Extremely Random Musings

Disclaimer

2009-03-24T07:57:00.002+08:00

Life is meaningless. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Death makes everything that we work for pointless because in the end, we cannot take it with us to the other side. Success is invalidate, wealth is given down to our descendants who really don't give a shit about how hard we work for that money (honestly? who here actually cares that our great-grands work like crap just to earn enough money to make sure that we exist today?), fame is gone in an instant, earning our names in the history books means that future students will groan and curse us for doing the things that we did.

Hence my unspoken rule. Don't do things that you will regret. Take this blog for example. It's here, I used it to rant and express my anger and utter dislike for this world and its inhabitants in general. If I was specific, it means that I was really pissed off at that time. So no, I don't regret writing all this down. I don't care if I get called up to court one day for this. If that's how I felt in those days, then that's how I felt in those days. No apologies for my feelings and no apologies for my action.

Cynicism and unwarranted misanthropy has been my defining feelings these last couple of years. It's hard to care when you perceive everyone (including myself) to be jerks and then later have everything proven to you in one simple action. I know I'm a jerkass and I don't choose to deny it. It's always been there for people to see anyways.

I like to be alone. Friends and relationships are a luxury in my opinion. All that time for upkeep, money spent on hanging out and mindless chatter...the droning words...solitude is preferable. Alone in the dark where not a sound can be heard is peace, where the mind can rest from the babble of the crowd, the stifling curse of being with people soothed by the stillness of loneless. I hate being with people on a long term basis. Once in a while is nice...and that's it. All those voices from people talking is deafening and I still don't understand why people go on and on about how having friends is the most wonderful thing in the world.

I am a geek and proud of it. If I cannot be proud of who I am, then I am nobody. The desire to fit in with others always confuses me. It's like everyone wants to be faceless in the pot of stew that is humanity. Life is already meaningless as it is and choosing to be like someone else, to fit in with the crowd...is to me, the ultimate expression of meaningless.

I have always liked the same woman for the last six or so years. Is she really that worth it? I guess so...but I also believe that I'm just being selfish and lazy. It pleases me, tickles my sense of romance...and it means that I'm not going to bother moving on to other women, so that I don't have to sacrifice what I enjoy doing for the sake of companionship. Besides, if you're getting into a relationship for companionship, you're even more alone than I am, if you think that being with someone will ease you of that pain.

Everyone in this world is selfish. We all do things for ourselves. Even the most noble of acts performed is to please our sense of nobility. The most religious person in the world does it because s/he does not want to go to hell and suffer eternal damnation. But that's who we are.

I'm materialistic. I believe that this material world is more important than the spiritual. Not because the material world has nicer things like wealth and cars and condos and what nots, I've already said those things are meaningless. The material world is where I am at right now, and the present is more important than the future or the past because the moment right now is the only thing that we truly have. Carpe diem...

TTFN.

Operation Besmirch

2008-11-21T19:54:00.003+08:00

Now, one of the most common things that I normally use this blog for is to complain and to keep up with tradition, here's another complaint I'm going to make, this time about the Malaysian Immigration.

Now, I work at the Student Service department in a college and one of my jobs is to help the international students in their passes and visas into the country so that they can come here to study. So today I went there to the JIM (Jabatan Imigresen Malaysia) in Putrajaya along with a new student to help him make the pass.

So...first there was the usual long wait. Ho-hum. Despite what people say, Immigration can still be slow when doing their job. Big deal. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. Then it was my turn and we went up to Counter 15 and the attendant's name was Hasnita.

So we were at the counter, handing in the documents and waiting for her to get on with it when all of a sudden, she hands the documents back and says, "Get lost. I don't want to see your face again. Jangan kacau saya." In the loudest voice possible.

The words 'What the fuck' is most appropriate in this situation.

I was like 'Huh? What happened?' I mean there's no normal reason that I was aware of for anyone to suddenly burst out like that. It's like a stranger suddenly coming up to you and say 'Fuck you' for absolutely no reason.

Anyways, since I was still standing there a bit stunned, Hasnita's voice grew louder and she repeated what she said and so I had to leave the counter. Then we checked ourselves and the documents to see what in the world could have pissed her off like that. Then we found the culprit.

The payment for the temporary pass that we were applying for was slipped into the student's passport and thus she thought we were trying to bribe her. Alright, fair enough. Still, too rude since no explanation was offered as to why we were brusquely casted off like this.

So we went to the number counter, explained the situation to the person in charge and they told us to take another number and wait. Again. Fine. I can be patient. So we took and waited again.

And to our great fortune, we got the bitch Hasnita again. Alright. I went up to the counter, apologised for what happened earlier and explained what went wrong. In the words of the bitch: 'Saya sudah kata tadi. Saya tak mahu tengok muka you lagi. Jangan kacau saya.'

Fine. I'm not going to take it anymore from that rude, crude brute of a woman so I went to another counter, explained what happened, was told to take another number and avoid her.

So after the pass was finally settled. But let this be a lesson to all of you. If ever you have to go to the 3rd floor of the Immigration department in Putrajaya to renew your pass or whatever, avoid the bitch, Hasnita like the plague. She is extremely rude, obnoxious and deserving of the cliche that is most government servants' image.

Alright...step 1 completed. Now for the national complaint...

TTFN.

Pai Sai

2008-04-16T20:30:00.003+08:00

Bad mood today, not because of what happened to me but what happened to a student yesterday. Apparently she was at home yesterday when some jerk ass broke into the apartment and attacked her for no reason. No details since I'm too sketchy about it myself but she's been sent home last night and I hope to God that she's alright and that the jerk who did this would have his balls scrapped out and his penis soldered while he's still conscious.

TTFN.

Road Dahl

2008-03-25T22:54:00.001+08:00

Below is a short story written by Roald Dahl. You know, the guy who wrote Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Witches, James and the Giant Peach and BFG? Enjoy. I know I did.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was warm and clean, the curtains drawn, the two table lamps alight-hers and the one by the empty chair opposite. On the sideboard behind her, two tall glasses, soda water, whiskey. Fresh ice cubes in the Thermos bucket.

Mary Maloney was waiting for her husband to come him from work.

Now and again she would glance up at the clock, but without anxiety, merely to please herself with the thought that each minute gone by made it nearer the time when he would come. There was a slow smiling air about her, and about everything she did. The drop of a head as she bent over her sewing was curiously tranquil. Her skin -for this was her sixth month with child-had acquired a wonderful translucent quality, the mouth was soft, and the eyes, with their new placid look, seemed larger darker than before. When the clock said ten minutes to five, she began to listen, and a few moments later, punctually as always, she heard the tires on the gravel outside, and the car door slamming, the footsteps passing the window, the key turning in the lock. She laid aside her sewing, stood up, and went forward to kiss him as he came in.

“Hullo darling,” she said.

“Hullo darling,” he answered.

She took his coat and hung it in the closer. Then she walked over and made the drinks, a strongish one for him, a weak one for herself; and soon she was back again in her chair with the sewing, and he in the other, opposite, holding the tall glass with both hands, rocking it so the ice cubes tinkled against the side.

For her, this was always a blissful time of day. She knew he didn’t want to speak much until the first drink was finished, and she, on her side, was content to sit quietly, enjoying his company after the long hours alone in the house. She loved to luxuriate in the presence of this man, and to feel-almost as a sunbather feels the sun-that warm male glow that came out of him to her when they were alone together. She loved him for the way he sat loosely in a chair, for the way he came in a door, or moved slowly across the room with long strides. She loved intent, far look in his eyes when they rested in her, the funny shape of the mouth, and especially the way he remained silent about his tiredness, sitting still with himself until the whiskey had taken some of it away.

“Tired darling?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m tired,” And as he spoke, he did an unusual thing. He lifted his glass and drained it in one swallow although there was still half of it, at least half of it left.. She wasn’t really watching him, but she knew what he had done because she heard the ice cubes falling back against the bottom of the empty glass when he lowered his arm. He paused a moment, leaning forward in the chair, then he got up and went slowly over to fetch himself another.

“I’ll get it!” she cried, jumping up.

“Sit down,” he said.

When he came back, she noticed that the new drink was dark amber with the quantity of whiskey in it.

“Darling, shall I get your slippers?”

“No.”

She watched him as he began to sip the dark yellow drink, and she could see little oily swirls in the liquid because it was so strong.

“I think it’s a shame,” she said, “that when a policeman gets to be as senior as you, they keep him walking about on his feet all day long.”

He didn’t answer, so she bent her head again and went on with her sewing; bet each time he lifted the drink to his lips, she heard the ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass.

“Darling,” she said. “Would you like me to get you some cheese? I haven’t made any supper because it’s Thursday.”

“No,” he said.

“If you’re too tired to eat out,” she went on, “it’s still not too late. There’s plenty of meat and stuff in the freezer, and you can have it right here and not even move out of the chair.”

Her eyes waited on him for an answer, a smile, a little nod, but he made no sign.

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“Anyway,” she went on, “I’ll get you some cheese and crackers first.”

“I don’t want it,” he said.

She moved uneasily in her chair, the large eyes still watching his face. “But you must eat! I’ll fix it anyway, and then you can have it or not, as you like.”

She stood up and placed her sewing on the table by the lamp.

“Sit down,” he said. “Just for a minute, sit down.”

It wasn’t till then that she began to get frightened.

“Go on,” he said. “Sit down.”

She lowered herself back slowly into the chair, watching him all the time with those large, bewildered eyes. He had finished the second drink and was staring down into the glass, frowning.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What is it, darling? What’s the matter?”

He had now become absolutely motionless, and he kept his head down so that the light from the lamp beside him fell across the upper part of his face, leaving the chin and mouth in shadow. She noticed there was a little muscle moving near the corner of his left eye.

“This is going to be a bit of a shock to you, I’m afraid,” he said. “But I’ve thought about it a good deal and I’ve decided the only thing to do is tell you right away. I hope you won’t blame me too much.”

And he told her. It didn’t take long, four or five minutes at most, and she say very still through it all, watching him with a kind of dazed horror as he went further and further away from her with each word.

“So there it is,” he added. “And I know it’s kind of a bad time to be telling you, bet there simply wasn’t any other way. Of course I’ll give you money and see you’re looked after. But there needn’t really be any fuss. I hope not anyway. It wouldn’t be very good for my job.”

Her first instinct was not to believe any of it, to reject it all. It occurred to her that perhaps he hadn’t even spoken, that she herself had imagined the whole thing. Maybe, if she went about her business and acted as though she hadn’t been listening, then later, when she sort of woke up again, she might find none of it had ever happened.

“I’ll get the supper,” she managed to whisper, and this time he didn’t stop her.

When she walked across the room she couldn’t feel her feet touching the floor. She couldn’t feel anything at all- except a slight nausea and a desire to vomit. Everything was automatic now-down the steps to the cellar, the light switch, the deep freeze, the hand inside the cabinet taking hold of the first object it met. She lifted it out, and looked at it. It was wrapped in paper, so she took off the paper and looked at it again.

A leg of lamb.

All right then, they would have lamb for supper. She carried it upstairs, holding the thin bone-end of it with both her hands, and as she went through the living-room, she saw him standing over by the window with his back to her, and she stopped.

“For God’s sake,” he said, hearing her, but not turning round. “Don’t make supper for me. I’m going out.”

At that point, Mary Maloney simply walked up behind him and without any pause she swung the big frozen leg of lamb high in the air and brought it down as hard as she could on the back of his head.

She might just as well have hit him with a steel club.

She stepped back a pace, waiting, and the funny thing was that he remained standing there for at least four or five seconds, gently swaying. Then he crashed to the carpet.

The violence of the crash, the noise, the small table overturning, helped bring her out of he shock. She came out slowly, feeling cold and surprised, and she stood for a while blinking at the body, still holding the ridiculous piece of meat tight with both hands.

All right, she told herself. So I’ve killed him.

It was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind became all of a sudden. She began thinking very fast. As the wife of a detective, she knew quite well what the penalty would be. That was fine. It made no difference to her. In fact, it would be a relief. On the other hand, what about the child? What were the laws about murderers with unborn children? Did they kill then both-mother and child? Or did they wait until the tenth month? What did they do?

Mary Maloney didn’t know. And she certainly wasn’t prepared to take a chance.

She carried the meat into the kitchen, placed it in a pan, turned the oven on high, and shoved t inside. Then she washed her hands and ran upstairs to the bedroom. She sat down before the mirror, tidied her hair, touched up her lops and face. She tried a smile. It came out rather peculiar. She tried again.

“Hullo Sam,” she said brightly, aloud.

The voice sounded peculiar too.

“I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.”

That was better. Both the smile and the voice were coming out better now. She rehearsed it several times more. Then she ran downstairs, took her coat, went out the back door, down the garden, into the street.

It wasn’t six o’clock yet and the lights were still on in the grocery shop.

“Hullo Sam,” she said brightly, smiling at the man behind the counter.

“Why, good evening, Mrs. Maloney. How’re you?”

“I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.”

The man turned and reached up behind him on the shelf for the peas.

“Patrick’s decided he’s tired and doesn’t want to eat out tonight,” she told him. “We usually go out Thursdays, you know, and now he’s caught me without any vegetables in the house.”

“Then how about meat, Mrs. Maloney?”

“No, I’ve got meat, thanks. I got a nice leg of lamb from the freezer.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know much like cooking it frozen, Sam, but I’m taking a chance on it this time. You think it’ll be all right?”

“Personally,” the grocer said, “I don’t believe it makes any difference. You want these Idaho potatoes?”

“Oh yes, that’ll be fine. Two of those.”

“Anything else?” The grocer cocked his head on one side, looking at her pleasantly. “How about afterwards? What you going to give him for afterwards?”

“Well-what would you suggest, Sam?”

The man glanced around his shop. “How about a nice big slice of cheesecake? I know he likes that.”

“Perfect,” she said. “He loves it.”

And when it was all wrapped and she had paid, she put on her brightest smile and said, “Thank you, Sam. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Maloney. And thank you.”

And now, she told herself as she hurried back, all she was doing now, she was returning home to her husband and he was waiting for his supper; and she must cook it good, and make it as tasty as possible because the poor man was tired; and if, when she entered the house, she happened to find anything unusual, or tragic, or terrible, then naturally it would be a shock and she’d become frantic with grief and horror. Mind you, she wasn’t expecting to find anything. She was just going home with the vegetables. Mrs. Patrick Maloney going home with the vegetables on Thursday evening to cook supper for her husband.

That’s the way, she told herself. Do everything right and natural. Keep things absolutely natural and there’ll be no need for any acting at all.

Therefore, when she entered the kitchen by the back door, she was humming a little tune to herself and smiling.

“Patrick!” she called. “How are you, darling?”

She put the parcel down on the table and went through into the living room; and when she saw him lying there on the floor with his legs doubled up and one arm twisted back underneath his body, it really was rather a shock. All the old love and longing for him welled up inside her, and she ran over to him, knelt down beside him, and began to cry her heart out. It was easy. No acting was necessary.

A few minutes later she got up and went to the phone. She know the number of the police station, and when the man at the other end answered, she cried to him, “Quick! Come quick! Patrick’s dead!”

“Who’s speaking?”

“Mrs. Maloney. Mrs. Patrick Maloney.”

“You mean Patrick Maloney’s dead?”

“I think so,” she sobbed. “He’s lying on the floor and I think he’s dead.”

“Be right over,” the man said.

The car came very quickly, and when she opened the front door, two policeman walked in. She know them both-she know nearly all the man at that precinct-and she fell right into a chair, then went over to join the other one, who was called O’Malley, kneeling by the body.

“Is he dead?” she cried.

“I’m afraid he is. What happened?”

Briefly, she told her story about going out to the grocer and coming back to find him on the floor. While she was talking, crying and talking, Noonan discovered a small patch of congealed blood on the dead man’s head. He showed it to O’Malley who got up at once and hurried to the phone.

Soon, other men began to come into the house. First a doctor, then two detectives, one of whom she know by name. Later, a police photographer arrived and took pictures, and a man who know about fingerprints. There was a great deal of whispering and muttering beside the corpse, and the detectives kept asking her a lot of questions. But they always treated her kindly. She told her story again, this time right from the beginning, when Patrick had come in, and she was sewing, and he was tired, so tired he hadn’t wanted to go out for supper. She told how she’d put the meat in the oven-”it’s there now, cooking”- and how she’d slopped out to the grocer for vegetables, and come back to find him lying on the floor.

Which grocer?” one of the detectives asked.

She told him, and he turned and whispered something to the other detective who immediately went outside into the street.

In fifteen minutes he was back with a page of notes, and there was more whispering, and through her sobbing she heard a few of the whispered phrases-”...acted quite normal...very cheerful...wanted to give him a good supper…peas...cheesecake...impossible that she...”

After a while, the photographer and the doctor departed and two other men came in and took the corpse away on a stretcher. Then the fingerprint man went away. The two detectives remained, and so did the two policeman. They were exceptionally nice to her, and Jack Noonan asked if she wouldn’t rather go somewhere else, to her sister’s house perhaps, or to his own wife who would take care of her and put her up for the night.

No, she said. She didn’t feel she could move even a yard at the moment. Would they mind awfully of she stayed just where she was until she felt better. She didn’t feel too good at the moment, she really didn’t.

Then hadn’t she better lie down on the bed? Jack Noonan asked.

No, she said. She’d like to stay right where she was, in this chair. A little later, perhaps, when she felt better, she would move.

So they left her there while they went about their business, searching the house. Occasionally on of the detectives asked her another question. Sometimes Jack Noonan spoke at her gently as he passed by. Her husband, he told her, had been killed by a blow on the back of the head administered with a heavy blunt instrument, almost certainly a large piece of metal. They were looking for the weapon. The murderer may have taken it with him, but on the other hand he may have thrown it away or hidden it somewhere on the premises.

“It’s the old story,” he said. “Get the weapon, and you’ve got the man.”

Later, one of the detectives came up and sat beside her. Did she know, he asked, of anything in the house that could’ve been used as the weapon? Would she mind having a look around to see if anything was missing-a very big spanner, for example, or a heavy metal vase.

They didn’t have any heavy metal vases, she said.

“Or a big spanner?”

She didn’t think they had a big spanner. But there might be some things like that in the garage.

The search went on. She knew that there were other policemen in the garden all around the house. She could hear their footsteps on the gravel outside, and sometimes she saw a flash of a torch through a chink in the curtains. It began to get late, nearly nine she noticed by the clock on the mantle. The four men searching the rooms seemed to be growing weary, a trifle exasperated.

“Jack,” she said, the next tome Sergeant Noonan went by. “Would you mind giving me a drink?”

“Sure I’ll give you a drink. You mean this whiskey?”

“Yes please. But just a small one. It might make me feel better.”

He handed her the glass.

“Why don’t you have one yourself,” she said. “You must be awfully tired. Please do. You’ve been very good to me.”

“Well,” he answered. “It’s not strictly allowed, but I might take just a drop to keep me going.”

One by one the others came in and were persuaded to take a little nip of whiskey. They stood around rather awkwardly with the drinks in their hands, uncomfortable in her presence, trying to say consoling things to her. Sergeant Noonan wandered into the kitchen, come out quickly and said, “Look, Mrs. Maloney. You know that oven of yours is still on, and the meat still inside.”

“Oh dear me!” she cried. “So it is!”

“I better turn it off for you, hadn’t I?”

“Will you do that, Jack. Thank you so much.”

When the sergeant returned the second time, she looked at him with her large, dark tearful eyes. “Jack Noonan,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Would you do me a small favor-you and these others?”

“We can try, Mrs. Maloney.”

“Well,” she said. “Here you all are, and good friends of dear Patrick’s too, and helping to catch the man who killed him. You must be terrible hungry by now because it’s long past your suppertime, and I know Patrick would never forgive me, God bless his soul, if I allowed you to remain in his house without offering you decent hospitality. Why don’t you eat up that lamb that’s in the oven. It’ll be cooked just right by now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sergeant Noonan said.

“Please,” she begged. “Please eat it. Personally I couldn’t tough a thing, certainly not what’s been in the house when he was here. But it’s all right for you. It’d be a favor to me if you’d eat it up. Then you can go on with your work again afterwards.”

There was a good deal of hesitating among the four policemen, but they were clearly hungry, and in the end they were persuaded to go into the kitchen and help themselves. The woman stayed where she was, listening to them speaking among themselves, their voices thick and sloppy because their mouths were full of meat.

“Have some more, Charlie?”

“No. Better not finish it.”

“She wants us to finish it. She said so. Be doing her a favor.”

“Okay then. Give me some more.”

“That’s the hell of a big club the gut must’ve used to hit poor Patrick,” one of them was saying. “The doc says his skull was smashed all to pieces just like from a sledgehammer.”

“That’s why it ought to be easy to find.”

“Exactly what I say.”

“Whoever done it, they’re not going to be carrying a thing like that around with them longer than they need.”

One of them belched.

“Personally, I think it’s right here on the premises.”

“Probably right under our very noses. What you think, Jack?”

And in the other room, Mary Maloney began to giggle.

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TTFN.

Dead End

2008-03-15T20:40:00.000+08:00

For those who like the Batman:

TTFN.

Part of your world

2008-03-14T00:02:00.000+08:00

Not! =p

TTFN

Election Day March 8 2008

2008-03-08T08:29:00.002+08:00

First thing I did was I got up at 7.30 and got ready. The second thing I did was that I went to the Election Hall, which was conveniently located behind my house. I waited in line for ten minutes along with a bunch of old people and the reporters from Sin Chew Jit Poh/Nanyang came and started taking pictures. I know because someone else asked and one of them said they were from so and so. One of the old guys behind me said our pics will probably come out because we have the young, the old and the foreigner lining up to vote.
Then suddenly someone comes and says, 'Wait at the other gate!' Everyone was like 'Huh? What's going on?' And then one minute after that, we were allowed in and we find out exactly what that someone meant: the registration booth was located on the other side of the school where everyone was waiting at and so we have to march around the school, looking like a makeshift version of Bruce Willis' Armageddon march. So it wasn't cool at all, although there was some fanfare from the two photographers following us and taking our pictures.
Anyways we arrived at the registration counter...at last...and lined up for them to give us the number. Then it was my turn and I watched as the lady flipped the page so that she can find my name. I was thinking, 'You know...maybe this year I've moved up a few pages so that I'm not on the last page this time like my first time voting in 2004.' Of course...I'm still on the last page. Granted I'm not the third last name like last time but I'm still on the last freaking page damnit! Damnit you young uns! Can't you like at least take a freaking interest in the country's leaders and choose who to vote instead of saying 'I don't have time to go to the post office!' Ahem...rant is over...
So I went in to vote and there I'm through with voting day today! Hoorah! Oh and in case you're wondering who I voted for, let me say this: the opposition in my place is Anwar's party. I don't vote for a party who exists and lives for one man only so that answers your question, no?
This one was still fun regardless. Until my third election then and make sure you register before then. ^_^

TTFN.

Metal Gear Solid

2008-03-06T19:23:00.002+08:00

And today Metal Gear Solid came to Life College...well fine, not the main crew, not even the voice actors but the music crew did and they came to give a talk about the music industry in Japan and how do they do their jobs there. Pretty interesting thing stuff and I like Norihiko Hibino's style of work i.e. make someone happy. He meant usually a customer or a fan but most of the time he normally means make your boss/client happy because that's the way you earn your paycheck ^_^
Didn't get any autographs even though I thought about it. His CD was too expensive to buy but I did pick up his business card and I spoke with him and his crew about video games. So it was nice.
Oh...and fans are like crap ^_^

TTFN.

Gygax

2008-03-05T10:33:00.002+08:00

Gary Gygax...one of the guys who created D&D back in '74 is now dead. Interesting how one guy who was a wargamer i.e. Warhammer and other miniature wargames created a role playing game instead. Granted the first few editions of D&D plays like a wargame and even today, retains its tactical side (No Michael! You've just blasted everyone with that fireball!).

He will be fondly remembered by gamers all around.

TTFN.

Cute reference

2008-03-01T19:31:00.001+08:00

Works best if you've got an 80's nostalgia the size of Optimus Prime. See if any of you can get this reference:

http://www.insecticons.com/insecticomics/v2/130.html

TTFN.

Dragonlance rant

2008-02-13T09:50:00.000+08:00

When I heard that they were coming out with a Dragonlance movie last year, I wasn't too excited. I'm not that big a fan of Dragonlance (given that there is only one good character in the entire series and he's dead). Then people started raving over the fact that Kiefer Sutherland was taking on the role of Raistlin Majere i.e. the only good character in the entire series and it was like 'Wow! Jack Bauer's going to go all 24 on Raistlin. He'll snatch Goldmoon, Laurana and Tika away from their loser husbands and convert Kitiara to the Jack Bauer side and he'll all save the US president in 24 hours again only this time he'll do it with meteor swarms and finger of death. Oh and along the way, he'll look at the blasted kender, drain him of his soul and uses his carcass as a portable toilet just to despise the kender.' Sounds interesting enough.

Then I watched the movie.

Good lord...I know that Tanis i.e. the series original main character whines a lot but to listen to him whine...gave it a whole new meaning altogether. He whines more in an hour and a half than my students do in a whole year...and that's saying a lot, considering that they're college students and they're still in their teens.

The animation sucks. They said that this was supposed to be an adult animation but watching it made me think of the original Dungeons and Dragons cartoon (this is a D&D movie despite the tag Dragonlance). Little blood (look at my blood free sword! If talking a lot during fighting is a superpower, then having no blood on the weapon is a magic weapon property), stiff movements, miserable attempts of showing off Tika's boobs...*yawn*

Jack Bauer ruled of course but then again, he's Raistlin Majere. The only character in the original series that everyone liked! Lucy Lawless was passable as a fighter/cleric 2e version except you keep waiting for her to do a Xena. Michael Rosenbaum landed the sorry role of Tanis which must be quite a shock for him after playing Lex Luthor in Smallville; he must have thought that he'll get Raistlin Majere. Michelle Trachtenberg...I heard she was in this movie. Phil Lamarr lands the role of Token Minority...again...and the kender annoyed the crap of everyone, as expected. I hate gods who pretend to be senile old men so Fizban/Paladine falls into that automatically. The squick scene at the end, where you see Laurana i.e young nubile chick make out with Elistan i.e. ancient wise sage just made me choke on my bile and I relished the choking because I saw a young chick make out with an old man. It'll save me from the misery of seeing it again...

TTFN.

The Joker is dead!

2008-01-23T23:20:00.000+08:00

Heath Ledger is dead! Honestly I don't quite believe it but it happened...now it's going to make watching the Dark Knight extremely surreal since we all know he's dead and it was his last show that he made before he died (last that I know of at least). This is going to be very much like playing Kingdom Hearts 2 and listening to the Emperor talk, knowing that it's Pat Morita a.k.a. Mr. Miyagi's last performance...

Weird huh?

TTFN.

Happy New Year 2008

2008-01-01T00:45:00.000+08:00

To those who actually enjoy the New Year, Happy New Year to you guys. Me? I'll just sit back at home, watch some tv and brood some more. It's what I do best ^_^ And of course no new year resolutions from me since I normally forget what they are by the end of January.

And yeah. I'm still waiting. It's better than not waiting I guess. Hope and stupidity springs eternal.

TTFN.

Last post of 2007

2007-12-30T21:51:00.000+08:00

And this being the last post of 2007, I promise to make this as random as possible...

I hate the country side (but then again I hate most everything so there it doesn't really make a difference doesn't it?). People always say how much they want to move to the country side when they retire so that they can enjoy some peace and quiet and all that other stuff. You know what I'll do? I'll stay in the city so that when they retire, I'll got all the nice peace and quiet since they're not in the city anymore ^_^ I like it here thank you very much so I ain't moving. Thank you very much.

Oh and that also applies to even if Malaysia falls into those nonsensical racial riots that everyone keeps talking about or if Malaysia is ruled by an Islamic party. I'll still stay here, thank you very much. And this has nothing to do with me not being able to travel to Singapore if that's what you're thinking.

TTFN.

25 months

2007-12-04T08:31:00.000+08:00

That's how long the old hamster lived under my care. 25 months. Today she's dead and I'm pretty sure of that because the last two days she wasn't drinking any water and this morning I found her covered in ants. Buried her in the garden this morning before I went to work.

And that's the end of today's story.

TTFN.

Random musings of a non-conformist

2007-11-28T21:00:00.000+08:00

Got philosophical when I was walking back home from work this evening and thought I might post this up before I forget all about it.

By definition, a non-conformist is someone who goes against the norm and elects to do something his/her way. Of course, the problem with doing that is pretty much this: how much of what a non-conformist is doing really part of his/her own original thought and how much of it is influenced by others. We all know that all thoughts in this day and age is unoriginal, that humanity pretty much is very like a monkey in terms of see and do i.e. monkey see, monkey do. It is after all a safety mechanism, a monkey sees another monkey do it and thus the first monkey will do it because the second monkey was not harmed by the act.

A rebel will only rebel when he sees others rebel; teens rebel because other teens rebel and thus thinks it's cool. Hence non-conformity seems to be nothing more than another form of conformity in that by not conforming, one is actually conforming to another form of idea, that is the idea of not conforming to the first idea and embracing the second idea. Thus it would make sense to say that the true non-conformist will make a third idea and go about doing a fourth way simply because no one else is doing the fourth way.

In essence, this would mean that a non-conformer is thus by nature a loner simply because he/she will walk down a path that no one else would dare walk simply because no one has ever thought of it. Either that or he/she is fucking insane.

Alright. I've said what I've wanted to say. TTFN.

Nostalgia

2007-11-24T08:49:00.000+08:00

It's exam week in my college (where I work at, not study at) and nostalgia is sinking in. So I'm posting this up.

Enjoy ^_^

TTFN.

Nice Poem I found

2007-11-15T01:46:00.001+08:00

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

TTFN.

Ranting

2007-11-14T16:13:00.000+08:00

Of course I know I'll get into possible legal trouble if people finds out about this but who the fuck cares? I want to write it down before my pissy fit goes away.

S.E.X. is a mother fucking bastard (seriously those are his initials...hah no wonder he's such a mother fucking bastard ^_^). Despite the fact that he's a pastor's son, he rude, obnoxious and a fucking bully. I take it that his father never taught him any manners that's why he's like that so therefore his father is to be blamed for raising his son up to be such a jackass. *sighs* pissy fit over and now replaced by one of mirth. God...no wonder he's such a dick. His father named him SEX and now that's all he can think about when he bullies people.

TTFN.

Kitty Cat

2007-10-22T21:12:00.000+08:00

God knows why but I rescued a cat today. Damn thing was in the middle of the road and a truck was speeding down and going to ram it down and I dove in and saved the cat in a desperate roll as the truck horned and sped past...yeah right it happened like that. Damn cat was in the middle of the road causing a traffic jam and I went to take it aside and then it wanted to cross the road again so I picked it up and took it to the other side only to have that brat cling to my arm. I had no choice but to walk home with the damn thing T_T

So...what to do with that cat...

TTFN.

Stupid pic

2007-10-14T21:50:00.001+08:00

Stupid pic

http://static.flickr.com/97/224124224_32d2d8dfdb_o.jpg

Israel ads

2007-10-12T19:35:00.000+08:00

For those of you who have yet to see the Israel ads, here you go:

TTFN.

Street Fighter: The Later Years Episode 1

2007-10-05T00:18:00.000+08:00

Hehehehe...

TTFN.

Minesweeper the Movie

2007-10-05T00:17:00.000+08:00

The movie that you thought will never happen

TTFN.

Two news of interest

2007-09-17T23:50:00.000+08:00

OJ's in jail again...wait that's not interesting...

Israel is promoting their women in order to promote their country's image. Taglines include 'Holy Mother of God...', 'Israel...no wonder we can't make it to the World Cup' and 'Israel...no wonder they call it the Holy Land...'

TTFN.