Must...Know....Who...Hot...Girl Is... fapfapfapfap

Being a loyal anon of 4chons, I am of course an automatic member of the local belachan.net. It's like a Malaysian version of 4chons, but with more added fail. Like this for example.

While I was searching teh site for lulz, I stumbled upon this thread which demanded sauce on this awesome hot girl. Being a horny tard meself, I endeavoured to help, since it was relevant to my interests. For any info on teh gurl, I offer in return, Tina Yuzuki.

Apparently the thread was made of fail. Or faggots. No one lieks Tina Yuzuki, despite her being made of awesomeness and hot.


I extend teh offer here, lulz! Girl at top of post! Name! Nao! Tina Yuzuki in return!

Life as a Married Sim

Now that I'm back from Thailand (like 3 months ago) it's time for me to industriously contribute to the world's happiness by blogging in my blog, the literary world's version of a drunken fat skanky hoe with a lazy eye clambering on top of a picnic table doing a belly dance.

Get your coins out, boys.

Now that I'm done with my essays I've got absolutely nothing to do. It's the stress, you see. Now that everything's done for the year, tension's a bit slack. Seriously, if your mates want to take a course in Philosophy and Religion, hit them over the head with a shovel until they change degrees. Trust me, they'll thank you.

So I got out my copy of The Sims. It's an old piece of game but it's still alright. For those of you in the dark, it's basically a game where you have control over this household, sending the chaps to work, kids to school, entertain friends, buy stuff, pay the bills and pimp your house. Yeah, play a game about you living a real life.


Being the perfectionist control-freak that I am, I never let my Empy avatar do much on his own. I mean, yeah, the game is programmed so that if you leave him alone, he'd get some food if he's hungry, bathe if he stinks and have a kip if he's drowsy, but I never trust the thing so much to let it control my cherished personification. Can't watch myself wallow in my own filth and die, can I? Under my iron rule, Empy became a popular, awesome dude with a dog to boot. Good dog too, fetching newspapers and going all the way out to the edge of the garden to piss in. Too bad it's called Cher. Having a name like an androgenous 80s singer tainted my view of him. Or her. Not really sure.

This time round, I'm letting the game handle itself. Sort of like a social experiment, if you will. I took over an existing household, a house of three: a man, his wife and a son. The wife works, the son goes to school, house is rather barren but what would I know, Empy's house has more bling than all of P. Diddy's girlfriends combined. Who'd knew being a criminal mastermind will pay so well?

So I started the shit up. Within an hour the wife was at work sewing jeans for 12 cents an hour and the kid's swotting it up in school while dear old dad sat around the drawing room reading up on his latest bodice-ripper. Boring family this. When he got past the climax of the book he grabbed some stuff from the fridge and made some lunch before going back to his novel. Absolute boredom.

Things did not look much better when wifey and the kid got home. After the hypochondriac wife cleaned the loo and kitchen she picked up her novel. Everyone of them hit the books like it was an English lit paper tomorrow, even though there was a TV just right there. Syncronised hunger caused them to prepare dinner, and what do you know, with no skills in cooking the stove went up in flames.

Apparently no one taught them Firefighting 101; they gathered round the fire and screamed and gyrated, trying to dance the fire away I suppose. The fire spread, engulfing the stove and sink (WTF?) and spread onto the floor. The kid's soon surrounded by flames with no way out. He's fucked. Dumb sod raindanced his way to the afterlife.

As the fires die out (there was nothing else to burn lol) there was no longer any kitchen, fridge nor kid. After the dad cried a bit over the lost fridge he went to bed. The servant/mom swept up the remains of the kitchens, son included, into the bin. Stoic woman, I must say. Without a fridge, there wasn't any source of food left in the house and unless I intervened, they'll all starve and die. Which they proceeded to do.

End of day one.

Moral of story: authoritarianism for teh win!!!

Empy Goes North

Be back in ten days. As if anyone gives a damn.

In Condemnation of Lee Chong Wei

To be fair, he did get a silver and countless other apologists will point out that it was a home court, with nearly the whole of the billion-odd Chinese fans there, and blablabla... Damn all that glass-full poppycock. This blog is the Three O'clock Truncheon, not the Eight O'clock Butthurt.

My main beef with him is that he had no spirit. His heart wasn't in the game. I wouldn't have been this vitriolic even if he was a three-foot tall midget with no fingers if I could see him sweat it out like some crazed terrier chomping and biting till it could bite no more. I would cheer for a fat marathon runner dragging himself across the finish line on his elbows and knees, even if he was dead last. I would even cheer for Barney going up against a real T-rex, but I won't cheer for someone who surrenders his dreams just because people were not yelling his name.

We can criticise our sportsmen, and sportswomen, for being unfit. We don't care whether our football team gets depressed before an important game because the coach keeps on serving them Horlicks instead of Milo. Whenever our abysmal football team plays ball like an unexperienced prostitute, we readily lay on them the wrath and disappointment that comes even without surprise. They play like air-headed bimbos, we beat them like red-headed stepchildren.

We do it all the time. If I play rugby like someone with two vaginas, sure as hell someone will give me a piece of his mind. If I retort that I didn't play that game well because I was sad my cat bit my scrotum that morning, I'm pretty sure that's not an explanation: it's an excuse. An excuse for me not giving 100%. It doesn't matter if LCW had his head caved in by the hooting Chinese mobs, its his performance that matters. If he's not giving 100% at the most prestigious event in the world, then anything else is an excuse.

Besides, Indonesia and Korea had no problem getting their golds. China must've forgotten to empty out her factories when they played, maybe.

Being a sportsman is not just about having the bigger biceps or the speedier feet. The Olympics isn't some freakshow showcasing the Man Who Swims With Fishes or the Strongest Man on Earth, its a presentation of the human spirit. That chap with his elbow splayed out in the weightlifting had a heart stronger than what his body could cope. THAT is a sportsman.

Would I be up to the task if I were in his shoes? Probably not, but then again I'm not a sportsman. I don't train everyday to do what I needed to do. Actually, come to think of it, yes I do train everyday to do just that. I call it work. You lot do it too.

If you are to present an important deal on behalf of thousands of your colleagues and you psyche out at the end, then you've quite fail to do what you're supposed to do. You've let quite a lot of them down. They trusted you with their hopes, and to lose out not from a fair fight drawn out through a long battle, having you sell each inch dearly, but from a weak will, then it's a damn right for quite a few of us to be quite upset.

My Camera, My Computer, My Gym, and FHM

After a long neglect, and a request from die-hard fan Mahirah, a new blog entry's a-coming. Yeehaw.

1. Camera Dieded

It IS the summer holidays, so a little bit of lazy-assery is quite expected. In any case me old camera died so no pictures anytime soon. It was a brick of a camera which doesn't go so well with my habit of stuffing it down my jeans (in the pockets, mind you) so the screen ended up so warped that if I had a book of Egyptian hieroglyphs, I could build my own Stargate.

2. Old Laptop Resurrected, Then Dieded Again

The old laptop had a minor resurrection the other day. Dunno much about computers but they say probably that the engine in it got overheated due to the fan not working well enough thanks to the fact that the insides' a mini dust bunny petting zoo.

Shoving a small fan under its arse lends me some minutes to extract many of the pictures already in it, totally not helped by the computer screen which like the camera, is also warped. You kinda need to put your thumb on a certain point at the top of the screen and put pressure on it to de-warp the damn thing so you can see enough to use the pinky of your other hand to move the touchpad around. After a while, the thing will warp back irregardless of your digit being there and you'd have to wrestle the bugger for a bit before trying to find the sweet spot to thumb again. I'd rate the experience just about as enjoyable as fingering an unwilling she-bear.

After trying vainly to pleasure the beast for the gigs of mp3s in there, I quite characteristically insulted the fidelity of its mother and bought myself a new one. A new laptop, I mean, not a new bear.

3. The Gym That I Go To

If you're looking for hot girls at the gym, best give the KLCC Twin Tower Fitness Club a wide berth. The place is nice and all, and the activities there are alright (picked up aikido on Fridays) but most of the fellas there are Petronas engineers who work there and who are like 30plus. The girl at the counter, Ira, is cute though.

From time to time, I treat it like a convenient shower place. After doing the shopping at Suria KLCC, I just pop down there and take a sauna. Beats jumping into the kiddie pool by the recreation lake outside. Getting arrested for suspected pedophilia will probably not be good on the CV.

4. The FHM World's Most Wanted Women 2008 Party

Being a regular reader of FHM, I got this invite to the FHM party at The Loft. Thought I'd drop in, see what's the fuss about. Too bad no one else I know buys FHM, so that meant I was gonna wing it alone that night.

The place was quite cozy, after a pint and a cigar, I joined in a group of guys who turned out to be the rowdiest there. Excellent stuff. Girls were hot (what few there were, the early part being a total sausage fest) drinks were pricey, and after midnight it was pretty jumping.

And if on the off-chance you're that cute, funny VI-hating psychologist girl (Evelyn? Ee Ling?), I'd quite consider selling a 99-year lease on my soul for her to call me or something. Damn I was a total faggot for forgetting to ask her number. Damn damn damn.

Three O'clock Truncheon Takes On The: US Presidential Election

When compared to the yonks-long Democratic in-battle between Senators Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton, the actual US presidential election set for November begins to seem a tad anti-climatic. It shouldn’t. A young socialist black guy is going up against an old conservative white guy. It could only be more epic if each charged at the other over the plains of Narnia leading armies of laser-wielding piranhas.

Obama personificates the hopes of a nation weary of a warmongering Bush (whose recent popularity poll, incidentally, ranked him as slightly less desirable than being kicked in the groin), but his policies are not as ‘socialist’ as one would think it would be, coming from the more liberal Democrats. While Hilary would’ve taxed companies to pay for pro-worker initiatives and middle-class benefits, Obama’s campaign focused on providing incentives with pay-as-you-go fiscal policies as well as increasing taxes on the rich. He also courted the environmental vote and gave nod to labour laws. Similar tactics all in all in the Democrat camp, but the minor differences in regards to fiscal policies will matter in the long recession ahead.

On the other hand McCain seems to subscribe to the Reagan school of economic thought, tax cutting all the way. Most likely we’ll see further erosions on the dollar if he gets into the office, as well as a possible interest hike or two especially when he’s more or less given up trying to balance the budget in his presidency, what with his commitment to stay the course in the Middle East. However, he pledges safety and economic growth and these are wonderful things to whisper to the business class. His military record stands strong in his favour, as well as his five-year ordeal in the notorious ‘Hanoi Hotel’. It is interesting to note that he is in fact less conservative than he is made out to be: for one thing, Ann Coulter despises him so he can’t be all that bad.

As important as the economy is, the main jousts between the two camps centered on its foreign policy. Democrats plan for a withdrawal from Iraq, while the Republicans maintain that a strong show of force is essential for continued mainland security. Obama’s conciliatory approaches towards Ahmadinejad got him labeled as an appeaser by Bush recently and will most likely lose him a few votes from the more gung-ho states.



So who will win? Being the young man that I am, I’d cast for Obama if I were to have the chance. The Obama Girl is not so much of a tactic (even if it was, it'd still be a good one: I'll damn well vote for anyone Amber Lee Ettinger tells me to!) as an indicator of the sentiment of the younger voters. Issues such as the war and the environment, and how they are conveyed, matters more to them today than a few years back. Mc Cain is seen as an old foggy from a discredited party. Obama wins on the hip factor.

The black vote is a little harder to quantify. Its value has always been a bit overestimated what with blacks being quite disproportionately pandered upon despite only being 30% of the pop and even then many do not exercise their rights to vote. Bill Clinton relied on the black votes, nevertheless, to win his presidency as much as Bush Jr. relied on the evangelical vote showing that they will deliver. Problem is, Hilary Clinton campaigned with her husband’s political war machine with much of the same political base. To simply say that the blacks will vote for one of their own is being a little presumptuous, as would claiming the Democrat battle has embittered them all. The question of whether they will be cohesive enough to balance out the votes of the nationalists, the evangelicals and the businesses which would most likely be McCain’s.

What does it all matter to us Malaysians? Economically, it would be best to have some stability in the Mid-East. Boffins have calculated that the Second Gulf War cost the world eight trillion dollars in unnecessarily higher oil prices. With a poorer America, trade would drop and the world might enter a very inactive period that might last longer than any previous recession within these past two decades.

Higher oil prices driving up prices... increases in unemployment as demand falls… sounds a bit like the 1970s, ain’t it?

Fuel prices up? Cry me a river, plebs.

Occasionally, some events so visibly morph into historic moments that you'd feel like a blind hobo bumming around on the dark side of Mars if you don't write anything about it. I've already passed on the Chinese earthquake and the Burmese typhoon. Then again, if interwebs forums are any indicator Malaysians don't really care about thousands of dead foreigners anymore now that their pockets are being prodded so I guess that's all right.

The Lifting of the Great Malaysian Petroleum Subsidy it is. I'm sorry to admit that it'll be quite a boring piece at least until I get to the part where I insult low-wage peasants and start claiming the powers of magical unicorns, but I'll put up pictures of girls in bikinis in my next post. Promise.

Now on with the vitriol.



It all started back on the 5th of June when the Malaysian PM, Abdullah Badawi, annonuced that Malaysia will henceforth cease to fellate her citizen and reduced the petrol subsidy by 78.4 sens per litre, increasing the price at the punp to 2.704rm. Further reductions in August will bring the price to a solid 4rm, with the ultimate aim of floating the bloody commodity.

Malaysians went nuts. Petit-bourgeois traders in their shops, drivers in their cars, beggars on the streets and babies in their cribs all rose up in arm, brandishing their abacuses, steering locks, collection mugs and rattles. The height of the violence saw forums littered with the flamed avatars of the fallen. Never in the history of geekdom has so many flamed so few with so much bullshit.

Histrionics aside, this is grade-A guano. There is no excuse nor reason for there ever be a fuel subsidy, and it is a subsidy. Some people go on about how Malaysia as an oil producer aren't really 'subsidising' oil, we're only seling it to ourselves for cheaper. It's the 'Durian Argument' of Anwar's, wherein he said that local durians are sold cheaper than the ones sold in Japan. Bollocks.

Now, Anwar might be a good guy and all and just dumbed the rhetoric down to fit into the tiny heads of voters, but such populism doesn't cut it with me. To wrangle with the example, why would a durian seller not want to maximise his profits if he is able to? If one is a durian seller, one will go find the best market to sell it in, that is what one calls international trade. Why would one be content with a low price? Remarkable.

Furthermore, unlike the privately-owned durian orchard, petroleum is a common resource belonging to everyone of us, not to be benefited more by car-owners and heavy industries. That's the gist of it. By subbing oil, we're rewarding inefficiency by supporting the wasteful. A blanket subsidy such as this benefits the SUV-drivers more than the motorcycle riders, who themselves are better off than those who ride on less.

Since oil is a common good, it is in the interest of the nation to flog it at the best possible price, the world price. The durian orchard owners have the right to even give away his fruits if he fancies it, but there is no such right with oil for no one can claim single monopoly on the resource. The fairest way is not to distribute petroleum cheaply, but by flouting it onto the market and letting the market decide who gets how much. The efficient will get more than the wasteful, the poor will get more efficient, or waste less. No one owes the poor anything.

That is why fund-managers and economists are derisive of Anwar's claims of putting the price back down once he gets into the comfy chair. It's economic suicide. Money does not come out of nowhere, and with depleting oil reserves coupled with increasing demands for oil, we'll subsidise more and more oil per barrel that we export. The march of the international price of oil isn't going to help anyone much, either.



Yes, inflation will go up. The prices of goods will go up, but that is because we've been living in a fantasy land where prices have been kept down artificially. Little known fact that in the same vein, your wages are kept down, too, thanks to the subsidy. Every time a tourist enjoys 'cheap' food and lodgings, taxpayer money is spent. Only once we have market prices for goods can we ever dream of having market wages. Live with it.

The other concern is of course transparency. No one can say that the money saved won't get misallocated, misspent or embezzled and the sleazy reputation of the current government isn't helping sentiments either. However, under a controlled economy with price-fixing and quotas there is a much greater freedom for people to enjoy opportunities to profit illegally. How do you profit from a good that is selling at the market price? With much difficulty. That's why stock traders need to go through convoluted methods to siphon money into their private accounts. The free market will reduce corruption in the long run. Market distortion causes crimes.

All in all, despite the often clumsy moves by the BN gov, they seem to have finally got some backbone and political will to do some restructuring. The move to free up petroleum, as well as the more recent ones of freezing gov projects and reducing parliamentary allowances are heartening signs of good governance.

Too little, too late? Maybe, but nevertheless we must agree that they're at least moving in the right way. Anwar did promise that he'd take over in September; as a neutral, I'm apathetic as long as he doesn't overturn these new positive moves. If he does get the comfy chair in September, but rolls back the price of oil back to 1.10rm, and yet manages to maintain budget surpluses all the way for the next five years, I'll shave my head.



also see http://www.metronews.ca/ottawa/world/article/65187

July 12th protest marches? For what? To REINTRODUCE subsidies? Populist wankers with no grasp of economics.