for men too lazy to even pleasure themselves... introducing
another innovative Japanese product
drawing penises on faces
two reasons for me to feel depressed: Singaporean women think that local guys are bodohsexual, and that
so many singles are getting it but unfortunately not me. Even sadder: 'most prefer doing something else'... how are we going to move up the ladder in the Durex survey?
Gollum rap
Nazi and East German
propaganda
The results of Durex's annual global sex survey came out a few days ago; lo and behold Singapore props up the ranking for sexual activeness. think we haven't been out of the bottom three since...ever. the government must be really disappointed, though thankfully we haven't managed too badly for satisfaction- quality over quantity is the mantra i suppose. As a matter of fact i'm more than willing to stand forth and single-handedly increase the frequency mean rating, to bolster national pride.
On a more speculative vein, many point to everyday stress and long working hours as the main culprits of our lack of sexual activity. Well there is no reason to believe Singapore has the busiest people or the most physically and mentally sapping lifestyle among working adults in the world. Horniness shouldn't have a greater variance among given populations of nations than individuals and is hence controlled for in this study. By thinking out of the box, i've postulated several reasons to account for this phenomenon:
1. Singaporeans are generally sexually unappealing: unfair to generalize but might have some kernel of truth to it. i can't imagine screwing 95% of the females i see, and moreover my sample population consists of nubile undergrads.
2. There is too little privacy/too few places to make out: applies more to unmarried people still living with their parents
3. The warm and humid climate reduces urges: sweaty sex isn't for everyone, still air-conditioning is prevalent here
4. Since the limiting factor to sex is usually the female gender, our womenfolk are to blame: but why don't they less inclined to fuck? our unattractive men or their weird attitudes?
5. Lack of pornography and arousing images in everyday life: maybe, but smut isn't hard to access on the web
6. The long tropical day/short nights: ermm...?
7. Singaporeans actually get a lot of action, they simply distorted the figures in the survey for various reasons, or the corollary that many people from other countries are exaggerating: a big probable factor, self-reports are inherently unreliable
8. Prevalence of chronic headaches among Singapore women: and the cause? annoying men in their lives?
9. Singapore men don't insist when their partners aren't in the mood cos they are generally nice guys: may account for the healthy level of satisfaction
10. Anal and oral sex isn't considered intercourse by Singaporeans, or they cover up/play down the figures cos it's illegal: a little maybe...
magic shadow
celebrity plastic surgery
a lot has been written about Frederico Fellini's masterpiece
La Dolce Vita. having watched it a couple of days back for the first time, what had the greatest emotional impact on me and ultimately set me thinking afterward was Steiner's suicide. i discern the vivid Christian symbolism, realise the potential of the film as a Dantesque allegory and such, but the Steiner episode intrigues me the most cos somehow i feel that his fate is tied up with mine in some strange affinity. More precisely, i see myself as being stuck at the crossroads between the deadly path Steiner took and Marcello's descent into decadence and painful detachment, though granted that my personality doesn't have the same extreme dimensions which these two gentlemen had. or to quote Steiner, "I'm too serious to be an amateur, and not serious enough to be a professional". Nihilism doesn't have the same appeal it once had to me, but intellectual elitism in either a deconstructionistic or classical milieu has always struck as being 'mental masturbation', in the words of Alvy Singer. And i'm ill suited for cultivated decadence and/or degeneration. That a man with a beautiful wife and two lovely kids would tragically end his life- and that of his children, leaving the wife to despair in the hell that is the Eternal City, illustrates the anxiety which i might one day have to face should i choose the path that currently lies before me, a path i continue to resist embarking on.
The Horniest Apes on Earth
Ladies and their cocks
Origins of phrases, sayings, terms and cliches
What's more torturous than hair removal? Listening to five females talk about hair removal for 30 minutes, weight loss for another ten... i excused myself before they could complete the sacred triumvirate of feminine beauty with a discussion on bust enhancement. Why didn't i leave earlier then? well, it was highly informative i have to admit. wanted to ask them if they shaved their pubic regions and buttcracks but i prudently held my tongue; i still have a project to complete with them, though i have little doubt that they would have quite unabashedly satisfied my curiosity.
some people simply dislike
David Blaine
Hitler or Shitler?
Cheesy monophonic ringtones on MRT trains were bad enough, now there are chessy polyphonic ringtones on MRT trains to take our collective irritation to a higher level. there are many things to do while commuting by MRT that do not overtly infringe on others: people-watching, fantasizing, deliberate fidgeting... (not necessarily in that order); listening to ALL the ringtones one has stored on the handphone is not one of them. Do we really need to know that you've somehow managed to download the Brady Bunch theme song as a polyphonic ringtone? i can envision an absurdist-theatre situation whereby everybody's phones starts ringing spontaneously on the train, and these are coordinated such that
The Marriage of Figaro is played as a whole. while on the subject of MRT trains, i'm reminded of a joke that goes like this:
Life in Singapore must be really hectic and stressful; the other day i was on a train where the driver was stopped by the traffic police for overtaking.
actually the joke is 70% original. kindly ask for permission if you intend to incorporate it into your stand-up comedy act, a request i'm unlikely to acquiesce.
up to my neck with work...sorry if posting frequency is erratic
Project Censored
Stealth Disco
world and regional rankings (from pollution to beautiful women)
For the umpteenth time, someone has commented that i 'look familiar', often preceded by a question attempting to ascertain if i belonged to a given organization, e.g. were you from Anal-fixated Anonymous? it's upsetting; nobody would ever say that a Takeshi Kaneshiro-lookalike seems familiar, unless it's a pickup line. a Sri Lankan student new to this country duly informs me that i look familiar, an exchange student from China says my face is distinctly recognizable, i head to Taiwan for a short trip and a lady selling beef noodles maintains that she's seen me before several times, the list goes on ad infinitum. Inexplicable, this.
(you know why? you remind people of Oscar the Grouch- Ed.)
Graffiti in the men's restroom stalls in my university (like most other places) usually revolves around blowjobs. there are hidden gems though if one examines the scribblings closely enough; as i often do cos there's little else to occupy oneself while shitting. Here are some i still remember:
Just one month in and i feel like signing on with the army
i hate vandalism
Women are slaves to love (beneath it) Women are slaves to my cock
Willing to exchange good grades for a good fuck
Oh mommy, i have diarrhoea.
My semen smells nice, for a sample call !@#$$%$% (beneath it) Mt shit smells better, for a sample call *&&^^%$$
(insert female name) is a bitch, she likes screwing dogs
Another C and i'll hang myself here
has it been confirmed? where do we mere mortals go from here, without their spiritual guidance? the emotional trauma, the spiteful backlash.... the making of the
Biggest News Story of 2003
palindromes, lots of 'em
Netherworld Economics (by lzy.data)
(published without the author's permission; incomplete)
What if the remittance system did work, that the money is directed to your deceased ancestors & relatives in the netherworld? Not only money, but occasionally paper houses, cars, gifts etc. - would such property similarly be directed to the person it's meant for? Has the netherworld government set up some kind of bureaucracy to match gifts with people, so that there aren't any mix-ups? These officials must have some kind of method to "see" who's burning the gifts, & pay close attention to who they mean to give it to - either they have the ability to traverse between the mortal realm & the netherworld, or they have some counterpart agency over here with the responsibility of monitoring these proceedings.
So we see that without any kind of central bureaucracy to handle the remittance system, & perhaps some kind of consumer rights protection in their justice system to address grievances should they arise, the netherworld would be in utter economic chaos & internecine conflict - those gifts are for me! no for me! etc. We have our first deduction already: The netherworld government plays a pretty strong role in its economy. Whether it's collectivist or Keynesian or anything, we can't tell with this limited information, but I consider the first deduction quite an achievement, considering we're starting with literally next to no first-hand information.
I thought of pursuing a corollary to the idea of gift remittance by showing that the netherworld must necessarily have unlimited expanse because the gifts accumulate every year, & they & the netherworld inhabitants whom they're meant for don't exactly go anywhere. They can't "burn" anything for anyone, for instance. But I think that would be more in the realm of metaphysics - after all, one could postulate instead that these gifts, & the people who receive them, don't physically exist in any sense, so asking how much space they need is the categorically wrong question, like asking "what colour is 5?" (To that I will respond, then why do we expect that the netherworlders can make use of these gifts, since after all you can't make use of a house unless you live in it, or a car unless you drive it, but never mind.)
There's also the knotty question of exactly why & how matter &/or information is transferred from our mortal realm to the netherworld when someone over here burns something for someone who's dead. So I'll abandon that line of thought for now - I'm trying to keep to the economics.
The remittance system is not the only thing we can ask about the economics of our "model" of the netherworld (constructed from indirect empirical observation). We can ask whether scarcity exists in the netherworld. We presume there are no resources native to the netherworld, short of the people who end up there, of course. The information about this is sparse, since necessarily we have no accounts from anyone who has been there & literally lived to report his/her findings (perhaps the holy texts or scriptures have something on this). A further possibility: the netherworlders make use of resources remitted from our world to offer goods & services. Perhaps a simple bartering system might have kickstarted the whole thing, when Mr. A saw that his relatives had been generous enough to burn him two houses, & decided to exchange one of them with Mr. B's spiffy new Porsche (or whatever the paper equivalent is).
This would obviously be quite a strange situation in that the basic resources are pre-made goods. It's hard to imagine how the netherworlders would, say, make renovations on their houses, or replace worn-out tyres, if all they had were complete houses & cars. (I gather no one yet has been perceptive enough to make paper carpentry & mechanical tools, or spare parts, & burn them for the netherworlders.) That's one of the areas where netherworld microeconomics will be decidedly different from the mortal version - perhaps simpler, because there are a limited set of goods on hand, & limited ways in which they can be exchanged.
The situation with services is more murky. Besides the first deduction of the remittance system bureaucracy, we don't have much to go along with. What kind of services are offered must depend on whether the netherworlders in fact need to do anything to... well, carry on existing (I almost said stay alive). Since it's assumed they don't have bodily needs like we mortals do, perhaps they could just sit around all day long. But with a human past, I presume even the biggest sloth would soon get tired of such a dull "life". Perhaps they have what we term as "higher-order" services, like tourism & entertainment. Or even... financial services! But it would take an economist's mind to suggest what types - I have no knowledge of these things.
We finally get to the question that started this all: monetary & asset hyperinflation. It doesn't take a genius, or a B.A. majoring in Econs, to see that if every year, heaps of paper money & scores of paper assets are remitted to the netherworld, not only would they have a problem with space & distribution, they would soon find that the value of the currency & goods depreciating. The netherworld would potentially have never-ending crises of hyperinflation, & the government probably has to chop off 5 or 6 zeroes every Seventh Month. Are there other strategies they might adopt to ease the problem? A related issue: the currency that's remitted are of different types & printing, yet they are all presumably legal tender in the netherworld. Does the government impound the original remitted currency & substitute it for a standardised version? Of course if you postulate that actually the King of Hades can just snap his fingers to adjust such monetary confusion, then you have wished these puzzles away.
The asset hyperinflation, or excess, is more problematic. There are inequalities of wealth amongst netherworlders relative to the inequalities amongst their descendants on earth, because if you're less well-to-do, then it's likely your family will not have too many gifts & money to burn for you. (We'll assume every netherworlder is well-liked enough to have their families burn stuff for them - one of the simplifying assumptions economists have to make.) Will these wealth inequalities persist perpetually? Remember, folks, forever is a long time. Besides, you might think that those folks on earth who go over-the-top & burn huge houses & heaps of money believe that they might give their netherworldly ancestor an advantage over his peers (or they could be just doing it to show off in front of their mortal peers - we'll put that possibility aside). I'm just concerned about how assets would be distributed, & what prospects there are of actually lessening inequalities, as opposed to just believing (blindly) that they will if you decide to make a big show of it.
There is also another puzzle: if all this money is getting remitted to netherworlders, literally tons of it, what are the mortals thinking the money will be used for? Perhaps the demand for houses & other assets really vastly outstrips the supply of excess ones, & bidding goes to astronomical levels, so the tons of money will come in handy. But can this hold true for the limited set of goods that netherworlders receive? Perhaps it's time to revise our previous assumption about there being no resources, & no "native" goods & services, in the netherworld. Unfortunately, there is much less information on that from which to go further in exploring the question.
if you ask me, the Chinese traditional conception of hell is more cruel than that of Dante's Inferno; scrupulously managed by a sprawling bureaucracy of Confucian civil servants, popular mythical creatures and quasi-historical figures (i won't go into details about them).
FYI: It has ten departments, also called "earth prisons," named according to the mode of punishment employed in them. There is a presiding judge, who decides in hades or the place into which the wicked go just after death, in regard to the prison which each is to enter. Flogging, bastinadoing, transportation, banishment, and death are the five punishments which are borne in this life; hell, hungry demons, and the state of brutes, are three ways of suffering after death. The ten kings of hell have each a hell in which to punish those who are condemned to them:"
1.The hell in which are hills stuck full of knives.
2.The hell which has an iron boiler filled with scalding water.
3.The hell of cold ice.
4.The hell of trees stuck full of swords.
5.The hell where men's tongues are plucked out, as a punishment for the sins of the tongue.
6.The hell of poisoned serpents.
7.The hell of cutting and grinding to pieces.
8.The hell of sawing into pieces.
9.The hell with iron beds.
10.The hell of blackness and darkness.
Besides those above named there are many others. For instance, those who killed pigs and dogs will be torn to pieces by pigs and dogs.
if i'm not misinformed, this view only emerged after the influx of Buddhism in the chaotic Northern and Southern Dynasties period, more precisely it was Mahayana (Greater Vehicle) Buddhism the Chinese took to their hearts as it was more compatible with popular superstition and Taoist doctrine. The amalgamation is startling, especially so since it is transmitted to this day. Confucian mandarins administrating a Legalist regime under absolutist monarchs, assisted by Taoism-espousing minions of Indian, Central Asian and Chinese origins, under an overarching Buddhist structure.
more brilliant poetry...
(seen in a toilet cubicle)
If you miss
when you piss,
Be cool and wipe the pool.
If you shit
and dun hit,
Clean it
before others sit.
somebody appears to be
very concerned with penis enhancement pills, so much so that it even frightens me.
Enter the Sandwich
read something Roger Ebert wrote in a review of
Amadeus (Director's Cut) that made me smile in light of the ongoing issue of censorship in Singapore:
The one brief scene of Constanze's breasts, in medium-long shot, has inspired the flywheels at the MPAA to re-rate the movie R from its original PG. Thus high school students are discouraged from seeing this movie. Our rating system is held hostage by sick crypto-moralists. Surely PG-13 would have been adequate to advise parents of this scene, while acknowledging that anyone over 13 in America who is alarmed by the simple sight of a woman's breasts is in need of counseling (I include our attorney general).
Well put.
the pitiful city soul, ravaged incessantly by the drab asperity that is modern life, seeks solace in the
timeless beauty of words... i'm quite an aspiring poet myself, incalculably influenced by luminaries such as Walt Whitman and W.H Auden. Cao Zhi may have composed a poem in seven steps, but i didn't take me more than two minutes to pen the sublime verse below.
A cat sat on a hat.
The hat laid on a mat.
What a sight,
it was to me,
I jumped straight up in glee!
i assure you my Chinese poetry is considerably better than this. in fact one of my poems is so memorable some of my friends can still recite it to this day, six years after it was first written.
insultingly stupid movie physics
Overheard in school:
'...thought Mars was a star?'
'No lah, it's a planet'
'Then what's the Moon?'
'think it's a satellite'
'Satellite? What's the difference between a satellite and a planet?'
'You'll have to ask --- about that, i'm not too sure about that'
Global Rich List
Rap dictionary
Some innovative chap has been, or probably still is, using the witch scene from
Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which i watched not too long ago, to teach programming. i've plucked a synopsis directly from the website and reproduced it unfaithfully (i.e. with some modifications) below.
A group of village idiot types are attempting burn a woman that they claim to be a witch. Sir Bedevere arrives on the scene, and asks them why. They first claim that she looks like a witch - and she points out that they dressed her up. They grudgingly admit this, and then make some more outrageous claims (one says that she turned him into a newt - though he later 'got better'). Sir Bedevere then talks them through the 'logic' for checking that she is a witch - and after some false turns and lots of dim stares, they come to the following basic conclusions.
Witches Burn: This one is fair enough - though the villagers suggest trying to actually burn her as way of testing this.
Wood Burns: Hence witches are made of wood. How do you check that she is made of wood? Try building a bridge out of her, one suggests - but Bedevere points out that you can also make bridges from stone.
Wood Floats: Bedevere gently leads them to this point, and asks them if they know anything else that floats.
Ducks Float: They actually have a lot of trouble thinking of something else that floats - and it is Arthur, who has just arrived on the scene, who says: 'A Duck!' (stunned amazement and dramatic music.)
Therefore... The logic goes: that if she weighs the same as a duck, she's a witch and they can burn her. So they put her on a set of scales with a duck, and lo and behold she does weigh the same (there's empirical verification after all). The lady on trial mutters 'it's a fair cop' while she's taken away, to be part of a nice little bonfire presumably.
the logic is impeccable!
in a Simpsons Halloween special episode, a witch trial is also depicted, though the logic employed in that scenario wouldn't be too far divorced from that used in the historical ones.
Test: pushing the defendant off a cliff
if guilty, she will naturally resort to sorcery and fly off in a broomstick
if innocent, well.... mistakes do happen
on a similar vein, you might want to visit
this site
Strange Fruit --- Billie Holliday
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
latest Korean fad (no, not pubic hair implants this time)
i shat in my pants
The past few posts have been shockingly shallow, i readily acknowledge that. i promise something more cerebral next time.
mentioned offhandedly to my good friend that the last female to enter my hostel room did so because she'd wanted me to tutor her; though i must admit i had a shower prior to that since no one can predict how things may unravel and take on a life of their own, despairingly just beyond the control of those involved. My friend suggested that the next time some dumb female visits me for free tuition, i should drop my pants and insouciantly inform her that my brain, by some anatomical anomaly, actually resides in my penis. She would have to suck out the grey matter, which understandably is the substrate for the relevant knowledge, from my now-engorged (with wisdom) organ and swallow it for maximum effect. since my fountain of erudition can regretably only yield a small amount every session, she would have to come back for regular consultations. My, the closer the friend, the better the suggestions.
also reminds me of a game (which i somehow didn't get to play) whereby a blindfolded female would have to eat an entire banana placed strategically between a guy's legs, right smack in the groin. The (lucky, that is if she doesn't miss her bites) guy would guide the girl's head by moaning uhhhh (for go left), aaahhh (for go right) and yeaahh (for move forward).
Nerd Gym, absolutely adore the section 'Digital Love'
Speech Accent Archive
A man has got to make choices in life, he defines himself by this existential exercise. Quite simply: Viagra, Cialis or Levitra
Have my female peers grown up or are those encountered in my JC life deviations from the norm? like most complex psycho-social issues, the truth is probably somewhere in between. nowadays they take me and my antics in their stride, or at least with a minimum amount of fuss. For one, i can loudly declare statements like 'Oh i'm feeling
really horny!' (i'm prone to such uncontrolled outbursts every now and then when i'm a high) in the midst of respectable ladies (which i sincerely hope they are), and they respond with smiles and understanding faces. Four years ago, the girls would have looked at me with peripheral vision as if i were an oozing sore, their faces creasing and crinkling in unequivocal disgust.
during tutorial, the professor (who was a regal-looking lady in the late-fourties) stated matter-of-factly that we should 'turn off our handphones, pagers and vibrators'. The class burst into fits of giggles. None of the (very few) guys even cracked a knowing grin; in fact our deadpanned expressions were indicative of hearing nothing any more out-of-the-ordinary than the announcement of a weather report; neither did our professor. i couldn't read her emotions, either she was innocently ignorant or it was a Freudian slip cos her husband was away for a while on a business trip or needed some of the medication mentioned above, that she was hiding her embarrassment very well. i've no idea why none of the guys laughed while the females were so bloody amused that a few of them were choking on their saliva. it's almost as if they are experiencing a collective awakening in their close encounters of the naughty kind (there have been many other incidents to support my view, but i shan't elaborate). Disturbing, you know.... yet titillatingly exciting.
The Course
Healthy Penis vs Phil the Sore
a tale of intrigue, a tale of
betrayal... it is the latest blockbuster to hit our shores: Members of the Parliament: The Curse of the CPF Cuts
Pubic hair transplants. Does it mean that in Korea when guys proudly bring their girlfriends home to visit their mothers, pubic hair inspections are conducted? this reminds me of the photos of Victorian prostitutes with their legs spread apart that i've somehow managed to see. The forestation in the nether regions was dense enough to conceal an elephant. Before i proceed, let's think of fun things to do with Major League pubic hair (i think it's pretty apparent that the Editor is not around at the moment).
1. Braid it
2. Style it so that it looks like a woolly mammoth (guys only)
3. Dye it different colours, preferably in national colours
4. Transplant it to your head or above the upper lip (look ma, i've got pubic lice in my moustache!)
5. Leave some of it sticking out from the zipper of your pants
6. Walk around in a thong
7. Go on Guinness World Records Primetime/Ripley's
8. Gel it so that it sticks up like a porcupine
9. Flaunt it to the gorillas/chimpanzees at the zoo
10. Play Treasure Hunt
where was i? ok, anyway i wonder if the pics of the Victorian sex workers served as a form of erotica or social commentary. if the former is true, it certainly raises some questions over the possible sexual fetishes of men from that era. Did they delight in the enthralling game of delayed sexual gratification in locating the Cave of Wonders amidst the rainforest? Weren't they concerned with the problem of hygiene, i mean it would be a little unnerving to see beetles (ok i exaggerate... a little) crawling up one's phallus wouldn't it? Or was it inextricably part of the fun?
God Save The Queen
kissing school
our project group (well actually project groups are formed for every module i'm taking) had one member too many and we had to undertake the grim task of axing someone. since everyone, except for a solitary female, had known each other pretty well prior to this, the least painful (and blindingly obvious) choice was the poor girl. Actually the decision to do so was made without her knowledge initially and somebody had to break the news to her.
Me: Tough job man, it's almost like initiating a break-up.
My comment gave the others the (wrong) impression that i had a wealth of experience in ditching girls
(Ed.: are you sure?), and the bleak assignment landed heavily on my frail shoulders.
Before i could even utter a word, the girl looked at me with mournful eyes, betraying the perfunctory smile.
'You guys are going to drop me right?'
Darn, she's pretty!
Suddenly i was motivated to resolve the issue without her expulsion (i don't even know why we came to that ridiculous decision. she improves the scenery). i went around the mountain, beating the proverbial bush, regarding her question, ultimately giving her an ambiguous explanation of the situation.
Anyway, i went to the professor and he finally relented into allowing my group to stand unscathed. My conclusion from this episode? i'm never gonna be able to dump someone in future.
(Ed.: Actually it shows that you're weak and unable to escape from the clutches of females)
Today's Teachers' Day. To all my teachers who couldn't be bothered to hide their lack of enthusiasm, looked down on the academically less-advanced students, imparted faulty knowledge, tried to convert us to their dogma (including the proselytization of their religion), stifled our creative impulses, stultified dissenting voices, displayed blatant partiality towards favoured students, commited verbal abuse and generally made any of their students' life a living hell, i would like to say a big FUCK YOU. Happy Teachers' Day!
