Sugar is bad for you so let's raise its price

The funny thing about the government's latest proposal to do away with sugar subsidies (over RM720 million a year to maintain the price of coarse sugar at RM1.45 per kilo) is that it was something i had expected after reading the news not less than a month ago, that former Sugar King Robert Kuok's Perlis Plantations Berhad had disposed off all its sugar making business/lands in Malaysia to Felda. I thought at the time that the government must SURELY let go of sugar price controls and let Felda raise the price of sugar. Otherwise, how was Felda going to make its sugar-making business profitable? After decades of controlling the price of the sweet stuff and not budging to even allow sugar manufacturers to raise prices by a lousy 5 sen, as soon as Felda gets into the sugar business the government gives the green light to raise prices all for the sake of our GOOD HEALTH. Now that the sugar business is in the hands of its offshoot Felda, the government will bend over backwards to accomodate them. For years and years sugar manufaturers' pleas to the government to allow them to raise sugar prices fell on deaf ears. But now, lo and behold, it is decreed that sugar is bad for our health hence raising prices will force Malaysians to consume less sugar. They even got the Consumer's Association of Penang people to come out in support of this proposition. Baloney. This is about the same kind of reasoning as the imposition of a RM50 service tax on credit cards to stop allegedly irresponsible/profligate spending amongst Malaysians. It is now confirmed by those in the credit card business that the RM50 service charge on credit cards will have NO EFFECT whatsoever on the volume and value of credit card transactions. Wither the government's justification for all these plain bullshit, scraping-the-bottom-of the-barrel-for money, desperado policies? You want money, go ahead and say it out loud. You need the money to waste on your hopelessly inefficient projects, to pay off your party warlords, to pay whomever has a hold on your scrawny little necks which i am sure lots of people do, judging by your lousy record and administration.
You need money cos it is never enough to pay off the trail of errors you are leaving behind with each mistake that you make. You need lots of money to stay in power. You're a bottomless greed pit for money which will never be enough for you to waste. Your shit don't stink but the money will cover the smell long enough for you to move elsewhere for your next dump. Good for our health indeed.

Cold Hard Cash is like PURE OXYGEN

Everybody is hungry for liquidity and there is not one banker/financial planner/insurance agent/unit trust manager/salesman/living breathing human being who will say no to cash and isn't lying at the same time, no one in his sane mind will say no to cash, the love of money is the root of all evil but NO ONE will say NO to cash. Recently i read in our local papers that a couple was caught feeding cut-off dollar bills into the bank's automated teller deposit machine. Their modus operandi was to cut a genuine bill in half and paste the other half using a photocopy fake bill. That way the teller machine can't tell the difference and accepts the deposit. If you had RM100, you could double it and so on and so forth. They were busted. Then of course there are the usual assortment of robberies (legal and ilegal), purse-snatching, drilling holes in the wall to rob a pawnshop, all sorts of shennanigans people get up to just to lay their hands on the cash. We NEED cash to live, no less than we need oxygen to breath. We need it to eat, to house ourselves, to put our little ones through college, to give our selves a decent lifestyle, to buy a car, to buy that branded hangbag for your wife so her friends will not look down on her (or not), we need cash and we can never have enough of it. So how come a guy comes along and tells us that love of cash is contrary to Heaven (see: Jesus Christ). I mean, if i don't get the cash i suffer for the duration of my life in this world. And when i die, i get to go to heaven as my reward (IF). So does that make me happy? I dunno. But let's not get righteous and take a vow of poverty just yet cos there are so many other things that one wants that one wants to get and the only way to get it is by cold, hard CASH. Jesus died on the cross what, when he was in his early 30s? i'm 40 now and earning very little, too little. I need to find a way to make cash and i need it badly cos cash equals freedom to me and my little family. Cash means i can buy a decent roof over my head for my little one and my wife. Cash means i can be independent and not take shit from whomever or whoever. If this sound selfish, it is. It SUCKS not to have cash and i need a brain overhaul now to turn me into a money-making machine just like the other chinamen in town. Why should this chinaman be any different? Screw the righteous. EVERYTHING revolves around CASH. Don't let nobody ever tell you otherwise cos they're lying through their teeth. If i can make a product that sells like hotcakes, i'd get to work immediately. I love Jesus, but i don't think that Jesus and money are incompatible. Not unless Jesus himself appear before me like he appeared before Thomas and told me in person that it's all bullshit and i should just live gladly like a poor righteous slob and wait for my reward in the afterworld. But Jesus is not going to do that so i need to work real hard to make the cash so that my life will take on a semblance of reality i can live up to. I need to snap the hell out of my stupid head dreams and start living like a real man. A man who makes money. Oxygen, for my little one, for my wife, for me. I am now officially a money-whore and i love it, so help me God.

nigga PLEASE!

(left: picture of the Door guard hurling abuses at yours truly as i walked past monkey boy)

I don't understand a lot of the motherfucking stupid rules that some Malaysians seem to get the kick out of imposing on people. Like today, i went to a popular local mall that was undergoing renovation. they sealed off the normal middle entrances and to get in you have to walk a long way to the other entrance. so instead of wasting time i took the staff entrance which was conveniently located upfront near the parking place. Now, i am entering the mall and not leaving it. so why can't i just waltz in along with the other staff? But no, a stupid-ass nigga gotta call me out and abuse me. "Hello, Encik, Encik...hey #$@@$#!!!" etc and going apeshit. I just walked straight in and ignored the nigga. The nigga didn't get to stop me but it hurled some nasty abuses as i was walking past monkey boy. Hey door entrance guard boy, wtf? I can understand if you stop me for wanting to get out through the staff entrance. But going in to your lousy mall? Nigga please!!!! You stupid ass cheap ego trip nigga!

Where were you when Teresa Teng died?

I am munching on some yau char kwai (according to The Star newspaper this is called "Chinese Crullers" but nobody seems to be able to confirm this) washed down with a glass of black coffee as I write this: Where were you when Teresa Teng died? I suppose dead pop icons such as Sudirman to Malays, Andy Gibb to White people, Tupac Shakur to Black people, MGR to Tamil people are such a part of our psyche our collective consciousness if you will, that their demise leaves a gaping hole in our lives, a hole yet to be filled to this very day. And so I ask: Where were you when Teresa Teng died? As if you didn't know already and as a wiki search will show you, Teresa Teng died from a severe asthma attack while on holiday in Chiang Mai, Thailand at the age of 42 (43 by Chinese reckoning) on May 8, 1995. Sweet Teresa, the darling of millions, that mandarin song bird, was no more, rumored to have died in the arms of her froggy boyfriend. I was driving when the shocking news broke over the radio. I was crushed, along with millions of her adoring fans. I could not burn a joss stick to her name but my cd collection will forever remember her to me. To my dying day. Someday when we die, as we all must, we shall be re-united with our beloved songbird. Until that day happens, some of us will erect shrines in memory of beloved St Teresa, yes, her Sainthood shall shine a glorious path to enlighten/en-noble countless minds and lives. Remembering her hits such as "Tian Mi Mi", "The moonlight represents my heart", "the dumpling song" and so many many more evergreens. I can barely swallow my yau char kwai. I can now. So anyway, God bless you Teresa, my third love (after my mom and my dear wife). I bid you adieu, sweet princess :~(

the strange case of Dr Jekyll and Dato' V.K.Lingam

It's really strange how a lawyer can get himself into such a fix. That is, fixing judges. Why can't a lawyer spend his time and effort to research a case, fight it out on its merits and win? Or lose because of the principle of the matter? Why in God's name must one bribe/offer inducements/chicken-feed judges into giving judgments that one wants? The very thought is so loathsome to me. Does anyone else agree or am I the only one who feels that going the back door way to win cases just, uhm, how do i put it...just...sucks eggs? A lawyer by day (Dr Jekyll). A case fixer/manipulator/judicial appointments lobbyist monster by night. Be that as it may, lack of evidence or what, the whole affair reeks of a smallness that is very peculiar to Malaysia. I cannot speak for other countries, but these things are very apt to be done by Malaysians or rather it is not out-of-character for some Malaysians to resort to such low-handed tactics. Why is it necessary to do so? Is it because our judges are such immovable beasts, heedless of justice's tender mercies, non-followers of principle or law and so susceptible to monetary influence/gain arguably through no fault of theirs as their salaries are but a mere pittance? Lawyer/Dr Jekyll by day. Monster by night. I feel sorry not just for our poor citizens who go through due process of the law only to have fixed judges and fixed judgments thrown in their faces. I pity also Dato V K Lingam for succumbing to the temptation to take the easy way out which is the mess he finds himself in today. What a tortured soul must be Dato V K Lingam! How terrible the burden he bears! Is there any antidote to save him from the monster he has transformed into? Is there a magic potion to cure him of this horrible situation, to rescue him? I fear only more desperation, more groping about in the darkness. The Monster has taken over and it knows no bounds.

State visit to Malacca of His Majesty King Jaffee-Joffer of Zamunda

"I am King Jaffee-Joffer, ruler of Zamunda. I am looking for my son Akeem".

We are so pleased to welcome His Most Excellent Majesty, King Jaffee-Joffer of Zamunda (pic inset) to Malacca.
His Majesty shall drop by at the Baba House and the Kapitan Keling mosque followed by luncheon at McDowell's and thereafter journey on down to the southern borough of Singapore.
All donations of flower petals and adulations for His Majesty are welcomed.
His Majesty's visit to Malacca (fully escorted by an ensemble of VVIP police outriders) is occasioned by a telegraphic request for more money from his son Prince Akeem's aide Semi who currently resides in a fancy apartment somewhere in Malacca whilst Prince Akeem continues to occupy the modest, lower floor apartment unit poorly furnished and infested by vermin and dirt which they moved in soon after arriving and discarding off their princely robes to dress as the locals do.

Once an ex-smoker always an ex-smoker

I quit smoking cigarettes when i was in my late 20s. The habit started back when i had just finished secondary school in Singapore and i scored well in the exams and my head was all swelled-up. At the Junior College orientation night i bought a packet of menthol cigarettes to smoke afterwards. I had seen my cousin smoking and he looked cool so i thought it would also look good on me. But the girl i was with that night during orientation didn't think it was cool, cos after i started smoking and escorted her home, she turned around and told me she wasn't interested to see me any more. So much for macho guy cool image. But that didn't deter me. I went on to smoke at junior college with some pals especially when we cut the classes that we didn't like, such as maths or chemistry or physics class. There were about 3 or 4 of us regular guys and we always hung out at the playground nearby the college. we'd sit on a see saw, me on one end and Owen X or John Tong or Fadzil at the other end, smoke and talk and laugh. Then i came back to Malaysia after junior college and at a private college i smoked still. not very heavy, maybe a pack of 20 ciggies over a couple of days if i didn't go out much. I smoked in my first year at law school at KDU. i smoked when i went abroad to study in University in England, silk cuts was my favourites back then (i switched to Embassy brand later cos they were cheaper but i preferred silk cuts). When i came back to Malaysia i chose Dunhill lights and after graduation i smoked the same until after i started a job as a reporter. Then later i started smoking clove cigarettes from Indonesia, Saemporna brand, following a journalist expatriate pal's habit. i liked the sweet taste of clove cigarettes but they were high on tar and i coughed more than before. One day after everything was over and i was back in malacca with my non-smoking family, i decided that i wanted to quit for health reasons. i was starting to cough a lot and the phlegm i coughed up was light-brownish and thick. later an x-ray of my lungs showed a white spot where the years of smoking had taken their toll. And so i quit cold-turkey, drinking vodka (raided from my parent's drinks cabinet) at night to douse my craving for cigarettes. drinking vodka poached my liver as a blood and urine test showed later, but afterwards i kicked the drinking habit too. But today, almost 10 years after i have quit the ciggies sometimes i still feel that intense craving for that nutty, delicious flavor of a cigarette in my mouth. Some nights when i can't sleep and i lie awake in bed i get the craving for the taste. it just goes to show that once you've been a smoker, you're never a non-smoker even if you quit for good. you're an ex-smoker. i gained about 10 pounds after i quit the habit but the weight gain was worth it. i exercised hard and after a couple of months i regained my former physical fitness and felt much better. there was no more stale cigarette smell in my hair, my body, my clothes. but i am an ex-smoker not a non-smoker. having tasted ciggies, i can still remember the carnal pleasures of a deep long drag and the memory lingers somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, waiting to be retrieved and to play mistress temptress. It's a life-long struggle but one in which i grow stronger with each passing day that i stay ciggie-free. And i do intend to remain ciggie-free, despite that late night longing that crops up now and then like a bolt of lightning in the night.