferior standard of martial art instruction in
To compound the problem, the prevalence of the ‘contemporary’ system has eroded the practicality of the martial arts. Take for example, the Korean art of Tae Kwon Do. In tournament fights, competitors are not allowed to kick below waist level and punches to the face is prohibited. (In a real fight they would be dead in no time.) Overemphasis on grading further exacerbates the problem. It is not uncommon for a student to win a ‘double promotion’, especially at the lower levels, when a student goes for his promotion test. Black belts are a dime a dozen – you can earn one in two years, regardless of actual fighting ability.
In wushu, the problem is worse. Although pugilists have always learned their martial arts through repetitive routines, there has been a schism in recent times. Nowadays, wushu means the demonstration of martial arts routines in tournaments where judges assess competitors in how ‘technically perfect’ their performances are. The sabre – it is called a Chinese broadsword now – has become a thin foil of mental shaped like the real thing, and which makes a slapping noise when you ‘thrust’ it in a certain way. If there is a strong wind, it can bend outrageously. Other weapons have become lighter, shorter and less durable. The first two facilitate the performance by drastically reducing the skill and strength required to wield it. The last stems from a lack of need for the ‘weapon’ to be sturdy (nobody is going to war with it.) In my opinion, many of those contemporary – or should I say contemptible – martial artists can never wield a real melee weapon without embarrassing themselves.
A real sword DOES NOT bend like this.
I had heavier and thicker toy swords when I was a kid.
Sanda has been invented to give wushu a more practical face. In antiqued times, pugilists settled their differences on the leitai. A fighter set up a raised platform and issued a challenge to all comers (a more formal invitation would be made if a master from a school wished to challenge his rival in another.) A winner was declared when he either rendered his opponent dead or unable to continue, or succeeded in forcing him off the stage. It was a no-hold barred contest, any technique could be used to strike any part of the body. A severe maiming was not uncommon, although deaths were rare.
Its modern version has done away with the raised platform and replaced it with a modern boxing ring complete with ropes and turnbuckles. (Mats are increasingly used.) Safety guards are wore by the competitors and certain parts of the body, such as the throat and the back of the head may not be struck. While this is still a step-up from the ludicrous leg-swinging fight farces that characterize Tae Kwon Do and Karate tournaments, it is apparent that the essence of wushu has been diluted. True, the concept of sanda may have preserved a great deal of combat applications in the Chinese disciplines, on the flip side it has contributed to the growing dichotomy between Chinese pugilists. If you practise wushu, you are assumed to just focus on ‘flowery techniques’ with little combat value. A sanda or kungfu man – sometimes these are synonymously used – is one who actually fights. The former has weapons training in his repertoire, whereas the latter is more like a street-fighter, who needs none of those ‘outdated’ stuff. (We have guns and bombs now.)
This schism becomes a multiple facture when you consider that joint locks and restraining techniques are excluded from sanda fights, for fear of inflicting serious or fatal injuries. A sanda exponent is likely to end up as a hit-and-bang boxer, powerful in his punching and kicking but suck at the art of qin-na. He risks being a one-dimensioned fighter.
Although Qin Na is an extremely specialized skill, traditionally all Chinese pugilists, regardless of style were trained in it to some degree. All the kicks and punches would avail you not if someone had you in a choke hold or you wished to restrain a criminal. Joint locks allow one to decapitate an opponent without the risk of accidentally killing him. The knowledge of human anatomy – so important when executing a lock or hold – enables one to gain a keener appreciation of the martial arts and in turn, help one become a better fighter.
I wonder how many Chinese martial artists these days are fortunate enough to be able to appreciate the massive repertoire that wushu boasts. Very few I fear, and the numbers dwindle as we speak. Misinformation and poor coaching methods contribute to the deterioration of the art. For example, the media has been promulgating ad nauseam the saying ‘Southern punches Northern kicks’, which implies that a pugilist trained in the Southern tradition only likes to deliver powerful punches and blocks while his more flighty Northern counterpart will always use lightning fast kicks. Balderdash!
All Chinese martial arts are based primarily on hand techniques. The hands are much varied in their usage, able to grab, poke, punch, thrust, slap, scratch, palm, lock, or hold a weapon. It would be sheer stupidity not to focus on utilizing the hands to the fullest extent. On the other hand, the legs serve a complementary role. They are used to evade an attack by dodging or put a fighter in a better position to attack. Pugilists, particularly those of a more Northern ‘persuasion’ still kick, but in general kicks are aimed below belt level, and rarely to the head, high kicks are not executed unless absolutely necessary. If you miss with a punch and have your wrist grabbed, you still have a decent chance of breaking free. If you execute a spectacular flying kick and miss, your fight could be over in a heartbeat.
In a real fight, a ‘Southerner’ will make sure his stance and footing are rock solid, close in and bludgeon his opponent with his fists. In comparison, a ‘Northerner’ may combine his punches with kicks and use footwork to shift in and out rather than go toe-to-toe. He will never throw high kicks with the wild abandon of a Tae kwon Do exponent in a modern tournament fight. While this is a crass generalization (a Southerner may like to kick more and vice versa ), Chinese martial arts, despite its countless fighting styles, are surprisingly similar in substance, even through they depart significantly in form. Yong Chun (Wing Chun, as it is the fashion these days), with its distinctive low kicks and close hand (body) contact, is in reality just another style in the Southern tradition, and not a separate stream in itself. The problem with many martial artists is that they see their style/system/school as unique and superior; they close their mind to the existence – and virtues - of others and overlook the weaknesses inherent in their own. With such closed minds, progress is impossible.
If we view the Southern and Northern traditions as separate entities, then what of the sheer difference in the number of styles - a conservative estimate puts the number at 400 for the whole of the Chinese martial arts – contained in each? Shall we split and atomize them further? By not breaking free of conditioned thinking and stereotyping, we have failed to see the wood for the trees. Let us reconcile them as a whole and appreciate the vastness of their repertoire! Let there be no discrimination, so that meaningful exchanges can occur amongst different styles.
Undesirable coaching techniques militate against the progress of wushu. I have heard of instructors who only drill their students on the taolu, or routines. When requested by their students to demonstrate actual applications, these ‘masters’ would inevitably brush off the request by insisting that students achieve a certain proficiency before they are allowed to learn the applications. The reasons? For fear of them getting into a fight, and more absurdly, that learning actual applications will ‘dilute’ their technical knowledge. I wonder if the real reasons are more sinister – perhaps the instructor doesn’t know how to use them?! If so, how could he be able to demonstrate? Even assuming he knows the techniques and is willing to teach, by the time he does so, most or all of his senior students would have been so disenchanted and would have left the school.
Some masters don't even need alcohol.
Many modern wushu instructors do not emphasize on physical training. They either mistakenly believe that techniques will beat brute force and speed or feel it is too unimportant to warrant their attention. While I understand the difficulty of packing in physical training in a two hour long martial arts class, surely instructors should remind their students of the importance of developing themselves physically. After all, the most skilful of fighters would be useless if he does not have the strength or speed to execute his skills. The horse stance, which is the most basic of strength training methods, may not even feature in some classes. The myopic view of some martial arts practitioners adds to the problem. I have had two Yong Chun practitioners who assert that my Northern discipline is too reliant on speed and that I would not be able to use it when I am old and weak. Therefore, Yong Chun is a superior martial art because it does not rely on strength and speed.
Try hitting this with your bare hands.
I find it laughable on two counts, the first of which I have already mentioned. The second is that Yong Chun students do spar with the wooden dummy (to condition their reflexes and toughen their arms) and practise with heavy iron bands wore over their forearms as a strengthening exercise. Every martial art, regardless of the ‘softest’ (taiji), the highly ‘technical’ (Qin Na and Yong Chun) or the most brutal (iron fist/palm) requires prerequisite physical attributes and to deny this fact is a sign of ignorance.
Excessive demarcation of styles, overemphasis on asthetics and an abandonment of physical training should not take precedence over diligence, practicality and technique. Neither should a myopic view of one’s style’s superiority, a selfish desire to hoard knowledge, and an intellectual failure of not assimilating knowledge and putting it in real applications curtail the preservation and continual progress of the Art.
We will be practicing again this Sunday. The guys will be bringing a punching/kicking pad and a guard so we actually get to strike something solid rather of just hitting air. I hope we quickly finalize the exact mode the training will take. Also, we are looking for female participants. (No, we are not desperate.) We might have a girl with us and we need a female sparring partner for her. If you are female and interested or know anyone who is, please drop me a message in the Hate Mail or email me at tarterus@hotmail.com and I will get back to you shortly.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
A Meaningful Friday Night
Police Car returned from
On average a massage costs 250 baht and ‘special services’ amount to roughly 1,000. The ‘fish tanks’ are beautifully designed and prettier still are the merchandise they stock. For a reasonable rate of 1,900 to 2,100 baht, you get to pick your ‘fish’, and enjoy your meat in a well furnished and comfortable room. They do not rush you. Two hours is more than sufficient for an invigorating bath, a soothing massage, deliberate foreplay and hot no-hold barred sex. The whore is usually friendly, and even after the sex, will keep you company until the clock is up.
Contrast that to the local scene. Here a massage costs $20 to $50; special services are charged at a rate of $60 to $100. (Note: The figures given are based on the general market rate. Very cheap or more expensive packages are not reflected.) The fish tanks are usually no bigger than the size of a very small kitchen, and the merchandise they stock often vary in quality, even amongst the same batch. A common package costs $50 for a time of 25 minutes. Another popular package charges a price of $100 – you get 50 minutes and the whore gives you a massage before the sex.
This data shows that it is more value for money to go whoring in
His business report apart, Police Car also made some very astute observations. He contrasted
Thai girls are much friendlier. Getting the phone number of a pretty Thai girl you see on the streets or in the pub is as easy as ABC. Police Car claims that the success rate is 10 out of 10. In
Thai girls are also prettier. In his words, our women ‘look like shit, still want to act high-class.’
Also related to the foregoing, Thai girls smile and make friends easily, without reservations. With our girls, it’s touch and go and their attitude can really stink.
Thai girls like to meet guys from other countries. To simply dismiss them as gold-diggers is making an unfair assumption based on discrimination. Police Car said that they don’t like guys from their own country because they have a propensity to get drunk and beat their partners. This claim was also seconded by an ex-friend.
You never need to teach a Thai girl how to do housework. They are brought up to be responsible and hardworking.
Police Car said that he missed
After Chicken arrived we went to Geylang. This place is heaven on earth. The bustling crowds, overfilled coffee-shops, brisk traffic and lovely night scenery reminds one of the old
Chicken, Police Car and I started the night at the bridge, as per our custom. In the first alley we walked, we were accosted by $30 whores. We espied a few who were surprisingly pretty, but chose not to take up their offer. After window-shopping in a few fish tanks, Police Car settled on his favourite girl in his most-oft frequented fish tank. (If the proprietor had any business sense, he should give him loyalty benefits.)
While our friend had his pleasure, Chicken and I enjoyed a leisurely stroll in the heart of GL. The quality of the Indonesian goods had deteriorated. The lady-boys looked as revolting. The Chinese merchandise of the three main price categories, $60, $80 and $100 maintained their usual variety and standards. (Not all goods made in
After a while we walked back to find Police Car. We saw him just as he was emerging from the fish tank. As expected he had exceeded the timing and had to pay double.
‘The first 20 minutes the girl showed me the photos she took. Yesterday was her birthday,’ Police Car explained, ‘After that we do and she told me that I make her feel very shiok, unlike the other guys.’
Chicken and I rolled our eyes in disbelief. I hope they don’t get married so soon.
So the three of us walked around. We showed Police Car the sights that he had missed, and it goes without saying that it was quite an enjoyable exercise. Chicken couldn’t find the auntie who sold the delicious
We returned to the back of the CBD area. Chicken excused himself to make a phone call to his Chinese squeeze while Police Car and I admired the scenery. Some time into our conversation I saw two familiar faces. Blong and Magneto seemed equally surprised to see us. We settled down and made small talk. They soon moved off to wherever they had intended to go.
They returned soon afterwards, and suddenly they quickly got up and sat a few metres from us. At first I couldn’t understand what had happened but as I saw a whore walk purposefully towards the pair, realization dawned. She started to chat with them and I could make out words like ‘it’s you’, and ‘coincidence’. Obviously Blong and Magneto had fun with the same whore before. That makes them ‘sperm brothers’.
I applaud their impeccable taste. She is really very beautiful. If I had money I wouldn’t mind taking my pleasure with her. She could have been a model and should be one. Standing at 5’ 7”, her movements are graceful and her deportment elegant. The black slinky outfit she wore accentuated her lithe and curvy figure and flaunted her enticing cleavage. Her legs are porcelain smooth; a man could run his hands along her creamy thighs all night. Her pretty face is a portrait of coquettishness, her knowing eyes tempered by hard experience. Indeed, most models in
Chicken went over to the trio after he finished his phone conversation. They joked briefly. Then we bid farewell to Magneto, Blong and the whore. We went to a roadside restaurant along some obscure street and had supper. Although Chicken and I didn’t see any action, we quite enjoyed our Friday night. I had skipped my class for this and I never regretted my decision. I find the cloying voices of the whores as they call out to prospective clients more preferable – and meaningful – to the mumblings of my university lecturer.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Cute Little Quiz
This is long overdue. Take the quiz.
Your view on yourself:
You are down-to-earth and people like you because you are so straightforward. You are an efficient problem solver because you will listen to both sides of an argument before making a decision that usually appeals to both parties.
People dislike me because I’m straightforward to the point of being brutally honest. I will try to listen to both sides of an argument only when I do not have a vested interest in its outcome . Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one and they all stink. As far as I’m concerned, my side does not emerge without the toilet paper.
The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:
You like serious, smart and determined people. You don't judge a book by its cover, so good-looking people aren't necessarily your style. This makes you an attractive person in many people's eyes.
All guys judge a girl by her looks. Would you prefer to look at Jessica Simpson or Ho Ching? While I admire intelligent people, I wouldn’t mind if they are good looking as well.
For the attractive part, no comments.
Your readiness to commit to a relationship:
You prefer to get to know a person very well before deciding whether you will commit to the relationship.
I don’t need to know a person very well before I commit myself to a sexual relationship. I just require her to be pretty, free from disease, willing, and most importantly, female.
As for relationships of a more ‘lasting’ nature, I don’t really care. I like her for what she is, not what she was.
The seriousness of your love:
You are very serious about relationships and aren't interested in wasting time with people you don't really like. If you meet the right person, you will fall deeply and beautifully in love.
I don’t believe in wasting my time with imbeciles, ingrates, the evolutionary regressed, parasites, vindictive bastards and other undesirables.
I believe in lust at first sight. If the lust survives long enough the love can come. While I’ll fall deeply and beautifully in love, I’ll still continue to lust deeply and beautifully at any tantalizing hussy who comes within my sight.
Your views on education
Education is less important than the real world out there, away from the classroom. Deep inside you want to start working, earning money and living on your own.
I can’t wait to get out of that flophouse of a university. Even the ruins in Afghanistan would be more aesthetically pleasing than the hostile scenery I see when I go for class.
Who else but a bloody Singaporean wouldn’t want to earn his own keep and be independent? This quiz states the obvious.
The right job for you:
You have plenty of dream jobs but have little chance of doing any of them if you don't focus on something in particular. You need to choose something and go for it to be happy and achieve success.
I have little chance of doing any of them because I have the misfortune to be born in this stinking cuntry. My focus (or lack thereof) has nothing to do with it. I was thrown into a field which I absolutely hate and have no aptitude for. I couldn’t do sports professionally because I had no chance to receive formal instruction. Writing for money is rewarding, but I don’t have any ‘relevant’ qualifications and it’s likely what I write would land me in hot soup. I don’t mind risking my life as a mercenary – join the army, see the world – but Blackwater employs Americans. Even the French Legion is no more. In a nutshell, I’m fucked.
Understanding the root cause of my trials and tribulations I have therefore decided to make emigrating my profession and life goal. It will be the most rewarding career ever.
How do you view success:
You are afraid of failure and scared to have a go at the career you would like to have in case you don't succeed. Don't give up when you haven't yet even started! Be courageous.
I’ll bear that in mind should I decide to drop out of school.
What are you most afraid of:
You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself.
Nobody likes to survive on charity. I hate being helpless; it’s a fate worse than death. What is life without independence?
Who is your true self:
You are full of energy and confidence. You are unpredictable, with moods changing as quickly as an ocean. You might occasionally be calm and still, but never for long.
I have as much energy as the zombies in The Land of the Dead. Whatever confidence I had had been shattered a long time ago and no amount of psychological resurrection can bring back what I lost. These days I don’t really care. Confidence is just bravado sugar-coated. The more you try to be confident, the more you are fucked.
The last two lines can be summed up: I’m just restless.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Beautiful Thursday Morning
I early spat out my coffee in disgust when I saw Andy Ho’s column in the Shite Times. In his highly laughable article ‘Why the Pope is not Entirely Wrong about Condoms’, this grotesque popinjay argues that while condom use has drastically reduced the HIV infection rates among sex workers in countries like Thailand, it might not be as useful in Africa, where the infection rate is high in the community, not just among a portion of the population. Because of this, abstinence is more effective than promoting the use of condoms. Andy Ho claims that in
Perhaps fearing pubic outcry, Andy Ho stops short of saying condoms do not prevent sexually transmitted diseases. However, his restraint does not disguise some facts which are immediately apparent to the discerning reader. First, as a ‘senior writer’, Andy Ho is incompetent and in this article demonstrates his ineptitude in addressing key issues in a balanced and logical fashion. Second, he is absolutely shameless. If I were Andy Ho, I would resign from my post. How can anyone with a shred of conscience and decency justify his position as a professional writer when he produces such balderdash?! Third, he fails to recognizes the instinctive need for sex. People are going to have sex regardless of what the Pope says and to claim abstinence and fidelity as the sole preventive measure - however implicit he puts this message across – is nothing short of myopic and selectively so. Fourth, the success of
My reading and breakfast were interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door. I answered it and saw two haggard bag ladies. The older one had a pamphlet. Behind her stood her friend, who looked younger but no more attractive.
Faced with this depressing scenery I looked at them and said, ‘Yeah?’
‘Do you speak Chinese?’ Old Bag asked in Chinese.
I immediately guessed their intent and nodded.
‘Do you want to know more about God – ‘
I interrupted her and said harshly in Chinese, ‘There is no god in this world.’ The ingratiating look on her wrinkled face turned into one of dismay. Her friend was taken aback.
‘Go!’ I dismissed them as I would a dog.
The pair turned to knock at my neighbors’ door – they are Muslims – and I became more fed up.
‘Don’t befuddle the public with your wicked lies!’ I ordered, ‘Go!’ I then closed the door.
My heart was thumping wildly when I returned to my seat. I had to take deep breaths to calm myself. Adrenaline raced through my veins and at that moment I saw how much I hate religion.
I told Earthworm to write a column to rebut Andy Ho. He can publish it in his school publication. He said he would read the article first.
‘Why the Pope and Andy Ho are Hopelessly Wrong about Condoms’ Any takers?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Scumbag Billionaire
The world sucks. Smile.
To the idiots at Mad... Keep up the good work!
Coming to a Business school near you.
To the idiots at Mad... Keep up the good work!
Coming to a Business school near you.
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