Symphony Of Memories

Anyone with good bowl-shitting skill?

I just saw this advertisement on STAR online and had a good laugh. Bold text is mine.

Company Information
Company Name Star Publications (M) Bhd
Industry Printing & Publishing

Job Description
Writer for hire

We’re looking for a versatile writer with a cheerful disposition (grumpy ones with lots of complaints about the country, government and politics, do not apply), one who can speak well and make a toilet bowl sound interesting (HAHAHAHA! Now you know what kind of stories they write). You’ve got to have social skills and curiosity to write great stories, whether it’s speaking Ah Kau from Han Hin Sdn Bhd or Richard Branson from the Virgin Group (What about Muthu and Ali). Expect to meet lots and lots of people and join a team of happy (sounds like working for Disneyland or a kindergarten) supplement writers. Excellent English (spoken and written), safe driving (and how are they going to judge this? By taking the writer for a ride?!), a positive attitude and a charming smile (I am beginning to be really suspicious of this post) are a musts …

Oh, there’s more…

Oh yes, you should also be able to take the pressures of unplanned assignments at a moment’s notice and still be able to juggle some time to do presentations and clinch sales ! (Now I get the drift. This person is suppose to be a saleperson as well - but sell what? Their souls?).

We welcome fresh graduates (the poor unsuspecting fools) to apply . Send your comprehensive resume including current and expected salary, contact telephone numbers and a recent passport-size photograph (Post your photo in this blog first. Let us judge if you have a charming smile:)) to:

Senior Manager
(Human Resource & Administration)
Star Publications (M) Berhad (10894-9)
P.O. Box 8612 Kelana Jaya
46793 Petaling Jaya

not later than 29 August 2008
e-mail : hrd@thestar.com.my

Location Selangor - Petaling Jaya,Malaysia

Really! Good luck to the applicants. More still to the one who gets the job.

Thanks to Susan!

Raising My Flag Upside-Down - Nation In Distress

You know what pisses me off?

Blind people.

No, not blind people, blind people, but people handling the blind people. Geddit?

So, I'm urging my fellow Malaysians and all stupid muthafuckas (BN-UMNO leaders) out there to raise our Jalur Gemilang upside down.

U wanna know why?

The following paragraph has been excerpted from Kickdefella

Dear proud Malaysians,

No way we are going to raise the white flag, which is the symbol of surrender. We are raising our flag upside down because it is a sign of our nation is in distress.

It is not UMNO or BN who are in distress. UMNO is as bubbly as ever doing what ever their leaders know best for the country and BN as happy as ever playing supporting role to those UMNO leaders.

It is not the opposition parties who are in distress, they never been in a better state than they are now, governing five states and denying a two-third majority for BN in the Dewan Rakyat for the first time.

But it is the nation who is in distress. We are facing economic uncertainty and the citizens are facing all sorts of difficulties facing it. We are losing our competitive edge and we are losing our territories too.

It is sad to see our beloved Jalur Gemilang, the symbol of our Nation and its sovereignty flying upside down. I had anticipated the anger by my fellow countrymen watching our flag being raised upside down. It is internationally accepted that raising the flag upside down is a mark of state of distress. It is never a mark of disrespect.

I hope we can sway all the anger into trying to turn the situation so we can see our Jalur Gemilang flying high in the right way again.

But until we can do something about it, the reality is, our nation is in disarray. Let us not live in hypocrisy. Let us stare at the upside down Jalur Gemilang and let the reality strike us once and for all. If we do not join hand in hand in trying to make the politicians understand how we feel then how on earth can we blame them for saying they are doing what they think is best for us and the nation.

I do not ask you to take your protest to the street, I do not ask you to let your frustration kills the nation, I do not ask you to unleash you anger so it can burn down any chance of unification.

But I beg you not to wait until we have to raise the white flag for our survival.

“Biar Putih Tulang, Jangan Putih Mata”.

Again I repeat, if you have a reason to disagree with the manner the country is heading, then you have a cause.

Raise your flag upside down and let those who can make the different know that this nation is indeed in distress.

However, you may not have the reason to listen to me, so why not you listen to what other fellow Malaysian has to say,

Oops.. Not forgetting: SELAMAT HARI MERDEKA!!

Can a Family Man With A Salary RM3000 Survive In Malaysia?

After the recent fuel hike, I found an interesting blog posting from a friend titled Can a family man with Salary RM3,000 survive in Malaysia. To make the message more interesting & easy to understand (by the smart BN leaders) , this guy has decided to compile the message into graphical presentation.

What caught my eye were the graphical presentation that he prepared. I've cut and pasted the statements here. You read it and let me know what you think. Personally, I think it is very, very funny while at the same time really scary that things like this are indeed very very true, would even ruin my Bangkok-whoring retirement, Damnnnnnnnnnnn..!!!!

So, ladies and gentlemen, fasten your seatbelt and enjoy the ride!

Turtle Seeks Piggy

For the longest time, I have admired the dynamic between this cross species couple. But then, I've seen a clip of a commercial for the Muppets: Live on Stage taken from sometime during the 80s, has added a new dimension. In it, a stretch limousine was pulling up in front of a theater. A footman opened the door, and a shapely, rather thick leg stepped onto the red carpet. As the rest of the form followed, it was revealed that it belonged to a woman wearing a full bodied Miss Piggy costume under an alluring evening dress. AND I WANTED HER not exactly that woman, but just an ordinary woman out there, and you know who you are, yes, you! The Piggy! And, to be quite honest, ever since the first time we met, I've never stopped.

Some time ago, I found an original full head rubber Miss Piggy mask, circa 1977, complete with a full head of long blond hair. I am looking for a not so tall, sexy with a perk proportioned breast girl, preferably around 110 pounds, to wear this mask to bed. She should also be open to playing with plastic wrap and liquid latex. Brunette is best, I suppose, but not necessary. Who knows – for the right woman I might just get a green rubber suit and a turtle shell. Wahahahahahahaha..

Good luck to me, and take care dear Piggy.

Solemn: Scattered Thoughts

Time for a serious post:

I can't sleep. Lately it's been one of those things that's escaping me..like joy, peace, happiness, and the need to do anything constructive. I feel like life is passing me by, and all I can do is sit on some cold curb and watch the parade go on by. Naturally, I'm wearing a smile and pretending to enjoy the show, but in reality I'm choking back tears.

It seems like I'm always where I don't really want to be. And here I sit waiting to hear one little word from them, and feeling frustrated for what I've heard. For whole this while, I had been battling an emotional breakdown. The funny thing is that I put on my "mask" again and pretended I was okay and that things here were hunky dory...yeah...why rain on their parade? Sadly, I promised her I wouldn't wear a mask before her anymore...but...I don't think anyone else can handle the burden WE have to bear.

The utter hopelessness of this situation is a downer...but I still have to believe that God is working. I'm talking to someone on MSN about this and that....I doubt she realizes she's my lifeline right now. I only hope one day I can return the favor....

Sometimes I wonder if God can still used a crumpled mess like myself? These thoughts fly through my head all night, and when I do sleep, my dreams are wretched, weird, and disorienting. Sometimes they are so realisitic, it's hard to separate truth from reality. Other times I wonder if there's actually a difference between the two.

My friend and I were driving home tonight from a regilar mamak-ing. For once, the downpour of rain resonating from the windshield accompanied me in my lonliness. It felt like God was crying with me, a common metaphor, and yet one that offered me a bit of comfort. Matchbox 20 was in the car's CD player, and I reached an emotional climax when I heard the song, "Unwell" start.

It's a song that has characterized my life that past few months. Funny there's a top 40 song about struggling with mental illness, if that's what Rob Thomas and the gang are truly singing about. "I'm not crazy/I'm just a little unwell..." What if I'm both? I listened to the song and deeply pondered the lyrics..not for the first time, and most assuredly not the last time..... It's weird how Matchbox 20 songs can speak to me more than any other songs these days.

Of course, now as I type and try to lull myself to sleep, I'm listening to Forever Love, by X-Japan...a marvelous band I first heard in 2002.

Another song I've been thinking about lately is by BOB Dylan. It's called "It's Alright, Ma, I'm Only Bleeding." How many times I've been tempted to bring it up with my family? It is like, yeah, I'm okay everyone...I'll make you laugh...I'm only bleeding. "Tears of a Clown" is another great song...a performer who made the world laugh cried himself to sleep every night....that's me...except I can't sleep...

I wonder...would you like me, accept me, and still call me your friend, son, associate if I showed you the real me? How much reality can people handle?

Matchbox 20
"Unwell"

All day
Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown
I don't know why
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me
Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
I know
I know they've all been talking 'bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong
With me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow
I've lost my mind
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired
I know, right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Hey, how I used to be
How I used to be, yeah
Well I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be

Bob Dylan
"It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music

Man of The Future

So I went to the International Center. I walked in, and there were people talking about how Vitamin C caused World War 2 or some shit.

I was like, "What the fuck, man?"

So I went and sat down anyway and Jason asked me, "Hey, did you lose weight?"

Me: Yeah. I'm gonna be an underwear model next year.

Jason: Did you do it for a girl?

Me: Hell no. That would be stupid. All women ever respond to are money and a ticket to heaven.

Jason: So did you do it for a guy then?

Me: ...

Jason: ...

Me: Well, I did it for myself, and I'm a guy, so I guess so, I did it for a guy.

And there was more blablabla.

And some more blablabla.

And then I found myself talking to myself.

Me: Hey, Zen-Master Sexay! I thought you're dead already.

Zen-Master Sexay: Nah, I sensed a disturbace in the force. What gives?

Me: Nothing. I just finished something, so that feels like a large piece of shit out of my ass.

ZMS: No grungies?

Me: Well, same old shit about people not understanding what the fuck it was I was writing about.

ZMS: Ah, they do that all the time. Stupid people.

Me: Yeah, But I am in the biotech, science, pharma, and shit yo! If people start getting the wrong messages, what difference is there between myself and a cheap-ass two-dollar flirt who thinks she's some kind of high-class prostitute?

ZMS: look, as the person you will be five years from now, I have to tell you that no one will EVER fully understand what the fuck you're talking or writing about.

Me: But it's all so simple!

ZMS: To you. But observe this. You are making references to obscure movies and cartoon series. And then all that stuff from Norse mythology and Greco-Roman shit and stuff. As well as shit you learned in school. NOBODY remembers what they learn in school! That's why they're stupid.

ZMS: And here's the clincher - everybody thinks everything is about them, so even when you qoute from the Old Testament, they're gonna think it's about them.

Me: Jesus on a dildo! That sucks, man. And they said I was paranoid.

ZMS: You should wait five years from now, when your own movies start to get shown. They'll study it in universities as if it's some sort of shit-ass cuneiform motherfucker without a Rosetta stone.

Me: Shit. Like RoboCop?

ZMS: Like RoboCop.

Me: Man, I like RoboCop. The first movie. It's all about the ads, man! Paul Ho-Heaven is a fucking genius!

ZMS: They're gonna compare you to Nit-Shit, though.

Me: Nit-Shit? God's in his heaven, all's right with the world? Or was that Goethe. Whatever.

ZMS: Instead of Nihilism, they're gonna say that you're an annihilist. The first. The original. You'll start a movement of avant-garde weapons of mass destruction. Malthusia will be your country.

Me: Malthusia? MY country?

ZMS: Yeah. Every third child is executed upon illegal birth.

Me: Yeah, that'd be cool. Say, tell m the truth. Why are you here?

ZMS: Well, it's too hot in the future. You - me - us - we managed to increase the temperature of the earth by six degrees Celsius, ending all life on earth.

Me: How'd I do that?

ZMS: Well, in 2010, the temperature rose by 3 degrees. You convinced everyone that the solution is to build gigantic air-conditioners. As big as Mount Kilimanjaro. Some idiot tripped the switch and a massive fire broke out, killing everyone.

Me: Right.

Then I took a barstool and clobbered Zen-Master Sexay to death.

credit to the coolest bastard ever, amir

Why did the chicken cross the road?

WHy did the chicken cross the road?

Here are a few insightful answers:
 
1)KINDERGARTEN TEACHER:
To get to the other side.

2)ARISTOTLE:
It is the nature of chickens to cross roads.

3)RONALD REAGAN:
I forget.

4)KARAM SINGH VALIA:
Seperti yang saudara dapat lihat, kelihatan ayam-
ayam itu sedang melintas jalan, mereka bukan sahaja
melintas jalan malah membuang najis di atas jalan
dan ini adalah pencemaran yang paling hebat di maya
ada masa ini. Bapa-bapa dan ibu-ibu Ayam haruslah
mengambil inisiatif untuk melatih ayam-ayam Agar
menahan najis sewaktu melintas jalan, sekian
saya sudahi dengan.........
Ayam di jalan di lintaskan
Ayam di reban mati tak makan

5)RICHARD M. NIXON:
The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the
chicken did NOT cross the road.

6)COMPUTER PROGRAMMER:
In order for the chicken to cross the road safely
they not only need one driver to access the server
farm if not they will hang in the middle of the road.

7)JERRY SEINFELD:
Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why
doesn't anyone ever think to ask,"What the heck was this
chicken doing walking around all over the place,
anyway?"

8)BILL GATES:
I have just released the new Chicken Office 2000,
which will not only cross roads, but will lay
eggs, file your important documents, and
unbalance your checkbook

9)MAHATHIR:
You know, I am tired of all this..'apa-nama'
chicken-chicken bisnes....the foreign powers
should stop intervening in our domestic affairs and just
leave our! chickens alone..... if they want to...'apa
nama' cross the road, they should be allowed to
cross the road.. Malaysia is a democratic country,we let
our chickens do whatever they want to do....

10)ABDULLAH BADAWI:
Ini semua adalah khabar angin sahaja...jangan
percaya khabar-khabar angin ini semua...biasalah ini adalah
taktik pembangkang untuk memecah belahkan
perpaduan ayam-ayam semua...jangan percaya..jangan
percaya....

11)SAMY VELLU :
ayyooyoo...belakang cerita lain kali, kita sude bikin
banyak jembatan, itu ayam musti guna jembatan
untu lintas itu jalan lagi pun kalu itu ayam mau pigi
jalan-jalan,beritau sama saya juga, saya bolley
buat lebbey banyak toll........

12)BILL CLINTON :
I've had so many chicks, I can't remember ....

13)GEORGE BUSH :
We must protect our chickens at all cost from the
tirriny and terrorism. There are those factions who
would like to see us back down from proctecting
our chick! ens from possibles form of attacks ....
may god bless all our chickens...

Who the Fuck Cares?

I stop blogging for a few days to concentrate on the real world, and everybody degenerate into monkeys.

I'm so fucking important. My presence alone ensures everybody has an IQ spike. I'm a natural intelligence booster. Better than cod liver oil. And I taste better too.

What the fuck is this xiaxue bullshit? Everywhere I turn is xiaxue this, xiaxue that. Who the fuck cares?

More apathy, people! More apathy!

If you haven't heard of xiaxue, go away now and wank yourself to sleep. I curse the day I opened Petalingstreet.org and found so many posts on fucking xiaxue. Where are the sex stories? Lame posts about eating tiramisu? About going to IKEA, MNG, Zara, Topshop, Topmen as if they went to the fucking Taj Mahal?

And American wannabes gushing over the stuff they have over there. We're here. Halfway across the world with people getting buttfucked everyday and you write about American revolutions?

Wake up, bitch. Get your own.

Where's the usual shit about why you blog? Hey, I want to hear about why you blog, right now. C'mon, stupid ass monkey. I am really interested in people talking about what they're doing.

Blogging about blogging is like talking about talking.

Idiot: Hey, you know why I talk? I talk because I HAVE AN OPINION. I really do. And I talk and I talk, and these vocal chords are no good cause the layout's all screwy. I'm changing to talking through my butt cause I can make more deep-throated sounds.

Me: Ass.

Idiot: Hey, you know what I'm doing now? I'm walking! Waalllking. I'm waaaaalllkingg. Oh, oh! I trip over a pebble and I fall! I fall! I'm falling down! Faaalllling downnn. And I'm on the ground - and I get up - and I'm wallllkiiiiingg. I'm walllkinnngggg.....

Real gripping stuff, asshole. Who needs TV?

Anyway, this xiaxue bitch, she wrote about how handicapped people should fuck off and let other people use toilets for the disabled.

Xiaxue said:

My brother went to the toilet, and he said that he was behind walking behind this man who also wanted to use the loo.

The man stopped at the handicapped toilet instead of the normal male toilet, because well...

1) it is nearer afterall
2) maybe he shares my love for handicapped toilets because they are so freaking spacious and usually has your own mirror and wash basin! Coolness!

He was really damn fucking suay coz he pulled open the toilet door, and, believe it or not, there was really a handicapped person inside.

A male handicapped person, who was using the toilet.

Holy shit! 'There was a real handicapped person inside' a real toilet for the handicapped? Discovery of the year, bitch.

It's like saying, "I went to Germany and you know what I found? Fucking Germans! They were all over the place!"

That has got to be one of the dumbest observations ever made by mankind on this plane or the next.

And then there was:

I don't know what the fuck is this person's problem, but he shouted at the innocent man who opened his door:

"You come inside here for what, you are not even handicapped!" and etc scoldings.

Woah, woah! HOLD ON DUDE. You mean only handicapped people can use handicapped toilets?

If I was that handicapped man, I'd have gone over there and kicked the other guy's ass. And flush his head down the toilet like the good example shown in Frank Miller's Sin City comic books for children.

You DON'T bother another man while he's talking a leak. Unless you want a mouthful of urine, in which case, you're a sick motherfucker and should go to Amsterdam.

And about whether or not 'only handicapped people can use handicapped toilets', I must ask this: What the hell is a 'handicapped toilet'?

Does it have a faulty flush lever? Is it missing a lid? Does the float leak? Or is the piping connected the other way around so that every time you flush, shit comes out of the tank?

Okay, xiaxue. Go and use all the fucking handicapped toilets you find. I think handicapped people who are smart enough to use their wheelchairs, crutches, cane or dogs also have enough brainpower to use fuly-functioning toilets for the disabled instead.

After that there was a deluge of posts everywhere about xiaxue and her damn fucking toilet. As usual, in the beginning, people will get mad. And then those-who-want-to-be-different went the other way and sided with xiaxue.

TOTAL FUCKING HERD MENTALITY. Both ways.

And then the development turned to Kimberlycun. She went on a campaign to 'boycott products endorsed by BAD models of society'.

This was because xiaxue was endorsed by some fashion, make up and hair products.

They're lame cause they endorsed a fucking blogger. Who the fuck cares about what a blogger wears? I went to xiaxue's site cause I heard (too late) that there were pictures of tits and ass of some chick.

Do you think I will wear make up because I went to a fucking blog? Okay, where's my tawny dipstick, I mean, lipstick? My neon-magenta eye-shadow? I need to paint a face on my ass. And give my buttcheeks some blush.

Here's some news for all marketing execs out there:

All bloggers are men. There are no girls in cyberspace.

I'm a man. Peter Tan is a man. Xiaxue is a man. Kimberlycun is a man.

Those last two just put pictures of their sisters or nieces on the Internet to fool everyone. Just like IRC, remember? There were NO WOMEN in chatrooms and there are NO WOMEN in blogs or any other place on the Internet.

It's a myth.

Plus, no blogger should be endorsed because they would develop high self-esteem. In other words, they become as arrogant as I am.

So this campaign is a TOTAL WASTE OF TIME because no one is going to use the products anyway since we are all men.

Oh, Peter Tan wrote to the companies. What good did that do? Xiaxue writing that people should use toilets for the disabled doesn't mean that everyone is going to do that and deprive you or anyone else of the toilets.

People are not that stupid.

Oh, wait a minute. People ARE stupid. They're going to use the toilets anyway. And not flush.

Write away then. Campaign away. It's not going to do a damn thing to change idiots. My suggestion is to carry a hammer with you. Any time you see some dipshit enter a toilet, handicapped or otherwise, just bust his kneecaps. One less idiot who could walk and talk about himself walking.

Anyway, xiaxue said something else about handicapped people:

AND I HAVE NEVER HARMED ANYONE BEFORE, LESS SEEN A HANDICAPPED PERSON AROUND.

When she saw Peter Tan's pictures on the Internet, she must have gone like, "What the fuck? I thought they didn't exist! I only read about them in books. And he's got that Patrick Tse thing going on."

So now xiaxue lost some of her endorsements. And she's bitching about it. Who the fuck cares?

This has all been a major waste of time. And you're all idiots.

Dr. M Kicks Ass

Dr M is the manliest of men. He's the anthropomorphic personification of balls and brains. The izznitch to the schizznitch.

He did a good job pimping this country and didn't take any shit from anybody.

Say something stupid? BAM! He'll reach for your shrunken testicles and stuff it down your throat.

Kiss some IMF ass? Run your mouth? Say goodbye to a reasonable diameter to your asshole, bitch.

Dr M turned back time for Malaysia and rearranged it so we have one time only. One of the few men on the planet strong enough to bend the meridian line with his bare hands.

He invented the mist fans so that yuppies could drink coffee on the streets. Opened up the whole industry of overpriced beverages.

People always told Dr M he couldn't do things. You know what? He did it anyway.

In your face.

Loser: We can't make cars because Malays can't even manufacture needles. We can't do jack shit cause we're stupid. Boo hoo hoo. Whine whine whine.

Bam! A multibillion-dollar car industry up your ass, sucker.

By the way, who the fuck wants to make needles anyway? Does Malaysia look like a drug addict country?

Loser: Owhhh! We're all gonna die cause it's an Asian economic crisis. We need help cause we can't do it ourselves. Help, IMF! Help! Take our businesses, take our insurance cause we're all dipshits.

Bam! Dr M pegged the ringgit. We weathered the financial storm and people who said he was stupid back then came down on all fours and kissed his buttcheeks and tongued his rectum.

In your face, fuckers!

And then there was the Anwar case.

CNBC: Why did you fire your deputy, Anwar?

Dr M: I didn't fire him. He was arrested by the police. No one is above the law. Are you saying that he should be let off just because he's the deputy?

CNBC: Ermm...ahhh...shit...so how's Vision 2020?

Dr M: 1, Haters: 0.

You can't say anything bad to the guy cause he'll tai-chi your ass back to Timbuktu.

Sure, sloganeering was a bad idea - cause Malaysians suck at making slogans - and KBSM and KBSR, and making Negaraku faster.

I don't know about corruption, healthcare or whatever shit cause I don't do bribes below five billion euros and have only been to hospitals twice this year.

Love him or hate him, though, agree or disagree on what he did; whatever political alignment you adhere to, you can't deny that he's hyper-smart and he's been kicking ass since 1981.

Fact of the matter is, I'd rather have a smart man lead the country than a dipshit like any one of you. At least I know I got my money's worth.

Politics? I don't do politics. Voting and campaigning and parties and all that shit.

I know one thing, though.

Dr M eats politicians for breakfast with his tai-chi hip-hop.

First time he got into a UN assembly, he raised the roof.

DrM:

Listen up,
Listen up!
You hypocrites
Can just suck Boris Yeltin's clit
Lick Madeline Allbright's slit
Oops, sorry.
They're getting busy over there in the pit
Mashing tits, exchanging vaginal spit

Dr M in the house
Rippin' George Bush's blouse
Spraying him with de-louse
I'm so smart -
People call me the new Faust
Spiegelman considering me for the next edition of Maus

Veto vote my ass
You just want money
While my Third World homeys
Reach critical mass

Fuck it, give it up, BBG!

Boutrous-Boutrous Ghali:

Tkprrr, tkprrr, tkprrrrr,
Pfftkkrrr, pfftkkrrr pfftkkrrr.
Schkpoom, schkpoom, schkpoom,
Order in the house
All hail Dr Maus!

Al Gore:

Yo, Yo, AG in the house, y'all.
Yo.
...emmm...
I'm a cranky old...yank,
In a clanky old tank,
On the streets of Yokohama
With my erm... Honolulu mama
Singin' those ahhh..beat-o, beat-o
Flat on my lap-o, lap-o
Hirohito Blues!

Benjamin Netanyahu: What the fuck was that?

That's just the title of a song, you stupid shit!

And Dr M said...

DrM:

You wanna fuck me like an animal!
You like to burn me on the inside!
You like to think I am a stupid schmuck!
Know that nothing you do will turn my country on me.

And he was just warming up.

How to do an Emo Death Rant?

The Symphony of Memories: A new way to live!

Being alive and bitching about it is the latest trend spreading across the globe fifteen years ago. Apparently, it is so much fun to be seen as alienated, detached, pseudo-intellectual, vague and stupid.

You can find semi-poems of despair in websites, blogs or any other spaces for 'personal' reflection.

Here's an example of the patterns you can find in these places.

I

am

in

darkness.

My essence, my soul, my being, my ass,

spiralling down the large intestinal tract of life.

I'm a floating piece of shit in the toilet of limbo. Flushed down into the septic tank of hell.

Boo hoo hoo. I am not a rock star. Boo hoo hoo.

Pain. Suffering. Woe is me. Woe. Woe. Woe. Woooouuuuuuuuuuu! Arouuuuu!!! Arouuuuuuuu!

Suffer. Life. Suffocation. Suffer-cation. Masturbation. Alone. Depressed. Sigh.

My life sucks so! Oh, I suck dick every day!

I get butt-fucked by a dog and he never wrote back. Doesn't anyone like me? Arf! Arf!

Awwww..I'm so depressed. I need sympathy. Or maybe just aromatherapy. It's so expensive! The world is ending!

I broke my nail! Life is not fair! Arggghhh! Crycrycrycrycry.

Screw reality. Imaginary pain is what everybody wants.