The Shittizens take on the Manure in the Manchester derby tonight. After cleaning out the Arse last week, the nouveau riche Baby Blues will be out to justify the 200 million pounds their Middle-Eastern terrorist sponsors have invested in them.
With that 'clown from Togo' Adebayor suspended, the vulgar and culturally bereft side of Manchester will struggle at Old Trafford. Save for Ferdinand, who is doubtful for the clash, the Manure are at full strength.
Shitty, on the other hand, has become the club everyone loves to hate, and they will expect a hostile reception from Old Trafford faithful. The Shitty are like a top heavy hussy: all boobs and nothing else. She is better lying down getting fucked than standing up trying to play a bigger goat than what she already is.
So a momentous day awaits. The wheels will finally come off the wagon for this small club with a small mentality. Rooney and Owen to get on the scoresheet, Bellamy to get sent off, and justice to be done.
For a team of our history and quality, to be mired in the relegation zone is an absolute disgrace. But we have the perfect opportunity to kickstart our season when violent Blackburn come visiting tonight.
We were totally negative at Fulham last week and paid the price. The midweek trashing of AEK Athens in Europe demonstrates we can be a potent attacking force if we want to. Being the home team, we should attack the visitors. Nothing less than a comprehensive victory against Blackburn will suffice. Nil Satis Nisi Optimum.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Some Drivel.
Some people just like to bear a grudge. Two of the blokes I had that heated argument with a fortnight ago didn’t seem very happy with me still. Their attempts at sarcasm were pathetic. During the football game when we were actually in the same team, they said to each other that I ‘would never pass the ball to them.’ That was absolutely rich. Assuming that other people are scum like you just because they happen to disagree with you is really stupid. When I was tracking back and defending like Hell for them they never said a single word. Some people really need to grow up. Football is a TEAM game. Badmouthing your teammate during the course of a game for things he never did is really, really bad form. I would have appreciated it if they told it to my face that I was wrong about politics and they wanted to put me in my place using some solid arguments. I am used to getting stick from people anyway; it wouldn’t have rattled me overly. Apparently some people just didn’t have the bottle for a direct confrontation, even though they were the majority.
About the kickabout, it was a bit like war. Due to the number of teams some wise man decided to put in place a seven minute system. No goals mean both teams were out. People started screaming and shouting at their own teammates. Some people were not happy but in most cases it was just handbags at a dozen paces. I thought that they should just save their breath for the game. If the whole team ditched the useless ego issues and worked for one another, surely it would have a greater chance of winning. There are times you have to shout at people, but when they react with the type of arrogant bellicosity usually reserved for professional players whose egos are as big as their weekly paycheck, then something is seriously wrong. Either you are giving ‘em stick for no reason or they think they are so great they are beyond criticism. In that case I think that some people should just quit football and any other type of team sports. Take up golf, or better still, yoga. Even if you cannot find your inner calm, chances are you will get to meet some broads who may help you soothe that inner beast.
I just found that I got a 57 for my Equity Securities assignment. That translates to around 23% of the overall marks; plus the pathetic 5% I got for the online MCQ, it means I have a 28% for the continuous assessment component of the course.
This may be the worst result I have since my misguided enrollment in this university but I am not complaining. I am delighted that I scrapped through. This result leaves me with the simple task of securing at least 40 marks for the examination. This is by no means an easy task, considering the module is mostly about maths and I am shite at maths. If by some miracle I survive, it would be the first time I get a C. Then again, rather a C than an F. I don’t give a rat’s ass if they give me Ds for all my modules. As long as I avoid relegation, my GPA can go to the Hells for all I care. Very negative I know, but when you are like Hull City you don’t try and be too smart and think you are the league champions.
About the kickabout, it was a bit like war. Due to the number of teams some wise man decided to put in place a seven minute system. No goals mean both teams were out. People started screaming and shouting at their own teammates. Some people were not happy but in most cases it was just handbags at a dozen paces. I thought that they should just save their breath for the game. If the whole team ditched the useless ego issues and worked for one another, surely it would have a greater chance of winning. There are times you have to shout at people, but when they react with the type of arrogant bellicosity usually reserved for professional players whose egos are as big as their weekly paycheck, then something is seriously wrong. Either you are giving ‘em stick for no reason or they think they are so great they are beyond criticism. In that case I think that some people should just quit football and any other type of team sports. Take up golf, or better still, yoga. Even if you cannot find your inner calm, chances are you will get to meet some broads who may help you soothe that inner beast.
******
I just found that I got a 57 for my Equity Securities assignment. That translates to around 23% of the overall marks; plus the pathetic 5% I got for the online MCQ, it means I have a 28% for the continuous assessment component of the course.
This may be the worst result I have since my misguided enrollment in this university but I am not complaining. I am delighted that I scrapped through. This result leaves me with the simple task of securing at least 40 marks for the examination. This is by no means an easy task, considering the module is mostly about maths and I am shite at maths. If by some miracle I survive, it would be the first time I get a C. Then again, rather a C than an F. I don’t give a rat’s ass if they give me Ds for all my modules. As long as I avoid relegation, my GPA can go to the Hells for all I care. Very negative I know, but when you are like Hull City you don’t try and be too smart and think you are the league champions.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Young, Educated and IDIOTIC
A fortnight ago I had a big row over politics with the guys I played football with. After our kickabout, we started to shoot the shit but ended up shooting one another. It was a case of me vs them. They thought that our country is so great and our regime could do no wrong, but obviously I felt very differently and I didn’t shy from expressing my views. Despite being outnumbered I didn’t back down. I decided that they should be treated to a drawn-out battle.
It was like talking to that popinjay Dennis Oh all over again, but much worse. Dennis Oh was at least educated and articulate in expressing his stupidity. The morons I pitted my wits – and patience – against were obviously functional retards. Our argument was more like a shouting match than anything else.
It will be pointless to stretch my patience further by describing our exchange in its entirety. I shall just be brief and highlight the arguments they made.
“Singapore is a republic country. Republic means no democracy.”
Strange. I thought a republic is a country without a monarchy.
“You think at a higher level. The rest of us just do not want to think.”
Classic. See no evil hear no evil.
“This has nothing to do with Political Science. A republic never has freedom of speech.” (His reply upon being told he should go take up Politics 101 after he thrice failed to understand my simple explanation of the meaning of ‘republic’.
Another classic: “I don’t want to hear I don’t want to hearrrrrr”……*cups hands over ears and starts bawling*.)
“The government has every right not to help its people.”
If the government is not obliged to serve its people, what do we need a government for?
“ALL the foreigners in our country are talented.”
Quite a few are peddling their talents and bodies in Geylang as we speak, and they are not even marginally good-looking or service-oriented.
“I know where the government job centre is (after asking me where it is). I walked past there before so I KNOW what is going on INSIDE.”
The guy has X-ray vision.
“Those (referring to the middle-age jobseekers) who have lost their jobs and busy hunting for work so that they can feed their families DESERVE it. They should not have gotten married in the first place unless they know they are well-off and earning big bucks.”
Social Darwinism at its very best. I look forward to seeing the same thing happen to the wise man 20 years down the road.
“Singapore has a great education system.”
Don’t tell everybody mate. When so many of us cannot even speak and write English competently even after ten years of compulsory English based education, when young educated people don’t even have an idea who Kim Jung Il is, you don’t want to shout out to the world the excellence of our education system.”
“We don’t need a minimum wage system. Even with very low wages, we can still survive.”
This guy should join the Survival Series.
Ministers need to be paid astronomical amounts of salaries and bonuses so that they can continue to do a good job and maintain their integrity.
The more money you earn = the more capable and moral you are. Move aside Obama, Madoff for President!
“There is NO NEED for a government to be ACCOUNTABLE to its people.”
*Speechless*
(Being unable to understand what our National Pledge is all about, despite reciting it for over 20 years.)
You have people who go to MENSA, and then you have special people who go to DENSA.
“A company should take in the most people at the lowest wages possible, because it is optimum to do so”
Let’s revive slavery. Free labour = optimum earnings for the company. Socially reprehensible but so long as the company benefits, who cares?
(Comparing Singapore to third-world countries and then declare that Singapore is a great country because it is clearly better than these countries.)
Pakistan is only nearly as bad as Afghanistan, therefore Pakistan is a great country.
“You ONLY know how to complain. You NEVER do anything to improve yourself.”
Incredible. The guy KNOWS EXACTLY what I am doing at any given moment.
“You sound very fed up about government policies, THEREFORE you are ANTI-GOVERNMENT.”
Yet another classic - I have very strong opinions AGAINST marriage, THEREFORE I am AGAINST people who are married.
Thinking about it still makes me feel frustrated. I am frustrated not because people have the temerity to disagree with me. If you have perfectly logical reasons why I am wrong, please state them. Resorting to personal attacks, making baseless assumptions, using fallacious arguments, and then treating propaganda as gospel truth do not add value to what you are asserting. I am totally disgusted that a bunch of young educated people could have such limited ability for critical thinking and basic reasoning skills.
It has been said time and again that our youths are our future, our hope for change. The people who said and are saying this seem now merely idealists whose sole mechanism for coping with life is hope. In truth, hope is the same as faith. Both believe in things that are not backed by evidence, an assertion that things will somehow turn out right. Irrational, complacent, useless and impossibly stupid.
Contrary to popular belief, the young are not necessarily rebels and iconoclasts, and the old are not always conformists and stick-in-the-mud. Young people often believe what they read without ever feeling the need to question its veracity. If it is from the textbook it MUST be true. If the government says so, it MUST be true. When the teachers say so, it MUST be true. When the media says so, it MUST be true. If MILEY CYRUS SAYS SO, DAMN! IT MUST BE TRUE!
The next generation is not our future. It is merely an extension of the present. Nothing will ever change in a culture that strives on conformity and blind obedience. Our future is in the dung pits. To the Hells with the next generation.
It was like talking to that popinjay Dennis Oh all over again, but much worse. Dennis Oh was at least educated and articulate in expressing his stupidity. The morons I pitted my wits – and patience – against were obviously functional retards. Our argument was more like a shouting match than anything else.
It will be pointless to stretch my patience further by describing our exchange in its entirety. I shall just be brief and highlight the arguments they made.
“Singapore is a republic country. Republic means no democracy.”
Strange. I thought a republic is a country without a monarchy.
“You think at a higher level. The rest of us just do not want to think.”
Classic. See no evil hear no evil.
“This has nothing to do with Political Science. A republic never has freedom of speech.” (His reply upon being told he should go take up Politics 101 after he thrice failed to understand my simple explanation of the meaning of ‘republic’.
Another classic: “I don’t want to hear I don’t want to hearrrrrr”……*cups hands over ears and starts bawling*.)
“The government has every right not to help its people.”
If the government is not obliged to serve its people, what do we need a government for?
“ALL the foreigners in our country are talented.”
Quite a few are peddling their talents and bodies in Geylang as we speak, and they are not even marginally good-looking or service-oriented.
“I know where the government job centre is (after asking me where it is). I walked past there before so I KNOW what is going on INSIDE.”
The guy has X-ray vision.
“Those (referring to the middle-age jobseekers) who have lost their jobs and busy hunting for work so that they can feed their families DESERVE it. They should not have gotten married in the first place unless they know they are well-off and earning big bucks.”
Social Darwinism at its very best. I look forward to seeing the same thing happen to the wise man 20 years down the road.
“Singapore has a great education system.”
Don’t tell everybody mate. When so many of us cannot even speak and write English competently even after ten years of compulsory English based education, when young educated people don’t even have an idea who Kim Jung Il is, you don’t want to shout out to the world the excellence of our education system.”
“We don’t need a minimum wage system. Even with very low wages, we can still survive.”
This guy should join the Survival Series.
Ministers need to be paid astronomical amounts of salaries and bonuses so that they can continue to do a good job and maintain their integrity.
The more money you earn = the more capable and moral you are. Move aside Obama, Madoff for President!
“There is NO NEED for a government to be ACCOUNTABLE to its people.”
*Speechless*
(Being unable to understand what our National Pledge is all about, despite reciting it for over 20 years.)
You have people who go to MENSA, and then you have special people who go to DENSA.
“A company should take in the most people at the lowest wages possible, because it is optimum to do so”
Let’s revive slavery. Free labour = optimum earnings for the company. Socially reprehensible but so long as the company benefits, who cares?
(Comparing Singapore to third-world countries and then declare that Singapore is a great country because it is clearly better than these countries.)
Pakistan is only nearly as bad as Afghanistan, therefore Pakistan is a great country.
“You ONLY know how to complain. You NEVER do anything to improve yourself.”
Incredible. The guy KNOWS EXACTLY what I am doing at any given moment.
“You sound very fed up about government policies, THEREFORE you are ANTI-GOVERNMENT.”
Yet another classic - I have very strong opinions AGAINST marriage, THEREFORE I am AGAINST people who are married.
Thinking about it still makes me feel frustrated. I am frustrated not because people have the temerity to disagree with me. If you have perfectly logical reasons why I am wrong, please state them. Resorting to personal attacks, making baseless assumptions, using fallacious arguments, and then treating propaganda as gospel truth do not add value to what you are asserting. I am totally disgusted that a bunch of young educated people could have such limited ability for critical thinking and basic reasoning skills.
It has been said time and again that our youths are our future, our hope for change. The people who said and are saying this seem now merely idealists whose sole mechanism for coping with life is hope. In truth, hope is the same as faith. Both believe in things that are not backed by evidence, an assertion that things will somehow turn out right. Irrational, complacent, useless and impossibly stupid.
Contrary to popular belief, the young are not necessarily rebels and iconoclasts, and the old are not always conformists and stick-in-the-mud. Young people often believe what they read without ever feeling the need to question its veracity. If it is from the textbook it MUST be true. If the government says so, it MUST be true. When the teachers say so, it MUST be true. When the media says so, it MUST be true. If MILEY CYRUS SAYS SO, DAMN! IT MUST BE TRUE!
The next generation is not our future. It is merely an extension of the present. Nothing will ever change in a culture that strives on conformity and blind obedience. Our future is in the dung pits. To the Hells with the next generation.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Leave the Dead (and the Living) in Peace
My martial arts practice was cancelled again, no thanks to the people burning their offerings at our ground. It is infuriating that the living has to make way for the dead (or in this case, the undead).
The Seventh Month nonsense has been going on for too long. There should be a law against religion and superstition imposing themselves on the living. I don’t understand what is the big deal about the dead, that we have to remember them just on the basis of their being dead. While it is understandable that we want to remember our loved ones, there is no reason for us to make this remembrance a public nuisance. I wish people would burn their Hell money and whatever in the containers the town councils have thoughtfully provided.
Making your offerings in a clumsily rendered chalk circle does not guarantee that ONLY the deceased you are making offerings to will receive them. It is possible that any wandering spirits will take the opportunity to rob. If you want to play safe, you should burn the Hell money in your OWN house. With the ancestral tablet and the idols of gods around, I don’t think any unwanted spirits will dare to mess around. But no. People still insist on doing it in public places, as if being ‘outside’ conveys some kind of spiritual attunement that facilitates the delivery of your gifts to your deceased folks. Or dare I say that maybe the pious do not want to dirty their homes? Oh how sacrilegious of me to even suggest that!
Many people who ‘celebrate’ the Seventh Month believe in both Buddhism and Chinese folklore, an indictment of their lack of understanding about their own beliefs and their shocking illogicality. Buddhists commonly believe that a soul moves on to another life after its physical demise, and this process will take but at most 49 days. Pagan Taoism/Chinese folklore believe that the spirit may linger on for much longer, particularly when it has to undergo punishment in the Hells for its transgression in its mortal life.
Chinese folklore claims that the spirit can be alleviated of much of its suffering in the infernal realms by ‘sending’ it material wealth. This wealth can be put to good use, like bribing the infernal bureaucracy, and to some extent, allows the spirit to ‘live it up’ should the value of the offerings is substantial enough. Hell money is typically in units of millions, billions and trillions – presumably to offset the hellish inflation rates they have in Hades. Paper cars, jets, even Victoria Secret’s lingerie (the paper cut-out versions of course) are readily available for folks who want to make their happily departed enjoy the life available only to Hollywood stars and Wall Street bankers.
Contrast that to Buddhism, which does not encourage the attachment to materialism. If the spirits are to have a better rebirth, one should undertake virtuous deeds in their name and dedicate the merits to them and all sentient beings. Attachment to impermanent things will only cause pain and to cling on such is to deprive oneself of emancipation.
Furthermore, it is useless to make offerings to just any spirits, irrespective of the time they were dead. Surely one’s ancestors would have been reincarnated long ago! How in the Hells will they be able to receive your burnt offerings? FedEx maybe?!
There can be no reconciliation between the two diametrically different views. Either you believe one or the other. There are no two ways about it, just like there is no such thing as a ‘Christian Hindu’. Chinese folklore has had its day in the sun. It is time to ditch it. It is useless, spiritually bereft, a waste of time, money and energy, ridiculous (I admit it has its entertainment value), and for the whole of Chinese history, has never contributed to the living standards of the Chinese people. The same can be said for all religions, although I must say that Buddhism, minus the metaphysical mumble-jumbo, does have some very intelligent and morally responsible things to offer. I think if the Chinese who insist on believing the two were to just pick Buddhism, it might actually be more beneficial, at least where public cleanliness is concerned.
I have a better solution: be an atheist. The benefits are manifold. You don’t need to literally burn your money away on overpriced counterfeit notes and paper-folds. You need not dirty public places, cause the road sweepers endless grief and pollute the air. Even for a pacifist faith like Buddhism, there is the chance that adherents will turn evangelical and start to harass people. At least when an atheist turns ‘militant’ (nowadays any atheist who expresses his views vehemently is militant, on a par with Islamic militants), we generally don’t force atheism down people’s throats or indulge in all night chanting sessions and other noise-emitting/trash-producing/stinking activities. Best of all, atheists do not have to obey any divine sanctioned doctrines. Our morals – or lack thereof – are our own.
I cannot wait for the Ghost Month to end. My martial arts practice takes precedence over any haunt, revenant, poltergeist, spirit or ghost.
The Seventh Month nonsense has been going on for too long. There should be a law against religion and superstition imposing themselves on the living. I don’t understand what is the big deal about the dead, that we have to remember them just on the basis of their being dead. While it is understandable that we want to remember our loved ones, there is no reason for us to make this remembrance a public nuisance. I wish people would burn their Hell money and whatever in the containers the town councils have thoughtfully provided.
Making your offerings in a clumsily rendered chalk circle does not guarantee that ONLY the deceased you are making offerings to will receive them. It is possible that any wandering spirits will take the opportunity to rob. If you want to play safe, you should burn the Hell money in your OWN house. With the ancestral tablet and the idols of gods around, I don’t think any unwanted spirits will dare to mess around. But no. People still insist on doing it in public places, as if being ‘outside’ conveys some kind of spiritual attunement that facilitates the delivery of your gifts to your deceased folks. Or dare I say that maybe the pious do not want to dirty their homes? Oh how sacrilegious of me to even suggest that!
Many people who ‘celebrate’ the Seventh Month believe in both Buddhism and Chinese folklore, an indictment of their lack of understanding about their own beliefs and their shocking illogicality. Buddhists commonly believe that a soul moves on to another life after its physical demise, and this process will take but at most 49 days. Pagan Taoism/Chinese folklore believe that the spirit may linger on for much longer, particularly when it has to undergo punishment in the Hells for its transgression in its mortal life.
Chinese folklore claims that the spirit can be alleviated of much of its suffering in the infernal realms by ‘sending’ it material wealth. This wealth can be put to good use, like bribing the infernal bureaucracy, and to some extent, allows the spirit to ‘live it up’ should the value of the offerings is substantial enough. Hell money is typically in units of millions, billions and trillions – presumably to offset the hellish inflation rates they have in Hades. Paper cars, jets, even Victoria Secret’s lingerie (the paper cut-out versions of course) are readily available for folks who want to make their happily departed enjoy the life available only to Hollywood stars and Wall Street bankers.
Contrast that to Buddhism, which does not encourage the attachment to materialism. If the spirits are to have a better rebirth, one should undertake virtuous deeds in their name and dedicate the merits to them and all sentient beings. Attachment to impermanent things will only cause pain and to cling on such is to deprive oneself of emancipation.
Furthermore, it is useless to make offerings to just any spirits, irrespective of the time they were dead. Surely one’s ancestors would have been reincarnated long ago! How in the Hells will they be able to receive your burnt offerings? FedEx maybe?!
There can be no reconciliation between the two diametrically different views. Either you believe one or the other. There are no two ways about it, just like there is no such thing as a ‘Christian Hindu’. Chinese folklore has had its day in the sun. It is time to ditch it. It is useless, spiritually bereft, a waste of time, money and energy, ridiculous (I admit it has its entertainment value), and for the whole of Chinese history, has never contributed to the living standards of the Chinese people. The same can be said for all religions, although I must say that Buddhism, minus the metaphysical mumble-jumbo, does have some very intelligent and morally responsible things to offer. I think if the Chinese who insist on believing the two were to just pick Buddhism, it might actually be more beneficial, at least where public cleanliness is concerned.
I have a better solution: be an atheist. The benefits are manifold. You don’t need to literally burn your money away on overpriced counterfeit notes and paper-folds. You need not dirty public places, cause the road sweepers endless grief and pollute the air. Even for a pacifist faith like Buddhism, there is the chance that adherents will turn evangelical and start to harass people. At least when an atheist turns ‘militant’ (nowadays any atheist who expresses his views vehemently is militant, on a par with Islamic militants), we generally don’t force atheism down people’s throats or indulge in all night chanting sessions and other noise-emitting/trash-producing/stinking activities. Best of all, atheists do not have to obey any divine sanctioned doctrines. Our morals – or lack thereof – are our own.
I cannot wait for the Ghost Month to end. My martial arts practice takes precedence over any haunt, revenant, poltergeist, spirit or ghost.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Finally!
Everton have finally signed an experienced player. A Russian international with a nice left peg and some 20 caps for his country. The news is that we are going to get an Argentine international on loan. We may be selling Lescott to that Al Queda from Manchester, but it is no big loss because we still have a decent defence. It is our attack that is shite.
It is all too obvious that after that horror show at Burnley, drastic changes are in order. We cannot just base our game purely on a solid defence and rely on our opponents to make mistakes. They will get smart to our plan sooner or later and at Burnley we got found out. It is time to attack. We must be the most defensive team in the division. Hell, we finished fifth last season. If worse teams than us dare to attack I don't see why we have to play tortoise.
And yes, the Shite lost to Villa this morning. Three games played, one win, and two losses. Keep it up you bloodshitting bastards. Let's see you do a Newcastle.
It's Sigma in two days' time. We have a healthy 4:0 lead from the first leg, and should go through. The more important game is the one against Wigan. After their capitulation to ManUre they are going to want to prove a point. Both sides are just as bad as each other. We got murdered 6:1 by the Arse at home and they suffered a 5:0 reversal, also at home. Both have lost to newly promoted sides. This has the feeling of a relegation 'six-pointer'. To happen this early in the season, well, the league has gone crazy and we are going through that sticky patch again.
Whatever the result, Moyes, please get the boys to attack. We are at home, Wigan are shite and if we attack them right from the start there is no reason why we cannot get a positive result. Get that beggary-looking Jo to play right wing. Osman is not fast enough to be a winger. Peanuts can play on the left. King Louis plays target man, with Fell and Joey alternating positions behind him. Rodwell can clean up things in front of the back four.
Get Neville to play right, Baines left, and in centre, Yobo and Neville, with the former as sweeper. Howard continues in goal. Play direct attacking football. Wigan will crumble.
At the end of all these, one thing which I am mightily relieved. Senderos is not our player!
It is all too obvious that after that horror show at Burnley, drastic changes are in order. We cannot just base our game purely on a solid defence and rely on our opponents to make mistakes. They will get smart to our plan sooner or later and at Burnley we got found out. It is time to attack. We must be the most defensive team in the division. Hell, we finished fifth last season. If worse teams than us dare to attack I don't see why we have to play tortoise.
And yes, the Shite lost to Villa this morning. Three games played, one win, and two losses. Keep it up you bloodshitting bastards. Let's see you do a Newcastle.
It's Sigma in two days' time. We have a healthy 4:0 lead from the first leg, and should go through. The more important game is the one against Wigan. After their capitulation to ManUre they are going to want to prove a point. Both sides are just as bad as each other. We got murdered 6:1 by the Arse at home and they suffered a 5:0 reversal, also at home. Both have lost to newly promoted sides. This has the feeling of a relegation 'six-pointer'. To happen this early in the season, well, the league has gone crazy and we are going through that sticky patch again.
Whatever the result, Moyes, please get the boys to attack. We are at home, Wigan are shite and if we attack them right from the start there is no reason why we cannot get a positive result. Get that beggary-looking Jo to play right wing. Osman is not fast enough to be a winger. Peanuts can play on the left. King Louis plays target man, with Fell and Joey alternating positions behind him. Rodwell can clean up things in front of the back four.
Get Neville to play right, Baines left, and in centre, Yobo and Neville, with the former as sweeper. Howard continues in goal. Play direct attacking football. Wigan will crumble.
At the end of all these, one thing which I am mightily relieved. Senderos is not our player!
Monday, August 24, 2009
To Err is Human, to Complain, Divine
I have not been in the best condition for the past few days. I am suffering from a cough that threatens to worsen. My eyes are tired and my body is lethargic. My bloodied knee continue to seep blood and pus, making every re-bandaging a tedious and painful exercise. I have not weighed myself, but I know surely, from looking myself in the mirror, that I have lost a pound or two.
I curse this physical frame. I hate it for being weak. For all my efforts at bulking up and strength-training, it remains unresponsive. I should have been stronger, faster and sturdier but I seem to be getting weaker. It will not be long before I end up being one of those sad sacks who can never pass their annual physical fitness test, or the jokers who claim to be weekend warriors but look in danger of expiration ten minutes into a football game.
I curse my intellectual faculties. My learning curve should have been sharper, my memory more reliable, and my reasoning powers crisper. I am not happy. I feel that I am barely above the dullards that make up most of the general population. The more I read the more aware I am of my intellectual incapability. The difficulty in focusing, and the concentration lapses that seem to be increasing in frequency are worrying. I fear that I may be senile before I turn 35, and drooling away while mumbling 'gaga...' before 40. I have never known anybody who is 'gracefully senile', not in the way some who 'age gracefully' are. Former atheist philosopher Anthony Flew is a prime example. The Old Dog Thief who recently changed our National Pledge to 'National Aspiration' is another. There are men who have gone - to borrow from the Lass - wonky and died soon after. Then there are those who linger on like restless and vindictive spirits out for revenge, bringing pain to themselves and the people around them. Death is a mercy, and sadly it comes too soon for some, and too late for others.
Why am I writing this now? I have no idea. It is one of those days when you decide that you just have to ramble meaningless things that are meaningless to everybody else and equally as meaningless (well, almost) as they are to yourself. Some wit once said that writing sets you free. I presume he is now dead - and free.
Freedom is a strange word in these parts. Uttered frequently but never taken seriously, it has degenerated from a pedantic ideal to lip service, and now it is associated with anarchy and fear. What form will its degradation take next? Can it sink even lower? Give it a spade and let it dig, I say. It is but a mere word and nothing more. Just empty rhetoric and a 'mere puff'. How can anyone enjoy freedom when tyranny is in power? How can there be freedom when people do not even recognize they live under the thrall of oppression? How can people recognize freedom when they do not even bother to think beyond what the state propaganda machinery infests their brains with, or worse, fear to think for themselves because as we know, thinking too much does nobody good?
The Seventh Month is upon us. The streets are littered with scattered Hell notes, ashes, and remains of joss sticks and offerings. The air is arid, its smell the stink of Gehenna mingled with the smokiness of Hades. The perfume houses ought to bottle it up. It will be a great hit in Milan and Paris. Heavenly scenes are so passe. Hellish is in; they can name this perfume Hell, by Coco, or better still Stink, by Shithole. A fitting tribute to a land that sits in the middle of the Hells, haunted by the disembodied shades of Freedom, as it begins its inexorable descend into more abyssal realms.
What greeted me during lunch was hostile scenery. We are truly an inferior species. I choose the word 'inferior' over 'infernal' so as not to draw comparisons with the lower planar beings in mythology. I do not wish to insult them, even though I am an atheist and to me, they are nothing more than figments of some wild imagination. With these lower planar creatures you know what you are going to get. The horrible ones are suitably horrible looking (although still resplendent with horns, tail and bat wings). The beautiful ones (the sucubi and incubi) are simply stunning.
On a scale we would be somewhat in the middle, although in some cases the balance would be skewed towards the grotesque. I think we are an ugly people in general. Let's just leave noxious habits like booking seats with tissue papers and spewing Singlish like it's some legitimate language aside, and focus on the physical aesthetics. On a scale of 10, maybe I will give us a 3.5 or 4, the kind of score that hovers between outright failure, a provisional pass and a bare pass.
Many of us either appear malnourished or overfed. Many of the females look like they are permanently stuck in puberty. The thin ones are often short, reed skinny, flat, in some cases, have rough complexion. The fat ones have a propensity to dress themselves like they are some roast piglet about to be served as part of a wedding feast. The males are no better. Lacking in height and manly musculature, many carry beer bellies, thin shoulders and/or bad complexion. Our gene pool is undoubtedly bad. Considering our easy accessibility to food and healthcare, our bad physical attributes cannot be excused. It is all too easy to blame it on our humid weather. Why are Malaysian girls better looking than our local girls then? We live in the similar climates, eat basically the same oily food and why are the results so different? I think for males we are taller than our friends across the border but that is not an issue I care to concern myself with because I am not gay.
It is extremely demoralizing to wake up in the morning, board the overcrowded and suffocating train and find yourself encased (it feels more like entombed) along with specimens who are not only aesthetically unimpressive, but bereft of soul and spirit. There is no spark in their eyes, no energy in their movements. They could have been walking corpses, save for the barely inaudible sound of their breathing (wheezing). I could have been one of them. I am hardly impressive-looking myself, although at least nobody would ever mistake me for Frodo. The devil is in the details, and the details are in my eyes. Nobody will ever mistake my spiteful glare for the resigned look in the eyes of the doe-eyed sheep.
I am spiteful because I am stuck here. Stuck in this place where meritocracy is merely mediocracy, nepotism and cronyism repackaged, where efficiency is mistaken for effectiveness, where dreams are shattered and hopes trampled underfoot by an unyielding and spiritually repulsive mercantile culture.
My national aspiration is to live in a place where I have elbow space wherever I walk. A place that does not send people to court for the slightest of infringements. A place where people are truly diverse, not merely in the sense of skin colour, but in viewpoints and characteristics, and that the celebration or condemnation of this quality is not enforced by draconian laws and social engineering, but by the will of those who choose to live thus. A place where liberty is a necessity, not a privilege, where freedom of speech and expression is inviolate and the people allowed to pursue their dreams and live as they will. Most importantly, I desire a place where I can break free of this mediocrity, and raise to my potential, to self-actualize, to become. Never mind if this comes at a cost. The higher crime rate, the racism and the status of being a non-citizen (or a second-class one) cannot compare to the zombifying existence in this Hell. Some people live their lives, some earn their living, others just hope to die quickly and hope to be reborn in a better place. What chance of the first in this wretched place?
I curse this physical frame. I hate it for being weak. For all my efforts at bulking up and strength-training, it remains unresponsive. I should have been stronger, faster and sturdier but I seem to be getting weaker. It will not be long before I end up being one of those sad sacks who can never pass their annual physical fitness test, or the jokers who claim to be weekend warriors but look in danger of expiration ten minutes into a football game.
I curse my intellectual faculties. My learning curve should have been sharper, my memory more reliable, and my reasoning powers crisper. I am not happy. I feel that I am barely above the dullards that make up most of the general population. The more I read the more aware I am of my intellectual incapability. The difficulty in focusing, and the concentration lapses that seem to be increasing in frequency are worrying. I fear that I may be senile before I turn 35, and drooling away while mumbling 'gaga...' before 40. I have never known anybody who is 'gracefully senile', not in the way some who 'age gracefully' are. Former atheist philosopher Anthony Flew is a prime example. The Old Dog Thief who recently changed our National Pledge to 'National Aspiration' is another. There are men who have gone - to borrow from the Lass - wonky and died soon after. Then there are those who linger on like restless and vindictive spirits out for revenge, bringing pain to themselves and the people around them. Death is a mercy, and sadly it comes too soon for some, and too late for others.
Why am I writing this now? I have no idea. It is one of those days when you decide that you just have to ramble meaningless things that are meaningless to everybody else and equally as meaningless (well, almost) as they are to yourself. Some wit once said that writing sets you free. I presume he is now dead - and free.
Freedom is a strange word in these parts. Uttered frequently but never taken seriously, it has degenerated from a pedantic ideal to lip service, and now it is associated with anarchy and fear. What form will its degradation take next? Can it sink even lower? Give it a spade and let it dig, I say. It is but a mere word and nothing more. Just empty rhetoric and a 'mere puff'. How can anyone enjoy freedom when tyranny is in power? How can there be freedom when people do not even recognize they live under the thrall of oppression? How can people recognize freedom when they do not even bother to think beyond what the state propaganda machinery infests their brains with, or worse, fear to think for themselves because as we know, thinking too much does nobody good?
The Seventh Month is upon us. The streets are littered with scattered Hell notes, ashes, and remains of joss sticks and offerings. The air is arid, its smell the stink of Gehenna mingled with the smokiness of Hades. The perfume houses ought to bottle it up. It will be a great hit in Milan and Paris. Heavenly scenes are so passe. Hellish is in; they can name this perfume Hell, by Coco, or better still Stink, by Shithole. A fitting tribute to a land that sits in the middle of the Hells, haunted by the disembodied shades of Freedom, as it begins its inexorable descend into more abyssal realms.
What greeted me during lunch was hostile scenery. We are truly an inferior species. I choose the word 'inferior' over 'infernal' so as not to draw comparisons with the lower planar beings in mythology. I do not wish to insult them, even though I am an atheist and to me, they are nothing more than figments of some wild imagination. With these lower planar creatures you know what you are going to get. The horrible ones are suitably horrible looking (although still resplendent with horns, tail and bat wings). The beautiful ones (the sucubi and incubi) are simply stunning.
On a scale we would be somewhat in the middle, although in some cases the balance would be skewed towards the grotesque. I think we are an ugly people in general. Let's just leave noxious habits like booking seats with tissue papers and spewing Singlish like it's some legitimate language aside, and focus on the physical aesthetics. On a scale of 10, maybe I will give us a 3.5 or 4, the kind of score that hovers between outright failure, a provisional pass and a bare pass.
Many of us either appear malnourished or overfed. Many of the females look like they are permanently stuck in puberty. The thin ones are often short, reed skinny, flat, in some cases, have rough complexion. The fat ones have a propensity to dress themselves like they are some roast piglet about to be served as part of a wedding feast. The males are no better. Lacking in height and manly musculature, many carry beer bellies, thin shoulders and/or bad complexion. Our gene pool is undoubtedly bad. Considering our easy accessibility to food and healthcare, our bad physical attributes cannot be excused. It is all too easy to blame it on our humid weather. Why are Malaysian girls better looking than our local girls then? We live in the similar climates, eat basically the same oily food and why are the results so different? I think for males we are taller than our friends across the border but that is not an issue I care to concern myself with because I am not gay.
It is extremely demoralizing to wake up in the morning, board the overcrowded and suffocating train and find yourself encased (it feels more like entombed) along with specimens who are not only aesthetically unimpressive, but bereft of soul and spirit. There is no spark in their eyes, no energy in their movements. They could have been walking corpses, save for the barely inaudible sound of their breathing (wheezing). I could have been one of them. I am hardly impressive-looking myself, although at least nobody would ever mistake me for Frodo. The devil is in the details, and the details are in my eyes. Nobody will ever mistake my spiteful glare for the resigned look in the eyes of the doe-eyed sheep.
I am spiteful because I am stuck here. Stuck in this place where meritocracy is merely mediocracy, nepotism and cronyism repackaged, where efficiency is mistaken for effectiveness, where dreams are shattered and hopes trampled underfoot by an unyielding and spiritually repulsive mercantile culture.
My national aspiration is to live in a place where I have elbow space wherever I walk. A place that does not send people to court for the slightest of infringements. A place where people are truly diverse, not merely in the sense of skin colour, but in viewpoints and characteristics, and that the celebration or condemnation of this quality is not enforced by draconian laws and social engineering, but by the will of those who choose to live thus. A place where liberty is a necessity, not a privilege, where freedom of speech and expression is inviolate and the people allowed to pursue their dreams and live as they will. Most importantly, I desire a place where I can break free of this mediocrity, and raise to my potential, to self-actualize, to become. Never mind if this comes at a cost. The higher crime rate, the racism and the status of being a non-citizen (or a second-class one) cannot compare to the zombifying existence in this Hell. Some people live their lives, some earn their living, others just hope to die quickly and hope to be reborn in a better place. What chance of the first in this wretched place?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Share the Pain
I took home more than a 3:1 defeat in my football match this afternoon.
Not happy that I had robbed him of the ball, that whoreson of my opponent - with his accomplice in tow - chased me 20 metres horizontally across midfield. I was looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, but the entire flank was empty. My shock caused me to reduce my pace slightly, giving the two bugbears on my heels the chance to clatter into me.
I was sending flying into the sandy pitch, its abrasive surface unforgiving. If I had not rolled with the fall my kneecap could have been scrapped raw to the bone. As it happened, I escaped with a chafed knee and a few red lines on the back of my left forearm.
Guess what, not even a yellow card for the perpetrators. I should have stayed down, groaned like I am being drawn and quartered, and rolled about for effect instead of getting straight up.
Look at the blood, the furrows (don't they look like tract marks?), and the globules. Four hours and it was still bleeding.
It is now bandaged and no longer leaking. When I take it off for my shower tomorrow, it better not start.
Not happy that I had robbed him of the ball, that whoreson of my opponent - with his accomplice in tow - chased me 20 metres horizontally across midfield. I was looking for a teammate to pass the ball to, but the entire flank was empty. My shock caused me to reduce my pace slightly, giving the two bugbears on my heels the chance to clatter into me.
I was sending flying into the sandy pitch, its abrasive surface unforgiving. If I had not rolled with the fall my kneecap could have been scrapped raw to the bone. As it happened, I escaped with a chafed knee and a few red lines on the back of my left forearm.
Guess what, not even a yellow card for the perpetrators. I should have stayed down, groaned like I am being drawn and quartered, and rolled about for effect instead of getting straight up.
Look at the blood, the furrows (don't they look like tract marks?), and the globules. Four hours and it was still bleeding.
It is now bandaged and no longer leaking. When I take it off for my shower tomorrow, it better not start.
Monday, August 10, 2009
What Have I Done to Deserve This?!
The long weekend has been an extended nightmare. The only thing good that came out of it was that I was able to get some real sleep. And of course, let’s not forget that pulsating Charity Shield game between Manure and Chelski.
My neighbour from a few doors away is singing like his life depends on it. I don’t know how the family living next door to him can possibly put up with his death throes. They must either be dead or deaf.
Now, there is a very real difference between singing the karaoke and hollering like you are witnessing your mother, sisters and daughters being raped. If I were in a more charitable mood I would have compared his tuneless dirge to the squealing of terrified pigs at the abattoir, but no luck for this pest. For once I actually find our national anthem bearable. That takes some doing. The shrieking bastard should sign up for Singapore Idol. He would bring the house down.
My neighbour next door is just barely better. The problem with the family is that they can be hopelessly inconsiderate, although they have some mitigating factor on their side, like stupidity. I have no right complaining about people inviting more people for housewarming than what their tiny flat could have accommodated, but the least they could do is to make sure the animals they bring home do not smoke, eat and then litter in the corridor. Squatting on a neighbour’s doorstep like some hobo is really unnecessary. Surely an animal does not need to mark its territory when they are just passing through an area.
I hate dogs and personally I think dog lovers are generally stupid. It is therefore unfortunate that my neighbours two doors away has to keep a yapping mutt. We have notified the fuzz and the town council about the incessant row this obnoxious creature has been making but obviously no action has been taken because they still own the bloody thing.
At times I feel sorry that we are not allowed to own firearms in Singapore. With such people, there is a procedure when it comes to talking reason. First, you talk nicely. When it doesn’t work, you persuade them with a baseball bat. When that fails, a good spray with an AK 47 would to make them wake up their ideas, assuming they do wake up after that.
The football on Saturday was rather stupid. I was the only one in my team having a go. There was the haze, but even that was no excuse for not running. All I heard was pathetic wailing about how “I am tired”, and “how I cannot run”. This is pathetic. I have played football with guys 10 to 20 years my senior and for the most part they didn’t moan like some strumpet turning a trick. And here we are, talking about guys mostly in their early to mid-twenties.
It’s really pathetic. The younger generation is getting weaker. Some are even weak in the head. I nearly lost it when Ed told me that he COULD NOT mark their striker because he was too fast and skillful. I say, what crap is this?! He also had this irritating reluctance to use his left foot. I felt really disgusted as I kept seeing him jerk himself around so that the ball could be on his right foot all the time. It’s fucking ugly. Guess what his excuse was?
I CAN’T USE MY LEFT FOOT! Oh joy.
During rest time one guy said that we were not up to the other team. I replied that like them, we also have five in the squad and ten legs (even with Ed “I can’t use my left foot” around), so what’s the difference? They sort of shut up but I didn’t really get their ear when I talked after that. I am so expert at bruising crystal hard egos.
I think maybe I should switch sports. Take up Mixed Martial Arts fights. I generally don’t have a problem doing team sports, even if my teammates are less skillful or physically inferior. What gets my goat are the defeatists who keep wailing about how we are not good enough, how fucking tired they are, and how good the other team is, yabba yap yap. (If our opponents are that good, they would be professionals and not amateurs like us.) Besides being yellow bastards, they are stupid as well.
I saw a Muay Thai match at Singapore Polytechnic last month. It was an affair between SP and NUS. It was a sorry spectacle and a fucking disgrace. The two fighters – if you can call these clowns that – were basically “pillow fighting” each other, so weak their punches and kicks were. Maybe this is a sign for me to take up tournament fighting. If my opponents are like that I will surely win many matches. Unlike in football where I get let down by wailing slackers, there is no chance of that happening in martial arts fights. If I lose, I only get bloodied, without having the added torture of listening to crap from my crappy teammates. If I win, the credit is all mine. ALL MINE.
Earlier in the day I went to the nearby library to do research on my Human Resource Management (HRM 201) case study. It turned out to be a waste of time. I could not find suitable material there. I thought of going to my university library but a phone call confirmed that it is closed for the holidays.
I tried to do my research on the Net but the material was too specified for me to find anything useful. The problem with business research is that too often these fucking ivory-tower academics coin their own terms and then you cannot get them in other publications and sources. It is frustrating. I am looking at two group projects and two MCQs within the next week or so, and I have neither the clue nor the resources to complete my tasks.
Of course, the HRM 201 fiasco could have been averted had my university being more competent. It’s been three weeks since the season started and we haven’t got our textbook. As a “convenience” to us, the university have taken upon themselves to photocopy chapters from the textbook and distribute them to us. Instead of giving them to us a few chapters at a time, why not just give us the whole damn thing? Stop treating us like we are beggars asking for a handout, you shameless bastards! After all, the university DON’T EVEN KNOW when the supplier will come good and deliver the fucking textbooks! SO STOP THIS BULLSHIT! YOU WANT MONEY?! I am sure we can pay for a reproduced copy of the ENTIRE textbook.
WE CAN PAY! YOU HEAR THAT, YOU GREEDY MONEY GRABBING WHORESONS?! WE CAN PAY!
My neighbour from a few doors away is singing like his life depends on it. I don’t know how the family living next door to him can possibly put up with his death throes. They must either be dead or deaf.
Now, there is a very real difference between singing the karaoke and hollering like you are witnessing your mother, sisters and daughters being raped. If I were in a more charitable mood I would have compared his tuneless dirge to the squealing of terrified pigs at the abattoir, but no luck for this pest. For once I actually find our national anthem bearable. That takes some doing. The shrieking bastard should sign up for Singapore Idol. He would bring the house down.
My neighbour next door is just barely better. The problem with the family is that they can be hopelessly inconsiderate, although they have some mitigating factor on their side, like stupidity. I have no right complaining about people inviting more people for housewarming than what their tiny flat could have accommodated, but the least they could do is to make sure the animals they bring home do not smoke, eat and then litter in the corridor. Squatting on a neighbour’s doorstep like some hobo is really unnecessary. Surely an animal does not need to mark its territory when they are just passing through an area.
I hate dogs and personally I think dog lovers are generally stupid. It is therefore unfortunate that my neighbours two doors away has to keep a yapping mutt. We have notified the fuzz and the town council about the incessant row this obnoxious creature has been making but obviously no action has been taken because they still own the bloody thing.
At times I feel sorry that we are not allowed to own firearms in Singapore. With such people, there is a procedure when it comes to talking reason. First, you talk nicely. When it doesn’t work, you persuade them with a baseball bat. When that fails, a good spray with an AK 47 would to make them wake up their ideas, assuming they do wake up after that.
The football on Saturday was rather stupid. I was the only one in my team having a go. There was the haze, but even that was no excuse for not running. All I heard was pathetic wailing about how “I am tired”, and “how I cannot run”. This is pathetic. I have played football with guys 10 to 20 years my senior and for the most part they didn’t moan like some strumpet turning a trick. And here we are, talking about guys mostly in their early to mid-twenties.
It’s really pathetic. The younger generation is getting weaker. Some are even weak in the head. I nearly lost it when Ed told me that he COULD NOT mark their striker because he was too fast and skillful. I say, what crap is this?! He also had this irritating reluctance to use his left foot. I felt really disgusted as I kept seeing him jerk himself around so that the ball could be on his right foot all the time. It’s fucking ugly. Guess what his excuse was?
I CAN’T USE MY LEFT FOOT! Oh joy.
During rest time one guy said that we were not up to the other team. I replied that like them, we also have five in the squad and ten legs (even with Ed “I can’t use my left foot” around), so what’s the difference? They sort of shut up but I didn’t really get their ear when I talked after that. I am so expert at bruising crystal hard egos.
I think maybe I should switch sports. Take up Mixed Martial Arts fights. I generally don’t have a problem doing team sports, even if my teammates are less skillful or physically inferior. What gets my goat are the defeatists who keep wailing about how we are not good enough, how fucking tired they are, and how good the other team is, yabba yap yap. (If our opponents are that good, they would be professionals and not amateurs like us.) Besides being yellow bastards, they are stupid as well.
I saw a Muay Thai match at Singapore Polytechnic last month. It was an affair between SP and NUS. It was a sorry spectacle and a fucking disgrace. The two fighters – if you can call these clowns that – were basically “pillow fighting” each other, so weak their punches and kicks were. Maybe this is a sign for me to take up tournament fighting. If my opponents are like that I will surely win many matches. Unlike in football where I get let down by wailing slackers, there is no chance of that happening in martial arts fights. If I lose, I only get bloodied, without having the added torture of listening to crap from my crappy teammates. If I win, the credit is all mine. ALL MINE.
Earlier in the day I went to the nearby library to do research on my Human Resource Management (HRM 201) case study. It turned out to be a waste of time. I could not find suitable material there. I thought of going to my university library but a phone call confirmed that it is closed for the holidays.
I tried to do my research on the Net but the material was too specified for me to find anything useful. The problem with business research is that too often these fucking ivory-tower academics coin their own terms and then you cannot get them in other publications and sources. It is frustrating. I am looking at two group projects and two MCQs within the next week or so, and I have neither the clue nor the resources to complete my tasks.
Of course, the HRM 201 fiasco could have been averted had my university being more competent. It’s been three weeks since the season started and we haven’t got our textbook. As a “convenience” to us, the university have taken upon themselves to photocopy chapters from the textbook and distribute them to us. Instead of giving them to us a few chapters at a time, why not just give us the whole damn thing? Stop treating us like we are beggars asking for a handout, you shameless bastards! After all, the university DON’T EVEN KNOW when the supplier will come good and deliver the fucking textbooks! SO STOP THIS BULLSHIT! YOU WANT MONEY?! I am sure we can pay for a reproduced copy of the ENTIRE textbook.
WE CAN PAY! YOU HEAR THAT, YOU GREEDY MONEY GRABBING WHORESONS?! WE CAN PAY!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
More Writhing
I am following the Blues’ fortunes (or should I say, misfortunes) on Twitter. Lescott has verbally requested a transfer to the Shitteeh. The gaffer should extort the Middle-east bastards for 30 to 40 million. With that kind of money we should be able to get a couple of creative players to complement our hardworking ethos.
With Jo damaging his ankle and Fellaini struggling for full fitness after a virus, the Blues are left dangerously thin. Peanuts won’t sign a new contract. Arteta, Yakubu and Jags are out with injuries. This is easily half the first time squad unavailable for the opening day clash with the Arse.
Senderos may become an Everton player soon. Cry me a river.
Coropo left for the States this morning. I have only this to say. The States being the land of opportunities, I have no doubt whatsoever that he will find it easier to score there, despite the fact that US women are better looking than the vermin we have here. As a guy, I wish him all the best, and hope that if he is ever unable to “rise to the occasion”, he should tell the girl that he is from Vietnam or some similar shithole. We are pathetic enough as it is. Please refrain from doing further advertising. Horseface Sun is quite enough.
Thank you.
According to a recent survey, the Chinese trust whores more than they do politicians. I am not surprised at all. They both screw you, but at least the whore gives you a good time.
The most “trustworthy” groups include religious workers, farmers, whores and farmers. The scum include politicians, teachers, real estate businessmen and scientists.
No wonder our regime cracks down on the flesh trade. Obviously they fear people of integrity, having none themselves.
P asked me to lend him $500, promising to return it to me this Friday. He said that C wanted to approach their major about his money woes. Unfortunately he is overseas so no help there.
His SMSes stopped after I suggested that he borrow money from his church mates. He has the nerve to ask money from a friend who is skint, but shies from asking his fellow xtians for help. I don’t understand this. Maybe it’s because we non-xtians are going to burn in Hell after we die, so even if he doesn’t return us money in this life he can also escape this obligation in the afterlife.
I have been drinking Coke everyday for the past month or so. I wonder if it’s possible to die from caffeine overdose. I could just see the headlines in the Shite Times: MAN DIES FROM DRINKING COKE. HEALTH MINISTER DECLARES BAN ON COCA COLA. Something to boast about to the folks in Hades (yeah I know there’s no Hell).
Still, I shall continue to drink Coke. Life is too short to go un-caffeinated.
Recently I keep getting reminded of Freddy Shepherd, who was the chairman for the Barcode Army. He once complained in a Spanish brothel that Geordie women were as ugly as dogs.
Dear Freddy, come to my country. I’ll show you what a dog looks like.
With Jo damaging his ankle and Fellaini struggling for full fitness after a virus, the Blues are left dangerously thin. Peanuts won’t sign a new contract. Arteta, Yakubu and Jags are out with injuries. This is easily half the first time squad unavailable for the opening day clash with the Arse.
Senderos may become an Everton player soon. Cry me a river.
Coropo left for the States this morning. I have only this to say. The States being the land of opportunities, I have no doubt whatsoever that he will find it easier to score there, despite the fact that US women are better looking than the vermin we have here. As a guy, I wish him all the best, and hope that if he is ever unable to “rise to the occasion”, he should tell the girl that he is from Vietnam or some similar shithole. We are pathetic enough as it is. Please refrain from doing further advertising. Horseface Sun is quite enough.
Thank you.
According to a recent survey, the Chinese trust whores more than they do politicians. I am not surprised at all. They both screw you, but at least the whore gives you a good time.
The most “trustworthy” groups include religious workers, farmers, whores and farmers. The scum include politicians, teachers, real estate businessmen and scientists.
No wonder our regime cracks down on the flesh trade. Obviously they fear people of integrity, having none themselves.
P asked me to lend him $500, promising to return it to me this Friday. He said that C wanted to approach their major about his money woes. Unfortunately he is overseas so no help there.
His SMSes stopped after I suggested that he borrow money from his church mates. He has the nerve to ask money from a friend who is skint, but shies from asking his fellow xtians for help. I don’t understand this. Maybe it’s because we non-xtians are going to burn in Hell after we die, so even if he doesn’t return us money in this life he can also escape this obligation in the afterlife.
I have been drinking Coke everyday for the past month or so. I wonder if it’s possible to die from caffeine overdose. I could just see the headlines in the Shite Times: MAN DIES FROM DRINKING COKE. HEALTH MINISTER DECLARES BAN ON COCA COLA. Something to boast about to the folks in Hades (yeah I know there’s no Hell).
Still, I shall continue to drink Coke. Life is too short to go un-caffeinated.
Recently I keep getting reminded of Freddy Shepherd, who was the chairman for the Barcode Army. He once complained in a Spanish brothel that Geordie women were as ugly as dogs.
Dear Freddy, come to my country. I’ll show you what a dog looks like.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Writhe
The Blues look to sign Senderos from the Arse. We just fucked ourselves royally. That lump of Swiss cheese is going to make holes in our defence. His purchase will represent a step backwards.
While we are at it, why not buy Titus Bramble from Wigan? Partner them together. I have no doubt this defensive partnership will win us the first trophy in 15 years – the Division One championship. We may have to wait a season, and face the likes of Newcastle and Leeds United, but good things are worth waiting for, right?
Since we are penniless anyway, we should also sell Jags along with Lescott to the Citizens in a “1 + 1” deal. Give us 30 million for Lescott, and we will throw in Jags for 15 million. While stocks last! Rob those Middle-east terrorists blind I say!
Some riffraff wearing NUSSU T-shirts had been asking for handouts. I saw a couple near my place in the morning and I saw separate groups in Orchard in the evening. I would not have given these mobs my boogie. It is sad to see university students acting like beggars and failing to look the part.
The more I look at my Equity Securities notes the more suicidal I feel. I don’t understand a single fuck about the subject. No wonder we are having a financial crisis. With all that obfuscating mathematical formulas and equations, it must be really easy to hoodwink investors into thinking they are going to make a killing.
To think I signed up for a business course because I hate maths. Oh the irony.
While we are at it, why not buy Titus Bramble from Wigan? Partner them together. I have no doubt this defensive partnership will win us the first trophy in 15 years – the Division One championship. We may have to wait a season, and face the likes of Newcastle and Leeds United, but good things are worth waiting for, right?
Since we are penniless anyway, we should also sell Jags along with Lescott to the Citizens in a “1 + 1” deal. Give us 30 million for Lescott, and we will throw in Jags for 15 million. While stocks last! Rob those Middle-east terrorists blind I say!
Some riffraff wearing NUSSU T-shirts had been asking for handouts. I saw a couple near my place in the morning and I saw separate groups in Orchard in the evening. I would not have given these mobs my boogie. It is sad to see university students acting like beggars and failing to look the part.
The more I look at my Equity Securities notes the more suicidal I feel. I don’t understand a single fuck about the subject. No wonder we are having a financial crisis. With all that obfuscating mathematical formulas and equations, it must be really easy to hoodwink investors into thinking they are going to make a killing.
To think I signed up for a business course because I hate maths. Oh the irony.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Paper Mills, Anyone?
From the BBC
Universities 'fail on standards'
| By Sean Coughlan BBC News education reporter |
 MPs say degree standards must be made more consistent |
Universities in England are failing to safeguard degree standards, according to a damning report from MPs.
The current system for ensuring quality is "out of date" and should be replaced," the Commons universities select committee concluded.
"Inconsistency in standards is rife," said committee chairman, Phil Willis.
Universities UK attacked the report as "ill-thought through" and rejected the accusation that university leaders were "defensive and complacent".
The hard-hitting report calls for urgent action to improve how universities safeguard the quality of degrees.
It describes as "absurd and disreputable" the claim that the growing demand for courses, including from overseas students, is proof that university standards are being maintained.
'Unacceptable'
The cross-party committee attacks university leaders for failing to "give a straightforward answer to the simple question of whether first class honours degrees achieved at different universities indicate the same or different intellectual standards".
 | REPORT RECOMMENDATIONS Consistent degree standards required across all universities Independent standards watchdog needed Accreditation checks every 10 years Better protection for whistleblowers National bursary system More support for mature and part-time students  |
And the MPs question why universities have failed to explain the rapid increase in the number of top grade degrees being awarded.
To protect the "integrity" of degrees, the committee calls for a radical overhaul of the current watchdog, the Quality Assurance Agency, replacing it with an independent body charged with maintaining academic standards.
The report casts doubt on the reliability of self-regulation by universities and calls for tighter rules for external examiners and a way of comparing standards in different institutions.
"We are extremely concerned that inconsistency in standards is rife and there is a reluctance to address this issue," said Mr Willis, chair of the Commons Innovation, Universities, Science and Skills Committee.
The report says it is "unacceptable" for higher education to receive £15bn in taxpayers' funding "but be unable to answer a straightforward question about the relative standards of the degrees of the students".
As an example, the report says that there was no clear answer to MPs' attempts to find the answer to whether an upper second history degree from Oxford University and Oxford Brookes were equivalent .
Bursaries
Where whistleblowers have revealed worries about degree standards, the committee says they must be given better protection.
 Phil Willis says universities must be accountable for £15bn funding |
MPs also recommend a national system of bursaries to support students, removing differences in the amounts offered by individual institutions.
This proposal for a national bursary has been supported by the National Union of Students and the Million+ group of new universities.
NUS president, Wes Streeting, also welcomed the questions raised about value for money from degree courses.
"Tuition fees in England were trebled in 2006, but students have not seen a demonstrable improvement in the quality of their experience.
"We find it astonishing that universities continue to demand ever higher fees without showing how they make a difference to the people who pay them," said Mr Streeting.
But university leaders have rejected the criticism levelled at the higher education sector.
'Outburst'
"We are rather dismayed and surprised by this outburst," said Wendy Piatt of the Russell Group of leading universities.
"Universities are not schools. An essential feature of a university is its academic freedom and autonomy, with the responsibility to award degrees and uphold standards," she said.
Diana Warwick, head of Universities UK, said: "We reject the suggestion that the way to improve the system that protects standards is to create some super-quango or Ofsted-style Quality and Standards Agency. This seems to us a sledgehammer to crack a nut."
But Paul Wellings, chair of the research-intensive 1994 Group of universities, emphasised the need for maintaining quality across a diverse higher education sector.
The QAA watchdog, which the MPs want to replace, warns that "care needs to be taken that we do not put at risk the benefits of a diverse and flexible higher education system".
The report has also been challenged by Lord Mandelson, Secretary of State for Business, Innovation and Skills.
"I don't recognise the committee's description of our higher education sector, which is in fact world class and second only to the USA as a top destination for overseas students," said Lord Mandelson.
The Conservatives' university spokesman, David Willetts, said the report was a "refreshingly frank assessment of where things stand".
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Littlespeck's Migration in reverse
From: Littlespeck.com
Trends
Migration in reverse
Jobless foreigners leave in droves but Singaporeans don’t seem to bemoan this recession trend. By Seah Chiang Nee.
(Synopsis: Most Singaporeans have no problems accepting migrants. What they resent is overdoing it, letting in such vast numbers.)
A SIMPLE inter-school badminton match has developed into a national debate over how welcome foreigners are in
It began when a little-known sports school nearly became a giant killer through fielding players from the world’s best badminton nation,
The coach of the
He said the complainants should stop acting like cry-babies.
It is happening at a time when resentment is growing about the government admitting too many foreigners in too short a time.
The critics had accused him of resorting to foreign talents, rather than groom its own, to win sports honours.
The girls’ team it fielded was all-China, while of the seven in the boys’ team four were Chinese, one Korean and two Singaporeans.
They swept away all rivals until the finals, when the team lost to Raffles Junior College (RJC), an all-Singaporean team.
It was an emotion-packed encounter that was cheered as a local-versus-foreigner contest.
The furore shows how deep the resentment has grown here over the massive influx of foreigners, who are accused of depriving locals of jobs and opportunities.
With foreigners now making up a third of
“A lot of us feel like we’re playing for
Even some of its fiercest traditional rivals were rooting for the Rafflesians.
“This is a warning sign of unhappy sentiments against foreigners,” said Kevin Kelvin Teo at KentRidgecommon.com.
The local-versus-foreigner divide has become one of the three biggest social threats, admitted Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong. The other threats are an economic gap and race and religion.
Few people expect any large-scale violence, but the authorities are taking no chances.
The Public Order Bill has been changed to require any cause-related assembly to have a police permit, even if only one person is involved.
So far, the resentment of Singaporeans is confined to petitions and online insults, and even these are rising.
Early this year, thousands of residents of
Quarrels between mainland Chinese and Singaporeans frequently crop up over the former’s loud, boorish habits – and “job stealing”.
In a web survey asking whether Singaporeans welcomed foreigners, which is a regular government exhortation, 73% of the respondents said: “No, we’re overcrowded enough.”
The yes vote was 17%; the rest said they were foreigners (thus their views are not relevant).
Ironically, such unhappiness comes at a time when the recession is sending home large numbers of foreigners, mostly the lowly-paid, in a reverse migration.
Economists are predicting that as many as 200,000 migrant workers in
Credit Suisse said this could reduce the population by 3.3% by 2010.
This outflow is a world phenomenon, and is likely to continue. The Wall Street Journal reported that hundreds of thousands of workers from developing countries were leaving the West.
This U-turn will hit
However, many Singaporeans are likely to celebrate rather than bemoan their departure.
Historically, this is a migrant society, and now cosmopolitan and multi-racial.
Hence, the vast majority have no problems accepting the open door policy. What they resent is overdoing it, letting in such vast numbers.
“Unlike the past migrants who came to settle here, the present lot are like leeches, who come just to make money and go home,” said one writer.
Was migration excessivwe?
A surfer posted these comparisons with some advanced countries of comparative size showing the non-citizen ratio of population:
In
They have established an overwhelming presence in almost every part and sector of the city. It is beginning to transform the texture of its society.
Foreign exclaves have been set up in many areas where Indians, Thais, Filipinos and Burmese assemble in large numbers.
“Here Singaporeans are often the minorities,” said a news agency reporter.
As for the mainland Chinese, they are easily absorbed. “We have a one selling roti prata in Little India to India Indians, and unable to talk to each other,” said a resident.
One observer said: “I think the next generation of people born here will have a weaker sense of identity and attachment to this country due to the social upheaval posed by the ‘flood the island with foreigners’ policy.”
Realising this, Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew has said it is imperative to cap the foreign population to no more than the present one-third.
(An expanded version of the article originally published in The Star today)
Best University in the World Sequel
This is what I call managing customer relationships!
For those who don't understand what I am talking about, click here.
From document format to PDF. Not bad at all.
Now, this is what I signed up for...
For those who don't understand what I am talking about, click here.
From document format to PDF. Not bad at all.
Now, this is what I signed up for...Sunday, July 26, 2009
A Shite Weekend
The Shite just whipped the Pussies 5:0. After producing a typical insipid performance in the first half, they came to life in the second. Of course, this improvement was facilitated by the Pussies’ changing their players to give everybody a run-out. This caused the formation to be skewed in favor of attack and allowed the Shite the chance to play football.
The English teams must love Singapore. When they cannot win anywhere else they can always count on beating Singapore. They came in 2001 and managed an unconvincing 2:0 win. ManUre came in the same year, played their goalkeeper on the left flank and whipped the hosts 8:1. Judging from the capacity crowd in the National Stadium, you would have thought that the Shite were the home team. When the Analfield anthem “You Will Never Walk Alone” was played, it inspired more reaction from the crowd than what our national anthem could ever have. Not surprising of course. Half the crowd were probably not from Singapore anyway, the same way the Shite are from Norway.
Although the scoreline suggested a convincing victory, the Shite were far from comfortable in breaking down an initially resolute opposition. This bodes well for their Premiership and European rivals. In the footballing sense, the Shite have no culture. The ManUre are famous for their attacking wing play, Chelski for their physical and defensive play, the Arse for their pretty passing football and Everton for their work antics and discipline. It is hard to pinpoint the essence of their football. To call it boring is too charitable. Boring is at least a recognized style. They are as inconsistent as a woman who is having PMS. No wonder they are so supported in Singapore. Like the Shite, we have the money but no culture to speak of. They are like a suffrage national side to us, although I must say that as a decent football fan and reasonably intelligent human being, I support neither.
While the Pussies got creamed 5:0, we went one goal further. To call our performance abject would have been a gross understatement. Words cannot adequately describe our ineptitude, so I shall make use of some numbers here.
Teamwork: 1/10
With nearly all our better players unavailable, we were forced to bring in reinforcements. We didn’t know one another from Adam and our positioning and passing were about as hesitant as that guy from 40 Year Old Virgin trying to score in a club.
Fitness: 2/10
Half the team are in their early 20s, and none of us are below 30. To blame our lack of endeavor on the hot weather would be a travesty of the truth. If our opponents could zip around with energy, I don’t see why we were so zombified.
Goalkeeping: 2/10
As our first choice keeper was injured, we were forced to put our left wing (who had some experience in goal) between the sticks. He could have saved the long range efforts which were fired straight at him. We swapped another player after he had enough. He gave a more convincing display, but our goal kicks were still shite.
Defence: 3/10
Our full-backs were very weak runners. Getting beat for pace is one thing, but the lack of harassing and tacking from them were disappointing. The right-back was particularly atrocious. He basically left the wing empty with his zero positioning sense and his sprinting resembled jogging. Our centre-backs weren’t so bad. At least they did some things right.
Midfield: 2/10
A disgrace. The right winger was a weakling and he kept staying inland instead of hugging the flanks. Obviously he was too unfit and slow to be of much use. The left winger, or rather our sub, was better. The centre-midfield, of which I was a part, were basically outnumbered and chasing shadows. We could have offered our keeper more protection, but we didn’t have much protection from our partners either.
Attack: N/A
We could not muster a shot on target. Our forward(s) were starved of the ball. They could have dropped back to collect the ball but this category is about attackers and not midfielders.
Overall: 2/10
We should have been more negative. My friend said that it was useless punting the ball aimlessly upfield. We did that in the first half and trailed 2:0. In the second half we tried to pass the ball more and shipped four. There is nothing with negative football. Chelski under Mourinho did that to great effect. Stoke City escaped relegation on the back of some very unappealing and agricultural football. Italy won three World Cups with a strong defensive culture. Smaller and less skillful teams cannot swashbuckle their way like the big teams and the best thing is to do the simple thing and stop the opposition from playing. Nothing wrong with this tactic.
It would have worked for us, if our wingers were half-decent. Just punt their ball to the corners and get them to fight for a corner or throw in and try to sneak a goal from these situations. If I had my way I would have played a 4-1-4-1 formation. Four defenders, one anchorman, two strong defensive centre midfielders and two strong runners who are ready to burst forward, plus a striker who will hold up the ball and make a nuisance of himself. Eight defending with three in attack. If we can’t score, neither will they. People keep saying that clearing the ball, defending en masse and punting it high up in the air are not playing football, but I beg to defer. If this is not football, how come it is allowed?
Four games this year. Two catastrophic losses and two hard-fought victories. How cute.
The English teams must love Singapore. When they cannot win anywhere else they can always count on beating Singapore. They came in 2001 and managed an unconvincing 2:0 win. ManUre came in the same year, played their goalkeeper on the left flank and whipped the hosts 8:1. Judging from the capacity crowd in the National Stadium, you would have thought that the Shite were the home team. When the Analfield anthem “You Will Never Walk Alone” was played, it inspired more reaction from the crowd than what our national anthem could ever have. Not surprising of course. Half the crowd were probably not from Singapore anyway, the same way the Shite are from Norway.
Although the scoreline suggested a convincing victory, the Shite were far from comfortable in breaking down an initially resolute opposition. This bodes well for their Premiership and European rivals. In the footballing sense, the Shite have no culture. The ManUre are famous for their attacking wing play, Chelski for their physical and defensive play, the Arse for their pretty passing football and Everton for their work antics and discipline. It is hard to pinpoint the essence of their football. To call it boring is too charitable. Boring is at least a recognized style. They are as inconsistent as a woman who is having PMS. No wonder they are so supported in Singapore. Like the Shite, we have the money but no culture to speak of. They are like a suffrage national side to us, although I must say that as a decent football fan and reasonably intelligent human being, I support neither.
……………………………………………
While the Pussies got creamed 5:0, we went one goal further. To call our performance abject would have been a gross understatement. Words cannot adequately describe our ineptitude, so I shall make use of some numbers here.
Teamwork: 1/10
With nearly all our better players unavailable, we were forced to bring in reinforcements. We didn’t know one another from Adam and our positioning and passing were about as hesitant as that guy from 40 Year Old Virgin trying to score in a club.
Fitness: 2/10
Half the team are in their early 20s, and none of us are below 30. To blame our lack of endeavor on the hot weather would be a travesty of the truth. If our opponents could zip around with energy, I don’t see why we were so zombified.
Goalkeeping: 2/10
As our first choice keeper was injured, we were forced to put our left wing (who had some experience in goal) between the sticks. He could have saved the long range efforts which were fired straight at him. We swapped another player after he had enough. He gave a more convincing display, but our goal kicks were still shite.
Defence: 3/10
Our full-backs were very weak runners. Getting beat for pace is one thing, but the lack of harassing and tacking from them were disappointing. The right-back was particularly atrocious. He basically left the wing empty with his zero positioning sense and his sprinting resembled jogging. Our centre-backs weren’t so bad. At least they did some things right.
Midfield: 2/10
A disgrace. The right winger was a weakling and he kept staying inland instead of hugging the flanks. Obviously he was too unfit and slow to be of much use. The left winger, or rather our sub, was better. The centre-midfield, of which I was a part, were basically outnumbered and chasing shadows. We could have offered our keeper more protection, but we didn’t have much protection from our partners either.
Attack: N/A
We could not muster a shot on target. Our forward(s) were starved of the ball. They could have dropped back to collect the ball but this category is about attackers and not midfielders.
Overall: 2/10
We should have been more negative. My friend said that it was useless punting the ball aimlessly upfield. We did that in the first half and trailed 2:0. In the second half we tried to pass the ball more and shipped four. There is nothing with negative football. Chelski under Mourinho did that to great effect. Stoke City escaped relegation on the back of some very unappealing and agricultural football. Italy won three World Cups with a strong defensive culture. Smaller and less skillful teams cannot swashbuckle their way like the big teams and the best thing is to do the simple thing and stop the opposition from playing. Nothing wrong with this tactic.
It would have worked for us, if our wingers were half-decent. Just punt their ball to the corners and get them to fight for a corner or throw in and try to sneak a goal from these situations. If I had my way I would have played a 4-1-4-1 formation. Four defenders, one anchorman, two strong defensive centre midfielders and two strong runners who are ready to burst forward, plus a striker who will hold up the ball and make a nuisance of himself. Eight defending with three in attack. If we can’t score, neither will they. People keep saying that clearing the ball, defending en masse and punting it high up in the air are not playing football, but I beg to defer. If this is not football, how come it is allowed?
Four games this year. Two catastrophic losses and two hard-fought victories. How cute.
It's a Shite Life.
My season started on Friday. My first act was to be nearly an hour late for class, and my second was to tell the two chatterboxes behind me to quiet down. I was tired, hungry, thirsty and frustrated. If the idiots hadn’t heed my advice the situation would have been very ugly.
Due to the two idiots’ inconsideration and my exhausted state I wasn’t able to concentrate on the lesson very well. My lack of business background exacerbated the situation further. I could probably only assimilate 10% of the lecture, which was pathetic. From the questions several of my classmates posed to the lecturer, it was obvious that I would be competing against people who already had financial background. This means that I might not be able to rely on The Curve, which I did in previous seasons. I must secure a straight pass in order to survive – no easy feat.
I got myself a group mate. The quiet guy besides me asked me if I had a group. I said no and now we are looking for another to ease our workload. I predict that they will handle the maths (I hope!) while I do the writing.
The Shite are in Singapore and will play against the *Lions* this evening. For the past few days the Shite fans here have been going crazy and “following” their idols like good dogs. I don’t know what the big fuss is all about. The ManUre may have offloaded Ronaldo and Tevez, the Chelski squad grown older, the Arse’s obsession with “little boys” will cause them another trophyless season, but the Shite will still not win the league.
You don't need a medical degree to know that shit stinks.
(Image courtesy of www.bluekipper.com)
More bewildering is the fact that people actually bothered to pay good money to watch that mob across the street play. I would not have paid a penny. They haven’t won in their last three friendlies and this tells you they are clearly in the mood for playing holiday football. If I want to see people go through the motions and being overpaid for their *exertions* I would have gone to a whore. At least the whore bothers to pretend she’s enjoying it. The Shite will probably put in 10% effort against the our Lions (pussies), so better to conserve energy when they take on the real pussies in Geylang later in the night.
Our keeper was admitted to hospital on Monday after he ruptured his kidney in the match last Sunday. I think that as a team we had let him down. We didn’t offer him enough protection and he had to put his body on the line to save us time and again.
I hope for a more collective performance when we play our fourth friendly later. Looking at the team sheet it would be yet another collective struggle. The better players are missing and I probably have to fill in for our right-back, who is overseas. We would like to win it of course, but considering the circumstances a draw would be a good result. Time to play negative football and park the bus in front of the goal.
W invited me to his wedding on the 2nd of October. He is making a big mistake. Not by inviting me of course, but in getting married in the first place. He does not even love his fiancée. I hope they don’t have children. Being born in this country is bad enough. They don’t need to suffer more bullshit from their parents.
Due to the two idiots’ inconsideration and my exhausted state I wasn’t able to concentrate on the lesson very well. My lack of business background exacerbated the situation further. I could probably only assimilate 10% of the lecture, which was pathetic. From the questions several of my classmates posed to the lecturer, it was obvious that I would be competing against people who already had financial background. This means that I might not be able to rely on The Curve, which I did in previous seasons. I must secure a straight pass in order to survive – no easy feat.
I got myself a group mate. The quiet guy besides me asked me if I had a group. I said no and now we are looking for another to ease our workload. I predict that they will handle the maths (I hope!) while I do the writing.
-------------------------
The Shite are in Singapore and will play against the *Lions* this evening. For the past few days the Shite fans here have been going crazy and “following” their idols like good dogs. I don’t know what the big fuss is all about. The ManUre may have offloaded Ronaldo and Tevez, the Chelski squad grown older, the Arse’s obsession with “little boys” will cause them another trophyless season, but the Shite will still not win the league.
You don't need a medical degree to know that shit stinks.(Image courtesy of www.bluekipper.com)
More bewildering is the fact that people actually bothered to pay good money to watch that mob across the street play. I would not have paid a penny. They haven’t won in their last three friendlies and this tells you they are clearly in the mood for playing holiday football. If I want to see people go through the motions and being overpaid for their *exertions* I would have gone to a whore. At least the whore bothers to pretend she’s enjoying it. The Shite will probably put in 10% effort against the our Lions (pussies), so better to conserve energy when they take on the real pussies in Geylang later in the night.
---------------------------------
Our keeper was admitted to hospital on Monday after he ruptured his kidney in the match last Sunday. I think that as a team we had let him down. We didn’t offer him enough protection and he had to put his body on the line to save us time and again.
I hope for a more collective performance when we play our fourth friendly later. Looking at the team sheet it would be yet another collective struggle. The better players are missing and I probably have to fill in for our right-back, who is overseas. We would like to win it of course, but considering the circumstances a draw would be a good result. Time to play negative football and park the bus in front of the goal.
-------------------------------------
W invited me to his wedding on the 2nd of October. He is making a big mistake. Not by inviting me of course, but in getting married in the first place. He does not even love his fiancée. I hope they don’t have children. Being born in this country is bad enough. They don’t need to suffer more bullshit from their parents.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Best University in the World
The cover page for Human Resource Management (HRM201) group assignment:
For those with vision problems, please refer to the picture below:
Another Victory
The miracle continues. Against the odds we stole a 2:1 victory. It was a tremendous display and an incredible achievement, considering that some of our better players were unavailable and we had to rely on reinforcements. A reasonable punter would have put his money on us getting creamed. Football is a romantic game however, a game of upsets and giant-killing and we showed that the fight does not necessarily go to the strongest.
To start things off, our midfield were shite. Our left winger could do nothing right and our right winger played like a weakling. The guy who was supposed to cover the centre with me had a propensity to drift to the right. Most of the time I was alone, trying to handle two, three opponents who were my size. I played arguably the most negative football a centre midfielder ever played. Every ball near me I either released first time to the forwards or the wingers, or just cleared it with no regard to its destination. I decided that if I couldn’t get the ball, neither would they.
Ordinarily any team with a modicum of intelligence should have just overrun the centre midfield. Instead, they pumped the ball to our left flank, where our left winger and left-back were being beaten for fun. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was not exactly I was holding my position particularly well. It was just that the left flank was so pathetic our opponents could have just walked around with a cup of tea and still retain possession.
To their credit our two forwards did try their best to drop back and help out. Unfortunately, starved of through passes, they were at times reduced to battling displays. The creativity was so severely lacking that our best route to goal was from corners. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I think my mates made a masterstroke in letting me take the corners. We could have scored from four out of the eight or nine corners we had (In fact we scored from one – partly thanks to our opponents’ incompetent goalkeeper).
It was largely a tale of two keepers. While theirs was a joke, ours could have made the great Lev Yashin applaud his sterling display. His positioning sense was perfect, his command of the penalty box impeccable and his reflexes lighting-fast. It is no exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t for him, we would have been looking at a drubbing. His task was further helped by our opponents’ very wayward finishing. They had maybe 20 to 30 chances but only scored one. In contrast we had less than half their opportunities and we got two. Football is about taking chances. If you don’t score you don’t win. Simple.
Our defenders deserved some credit as well. We rode our luck at times, but their efforts could not be faulted. We might have relied on some good fortune but without resilience and honest pluck no amount of good luck would have helped. Towards the end they piled on the pressure and could have levelled matters, but we survived to celebrate a most magnificent result.
To start things off, our midfield were shite. Our left winger could do nothing right and our right winger played like a weakling. The guy who was supposed to cover the centre with me had a propensity to drift to the right. Most of the time I was alone, trying to handle two, three opponents who were my size. I played arguably the most negative football a centre midfielder ever played. Every ball near me I either released first time to the forwards or the wingers, or just cleared it with no regard to its destination. I decided that if I couldn’t get the ball, neither would they.
Ordinarily any team with a modicum of intelligence should have just overrun the centre midfield. Instead, they pumped the ball to our left flank, where our left winger and left-back were being beaten for fun. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was not exactly I was holding my position particularly well. It was just that the left flank was so pathetic our opponents could have just walked around with a cup of tea and still retain possession.
To their credit our two forwards did try their best to drop back and help out. Unfortunately, starved of through passes, they were at times reduced to battling displays. The creativity was so severely lacking that our best route to goal was from corners. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I think my mates made a masterstroke in letting me take the corners. We could have scored from four out of the eight or nine corners we had (In fact we scored from one – partly thanks to our opponents’ incompetent goalkeeper).
It was largely a tale of two keepers. While theirs was a joke, ours could have made the great Lev Yashin applaud his sterling display. His positioning sense was perfect, his command of the penalty box impeccable and his reflexes lighting-fast. It is no exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t for him, we would have been looking at a drubbing. His task was further helped by our opponents’ very wayward finishing. They had maybe 20 to 30 chances but only scored one. In contrast we had less than half their opportunities and we got two. Football is about taking chances. If you don’t score you don’t win. Simple.
Our defenders deserved some credit as well. We rode our luck at times, but their efforts could not be faulted. We might have relied on some good fortune but without resilience and honest pluck no amount of good luck would have helped. Towards the end they piled on the pressure and could have levelled matters, but we survived to celebrate a most magnificent result.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Ashes and Dust
Death always comes too early or too late.
I wanted to write a review castigating movie critics but that can wait. This is something more important.
Today the football was a bit stale. Towards the end of our game one guy called for everybody to gather. At first we thought the guys outside the court were up to some bullshit but what followed reduced everybody to speechlessness.
With the gang sitting on the floor, the guy softly announced that X had passed away. His body was cremated on Wednesday. His death was unnatural. X’s brother said he was coping but it was just the pride talking. He wanted us not to message, call or send him condolences on MSN and Facebook. All the poor thing needs now is some time to himself. He also wanted us not to “broadcast” it, don’t tell anybody or write about it on our blogs. (That is why I am not using any real names here.)
He then went on to say that the suddenness of his demise caught everybody by surprise. We started to talk about it, to find out what happened but it was more conjecture than anything else. A Said that X looked very downcast when he came for football last week. Then the last week became “past weeks”, and how he had been very quiet. What problems did X run into? Did he break up with his girlfriend? Then B said X had quit poly, albeit unofficially. He had not been attending classes for the past few weeks prior to that fateful day. A said X hated the thought of serving the army. He tried to get a deferral but they didn’t approve it. He was so desperate he even contemplated joining the police force. A said that there was no need for X to fear going to the army so much – every guy in this country has to go through it.
The announcer guy then said that there we should not assume or presume the exact circumstances surrounding X’s demise. When the time comes, X’s brother would talk about it, should he feel like it. He then went on to say that we play football in SP every Saturday because we are like one big family. We could have just played at the void decks but football gives the gang a chance to get together. Many of us may only see one another on Saturday but that does not mean we are not friends on the other six days of the week. Right now, we should contribute to X’s family, see what help they require and give it.
Then someone said X’s brother is a xtian. X wasn’t. I hope the former’s priest and church members would not be so dim-witted and insensitive, making comments about the destination of X’s soul. (By the way, where was Gawd? Taking a shit and watching child porn when It could have saved a life?)
C said that X had a tendency to bottle up his feelings. If he didn’t say anything how could anyone had done anything about it? What happened must have been a kick in the teeth for his brother. Everybody is carrying a bit of guilt about it. If only I had done something, if only I had done more. One can imagine how the family must be beating themselves over it.
It is irrational, but I think on some level we have all failed X. Talking to X about football and shooting shit about stuff are all well and good, but it was a shame that few of us (to the best of my knowledge) talked to him much about the things that matter. We are all guilty of it, I suspect, whether with X or with our other friends. We simply don’t bother enough. I think being friends with someone carries some obligations. You expect something but you also give him or her something in return. It is a reciprocal relationship, based not on monetary values, leverages and advantages, but out from the heart. I don’t bother enough, and if you are reading this, chances are you are just like me.
I remember one of my lecturers, himself a retiree and having “seen it all” , said that one can have many friends. These friends are nothing compared to the rare few who will stick with you through thick and thin. I think he has a point, but unfortunately how many of us actually have even one friend like this in the first place? I am not talking about the kind of friend who will make dramatic sacrifices for you like in the movies, taking a bullet for you or donating his entire fortunes to save you. I am talking about realism, and often realism is very simple. I am referring to the kind who will bother to talk to you, to listen, to find time for you, and try to help you when you have a problem. The kind who actually bother.
Some people will think that suicides are stupid. What do people off themselves when the solution to their problems can be found? These people don’t deserve anybody’s pity. They should be castigated for being weak and by their inconsiderate action brought pain to the people who loved them. Well, I got news for you, you vindictive whoresons. People do not off themselves because they cannot find a way out of their problems. They off themselves because the pain is too fucking much to bear. It is not about finding answers like life is some fucking maths problem but dealing with debilitating pain.
Suicide is not a conscious and clear-headed choice, much like it is impossible not to feel pain when you are ravaged by cancer or tore apart by hounds. Everybody has difference tolerances and a pain threshold for each of these. Some can take lots of physical punishment but are emotionally fragile. Some are stone-hearted but cannot walk up a flight of stairs without gasping like if it’s his last breath. Different people, different tolerances, different thresholds for different tolerances. I have a friend who was a nurse. She told me that when you are depressed, you cannot function at all. It is not a simple thing of “snapping out of it”. You just cannot function. Full stop. Without help you are pretty much fucked. A suicide does not just “cannot function”; he wants to cease to function.
People who simply dismiss suicides as “losers” are more often than not popcorn-munching armchair commentators whose thinking is so magical they do not see the absurdity of complaining about trivial things in their carefree existences while seeing nothing wrong about telling people who are in worse straits how to cope with their fucking lives. I wonder if these insensitive and high-priced twats would have contemplated death if they were gang-raped and at the same time forced to watch the gang rapes of the female family members and the beheading of their male kin. This is an extreme example, but it is a bloody good one. It is a bloody good one because it happened during the war, when the goddamn Japs subjected the Chinese to unspeakable brutalities. What would these callous bastards say to the people who off-ed themselves after suffering shit like this? You are so stooopid?
What happened to X might not be as tragic-dramatic as my example, but it is not us to perceive what is truly horrendous and what is not. What X, or any would-be suicide perceive in his mind really matters. The rest of the world can just fuck off. It could be a relatively insignificant thing like relationship problems, but if the person attaches very great importance to it, then that is what it is: fucking important and a case for great fucking despair. The feelings of other people, and subjective/objective reality and all that claptrap are worthless. When next time somebody you know offs himself/herself, please remember what I said – or will you continue to cry stooopid? Goddamn nimrods.
Gold!
When I woke up this morning I felt suicidal. I had to clear my annual physical fitness test. After a quick breakfast of coffee (holy water) and eggs, I dragged my weary body out of the door. I thought it would be an arduous formality.
Surprisingly, there were not many people taking the test with me - I estimated a few hundred. The registration was fast and efficient and the briefing by the chief physical instructor was succinct. The waiting time was only 30 minutes or so (anyone who has served the army would know this is extraordinarily fast.)
So onwards to the static stations: sit-ups, jumping, chin-ups and sprinting. Everything was electronic. You had a number tag, which had a slot you must put your ID card into and then you had to place the whole thing at the test station you were taking. Do your best (or worst). Your result would be registered electronically. The instructors were only there to make sure nobody tried to be "creative."
I nearly scored full marks for the test, but for the jumping. On my first attempt I was denied full points when the system registered a "fault line." Apparently the toe of my boot had brushed the starting line. My second attempt was poorer, but it was still enough to secure me the points necessary in my pursuit of gold. I could have made another attempt, out of pride, but there is no difference between winning 1:0 and winning 3:0. You still get three points.
One champion did around 20 repetitions at the chin-up station. From the effortless way he went up and down, this human yoyo might have done 30 if the attending instructor had not told him to stop. Apparently the system had problems with the excessively high count. I say this guy was nuts. Even if he was aiming for full points he could have just done 12. Why not save his energy for the 1.5 mile run? I guess strange people are everywhere.
Within 20 to 30 minutes I had cleared the four stations with the minimum of fuss. What next was the BIG ONE.
The 1.5 mile route was conducted on the ground floor of a multi-storey carpark. The person who thought of this should be promoted. Unlike at most other test centres, people could take their 1.5 mile run regardless of the weather. In addition, the terrain was flat and there were no spills, depressions, crevices and other conditions that may upset a runner.
I felt like giving up during my second lap but my need for cash pushed me on. There was also the additional motivation of bragging about it to my colleague when I turn up for work on Monday (We male animals are egoistic creatures.) It was not my best performance - I needed a lap or two to get acquainted with the route - but I got what I came for.
When I got the result slip which confirmed I can add an entry in my Account Receiveable, I felt a measure of relief. Surely, for me to do remedial training just because I missed the test would have been an utter travesty.
My unbeaten streak continues, and when I am in another age category the test will be even easier for me. As I am typing this in my university library's computer room, I feel sexy and beautiful. (Unfortunately there are not many sexy and/or beautiful broads around. Hell, in fact there are none.)
I shall go for football soon. I shall play my usual game, which is negative football and quite like tennis. Ball comes to me, ball goes back. Roger Federer should come and see me play. The things he would pick up will help him cement his place as the greatest ever in tennis. I hope there are good-looking broads in SP. I hope to see the balls bounce and may they be big, firm and beautifully spherical.
Surprisingly, there were not many people taking the test with me - I estimated a few hundred. The registration was fast and efficient and the briefing by the chief physical instructor was succinct. The waiting time was only 30 minutes or so (anyone who has served the army would know this is extraordinarily fast.)
So onwards to the static stations: sit-ups, jumping, chin-ups and sprinting. Everything was electronic. You had a number tag, which had a slot you must put your ID card into and then you had to place the whole thing at the test station you were taking. Do your best (or worst). Your result would be registered electronically. The instructors were only there to make sure nobody tried to be "creative."
I nearly scored full marks for the test, but for the jumping. On my first attempt I was denied full points when the system registered a "fault line." Apparently the toe of my boot had brushed the starting line. My second attempt was poorer, but it was still enough to secure me the points necessary in my pursuit of gold. I could have made another attempt, out of pride, but there is no difference between winning 1:0 and winning 3:0. You still get three points.
One champion did around 20 repetitions at the chin-up station. From the effortless way he went up and down, this human yoyo might have done 30 if the attending instructor had not told him to stop. Apparently the system had problems with the excessively high count. I say this guy was nuts. Even if he was aiming for full points he could have just done 12. Why not save his energy for the 1.5 mile run? I guess strange people are everywhere.
Within 20 to 30 minutes I had cleared the four stations with the minimum of fuss. What next was the BIG ONE.
The 1.5 mile route was conducted on the ground floor of a multi-storey carpark. The person who thought of this should be promoted. Unlike at most other test centres, people could take their 1.5 mile run regardless of the weather. In addition, the terrain was flat and there were no spills, depressions, crevices and other conditions that may upset a runner.
I felt like giving up during my second lap but my need for cash pushed me on. There was also the additional motivation of bragging about it to my colleague when I turn up for work on Monday (We male animals are egoistic creatures.) It was not my best performance - I needed a lap or two to get acquainted with the route - but I got what I came for.
When I got the result slip which confirmed I can add an entry in my Account Receiveable, I felt a measure of relief. Surely, for me to do remedial training just because I missed the test would have been an utter travesty.
My unbeaten streak continues, and when I am in another age category the test will be even easier for me. As I am typing this in my university library's computer room, I feel sexy and beautiful. (Unfortunately there are not many sexy and/or beautiful broads around. Hell, in fact there are none.)
I shall go for football soon. I shall play my usual game, which is negative football and quite like tennis. Ball comes to me, ball goes back. Roger Federer should come and see me play. The things he would pick up will help him cement his place as the greatest ever in tennis. I hope there are good-looking broads in SP. I hope to see the balls bounce and may they be big, firm and beautifully spherical.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Rant and Rant
While updating the computer system, I saw the hourly wages of the people working for the Editorial department. They are earning little over than $20 per hour, and even the contract staff are getting this amount. One can easily get over $3k a month correcting grammar and spelling mistakes. Comfortable environment, conducive organizational culture, cordial relationships and a cushy salary; what more can one ask for?
For the umpteen time I cursed my academic choices. I should have taken an English Language degree like XH. With the mostly mediocre competition and the almighty Curve, I figure I would not have any difficulty graduating. Maybe a first-class honours would be out of reach, but surely a second-upper is not beyond me. It’s still pretty decent. I may hate Shakespeare, literary studies and all that post-modernism, romanticism bullshit, but hey, they cannot be worse than the fucking Business course I am enduring right now. No online quizzes, the luxury of doing assignments solo, and no fucking video presentation. No maths as well. Just bullshit your way through. My kind of degree course.
Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side. If I were taking English Language, maybe I would be bitching about it and going green-eyed at Business students. Maybe, maybe not. In life we can’t always have what we want. Life’s a bitch and then you die. I had thought that I would be happier in a Mass Communication course. I mean, I would give a decade of my life to be paid for writing about football. Champions League matches in the morning, a hastily written match report, bourbon in the coffee, typing more bullshit for the post match commentary, three sheets to the wind while surfing porn until the next match comes along. Or covering sex scandals for Wanbao. Damn good job.
Anyway, I was a bit affected by what I saw. I felt like a fucking coolie. How much am I paid, staring at the screen for hours and risking my perfect eyesight? I kept switching back to the part of the program where the hourly wages were shown. It was as if I am being masochistic by punishing myself. Then I decided to see how much my colleagues in the Editorial department are earning, but Singapore employees are not included in the system.
Before lunch I remarked to a colleague how much people are earning in Editorial. She told me that they are qualified lawyers who decided that editing legal textbooks are better than practising law. She wondered why they gave up their practice and I replied that lawyers here are overworked and underpaid. Anyway, that is not important. The important thing is that I should have gone to college and studied Law. Okay. Maybe not. Seeing how my Business Law modules nearly relegated me, that doesn’t seem such a hot idea. But the grass is greener on the other side, like I said.
I don’t think a Law degree is a must for editing law textbooks. Most of the time it’s just grammar. The fancy Latin words they love to throw around so much in the legal sphere, ultra vires, bona fide etc, won’t give a decent English Language graduate much of a problem either. (XH, if you are reading this, quit your fucking teaching job and apply to be an editor in a book company/publishing house. Beats having to deal with bloody irritating parents and their obnoxious brats.)
True, $3,000 may not be a lot by any stretch of the imagination. In Canada a waiter can easily earn this amount. Even in Asia, there are many mediocre people earning much more. But when you consider that some skilled technicians here are earning $1.3K and ITE graduates (far better than their higher-educated polytechnic counterparts if you ask me) are offered $1K for doing a 12 hour shift six-days week job, something is fucking wrong. It is obscene. It is obscene not because the people in the Editorial are overpaid. It is obscene because people here are having their every drop of blood squeezed out and getting paid peanuts for it. What the fuck are the trade unions doing? The living costs are getting higher and higher but the wages, especially those belonging to the bottom to middle rungs are stagnant and in some cases, depreciating. Oh I forgot! We have no trade unions. Tsk tsk. People here are just commodities. Once they are past their sell-by dates they are basically like a turtle turned on its back – fucked.
My mood wasn’t helped when I logged on the stupid army website to check my reservist status (read: reslavery). To my absolute horror, I found that I have to clear the goddamn annual physical fitness test before my birthday, which is two months away. If I hadn’t checked I might have been later charged by the army for missing the dateline and then made to do remedial training with the rest of those sorry sods who can’t make it. Imagine a Brazilian supermodel standing in the midst of a truckload of Singapore car queens and you get the picture.
I am disgusted at having my time wasted like this. Instead of making me wake up early on a Saturday morning just so I could go to take some stupid physical fitness test in some stupid obscure army camp, they should just give me the money. I always get gold anyway. So just excuse me for this redundant exercise and give me the $400 so that I can go and get myself some much needed shades. It is a hostile country that I am living in – the sun here can burn your corneas. As if that is not enough I have to face the damn screen for hours every damn day. Hell, if I don’t get some shades or those fancy Transitions eyewear soon I may fucking go blind.
And one last thing. The people in this cuntry are ugly, and getting uglier as we speak. Hell, even the foreigners are looking worse. The women are short and flat, and the men weak and unimposing. There must be something in the water here. It could be the damn sun as well. And let’s not forget the stress. I foresee when the population swell to 6.5 million, abominations will walk the streets en masse. Our already inferior gene pool will degenerate further when inferior people breed with even more inferior people. Under such circumstances, it is better not to procreate. Sometimes being a responsible parent is not to be a parent in the first place.
For the umpteen time I cursed my academic choices. I should have taken an English Language degree like XH. With the mostly mediocre competition and the almighty Curve, I figure I would not have any difficulty graduating. Maybe a first-class honours would be out of reach, but surely a second-upper is not beyond me. It’s still pretty decent. I may hate Shakespeare, literary studies and all that post-modernism, romanticism bullshit, but hey, they cannot be worse than the fucking Business course I am enduring right now. No online quizzes, the luxury of doing assignments solo, and no fucking video presentation. No maths as well. Just bullshit your way through. My kind of degree course.
Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side. If I were taking English Language, maybe I would be bitching about it and going green-eyed at Business students. Maybe, maybe not. In life we can’t always have what we want. Life’s a bitch and then you die. I had thought that I would be happier in a Mass Communication course. I mean, I would give a decade of my life to be paid for writing about football. Champions League matches in the morning, a hastily written match report, bourbon in the coffee, typing more bullshit for the post match commentary, three sheets to the wind while surfing porn until the next match comes along. Or covering sex scandals for Wanbao. Damn good job.
Anyway, I was a bit affected by what I saw. I felt like a fucking coolie. How much am I paid, staring at the screen for hours and risking my perfect eyesight? I kept switching back to the part of the program where the hourly wages were shown. It was as if I am being masochistic by punishing myself. Then I decided to see how much my colleagues in the Editorial department are earning, but Singapore employees are not included in the system.
Before lunch I remarked to a colleague how much people are earning in Editorial. She told me that they are qualified lawyers who decided that editing legal textbooks are better than practising law. She wondered why they gave up their practice and I replied that lawyers here are overworked and underpaid. Anyway, that is not important. The important thing is that I should have gone to college and studied Law. Okay. Maybe not. Seeing how my Business Law modules nearly relegated me, that doesn’t seem such a hot idea. But the grass is greener on the other side, like I said.
I don’t think a Law degree is a must for editing law textbooks. Most of the time it’s just grammar. The fancy Latin words they love to throw around so much in the legal sphere, ultra vires, bona fide etc, won’t give a decent English Language graduate much of a problem either. (XH, if you are reading this, quit your fucking teaching job and apply to be an editor in a book company/publishing house. Beats having to deal with bloody irritating parents and their obnoxious brats.)
True, $3,000 may not be a lot by any stretch of the imagination. In Canada a waiter can easily earn this amount. Even in Asia, there are many mediocre people earning much more. But when you consider that some skilled technicians here are earning $1.3K and ITE graduates (far better than their higher-educated polytechnic counterparts if you ask me) are offered $1K for doing a 12 hour shift six-days week job, something is fucking wrong. It is obscene. It is obscene not because the people in the Editorial are overpaid. It is obscene because people here are having their every drop of blood squeezed out and getting paid peanuts for it. What the fuck are the trade unions doing? The living costs are getting higher and higher but the wages, especially those belonging to the bottom to middle rungs are stagnant and in some cases, depreciating. Oh I forgot! We have no trade unions. Tsk tsk. People here are just commodities. Once they are past their sell-by dates they are basically like a turtle turned on its back – fucked.
My mood wasn’t helped when I logged on the stupid army website to check my reservist status (read: reslavery). To my absolute horror, I found that I have to clear the goddamn annual physical fitness test before my birthday, which is two months away. If I hadn’t checked I might have been later charged by the army for missing the dateline and then made to do remedial training with the rest of those sorry sods who can’t make it. Imagine a Brazilian supermodel standing in the midst of a truckload of Singapore car queens and you get the picture.
I am disgusted at having my time wasted like this. Instead of making me wake up early on a Saturday morning just so I could go to take some stupid physical fitness test in some stupid obscure army camp, they should just give me the money. I always get gold anyway. So just excuse me for this redundant exercise and give me the $400 so that I can go and get myself some much needed shades. It is a hostile country that I am living in – the sun here can burn your corneas. As if that is not enough I have to face the damn screen for hours every damn day. Hell, if I don’t get some shades or those fancy Transitions eyewear soon I may fucking go blind.
And one last thing. The people in this cuntry are ugly, and getting uglier as we speak. Hell, even the foreigners are looking worse. The women are short and flat, and the men weak and unimposing. There must be something in the water here. It could be the damn sun as well. And let’s not forget the stress. I foresee when the population swell to 6.5 million, abominations will walk the streets en masse. Our already inferior gene pool will degenerate further when inferior people breed with even more inferior people. Under such circumstances, it is better not to procreate. Sometimes being a responsible parent is not to be a parent in the first place.
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