Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Going Random
Several Premiership games were cancelled in the past fortnight due to the deep freeze. Word has it that it is the worst winter in fifty years. Perhaps this is a sign that the world is ending soon and the next generations may well be the last of a civilization that will soon be reduced to dust. No big loss there. Nature would be better off without this particular parasite.
Chicken told me that one of his colleagues injured himself while lifting a tow bar. This pathetic specimen slipped and scraped off the skin off his hand. For a staff sergeant to make a hush of such a simple task is laughable. My friend’s next statement was sobering though. He said that while we dismiss local specs as inferior, they are not wrong in their criticism of us either. “If they were on the scene, “ he went out, “What would they think of us local guys?” He had a very good point. I refuse to be associated with my ilk.
My martial arts practice will only resume after the Chinese New Year. This leaves me with little opportunity to practise my skills, for the area in my neighbourhood is not secluded enough. It is hard to concentrate when some riffraff and stray animals are gawking at you with a noticeably lack of intelligence. Maybe I should join XH, assuming his master allows it. This arrangement comes with its own difficulty, as our styles are as disparate as day and night in many ways. I will have to locate some dark location.
It appears that many people are catching the flu these days. I am not surprised. The weather in this shithole is about as predictable as a emo woman on premenstrual syndrome. One moment the sun is out, the next a drizzle, and then it is sunny again. Even the sun does not give out as much warmth as it used too. The winds are another phenomenon. Gentle as they are, they chill the bones and with the sun reduced in intensity, it is all too easy for disease to spread. We may yet witness a plague in this shithole. It would be quite….entertaining.
Chicken told me that one of his colleagues injured himself while lifting a tow bar. This pathetic specimen slipped and scraped off the skin off his hand. For a staff sergeant to make a hush of such a simple task is laughable. My friend’s next statement was sobering though. He said that while we dismiss local specs as inferior, they are not wrong in their criticism of us either. “If they were on the scene, “ he went out, “What would they think of us local guys?” He had a very good point. I refuse to be associated with my ilk.
My martial arts practice will only resume after the Chinese New Year. This leaves me with little opportunity to practise my skills, for the area in my neighbourhood is not secluded enough. It is hard to concentrate when some riffraff and stray animals are gawking at you with a noticeably lack of intelligence. Maybe I should join XH, assuming his master allows it. This arrangement comes with its own difficulty, as our styles are as disparate as day and night in many ways. I will have to locate some dark location.
It appears that many people are catching the flu these days. I am not surprised. The weather in this shithole is about as predictable as a emo woman on premenstrual syndrome. One moment the sun is out, the next a drizzle, and then it is sunny again. Even the sun does not give out as much warmth as it used too. The winds are another phenomenon. Gentle as they are, they chill the bones and with the sun reduced in intensity, it is all too easy for disease to spread. We may yet witness a plague in this shithole. It would be quite….entertaining.
Xmas Eve
While the rest of the world were partying the night away in the city area, Chicken and I spent an hour or so in the Holy Land. The merchandise were out on display, thanks to the fuzz having the good graces not to spoil the festive mood. I noticed that business was brisk. It is not uncommon on other days to see many shoppers but few buyers, but obviously with the year end bonuses and the joy that comes with sharing and giving, consumers were willing to indulge themselves and so boost the economy.
Fuzz Car wanted to join us in the city area but opted out at the last minute. His phone message to us, although short, was straight to the point and betrayed his secret need: “I won’t be joining you. If halfway you want to go to GL (the Holy Land), call me.” This was not the first time he ‘launched airplanes’ on us and it certainly would not be the last. Chicken and I cursed him vehemently. This is a bloke who professes to believe in his invisible sky fairy, goes to his church and puts on an act with the fellowship thing, and indulges in gambling, goldbricking, lying, and whoring. A hypocrite and a pathetic one at that.
Unlike our wretched friend, the staff in the Holy Land stuck to their tasks. They knew they had a job to do and in spite of the holiday, still provided entertainment to needy consumers. I have nothing but respect for these ladies of virtue, who could teach the slackers in the military and government sectors a thing or two about diligence and professionalism.
Chicken and I sat down, had coffee, and shot the shit. He fantasized about catching his boss in the act of soliciting a lady of the night and getting rich persuading him of his worth. We guffawed at the joke, at the same time admiring the statuesque beauties a few yards from us. I would have enjoyed our little chat even more, but for the fact that my stomach was clenching uncomfortably from some slop I ate. I believe it was caused by that horrible swill which the Brain and I had the misfortune to order when we ate at Thai Express. I had been stricken with flu, am suffering a cough, and become more susceptible to stomach aliments. I need lots of Chinese slop, in particular holy meat, to restore me to health.
Fuzz Car wanted to join us in the city area but opted out at the last minute. His phone message to us, although short, was straight to the point and betrayed his secret need: “I won’t be joining you. If halfway you want to go to GL (the Holy Land), call me.” This was not the first time he ‘launched airplanes’ on us and it certainly would not be the last. Chicken and I cursed him vehemently. This is a bloke who professes to believe in his invisible sky fairy, goes to his church and puts on an act with the fellowship thing, and indulges in gambling, goldbricking, lying, and whoring. A hypocrite and a pathetic one at that.
Unlike our wretched friend, the staff in the Holy Land stuck to their tasks. They knew they had a job to do and in spite of the holiday, still provided entertainment to needy consumers. I have nothing but respect for these ladies of virtue, who could teach the slackers in the military and government sectors a thing or two about diligence and professionalism.
Chicken and I sat down, had coffee, and shot the shit. He fantasized about catching his boss in the act of soliciting a lady of the night and getting rich persuading him of his worth. We guffawed at the joke, at the same time admiring the statuesque beauties a few yards from us. I would have enjoyed our little chat even more, but for the fact that my stomach was clenching uncomfortably from some slop I ate. I believe it was caused by that horrible swill which the Brain and I had the misfortune to order when we ate at Thai Express. I had been stricken with flu, am suffering a cough, and become more susceptible to stomach aliments. I need lots of Chinese slop, in particular holy meat, to restore me to health.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Great Escape!
A miracle has occurred: I have escaped relegation! So despondent was I in my belief in my relegation that I dreaded this very day. But no! The Lard and the Almighty Curve had deigned to deliver me from my endless trials and tribulations and by Their Glories – praise be Their names – I shall no longer be compelled to endure hostile scenery and work with retards both garden-variety and functional.
The farewell lunch my gulag mates treated me felt like my last meal. I trudged towards my gulag, trying to delay the inevitable – for it had seemed like a confirmation of my collapse – but I knew I had to face it sooner if not later. I sat down on my seat, worked on some issues, thought of logging on to check, decided not to. And so I tallied, until I decided to get it done and over with and then go to the holy temple to assuage my depression by dumping.
I logged on, but the connection was shaky. Obviously many desperate people were clogging up the system. When I got the page, I realized to my chagrin my password had been rendered invalid. I attempted to reset it but to no avail. I called up their technical support and miraculously someone actually answered the call! I could barely contain my surprise as I told the support staff to reset my password. She said it would take thirty minutes to an hour. I asked her why and she replied it was because they reset passwords by batches! Batches! I had never heard of anything like this and told her in no uncertain way what I thought of their infernal IT system. Of course, since she was quite professional I added that it was not her fault of course. It was just that their system sucks. I thanked her for her help and ended the call.
So I settled some issues and toyed around with my own IT system for a while and about forty minutes later I tried and true to her word, I was able to log on. I went straight to the ‘Exam Results’ button. As the page refreshed, I braced myself. For all I knew it could be a straight three defeats and bottom of the table.
It was not to be! Imagine my shock when I saw that I have escaped to victory! I could barely believe my eyes! Like Iniesta who kneeled and threw up his arms to the heavens upon the final whistle of the World Cup final, there I was, both my arms raised, fists to the ceiling as I leaned backwards in my seat. I looked at the screen again. No. My eyes had not deceived me. Just to make sure, I clicked on my ‘Academic Profile’ and they showed me the same results. My GPA was not too bad either – by the standards of my school my overall grade should place me in the ‘second uppers’ tier.
I printed out my Course Offer Letter; it displays my results for this season. I messaged the Brain of my deliverance. Still shell-shocked, I returned to my seat, stood, and started muttering to myself. My gulag mate, who was sitting behind me, asked me what happened. I told her the news. She offered me her congratulations. I thanked her, walked aimlessly around the gulag, decided yet again not to go to the holy temple, got a cup, walked to the water cooler, filled it with cold water, rinsed my face, and then splashed the water into my stoned face twice. My gulag mate saw water dripping off me and was quite amused. I told her I needed to make sure I was sober. I then ambled to the big room where my other gulag department mates were, and then one offered her congratulations. The other two followed suit and I told them it was a miracle and how relieved I was. When told that I could now concentrate on getting a better job, I said my immediate aim is to sleep the next month away to make up for three years of sleep deprivation. Some new graduates buy themselves gifts, others party away the night. Me? I sleep.
As I have to wait until the middle of next year to receive my hard-earned piece of paper, I will need to write in to get my attestation letter. I do not know how much they will charge me. My ex-senior said she was thinking of attending her graduation ceremony she missed due to work commitments. It is nice to put on that robe but the thought of going to see hostile scenery does not appeal to me. Regardless of my decision, I am delighted to leave that Gehenna with a piece of paper I richly deserve.
The farewell lunch my gulag mates treated me felt like my last meal. I trudged towards my gulag, trying to delay the inevitable – for it had seemed like a confirmation of my collapse – but I knew I had to face it sooner if not later. I sat down on my seat, worked on some issues, thought of logging on to check, decided not to. And so I tallied, until I decided to get it done and over with and then go to the holy temple to assuage my depression by dumping.
I logged on, but the connection was shaky. Obviously many desperate people were clogging up the system. When I got the page, I realized to my chagrin my password had been rendered invalid. I attempted to reset it but to no avail. I called up their technical support and miraculously someone actually answered the call! I could barely contain my surprise as I told the support staff to reset my password. She said it would take thirty minutes to an hour. I asked her why and she replied it was because they reset passwords by batches! Batches! I had never heard of anything like this and told her in no uncertain way what I thought of their infernal IT system. Of course, since she was quite professional I added that it was not her fault of course. It was just that their system sucks. I thanked her for her help and ended the call.
So I settled some issues and toyed around with my own IT system for a while and about forty minutes later I tried and true to her word, I was able to log on. I went straight to the ‘Exam Results’ button. As the page refreshed, I braced myself. For all I knew it could be a straight three defeats and bottom of the table.
It was not to be! Imagine my shock when I saw that I have escaped to victory! I could barely believe my eyes! Like Iniesta who kneeled and threw up his arms to the heavens upon the final whistle of the World Cup final, there I was, both my arms raised, fists to the ceiling as I leaned backwards in my seat. I looked at the screen again. No. My eyes had not deceived me. Just to make sure, I clicked on my ‘Academic Profile’ and they showed me the same results. My GPA was not too bad either – by the standards of my school my overall grade should place me in the ‘second uppers’ tier.
I printed out my Course Offer Letter; it displays my results for this season. I messaged the Brain of my deliverance. Still shell-shocked, I returned to my seat, stood, and started muttering to myself. My gulag mate, who was sitting behind me, asked me what happened. I told her the news. She offered me her congratulations. I thanked her, walked aimlessly around the gulag, decided yet again not to go to the holy temple, got a cup, walked to the water cooler, filled it with cold water, rinsed my face, and then splashed the water into my stoned face twice. My gulag mate saw water dripping off me and was quite amused. I told her I needed to make sure I was sober. I then ambled to the big room where my other gulag department mates were, and then one offered her congratulations. The other two followed suit and I told them it was a miracle and how relieved I was. When told that I could now concentrate on getting a better job, I said my immediate aim is to sleep the next month away to make up for three years of sleep deprivation. Some new graduates buy themselves gifts, others party away the night. Me? I sleep.
As I have to wait until the middle of next year to receive my hard-earned piece of paper, I will need to write in to get my attestation letter. I do not know how much they will charge me. My ex-senior said she was thinking of attending her graduation ceremony she missed due to work commitments. It is nice to put on that robe but the thought of going to see hostile scenery does not appeal to me. Regardless of my decision, I am delighted to leave that Gehenna with a piece of paper I richly deserve.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Miracle on Saturday Night
A miracle occurred:
CHELSKI: 1 EVERTON: 1
We were negative in the first half, deservedly trailed, but came back roaring in the second half and battered the vulgarians. The excellent Baines weaved past four defenders on the left flank, whipped a cross into the box, Cahill beat his marker to head it back across goal, and Beckford made no mistake from close range. A beautiful goal!
Beckford has been lampooned for missing a host of sitters against Sunderland and West Brom but at least he was enterprising enough to get into positions to squander them. Contrast him to Saha, who looked like he could not be arsed, and I cannot remember the last time he scored. On current form I won't mind if we ship him out and free up some wages.
Despite struggling in the first half, the central midfield pairing of Fellaini and Rodwell recovered to boss the middle of the park. It was a blessing in disguise that the out-of-form Arteta was suspended. Heitinga, who is definitely no Makelele, did not play. We should just persist with Fellaini and Rodwell when we play the Pie-Eaters next weekend.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
More Moans
There is much hullabaloo in the local media about a Caucasian bloke French-kissing a sgspec on the train. Apparently they were petting heavily for six stops, seemingly oblivious to the glares of their fellow passengers.
I do not understand what the fuss is all about. Some condemn their actions, arguing that Shithole is an Asian country and such behavior is simply unacceptable. Others lament that local blokes are losing their women to foreigners. While it is certainly true that our overpriced women no longer give a damn about us, I do not see it as a big loss. Insofar as the local specs are concerned, these gwailos can take them all. Just leave the cnspecs alone.
I remember Chicken telling me that the Thai blokes hate having us in their country. We go to
I believe I may have been banned on www.toffeeweb.com for being too strident:
“Michael, I am offended by Oakes’s language too.
HE’S BEING TOO MILD!
A rag-and-bone man will actually give you a few coins for your trash, but with Kenskint you’ll be lucky if he does not charge you for waste disposal! Why in the Hells is a beggar like that fat twat running a Premiership club? If he had any decency he should just put the club up for sale and shut his smelly trap about seeking investments 24/7 and not finding anyone to buy the club. He clearly cares NOTHING about the fans except to think that we are all retards. That skunk should be thrown in a gulag in
As for that ginger-furred mongrel, he can join Kenshite in
Most of my subsequent comments were not approved, even though they were on other topics. Everton is a shite club and even its fan site sucks. I curse the day I support the Toffees.
Everton Horror Show
David Moyes play
Anichebe and Hibbert start on the right flank against Chelski. All six Chelski goals come from that flank.
“Feed the Yak and he will score,” the fans chant. A well-fed Yak puts on the pounds while his teammates lose weight from covering for him. Besides, on current form, the Yak cannot even score in a brothel.
After hearing Heitinga’s declaration that he would cycle to
David “Golden Balls” Beckham rejects a loan move to Everton to play for S-League outfit Tampines Rovers.
Everton drop into the relegation zone following their dismal collapse at
Former British prime minister and interfaith dialogue facilitator Tony Blair reveals he supports Everton. The news does not surprise the Everton faithful, who have been subsisting on faith that Moyes will grow some brains.
In a desperate move to solve his players’ striking woes, Moyes takes his squad to a Merseyside brothel for team-building over the weekend. The Blues duly lost the game the following day 10:0, citing exhaustion and learning from the ladies that “since we are cunts, we might as well behave like cunts and surrender our cunts.”
Excellent Videos!
Some excellent videos!
This is one cringe-worthy commercial. The spec is good though....
This must be one of the best army recruitment commercials ever! The song is catchy too. For the slightly less inspiring version, click here.
Forget "My Boyfriend Our Army". This is the real deal!
It is like watching Everton.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Thoughts
While we were in the Holy Land checking out the merchandise, Scandinavian Blonde Lover remarked that he was still a virgin. I thought he was just bullshitting at the time but during evening slop yesterday, Chicken said it could be true. He added that a 35 year old virgin was something he could never abide. I jokingly said that this sounded like a job for Pastor Ho a.k.a Fuzz Car. Under his tutelage, the Scandinavian Blonde Lover shall surely become a libertine in no time. My friend agreed with my assessment.
Chicken told me of this champion and his exploits. When he was still a fuzz, he jerked into his colleagues’ drinks on two occasions. After they nabbed Champion, they found around 150 pictures of up-skirt shots in his computer. This bloke is truly a most impressive specimen. Chicken wondered why such a thing had happened in our society. He should not be so surprised. Big cities are potentially pressure cookers, and the strain of eking out a miserable existence in such overcrowded environments will naturally drive some people to suicide or inspire the execution of extraordinary feats. It will not be long before we have a serial killer running loose. Mark my words.
The news has been quite entertaining these days. North Korea fired artillery shells into South Korea, killing four civilians. The South Koreans, despite their policy of compulsory military conscription, have not the balls to retaliate. Seeing their lapdog being kicked around, the U.S have made the obligatory responses by condemning the North while doing nothing concrete. It’s basically handbags at seven paces and now they are asking China to get in the act. The master of a dog urges the master of the dog that bit its dog to tighten the lease on its dog. It amuses me to no end. China is fighting a proxy war and doing pretty well.
I found this article while site-hopping. While I quite agree with most of it, the last paragraph irks me.
Why should the Chinese change their way of life as Westerners dictate? Is it not so long ago that the 2009 global financial crisis, which started in the U.S., was caused, to a large extent, by people spending beyond their means and racking up crippling debts in the process? How easy it is for Westerners, with their high purchasing power, good social support and benefits, to demand the same laissez faire attitude towards spending from people who are not as fortunate! There is nothing wrong with retirement planning and saving for healthcare. The only thing that is wrong here is the arrogant attitude of the West and their insistence that the world pander to their self-serving policies.
Contrary to the beliefs of some people, the universe does not revolve around the U.S and the western hemisphere. With Western economies in tatters and the rise of Asia as an economic power, Westerners should refrain from telling other people what to do. The guai lo will just have to face up to the fact that their dominance will not continue for much longer. Besides, if the Chinese have to spend more to boost their domestic consumption, it stands to reason that their wages will have to be adjusted to increase their purchasing power. As Chinese workers’ wages increase, so will the prices of Chinese-made products. Will consumers and companies in the West be willing to pay more for goods then?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Oh Idiots!
Everton may well add on to this video when we play Chelski this weekend. We are a joke!
Ramblings
Everton were humiliated 4:1 at home to mighty West Brom. Next week we are away to Chelski and it is a pity that the local bookmakers are not opening odds on the Toffees playing in the Championship next season. It is not exactly a bad idea if you think about it. At least we will get to lift some silverware for a change. Maybe.
Chicken told me he is having the flu. I urge him to drink more water and ogle at superior specs more often. Studies have shown that men who stare at big boobs live longer in general. Who are we to argue with science?
It seems that more women are taking up dancing these days. Given my lack of scoring opportunities, I think I should start learning. What worries me, however, is that with my two left feet, I will end up doing Peter Crouch’s horrendous ‘robo dance’ goal celebration routine. I don’t think I’m being able to score even in a brothel after the dance instructors refer me to the comedy troupe down the road.
Children should receive the right kind of education. Chicken and I agreed that we should impart to his son the importance of hitting on the right kind of specs. It would be a tragedy if he comes back with a sgspec who wants to be a man. Worse, he might follow Uncle Police Car’s footsteps and be an unwitting carrot to some thspec or vcspec. As guardians we have a sacred duty to our next generation. We shall have slop at GL more often.
Barcelona annihilated Real Madrid 5:0 at the Nou Camp and in the process, inflicted Mourinho’s worst defeat in his managerial career. This is a great result for decency and football. Real are where they are now only because they are allowed to run up huge debts that would have put any other club into administration. Such is the ineffectiveness of their youth academy that without their highly paid foreign mercenaries they would just be on par with neighbours Atletico Madrid.
Contrast these vulgarians to the their conquerors on Monday night. While it is undeniable that Barcelona boasts less than exemplary financial management, their playing style, steeped in history, driven by a passion for aesthetics, powered by the brilliant products of their wondrous youth setup, and ably supported by their talented foreign contingent, is breathtaking to behold. A well and deserved victory for Barcelona!
And Messi is still better than Ronaldo.
My head has been pounding the entire day. I have to learn to take things easy. People are asking me funny questions and half the time I ignore them. This gulag is getting from bad to worse. Sooner or later some champion will step off a ledge. One old staff told me that she saw a pair of legs without nothing above in the storeroom. I do not believe in ghosts but I do think that the longer you stay in this gulag the likelier it is to start seeing ghosts
Monday, November 29, 2010
Need for Strength
My shin is a bit sore after the ball game I had. This is not normal. I don’t remember getting kicked or involved in a clash tackle so why is my shin slightly bruised? Are the years finally catching up with me? On second thoughts, perhaps it would be more accurate to assert that my three stressful years in UniShit have finally caught up with me, for during this time I have never enjoyed the best of health and fitness.
Now that my torture is over – or at least until I receive confirmation of my relegation! – I have a month to do whatever I want. I fully intend to bulk up my emaciated frame, for although I retain a measure of physical superiority over many people a decade younger, my competitive edge is becoming blunt from disuse and the ravages of age. My loss of speed is irreversible I fear, and for this deterioration I have no remedy save to compensate it with faster thinking and the anticipation that comes from experience and intuition.
20 pounds of solid muscles will more than compensate for my weaknesses. With greater strength I hit harder. With enhanced endurance I can afford harder hits in situations where speed and anticipation fail. These superior attributes can only be gained through a brutal eating and weight regime, the former to defeat my furnace of a metabolic system, and the latter to accommodate my physical system to the exertion of greater power.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Such Lovely Friends....
I have had some bad advice over the years. Before I enlisted in the army, one sod (whoreson A) told me to put total effort in my training and not to be a goldbrick. Another (whoreson B) got me to sign on the military, saying that it had all kinds of benefits. An ex-gulag mate (whoreson C) encouraged me to enroll in UniShit, believing we would be receiving a good education.
It would have been better for me if I never had such friends in the first place. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions but in my case, these intentions were guided more by ignorance rather than morals. I was posted to an infantry unit and spent the next two years or so suffering like a dog while the rest of my friends had an easier time at better units and earned better slave wages. Whoreson A, due to his ‘delicate’ constitution, ended up in a 8-to-5 military unit, a bloody holiday camp.
I suffered some bad shit when I was a military regular and all I have to show for my five years are regrets and five bloody wasted years. Whoreson B, who was with the fighter squadron, rejected his chance of an overseas attachment in the States and had since left the military. It felt like a kick in the teeth for me, since I always wanted to work in the States.
I suffered three years in the aforementioned paper mill for a piece of paper that has lousy branding. The textbook and assignments were riddled with mistakes and poor English; I had to do group assignments with idiots and scum; overworked, I lost much of my health and fitness; and to cap my misery off I had to flunk my last paper (and possibly a couple others) in my very last season. Whoreson C dropped out during his second season in order to tend to his business.
With these kind of friends, who needs enemies?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Relegation
My reward for slogging through the entire year is relegation. I stared at the paper and the goddamn paper stared at me back and in the end we did not know each other. I answered the first question, scribbled whatever my desperate mind could conjure for the second, wrote a few lines for the third, and copied some paragraphs I found in my course notes for the last. The seat next to my left was empty, and the one to my right was occupied by a bloke who was just as sorry as I was, only that unlike me, he could not really give a rat's ass about the piece of shit in front of him. I flipped through my notes in a kind of feverish delirium only those who have lost all hope could understand. I looked left and right at my fellow course mates, sneaked furtive glances at the clock in the examination hall (more like a torture chamber) every now and then. In the end, I could only bitterly rant and struggle to keep myself from taking out my pain on some unfortunate sod.
To come so far only to suffer a collapse at the final hurdle. Such was the wretchedness of my performance that even The Curve cannot save me this time. It was insane, this accused paper. Two hours to analyze a case study, no time to think and less time to write and articulate your jumbled thoughts on paper. While my peers will celebrate the festive season knowing that they have graduated and that their torture at this detestable paper mill is at an end, I would be cursing and sweating and contemplating what to write in my appeal letter, should I decide to spend over $50 on what would probably amount to a meaningless gesture.
It had been a fatal mistake, working with my friends on preparing my case notes for my capstone module. Too much time was wasted on asserting our opinions and arguing who was right. In terms of understanding the concepts, we were a pathetic bunch. The definitions in the textbook was in plain English and clear enough but even with my repeated explanations, it took a Hell of a time getting my friends to even understand them. We were so concerned about getting our English right in our preparation notes that we spent more time proofreading than analyzing the case. I kept insisting to one fellow that this was a Business examination. We did not have to write in perfect Shakespearean English. As long as they could understand what we were trying to express, it was good enough for them and what was good enough for them would certainly be good enough for us! Sadly, we had to make concessions to two guys whose English is not as good, and to be honest, even our designated typist's command of English is inferior to mine. After writing our script, we further spent another two days to proofread and compile, to make everything perfect, to make our stupid report deserving of our final examination and fit for posterity, something to show our fucking grand children. I still do not see what is so glorifying about the shit we wrote. Seriously, if it were up to me alone, I would never have given a flying fuck about the English in my report. I would have written most of it in point form and if necessary I would just convert them into complete sentences during the examination. Big fucking deal. I could have finished the fucking analysis an entire week before my other two papers, giving me considerably more time and energy to prepare for them. Maybe I might have survived this season instead of writing this and bemoaning my fate. As it stands, I cannot even be sure that I won't end up flunking all three and going through the same shit next season.
For the umpteen time I find myself wondering why I did not take up Arts instead. The course work is light, and the best thing is, since the assignments are done individually, I do not have to waste my precious time and energy poring over other people's patchwork English to try to make sense of their balderdash sufficiently for me to turn it into something coherent. It is not my fault that some people have poor linguistic abilities. I suck at numbers but never have I made anyone suffer for my weakness so why should I be made to suffer for the inadequacies of others? Why can't they pay instead?! I have had enough of this bullshit. Since my supplementary paper is six months away, in the meantime I can only use my lousy and useless diploma to seek employment and getting shite pay and this is provided that by some miracle I do manage to land a job!
This is it. I better stop ranting. I might just burst an artery and bleed to death. Not a bad thing in itself perhaps, but I do not deserve to die in this shithole. I am simply too good for it. I deserve better!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
I'm Appalled!
Surely, this is a gross infringement on human rights, an obscene assault on human dignity, and a crime against humanity. Amnesty International and other human rights groups should swiftly condemn the Chinese regime for such deplorable actions.
Hostesses stay away from clubs following police raids
University grads made good money as hostesses because they learned never to talk back, customer says.
Hostesses have apparently disappeared from KTV and other entertainment venues, just weeks after police began an anti-vice crackdown in the city.
The operation has also resulted in a dramatically reduced flow of patrons to these venues.
At Heaven VIP Club, which is next to Passion Nightclub, a male staff member surnamed Wang told METRO the number of customers have been reduced by 40 percent.
"At this critical moment, there are no hostesses at all," he said. "Even if you offer more money, you will not get one."
But customers will not be stopped from bringing girls to the club, he said.
At the No 9 Spring Business Hotel, a manager, surnamed Yang, said the number of customers have dropped by 30 percent.
"Anyone wanting to check in must show their IDs, and massage girls are not allowed to enter guest rooms to provide services," Yang said. Notices of this are posted at each door.
On May 11, Chaoyang police raided entertainment places, including Passion Nightclub, No 8 Plaza KTV and Night Banquet Club. Some of the places were allegedly providing obscene shows and were believed to be shelters for prostitution.
During the raid, 557 hostesses were detained, including 118 from the Passion Nightclub.
The nightclub - one of the most famous in the city - has a reputation for 170 cm tall "pretty and elegant" hostesses, all 18 to 25 years old with high education, perfect figures and fair and delicate skin.
A man surnamed Su, who often visited Passion, told METRO many hostesses are university graduates, speak standard Mandarin and never quarrel with customers.
Even if they were angry, they would keep silent and smile at customers, Su said.
"Compared with the other hostesses, who always talk about house, car and brand-name clothes, they are more cultivated," he said. "They can cover topics from electric technology to history and culture, and even politics and finance."
Su said a private room at Passion can cost up to 5,000 yuan, with clients spending 20,000-30,000 yuan in one night in total.
Su said the last time he was there was in March when he went with three friends, including two real estate bosses from Zhejiang and Fujian provinces, and they spent 7,820 yuan.
They were greeted warmly by a "Mami", a woman in her 30s wearing a black suit, followed by five pretty girls for them to choose, based on appearances and even artistic talent, he said.
Drinks are costly, Su said. Imported drinks, highly recommended by the Mami, would cost 3,600 to 20,000 yuan a bottle. Even a beer costs 70 to 80 yuan, and cocktails 200 yuan.
Su said the hostesses would accompany them in singing, drinking or playing dice. Many can dance, sing folk songs and play the piano or a zither-like instrument.
"Usually, the customers have relatively high status in society and wouldn't misbehave," Su said.
The girls are divided into three levels, based on education, looks and body shape, and talent in performing. Their tips range from 500 to 1,000 yuan.
Su said they paid 7,820 yuan, including 2,600 yuan for the VIP room with an additional 15 percent of service fee, 2,400 yuan in hostess fees, 4,000 yuan for drinks and 400 yuan for waiter services.
On June 5, 2010, Nanjing police raided their local entertainment places.
Business PolyGram Nightclub and Nanjing Red Cube KTV, which allegedly provided obscene shows and were believed to be shelters for prostitution, were all ordered to suspend business.
Over 100 suspects were arrested by police during the raid.
One day later, Guangzhou police also arrested 600 suspects in a downtown KTV center, five of which were involved in drug-related crimes.
The Beijing ongoing crackdown on prostitution will continue to the end of this year and will continue to make surprise inspections on KTV clubs, nightclubs and bathhouses.
He Angang, political commissioner from the public security division, told METRO a special police force will target five-star hotels, nightclubs, large KTV clubs and private top-end business and hot spring clubs.
He said if an entertainment place is found to provide obscene shows, organize prostitution or provide venues for prostitution, it could have its license revoked.
"These entertainment places are usually backed by criminal gangs. Carrying out the clean-up is conducive to fundamentally attacking these criminal groups," he said.
Last week, 35 city entertainment places, including the Heaven Earth nightclub, No 8 Club KTV, and Sunworld Dynasty Hotel KTV, were also closed for offences involving prostitution.
Around 1,100 people were detained during the one-month crackdown, which kicked off on April 11
Atheist Meetup
We had our third Atheist Meetup at Vivo City on Tuesday evening. Being the first to arrive at the scene of the crime, I went to the alfresco part of Pacific Coffee and admired the dusk as it fell upon the sea. I had endured a torrid day at my gulag. My eyes hurt from staring at the computer screen and I nearly lost my temper during one incident at work. Leaning against the railing and staring into the deepening shadows, I began to feel a measure of calm. The dusk is indeed the most beautiful part of the day. Its colours are ever so subtle, their hues far deeper than any shades of colour viewed in harsh glaring sunlight. Where the dawn ushers in false hope, the dusk heralds the coming of night and its sibilant promise of blissful oblivion which awaits us all at the end of this arduous journey we call existence. Ah the night….
I am digressing. Alfie arrived soon after me. I hadn’t seen him since he went emo on us two years ago and I was struck by how much weight he put on. He bought along a youngish and nerdy-looking bloke, who introduced himself as David. He is a clerk in the air force, and looking at him, it is easy to see why he will never be selected for a combat vocation. We said hi and then got our refreshments at the counter.
Our right to stay secured, we introduced ourselves a bit more. Alfie gave him a summary of our atheist group’s history and explained the schism that happened the last time. I told him it was all water under the bridge and assured him nobody is bearing a grudge. I said that we have no time to keep the group going so it’s been a hiatus for quite a while now. The update concluded, we started to go into the main topic.
It was the same old question about how atheism could move forward, and despite our numerous attempts over the years, we still could not come to a fixed solution. Alfie said religion provides emotional benefits to its followers and it could be quite hard to substitute that. I totally agreed with his views and for now our little operation (if it be called even that) would be just a social network of sorts. I suggested that if any atheist group must be run like a business to stand a chance of prospering. Alfie thought I was thinking of making money out of it but I clarified that a business mindset didn’t necessarily entail an insistence on monetary gains. People who joined an organization always want to gain from it. These people (customers) must perceive that the product/service they will receive outweigh the costs they incur for joining the group. We must make them an offering they cannot refuse, and must constantly offer them the same level of and/or differentiated service. I also explained the importance of getting rid of unfavorable customers. Unfavorable customers include the following: People who join purely for ulterior motives (insurance agents and their ilk); nimrods (pseudo-intellectuals who seek to glorify themselves by quoting philosophies nobody cares about); non-committed people (the ‘see see look look’ kind); and other disruptive elements. David and Alfie also commented about the difficulty of setting up an official atheist organization in this shithole. Our regime would cramp down on any element they perceive as even marginally disruptive elements to the status quo. In the end, our consensus was that our internal and external analyses did not support the viability of establishing an atheistic movement in this shithole.
I asked Alfie about the previous atheist meetings. He said that two cnspecs turned up for the previous meetup. Apparently one was a serious atheist while her friend was less committed to the cause. This bit of intelligence interested me greatly, and I made further inquires. Alfie or David said they are studying in a local paper mill and are ‘all right’ in he looks department. I was appalled that I actually missed the previous meetup. If I could kick myself I could have done so. Surely, the fates are against me. The ONLY time two good broads turned up in an atheist meetup and I had to $^#@ miss it! It’s a fucking disgrace!
Speaking of cnspecs, at this point the topic shifted to the sorry existence we endured in this shithole. We spoke about how intellectual incapable our fellow Shitholers are, with me adding that it Shitholer women behave like dead fish in bed, are generally unappealing and quite incapable of independent thought even with their degrees. I was in my element. Alfie looked at me, mildly amused or shocked; David was quite….stunned. I then talked about how going to the Holy land improved my grasp of business fundamentals and explained, as I during slop with XH the other time, the strategic and tactical actions these entrepreneurs took in order to survive in the volatile environment in which they ply their trade. Funny how an atheist meetup can turn into a business lecture. I should be a lecturer.
We discussed more on politics and existence, and was soon joined by Samuel. This bloke is roughly my height but considerably wider in girth. He was held up by his sergeant major for spotting long hair. He is a clerk in his army unit. Funny how atheists tend to be young male with intellectual leanings and little physical inclinations (I am partly making a generalization against clerks).He was more expressive than David, who really should be more confident of himself. We continued our conversation in pretty much the same vein. It was quite notable that political discussions about this shithole and its regime often shift to an analysis on the U.S. political scene. The two are not really synonymous with each other but somehow we always find a way to make parallels and discuss them, sometimes relating one to the other, other times separating various aspects. Anyway, Samuel asserted that we would not be seeing a regime change and a change in sociocultural attitude even after the Old Dog Thief dies. Alfie and I agreed with him to a certain extent. Shitholers are just too apathetic and pathetic. We disagree insofar as the inevitably of change is concerned. As a lecturer of mine once said, “No dynasty lasts forever.” The real question is not whether change will happen, but the length of time it will take for them to occur. On the U.S portion of our discussion, it was more on the usual things about how the States is being dominated by religious fundamentalism and corporatism. Samuel seemed to think that the U.S will continue to remain a world power on account of its diversity and innovativeness. I quite disagreed, reasoning that other countries will soon catch up with it in the military and economic arenas.
Any further discussion was cut short with the Pacific Coffee staff announcing they would be closing the café soon. As we made our way out I suggested that we should have some sort of barbecue or other fun activities in future. After all, it would be boring if we sit at cafes all the time. They agreed but I doubt this will happen in the near future if it would at all. (Ah! Change….) Alfie said the next meetup is in two weeks time. Maybe more people will turn up, maybe not.
I am digressing. Alfie arrived soon after me. I hadn’t seen him since he went emo on us two years ago and I was struck by how much weight he put on. He bought along a youngish and nerdy-looking bloke, who introduced himself as David. He is a clerk in the air force, and looking at him, it is easy to see why he will never be selected for a combat vocation. We said hi and then got our refreshments at the counter.
Our right to stay secured, we introduced ourselves a bit more. Alfie gave him a summary of our atheist group’s history and explained the schism that happened the last time. I told him it was all water under the bridge and assured him nobody is bearing a grudge. I said that we have no time to keep the group going so it’s been a hiatus for quite a while now. The update concluded, we started to go into the main topic.
It was the same old question about how atheism could move forward, and despite our numerous attempts over the years, we still could not come to a fixed solution. Alfie said religion provides emotional benefits to its followers and it could be quite hard to substitute that. I totally agreed with his views and for now our little operation (if it be called even that) would be just a social network of sorts. I suggested that if any atheist group must be run like a business to stand a chance of prospering. Alfie thought I was thinking of making money out of it but I clarified that a business mindset didn’t necessarily entail an insistence on monetary gains. People who joined an organization always want to gain from it. These people (customers) must perceive that the product/service they will receive outweigh the costs they incur for joining the group. We must make them an offering they cannot refuse, and must constantly offer them the same level of and/or differentiated service. I also explained the importance of getting rid of unfavorable customers. Unfavorable customers include the following: People who join purely for ulterior motives (insurance agents and their ilk); nimrods (pseudo-intellectuals who seek to glorify themselves by quoting philosophies nobody cares about); non-committed people (the ‘see see look look’ kind); and other disruptive elements. David and Alfie also commented about the difficulty of setting up an official atheist organization in this shithole. Our regime would cramp down on any element they perceive as even marginally disruptive elements to the status quo. In the end, our consensus was that our internal and external analyses did not support the viability of establishing an atheistic movement in this shithole.
I asked Alfie about the previous atheist meetings. He said that two cnspecs turned up for the previous meetup. Apparently one was a serious atheist while her friend was less committed to the cause. This bit of intelligence interested me greatly, and I made further inquires. Alfie or David said they are studying in a local paper mill and are ‘all right’ in he looks department. I was appalled that I actually missed the previous meetup. If I could kick myself I could have done so. Surely, the fates are against me. The ONLY time two good broads turned up in an atheist meetup and I had to $^#@ miss it! It’s a fucking disgrace!
Speaking of cnspecs, at this point the topic shifted to the sorry existence we endured in this shithole. We spoke about how intellectual incapable our fellow Shitholers are, with me adding that it Shitholer women behave like dead fish in bed, are generally unappealing and quite incapable of independent thought even with their degrees. I was in my element. Alfie looked at me, mildly amused or shocked; David was quite….stunned. I then talked about how going to the Holy land improved my grasp of business fundamentals and explained, as I during slop with XH the other time, the strategic and tactical actions these entrepreneurs took in order to survive in the volatile environment in which they ply their trade. Funny how an atheist meetup can turn into a business lecture. I should be a lecturer.
We discussed more on politics and existence, and was soon joined by Samuel. This bloke is roughly my height but considerably wider in girth. He was held up by his sergeant major for spotting long hair. He is a clerk in his army unit. Funny how atheists tend to be young male with intellectual leanings and little physical inclinations (I am partly making a generalization against clerks).He was more expressive than David, who really should be more confident of himself. We continued our conversation in pretty much the same vein. It was quite notable that political discussions about this shithole and its regime often shift to an analysis on the U.S. political scene. The two are not really synonymous with each other but somehow we always find a way to make parallels and discuss them, sometimes relating one to the other, other times separating various aspects. Anyway, Samuel asserted that we would not be seeing a regime change and a change in sociocultural attitude even after the Old Dog Thief dies. Alfie and I agreed with him to a certain extent. Shitholers are just too apathetic and pathetic. We disagree insofar as the inevitably of change is concerned. As a lecturer of mine once said, “No dynasty lasts forever.” The real question is not whether change will happen, but the length of time it will take for them to occur. On the U.S portion of our discussion, it was more on the usual things about how the States is being dominated by religious fundamentalism and corporatism. Samuel seemed to think that the U.S will continue to remain a world power on account of its diversity and innovativeness. I quite disagreed, reasoning that other countries will soon catch up with it in the military and economic arenas.
Any further discussion was cut short with the Pacific Coffee staff announcing they would be closing the café soon. As we made our way out I suggested that we should have some sort of barbecue or other fun activities in future. After all, it would be boring if we sit at cafes all the time. They agreed but I doubt this will happen in the near future if it would at all. (Ah! Change….) Alfie said the next meetup is in two weeks time. Maybe more people will turn up, maybe not.
The Class of 85 Everton FC
EVERTON: 1 Stoke City: 0
A hard fought victory, and richly deserved. It was our first goal scored by a striker in this campaign! YAKUBUUUUU!
Will we ever recapture our glory days?
Linked from here.
A Beautiful Friday Night
As is our custom, Chicken and I went out last Friday night to relax after a long and dreadful week. First we had holy meat and soup at our favourite slop house in Lavender. The soup was fantastic as always, and the moving scenery, as defined by the occasional sexily dressed broads prancing about in the vicinity, was as palatable as the pork we enjoyed. We noticed that a staircase leading up to a respectable establishment was just situated next to the slop stall. From the economic point of view, this is a complementary relationship. Blokes can have slop before going up for swill and boobs and even if you approach it from the reversed angle, broads who have had their fill of swill and boobs can come down and replenish their energies with some good slop. No wonder business is always brisk.
After our slop we decided to go to Illuma to catch a show. When we reached the nearby carpark, a high-end car turned in, and what emerged from it was a most delectable sight, worthy of the attention of the angelic hosts and the infernal powers. Dressed in a slinky black outfit which accentuated her feminine form, this slim and shapely beauty made her way down the sidewalks, her hip swaying delightful with each step she took in her stiletto heels. She had a Buddhist mantra tattooed prominently on her back – she was clearly Thai. Chicken and I mused about how much it took for the lucky whoreson to maintain such an exquisite beauty. Some animals just have all the luck.
We made our way into Illuma and purchased our tickets. I found that I quite like Illuma. There are not many shop; the floor space is very spacious, there is plenty of space for you to take a leisurely stroll and look at beautiful things from a bird’s eye view; and the crowd is sparse and prettier compared to the mobs found in horrible places like Jurong Point and West Mall. The aesthetics of the crowd could also be due to the fact that there is more cnspecs than Shitholers. Chicken and I asserted we should go there more often.
As there was still time, we had refreshments at the food court at Parco Bugis Junction. It was truly a beautiful night. There were quite a few good specs around. One nubile young thing sat beside us; two well-formed broads had slop at another table - from our position we enjoyed a very good view of them – and the best of the lot in my opinion, sat at the far end. In spite of my ogling, I could not ascertain her nationality or race. She had beautiful eyes and exotic facial features; she was slim and fleshly, yet no overly so, in the right areas; and her waist was gently formed and tantalizing. My friend and I praised the virtues of this magnificent creature and while we were at it, we denounced the low standards of our local specs.
We whiled away enough time for the movie to start. Taken was quite okay: lots of shooting and blowing people away. It was still no A-Team though. While leaving the cinema, we saw an ex-gulag mate and her girlfriend. I felt happy for her. She has finally found happiness and I think it is a beautiful thing. I did not manage to get a good look at her girlfriend but from the back she looked okay. Chicken told me he heard from the slackers in my ex-unit that the girlfriend was quite rich. Maybe it is time for me to contact my ex-gulag mate. Her girlfriend may have sisters who are heterosexual. I can do with a bit of money.
There was only one place to go and that was the Holy Land. We reached there soon enough, and although this iconic area was quiet by its usual standards, tits night scene was enchanting as always. The cnspecs were at their seductive best. Such ample were their assets that their filigree shifts came close to bursting at the seams. (What a sight that would have been!) A couple called out to us as we walked past. I think they have been seeing us so frequently that we are a part of their life as much as they are an irreplaceable feature of the red-light district.
Half an hour after our arrival, the alarm rang. As one, all the trollops dashed into the nearby hotel with a speed Usain Bolt would have admired. The evacuation was executed with almost military precision. The relations managers zipped about on their electric bicycles, their eyes watchful for any fuzz, plain-clothes or uniform. They communicated with one another using an electronic piece fixed to their ear. I was highly impressed by their professionalism. Our army should hire these managers as security consultants.
Across the road, some cnspecs continued to conduct their business. Now, these are different from the cnspecs mentioned earlier. These cnspecs are generally older and charge less for their service. They appeal to the MILF-lovers. I believe they offer superior services to that offered by the cnspecs in the vicinity of the Darlene Hotel. Experience always counts and their comparative lack of attractiveness may induce them to work harder at pleasing their customers so as to ensure customer loyalty.
As Chicken and I strolled around the vicinity of the CBD, we occasionally saw blokes and their girlfriends. I do not understand why some blokes have to walk their girlfriends next to the merchandise. Are they trying to imply to them the need to be as aesthetically pleasing as the merchandise? Still, I generally do not have a problem with couples walking around in certain districts. As long as they do not insult the cnspecs I am fine with them.
The alert was off after nearly an hour and the business scene, like the economy, began a gradual recovery. We went on our last round of ogling and made our way back home. It was an enchanting and enriching evening, and the sight of the bevy of beauties strengthened my resolve to be like the dying man in de Sade’s literary masterpiece The Dialogue Between a Priest and a Dying Man.
After our slop we decided to go to Illuma to catch a show. When we reached the nearby carpark, a high-end car turned in, and what emerged from it was a most delectable sight, worthy of the attention of the angelic hosts and the infernal powers. Dressed in a slinky black outfit which accentuated her feminine form, this slim and shapely beauty made her way down the sidewalks, her hip swaying delightful with each step she took in her stiletto heels. She had a Buddhist mantra tattooed prominently on her back – she was clearly Thai. Chicken and I mused about how much it took for the lucky whoreson to maintain such an exquisite beauty. Some animals just have all the luck.
We made our way into Illuma and purchased our tickets. I found that I quite like Illuma. There are not many shop; the floor space is very spacious, there is plenty of space for you to take a leisurely stroll and look at beautiful things from a bird’s eye view; and the crowd is sparse and prettier compared to the mobs found in horrible places like Jurong Point and West Mall. The aesthetics of the crowd could also be due to the fact that there is more cnspecs than Shitholers. Chicken and I asserted we should go there more often.
As there was still time, we had refreshments at the food court at Parco Bugis Junction. It was truly a beautiful night. There were quite a few good specs around. One nubile young thing sat beside us; two well-formed broads had slop at another table - from our position we enjoyed a very good view of them – and the best of the lot in my opinion, sat at the far end. In spite of my ogling, I could not ascertain her nationality or race. She had beautiful eyes and exotic facial features; she was slim and fleshly, yet no overly so, in the right areas; and her waist was gently formed and tantalizing. My friend and I praised the virtues of this magnificent creature and while we were at it, we denounced the low standards of our local specs.
We whiled away enough time for the movie to start. Taken was quite okay: lots of shooting and blowing people away. It was still no A-Team though. While leaving the cinema, we saw an ex-gulag mate and her girlfriend. I felt happy for her. She has finally found happiness and I think it is a beautiful thing. I did not manage to get a good look at her girlfriend but from the back she looked okay. Chicken told me he heard from the slackers in my ex-unit that the girlfriend was quite rich. Maybe it is time for me to contact my ex-gulag mate. Her girlfriend may have sisters who are heterosexual. I can do with a bit of money.
There was only one place to go and that was the Holy Land. We reached there soon enough, and although this iconic area was quiet by its usual standards, tits night scene was enchanting as always. The cnspecs were at their seductive best. Such ample were their assets that their filigree shifts came close to bursting at the seams. (What a sight that would have been!) A couple called out to us as we walked past. I think they have been seeing us so frequently that we are a part of their life as much as they are an irreplaceable feature of the red-light district.
Half an hour after our arrival, the alarm rang. As one, all the trollops dashed into the nearby hotel with a speed Usain Bolt would have admired. The evacuation was executed with almost military precision. The relations managers zipped about on their electric bicycles, their eyes watchful for any fuzz, plain-clothes or uniform. They communicated with one another using an electronic piece fixed to their ear. I was highly impressed by their professionalism. Our army should hire these managers as security consultants.
Across the road, some cnspecs continued to conduct their business. Now, these are different from the cnspecs mentioned earlier. These cnspecs are generally older and charge less for their service. They appeal to the MILF-lovers. I believe they offer superior services to that offered by the cnspecs in the vicinity of the Darlene Hotel. Experience always counts and their comparative lack of attractiveness may induce them to work harder at pleasing their customers so as to ensure customer loyalty.
As Chicken and I strolled around the vicinity of the CBD, we occasionally saw blokes and their girlfriends. I do not understand why some blokes have to walk their girlfriends next to the merchandise. Are they trying to imply to them the need to be as aesthetically pleasing as the merchandise? Still, I generally do not have a problem with couples walking around in certain districts. As long as they do not insult the cnspecs I am fine with them.
The alert was off after nearly an hour and the business scene, like the economy, began a gradual recovery. We went on our last round of ogling and made our way back home. It was an enchanting and enriching evening, and the sight of the bevy of beauties strengthened my resolve to be like the dying man in de Sade’s literary masterpiece The Dialogue Between a Priest and a Dying Man.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Happy and Living an Impossible Existence
EVERTON: 2 SHITE: 0
Happy Sunday! Now for the suck.
My existence is getting more ludicrous by the minute. Following the departure of my colleague for greener - and more bountiful - pastures, I am now the ONLY ONE left in my department.
We did not have a proper handover, to be honest. Right up to her last day, my ex-senior had to rush for meetings to clear up shit for people who should have cleared theirs up long before she had her last day. Her last week was taken up by training - my boss felt it would be helpful to clear up any lingering doubts our system users might have so that they could be more independent. It turned out quite differently though. Some did not attend. Those who did asked more questions we could possibly solve and now I have an entire back log of problems which probably dated back to the time of the dinosaurs.
It was brutally obvious to any attendee that our business process was shite from the start. It is little wonder why we are not making any money. As if this is not bad enough, our strategy, product development, and marketing teams are either clueless as a whole or headed by people who should be in a home for retards.
Now I have a whole pile of shit and about 150 employees under my charge. Can't log in - who do they find? Me. Invoice processing got stuck? Me. Variances in the accounts? Me. Some idiotic director doesn't know how to read a bleedingly simple sales report? Me. Every thing comes to me, every damn thing happens to me. If I hadn't lacked money, I would have bid this sorry excuse for a gulag good riddance and walked out of it strutting like a peacock. The Feisty Old Bag told me that two of her editors are leaving soon. I feel happy for them. I'll be leaving at the end of the year and even if they double my paltry wages I'll still not stay on. I feel sorry for the new staff who takes over my senior's position. She/he/it can forget about having some resemblance of work life balance, because there is none to be had.
Possibly the only good thing I could have gotten out of this sorry stint is the kind of shit I can put on my job application letter and resume. "Supported the entire IT infrastructure alone", "Designed and implemented business processes", "Managed international stakeholders" sound just about right. During the course of my short existence I have shown myself capable of doing impossible things. If I get through this, it will be yet another notch on my blade.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
A Potentially Tragic Sunday
Everton take on the Shite in an hour and Evertonians are more optimistic than pessimistic. The Shite are in the relegation zone and we are just above them. A loss means that the loser drops into the bottom three. It could be a miserable weekend for either group of fans.
Fellaini, Pienaar, Rodwell, Jags, and Rodwell are out. Most likely the Shite will try to intimidate our boys by kicking lumps out of them in the first ten minutes. That pair of ugly twats Gerrard and Lucas would probably take turns elbowing Arteta and then we will lose our focus along with our pluck and let them attack us. It is a pity Moyes sold Yobo. Heitinga will surely partner Distin in the centre of defence, but it remains to be seen who offers the back four protection.
Osman should be deployed to tidy things up in the centre of the park, as he did so effectively against ManUre last season. Moyes will surely get Cahill to support the strikers, leaving Arteta to spray passes behind them. The left flank is problematic through. Shorn of the excellent Pienaar and Osman (who did a decent job there against Birmingham), the only player who is technically good enough to play there is the Russian enigma Bily, who has been anonymous so far this season. On the right, Coleman adds pace and directness on our much maligned right flank, with possibly Neville defending. Moyes will play 4-5-1 and try to sneak a goal from a set piece. I have been very critical of this formation, but given the circumstances, maybe it is the most viable. If anything, it should allow us to suffocate their midfield and stop them from scoring, even though we may not score ourselves.
This may be the weakest Shite squad in three decades but I do not foresee us twating the bastards. Too often we have bottled it in derbies and this time may not be different. Moreover, our propensity to concede silly goals, coupled with our strikers’ inability to score in a whorehouse, means that we must be delighted with a point.
Fellaini, Pienaar, Rodwell, Jags, and Rodwell are out. Most likely the Shite will try to intimidate our boys by kicking lumps out of them in the first ten minutes. That pair of ugly twats Gerrard and Lucas would probably take turns elbowing Arteta and then we will lose our focus along with our pluck and let them attack us. It is a pity Moyes sold Yobo. Heitinga will surely partner Distin in the centre of defence, but it remains to be seen who offers the back four protection.
Osman should be deployed to tidy things up in the centre of the park, as he did so effectively against ManUre last season. Moyes will surely get Cahill to support the strikers, leaving Arteta to spray passes behind them. The left flank is problematic through. Shorn of the excellent Pienaar and Osman (who did a decent job there against Birmingham), the only player who is technically good enough to play there is the Russian enigma Bily, who has been anonymous so far this season. On the right, Coleman adds pace and directness on our much maligned right flank, with possibly Neville defending. Moyes will play 4-5-1 and try to sneak a goal from a set piece. I have been very critical of this formation, but given the circumstances, maybe it is the most viable. If anything, it should allow us to suffocate their midfield and stop them from scoring, even though we may not score ourselves.
This may be the weakest Shite squad in three decades but I do not foresee us twating the bastards. Too often we have bottled it in derbies and this time may not be different. Moreover, our propensity to concede silly goals, coupled with our strikers’ inability to score in a whorehouse, means that we must be delighted with a point.
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